Ever wonder about the techniques we use to train our dogs, or the standards we apply? Where they came from, and how they evolved? What the bird dogs of yester-year looked like, and how they performed? As long as I've been involved in dog training I've tried to continuously learn more about how to improve my methods, and how to improve my dogs, and I'll bet you have too. Well, guess what? Training methods might have changed over the years, but the old ways still work. Even when there were only a few methods, they produced dogs of the highest standards. Check out this multi-breed film from the 1940's.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Spring Time, Puppy Time
Spring can't get here quick enough. While this sentiment may not be out of the ordinary for those of us who live where the snow falls in the winter, I feel it profoundly this year. With the advent of spring, I tend to be consumed with planning turkey hunts and trout fishing trips. Turkey calls get chalked, and fly line dusted off and cleaned. Camo, and waders get inspected for tears, and the salt rigs too, get prepared. After all, before you know it the stripers will be running again. Striper season means the grill must get cleaned, too. Oh, hurry up spring!!
This spring, however, I've got one additional, and extremely exciting event to look forward to. In May I'll be meeting and bringing home my new puppy. Getting a new dog is always exciting, and I can't wait. When it was confirmed that Austin's sickness was indeed terminal I began making inquiries about up coming litters. I was fortunate enough to find a Springer breeding that not only made me excited, but in which I could get on the list. After several e-mails, and a phone call to the breeder, a deposit was sent, and the waiting began.
http://www.windriftspaniels.net/bee-sam-breeding-2011.html
Adding to the excitement, is the training seminar my wife and I will be attending at the kennel the weekend we pick up the pup. David Lisett, of Buccleuch Gundog, Scotland will be working with spaniel owners, and demonstrating some of his training techniques. David is a 7 time championship winner in the UK and Ireland.
http://www.windriftspaniels.net/clinic.html
The excitement of getting the new pup is bitter sweet, however, the memory of Austin, and the feelings that came with losing him still fresh. I'm looking forward to starting this pup, but he's not here yet, and I do miss my pal terribly . I don't know what I'd give to have him greet me at the front door again, or to be able to sit in my chair with a book and a scotch while scratching his ears. Austin certainly was a dog I'd have been happy to have forever.
I'm certain that as I looked after Austin throughout his life, he has somehow looked out for me too, and that when puppy comes home Austin's presence will be felt, and in ways I don't, or can't understand, he'll be guiding this pup down the right path to make me happy. And in this way, Austin and all the dogs before him are still here with me, and always will be.
This spring, however, I've got one additional, and extremely exciting event to look forward to. In May I'll be meeting and bringing home my new puppy. Getting a new dog is always exciting, and I can't wait. When it was confirmed that Austin's sickness was indeed terminal I began making inquiries about up coming litters. I was fortunate enough to find a Springer breeding that not only made me excited, but in which I could get on the list. After several e-mails, and a phone call to the breeder, a deposit was sent, and the waiting began.
http://www.windriftspaniels.net/bee-sam-breeding-2011.html
Adding to the excitement, is the training seminar my wife and I will be attending at the kennel the weekend we pick up the pup. David Lisett, of Buccleuch Gundog, Scotland will be working with spaniel owners, and demonstrating some of his training techniques. David is a 7 time championship winner in the UK and Ireland.
http://www.windriftspaniels.net/clinic.html
The excitement of getting the new pup is bitter sweet, however, the memory of Austin, and the feelings that came with losing him still fresh. I'm looking forward to starting this pup, but he's not here yet, and I do miss my pal terribly . I don't know what I'd give to have him greet me at the front door again, or to be able to sit in my chair with a book and a scotch while scratching his ears. Austin certainly was a dog I'd have been happy to have forever.
I'm certain that as I looked after Austin throughout his life, he has somehow looked out for me too, and that when puppy comes home Austin's presence will be felt, and in ways I don't, or can't understand, he'll be guiding this pup down the right path to make me happy. And in this way, Austin and all the dogs before him are still here with me, and always will be.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Winter Grouse, February in the Catskills.
Neither the light snow, nor the below freezing temperature bothered me as I stood on the hotel balcony assessing the weather, but the wind was blowing a bit harder than I'd have preferred. I hadn't driven from Boston to the Catskills to be forced to sit around in a hotel lounge suffering the antics of the ski bunny set, but to take advantage of New York's long grouse season. My good friend, and frequent hunting partner Sterling often hunts grouse in the Catskills, and assured me he knows a few good coverts. I trust Sterling. Since a job transfer landed him in NYC, he's been making frequent day trips to the Catskill, and has shot as many grouse as anyone else in our little hunting syndicate. As a dog-less uplander Sterling has learned how to maximize any grouse cover he steps into, and he's got an eye for cover.
