Post
by scmelik » Wed Jan 26, 2011 8:52 pm
There are two first that I remember in my dog loving life. Shooting a pheasant over my "first" dog and watching MY dog making her first retrieve.
I grew up in a upland hunting house, so it was not only expected for me be an upland hunter but also so ingrained in my blood that I couldn't help but become one. I started tagging along with my dad as soon as I was big enough to pick my feet up over the grass and walk next to him, and this was my first encounter with hunting dogs although I use that term lightly. Those first dogs I got to see work were nothing but freaks of nature owned by my dad and my godfather, taught by each encounter they had with birds and spending thousands of hours in the field during their life. They were not trained at all other than to "come" and possibly "sit". When I was about 8 we got our first "real" dog, an english setter, that we actually spent some serious time on. My dad and I worked that dog as best we could following Delmar Smiths book and he was a heck of a dog, running wide open at 500 yards that dog would lock up when my dad hit the whistle and wouldn't move a muscle until we got to him and released him. Unfortunately when he came into his prime the bird hunting habitat in Iowa pretty much disappeared and so did the bird numbers so when he went out all he thought he was doing was running around. When I was 12 I finally got to carry a loaded shotgun and we were out one Saturday in early November, it was one of those days that was the conditions just screamed "bird hunting'. It was cool and crisp, the colors of fall were prevalent and the farms were working hard in the field. We went to my uncles place to hunt what was left of his draw we had made the long walk to the end of the draw and my dad left me walk along the outside of the draw. About halfway down our setter "K" locked up HARD on point right on the edge of the draw. I remember looking at him with his high tail and low head with his laser eyes fixed on one spot, and thinking "Oh my god that is unbelievable, one of the prettiest sites I had ever seen and to this day have ever seen. I just stood and watched him every muscle in his body straining he never twitched, heck I don't think he ever took a breath. Dad told me that the bird was mine and that he would walk in a flush the bird, I wasn't a very good shot at that point and I didn't have much confidence in my abilities to shoot, but all I could think was that I had to kill this bird, not for me but for him and all the hardwork that we had done to get him to that point. I can still remember the explosion coming out of the grass and the patented cackle of that bird when he rose out of the grass, I took my time and got a bead on the bird and with one shot I brought him down. "K" ran out picked up the bird and brought him right to me and looked at me with the eyes that he had almost looking at me like he had done it just for me. That was my first bird that I had ever shot over him and one of the lasts unfortunately he passed about ten years ago but the memory remains frozen in my mind like it happened yesterday.
The second first was MY first dog, a chocolate lab named Brittney. The year prior I was chasing down a crippled mallard across a slough at the end of November, I had to stop three times to catch my breath and strip off layers of clothing because I was sweating so bad. It was that instant halfway across the slough that I decided that enough was enough and I was not chasing birds ever again. That winter I bought a dog, just a cheap 150 dollar dog out of the paper. As I began her training I was drawn to hunt test and field trials after meeting a guy that ran them and saw a dog run a blind. After that encounter I was determined that I wanted my dog to do that. Brittney and I worked out tails off training all summer long and when duck season finally arrived that fall I was never more excited for a hunting trip. That morning we headed out to the blind with Brittney in tow and the first flock of mallards that come into the decoys she was a wreck, straining at the lead, didn't want to sit, forgot all the training that we worked on all summer, right up until my buddy shot. Then she went onto auto pilot and did everything right. The bird landed across the little slough that we were hunting and I gave her a second to let her get a good look at the bird on the water. I remember thinking "alright little girl, this is what we have worked so hard for all summer, lets see what you can do." "Brittney" and off she went like she was shot out of a rocket across the slough to the bird. The feeling I got as she came back with that bird in her mouth gave me so much pride that I got slightly teary eyed, she came back to heel, sat down and looked up at me with a "this is for you boss, did I do good". I knelt down put my arm around her, gave her a big kiss and let her hold her duck for a bit just stroking her head and the pride welled up inside. After that day her and I were inseparable, she was my best friend and my best hunting buddy. Unfortunately she was taken from me entirely to early in life and a year ago this past Christmas I lost her to kidney failure at 5 years old but she still remains my best friend.
Those two dogs not only started my love for bird dogs but also my passion for them and training. Right now I am dog-less but here in a few months the journey will start again with another pup, this time a setter. There is something about the joy of watching a dog mature from a reckless puppy to a mature dog taking in all the training like a sponge, weaseling their way into your heart and making a connection like few out there. I can't wait!!!!
Scott
no dogs currently, looking for a new pup probably a setter.
Forget about the ending and enjoy the story that takes you to the ending
..my question is do any of you remember who got you your first bird dog or took you on your first hunt and does this feeling ever get "old" so to speak to all you vets out there who have done it for years and years?...like do you still get excited when a new pups comin or do you have a kennel/house full of dogs and want more? ...i think this could be considered an addiction.. 
.......ruth
....ruth
