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Preparing for a New Hunting Companion
So you had a great duck season that wasn’t so great? You have decided it is time for a new retriever to assist in your duck hunting expeditions. There are many factors to consider when making this choice. First, you need to think about how your dog will be used. Some other questions to ask yourself: Do you hunt one weekend a year or 90 days a year? Do you want an outside kennel dog or an inside pet? Would you be better off to find an older retriever that has already received training? This would mean less time put in for you, but it would be more expensive. Do you have the time to dedicate to training a puppy? The time is now to start your journey.
Turkey Stand
It was four in the morning, and still dark outside when Charlie woke his son Avery. They had to get going early for the hunting trip. Charlie didn't make a big breakfast. He just boiled some eggs for the road. Boiled eggs worked well sitting by a tree all day. He would also take along canned Vienna sausages - the tiny meat logs crowded into a gelatinous ooze that Avery loved.
The Hunt Goes On
In the early 70s bird hunting was at its peak in Eastern North Carolina. I was a youngster still and loved to tag along on hunts with family and longed to have my own dogs. It was about this time that I attended my first bird dog field trial, a horseback event being held near my Uncle Henry’s farm. It was there that I first remember meeting Dr. W.C. Sanderson. He was there to compete as was his brother “Dute” Sanderson, a popular local professional dog trainer.
Should We?
Hurricane Hattie had requalified with a third place in the last qualifier of the season. Should they enter her was the question occupying her owner, Sam Slade, and handler, Mack Bain. Both were ambivalent and unsure of their judgment on the issue.
The Master
One of my earliest memories is the smell of the Hoppes gun oil my dad would use on his Sweet 16 Browning after a bird hunt. He and my uncles would tell stories of 30 coveys a day, of the “ditch bank birds”, those bobs that would provide great sport by scattering out down a line, giving the gunners an easy opportunity. Tales of limits by lunchtime and perfectly broke pointers and setters kept my interest high. Like a puppy, I wanted desperately to go with the men on a real bird hunt but was deemed too immature.
All my heroes are gone
As we climbed out of the old Chevy truck, my nostrils were bitten by the cold Kentucky morning. I always loved the way that the cold air pierced your lungs. Such an infusion of life. The cold wrapped around me, but the warmth of excitement invigorated my soul. I had read many times in the old Field and Stream magazines about the venture I was undertaking with my uncle. I had finally made it. I had gotten the invitation to stand over his prize possessions, an old Elhew pointer and a Lewellin setter.
A Jam Up Hunt
It was going to be a good day. You could feel it. My son Steven and I were hunting for woodies on our favorite beaver pond. As we put our canoe in the water the temperature hovered around freezing as a light rain begin to drizzle on us. Perfect conditions for ducks!
My Life As A Field Trial Reporter
From 1995 until 2022 I had two professions, lawyer and pointing dog field trial reporter. The first to earn money to pay creditors and afford to indulge in the second, pursued for the pleasure it brought me.
The Long Journey Home
Belle’s favorite pastime time lately, was to become perfectly still, and at the most opportune time snap and catch one of the deer flies that tormented her. That’s what her life had become. She hadn’t known freedom for a year now and her spirit was weak, waning, nearly broken. She had plenty to eat, that wasn’t a problem. Brown Man brought meat scraps to her, and he kept her water clean too. But her whole world lay within the radius of the chain she was shackled to. She had grown to accept the chain, but not willingly. After a while she learned it best to not dream of home and Randall. She rested solely in the fact that Pup was growing strong, and that Brown Man was not a cruel man.
How to Help Your Dog Learn
When I started training retrievers professionally in 1972, I believed that dogs needed to be worked six days a week, for at least a half hour each day. If you have a big kennel, you know that’s a lot of work. After a few years and training several hundred dogs, I wound up skipping a day or two. That’s when things started to make sense.
What expenses can kennel owners write off?
Maybe you accidentally started a dog-related business pursuing a hobby, or maybe owning a kennel has been your lifelong dream, either way, you can be sure Uncle Sam wants his fair share of your hard work. My blood always starts to boil this time of year, especially when the government reaches into my pocket and pulls out a whopping 33% of what I earned the past year. After being gouged by the IRS a few times, I've tried to do a better job of keeping up with expenses. I'd much rather invest my hard-earned money back into my business as an expense than let the government have it.
THE LONG JOURNEY HOME
‘Why’, is a man question, not a dog question. Whether hate, or malice, or greed, or power, was someone’s motive for her circumstances mattered not to Belle. ‘What’ mattered to Belle. What could she do for her pup? ‘Who’ mattered also. Who could she trust, and who could she not trust? ‘Where’ mattered too. Where was she, and where was home? She sensed ‘When’ was important also, but she’d have to bide her time for now.
The Poop Scoop
My brace of setter drifted in and out of view. Their range was typical for their shooting dog genetics, and when I couldn’t see them my focus turned to the long skeins of Spanish moss that dripped from every cypress branch. Wind gusts pulsed the moss like a summer breeze luffs weeping willow stems. On one such I could see far ahead and Cider and Bee were on point.
Harmony in the Field: A Symphony of Bird Dogs and Wild Birds
In the timeless pursuit of the perfectly honed bird dog, the age-old adage rings true: "It takes birds to make a bird dog." Yet, how often have we pondered the profound layers concealed within this saying? The interplay between a bird dog and a wild bird emerges as an intricate dance, a narrative woven by the instincts of the dog, the natural behavior of the bird, and the dichotomy between untamed wilderness and cultivated training grounds.
The Long Journey Home
It would have been different had Belle been at home. She would have found a safe warm spot near the hay loft. Randall would have looked in on her throughout the day, more than likely bringing her bits of leftover bacon and biscuits and making sure the pups had a clean place to be whelped. She was royalty at Bent Pine and didn’t kennel with the other dogs. She had the run of the plantation. Her favorite place to lie, be it summer or winter, was under the rail fence of the barn lot. There, she was shaded in the summer by huge spreading oak and beech trees. In the winter she was warmed by the sun shining through those same trees then leafless and unable to fend off the warm welcomed rays. She laid under the bottom rail that was positioned just right to offer a scratch to her long back whenever she chose to do so. It was perfect. The spot seemingly offered a respite, though actual work didn’t exist for Belle. Maybe she enjoyed the spot for reflection, that now, she had aplenty. From her favorite spot she could view anything approaching the main house, as well as view over a mile of cleared bottomland, a bottom that stretched eastward to the Black Warrior River and south for three miles farther than Belle could see from the rails even on a clear day.