Our first stop was a hillside of mixed age, and growth cover. The hillside featured a series of terraces festooned with abandoned apple trees, and patches of bramble. We'd hike up hill 30-40 yards, hunt from one end of a terrace to the other, then climb to the next terrace. The snow was barely ankle deep in most places so the walking and climbing was only hampered by a few icy spots. While the snow did little to slow us, it had knocked down a considerable amount of the cover. While the terraces where quite bare, it wasn't hard to imagine what they'd look like in October and November. Quite obviously a food cover, I would have loved to have run Austin, my late Setter, along these benches on a chilly November afternoon. As we neared the top of the hill we had our first grouse of the day flush. Probably on high alert due to the lack of cover caused by the snow, the grouse got out well ahead of Sterling. Not perfect, but a start.
At the top of the hill we took a quick break, noted the increased wind velocity, and planned our descent. For our return trip, we hiked parallel the hillside to an area of tall pines on the lee of the hill. Out of the wind the temperature was at least 10 degrees, maybe closer to 20 degrees, warmer. This side of the hill held more soft wood shelter and escape cover, mixed with some young hardwoods and lots of bramble, the type that tests the limits of your chaps, and not only steals your hat, but is loathe to give it back. Amazingly, Sterling and I won the bramble battle, with not a drop of blood being drawn. We wouldn't, however, win the battle of the Ruffed Grouse. We quickly put a grouse out of a high pine tree. The bird offered no shot, but seemed to not fly too far, so I climbed up a bit, looking for a re-flush that never came. Then, while making my way back down another flushed out of a tree, offering a quick shot opportunity I wasn't ready for before presenting Sterling with a fleeting glimpse. A third flush behind us about four minutes later, and the zig-zag tracks of what looked like an army of rabbits kept us on high alert as we hiked back to the car, but nothing more was produced.
After a hurried lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches in the car, we drove to another area to continue our quest. It wasn't to be, as we abandoned our mission after hiking about 200 yards up the trail to the cover. The wind had become unmanageable, gusting up to around 40mph. Unless we found a sheltered cover we'd never find birds. The rest of the day was spent driving around, taking advantage of the extended visibility afforded us by the bare trees, scouting possible cover for the future. We think we found some, and two covers, in addition to the one we'd hunted, have me excited about returning in the fall.
While my first winter grouse hunting trip yielded neither birds, nor bunnies, for the pot it was quite enjoyable, and I classify it as a success. I'd never hunted grouse past December, nor had I ever hunted grouse without the aide of a dog, so this trip represented a first in two areas, and I'd seen enough birds to know now that it can be done. I'd also never seen a turkey flock of the magnitude we stumbled upon; fifty birds being no exaggeration. We saw a few deer too; something that's always nice. Best of all, however, was sharing a few laughs once again with a like minded sportsman, and friend over a couple drams of 18 year old Laphroaig, and some pheasant pate.
Our first stop was a hillside of mixed age, and growth cover. The hillside featured a series of terraces festooned with abandoned apple trees, and patches of bramble. We'd hike up hill 30-40 yards, hunt from one end of a terrace to the other, then climb to the next terrace. The snow was barely ankle deep in most places so the walking and climbing was only hampered by a few icy spots. While the snow did little to slow us, it had knocked down a considerable amount of the cover. While the terraces where quite bare, it wasn't hard to imagine what they'd look like in October and November. Quite obviously a food cover, I would have loved to have run Austin, my late Setter, along these benches on a chilly November afternoon. As we neared the top of the hill we had our first grouse of the day flush. Probably on high alert due to the lack of cover caused by the snow, the grouse got out well ahead of Sterling. Not perfect, but a start.
At the top of the hill we took a quick break, noted the increased wind velocity, and planned our descent. For our return trip, we hiked parallel the hillside to an area of tall pines on the lee of the hill. Out of the wind the temperature was at least 10 degrees, maybe closer to 20 degrees, warmer. This side of the hill held more soft wood shelter and escape cover, mixed with some young hardwoods and lots of bramble, the type that tests the limits of your chaps, and not only steals your hat, but is loathe to give it back. Amazingly, Sterling and I won the bramble battle, with not a drop of blood being drawn. We wouldn't, however, win the battle of the Ruffed Grouse. We quickly put a grouse out of a high pine tree. The bird offered no shot, but seemed to not fly too far, so I climbed up a bit, looking for a re-flush that never came. Then, while making my way back down another flushed out of a tree, offering a quick shot opportunity I wasn't ready for before presenting Sterling with a fleeting glimpse. A third flush behind us about four minutes later, and the zig-zag tracks of what looked like an army of rabbits kept us on high alert as we hiked back to the car, but nothing more was produced.
