hunt1

Hunting Tails (OOPS Tales)

Maxi's First Time Afield

It was a real nice early October morning and I was looking forward to a long hike through the fields with my Golden Retriever Mindy. When I opened the door to her crate I expected to see her come bouncing out, spinning all the way to the back door as usual. Mindy however was quiet and reserved, and had to be called out of her crate. This type of behavior was totally out of character for her. So instead of a trip to the pheasant fields, we made a trip to the Vet. The diagnosis was a serious tick born illness, and a regimen of antibiotics and rest would be necessary for the next four weeks. But she would fully recover; the illness was caught in its initial stages. Now on the drive home I am both happy and very disappointed at the same time. Mindy would recover, but she would be lost through the prime weeks of this years hunting season.

Early the next morning, I received a call from a friend of mine inquiring about "my whereabouts" and "weren't we supposed to be hunting this morning?" I jumped out of bed, got dressed, grabbed the guncase and headed down the hall. As I neared the dog crates by the back door, I got an incredible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, Mindy's SICK, "NO DOG!"

Well, now what do I do? My friend doesn't own a dog, and I can't see going hunting without a dog very fun (or ethical for that matter). I looked into the dogbox along side Mindy's and see Maxi's big Golden Retriever Puppy Grin looking back at me. Oh well, having a young pup in the field I hoped would be better than no dog at all.

At seven months old, Maxi had been working well in training for some time, and had just begun the force fetch program. She was however in my opinion, a long long way from being a finished retriever. "Well Maxi, Let's see if you've got any of your Momma in you". I reached down and let the little whirling dervish out, and headed for the marsh. When we reached the parking area my buddy's truck was already there, empty of dekes and boat, So I started walking out to the blind with the little Knot Head tightly glued to the side of my left knee. When we reached the blind, my buddy was just paddling into shore after setting the decoys. The look on his face when he saw Maxi was unforgettable, "He Brought The SHE DEVIL" was painted all over it. To try to smooth things over I volunteered to hold the dog and do the calling for the first hour while he did the shooting.

A little past the opening minutes of the morning, a small flock of Teal came screaming through the decoys, my friend's first two shots connected with the sky and not much else. His third shot caught the last bird in the flock, going away, giving it a boost before dropping into some very thick cattails about 40 yards away. Maxi had watched with a great deal of excitement when the shooting started, and her eyes seemed glued to the spot of the fall, I released her collar and to my shocked amazement she sat there, rock solid steady, eyes glued to the spot. I leaned over and whispered "Back" into her right ear, a mistake on my part as it turned out. The top of her hind foot caught me square under the jaw as she exploded out of the blind into the water. She took a very nice line across the open water into the cattails. We waited a long while and then came quite a commotion from the cattails, Maxi appeared shortly thereafter with the bird in her mouth getting wingbeaten all the way back. When she reached the blind she was a little reluctant to give up her prize. But with a little bit of a bribe offered, she willingly traded it for half of my buddy's cookie. She was extremely pleased with herself, tail going ninety miles an hour. My buddy was now convinced that she was the greatest dog in the whole world (well, that is up until she ate his sandwich when he wasn't looking). We sat in the blind a couple more hours but as luck would have it that was the only flock that would grace our presence this morning (another clear bluebird day). So we picked up and headed out to try our luck at pheasants.

As we walked through the fields in the early afternoon, I learned a new respect for Mindy, just how good a hunting dog she really is, and just how frustrating hunting with a puppy can be. Due to the fact that I always keep two retrievers, it had been better than ten years since I had hunted a pup, a luxury that I had largely forgotten about and took for granted. Maxi had spent the better part of the last two hours glued to my leg so tightly I was tripping over her half the time. She just refused grasp the idea that she should be out in front of the hunters, not at heel. I was becoming very frustrated and beginning to think that she just didn't have the instinct to hunt, which is not all that uncommon in Goldens today. Maybe I just got a dog that wouldn't hunt.

As we neared the end of the strip of cover we were working I could see the switchgrass moving about fifteen yards in front of us," Ah Ha, A BIRD! " I walked a step or two to the side to put Maxi on the area where I thought the birds trail should be. Maxi took about three steps and STOPPED DEAD in her tracks. She dropped her nose to the ground and excitedly started to take in the scent of something VERY interesting. With each sniff she became more and more animated. Her tail, which normally has a degree of curl to it, went strait up like a stick above her back, the very tip of her tail started to twitch. Rapidly. Then, when she just couldn't contain herself any longer, she started down the bird's trail, zigging and zagging following every step the bird made. I called over to my buddy that "AHH, SHE'S ON ONE". All I could see of her was the blurry tip of her tail as she bulled her way through the cover. All at once the Big Cock Bird flushed about two feet in front of her. She was up on her haunches; eyes big as saucers, watching that big bird get up into the sky. Yours truly effectively displayed his dire need for outstanding dogs by lightly dusting the bird with some #5's. My partner delivered an equally meager shot, but between the two of us, it was enough to bring the big bird down, with the landing gear set ready to run. Maxi was still sitting on her haunches, watching as the bird dropped into some tall switchgrass. I said, "fetch em up Max". The dog didn't move a muscle. She was concentrating so hard on marking the spot, that she was totally oblivious to everything else. I finally yelled at her " Hey Max! Back! ". Well she took off like she had been shot out of a cannon; a little gold streak flying along the ground that disappeared into the tall switchgrass. After what seemed like an eternity to me, she popped out of the cover with the big bird in her mouth, with her tail wagging so hard she could hardly stay upright. That bird was kicking and raking her nose the whole way. Each time he kicked, she wagged her tail faster. It was obvious she was enjoying every minute of it. When she got within about five feet of me she stopped. She took one step sideways, you could just see the "She Devil" wheels turning in her head, she was thinking a game of "Catch Me" would be real fun about now. I gave her a firm "Here" and to my surprise, the She Devil came up, walked around me, sat on my left side and proceeded to present the bird to me as pretty as a picture. I reached out my hand and she dropped the bird correctly on command. I WAS SHOCKED, the little stinker HAD been listening in training after all!

The remaining daylight saw Maxi doing a decent job working the cover between the two of us, about fifteen yards in front just like she'd been doing it for years. And oh yes, rousting six more Cock Birds (of which we got three). Each and every fall was precisely marked; every bird was retrieved, and delivered to hand.

I had come out in the morning expecting a disappointing day of dogwork. I instead experienced a good day of hunting with a dog that greatly exceeded my expectations. Not too bad for a pup.

As the late afternoon sun dropped below the horizon, the autumn sky was painted with gold, deep red and magenta, it had been a spectacular day. Maxi the young upstart Knot Head of the early hours of the morning had been replaced by Maxi the hard Working Gun Dog by sunset. When we returned home, she truly enjoyed stretching out on the rug in front of the crackling fire, a place reserved for the "Working Dog".

Maxi

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