After a hurried lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches in the car, we drove to another area to continue our quest. It wasn't to be, as we abandoned our mission after hiking about 200 yards up the trail to the cover. The wind had become unmanageable, gusting up to around 40mph. Unless we found a sheltered cover we'd never find birds. The rest of the day was spent driving around, taking advantage of the extended visibility afforded us by the bare trees, scouting possible cover for the future. We think we found some, and two covers, in addition to the one we'd hunted, have me excited about returning in the fall.
While my first winter grouse hunting trip yielded neither birds, nor bunnies, for the pot it was quite enjoyable, and I classify it as a success. I'd never hunted grouse past December, nor had I ever hunted grouse without the aide of a dog, so this trip represented a first in two areas, and I'd seen enough birds to know now that it can be done. I'd also never seen a turkey flock of the magnitude we stumbled upon; fifty birds being no exaggeration. We saw a few deer too; something that's always nice. Best of all, however, was sharing a few laughs once again with a like minded sportsman, and friend over a couple drams of 18 year old Laphroaig, and some pheasant pate.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Clay Day
Shooting is an essential part of hunting, and good shooting makes for a more enjoyable outing. Second to good dog work, there's nothing I'd rather see. Naturally, to enjoy good shooting one must be either lucky, talented, or committed. I'm neither lucky, nor talented, so I squeak by on a bit of commitment. That commitment is to regular practice days at the fish and game club; Breaking clays or at least trying to.
I'm fortunate enough to be a member of a club that keeps regular skeet and trap hours. If the desire arises I can shoot skeet 5 days out of the week, and trap on 4 of those days. Anyone intent on improving their percentages in the fall would be well served by spending time swinging their gun. While regular clay days are enjoyable in their own right, and watching your scores improve builds confidence in your abilities, I learned a long time ago that your scores on the skeet field have little direct effect on your ability to hit real game. What does have an effect is the act of trying to break those pesky little orange clays. Shooting clays, and shooting birds are different enough that even if one shoots regularly without seeing an improvement in their scores, their percentage in the field will improve. Improved scores don't hurt though.
As much as I like shooting skeet, I've come to think of sporting clays as Holy Grail of clay shooting. It is simulated hunting. Sporting clays present the clays in unpredictable, and varied ways; Much like an actual grouse flush, or a covey rise. Sporting clays courses too, are set up in a variety of ways, many along an actual trail you follow through the woods. Who here doesn't enjoy a nice walk in the woods? Add a gun, and it gets even more enjoyable. However, sporting clays is only half of what draws me to the woods in the fall; Without a dog, or actual game that can be cooked up, and shared with friends it will remain just something to be done in the off season.
While regular shooting is something I believe anyone can benefit from, don't ask me how I do it. I have read some books, and watched some instructional shooting videos, but I can't impart an Yoda type wisdom on the subject. I find shotgunning to be visceral, something I feel, and experience, and once I've found the sweet spot I instinctively know it. Like a good day of Judo training, I shoot best when my mind is clear, and I have a feeling of centeredness, my arms, legs, head, eyes, and core all functioning together as one unit.
I do believe there are a few things that shouldn't be over looked by any shooter. Gun fit is one of them. A properly fitting gun will shoot where you are looking. Period. Also, know your eye dominance. I struggled with this some years ago when I got my first double gun. Though I'm not cross dominant, I do have almost equal eye dominance, which allows my left eye to pick up too much rib on the gun; Something that doesnt happen when I shoot over-unders, or single barrel guns. I also believe that one should practice their gun mount. In fact, I've found this so helpful, that I believe that even if you don't have time to shoot regularly, or find yourself unable to shoot for a while, practicing your gun mount a home will help to improve your percentage afield. And of this I speak from experience. Like I said, I squeak by on a bit of commitment.
I'm fortunate enough to be a member of a club that keeps regular skeet and trap hours. If the desire arises I can shoot skeet 5 days out of the week, and trap on 4 of those days. Anyone intent on improving their percentages in the fall would be well served by spending time swinging their gun. While regular clay days are enjoyable in their own right, and watching your scores improve builds confidence in your abilities, I learned a long time ago that your scores on the skeet field have little direct effect on your ability to hit real game. What does have an effect is the act of trying to break those pesky little orange clays. Shooting clays, and shooting birds are different enough that even if one shoots regularly without seeing an improvement in their scores, their percentage in the field will improve. Improved scores don't hurt though.
As much as I like shooting skeet, I've come to think of sporting clays as Holy Grail of clay shooting. It is simulated hunting. Sporting clays present the clays in unpredictable, and varied ways; Much like an actual grouse flush, or a covey rise. Sporting clays courses too, are set up in a variety of ways, many along an actual trail you follow through the woods. Who here doesn't enjoy a nice walk in the woods? Add a gun, and it gets even more enjoyable. However, sporting clays is only half of what draws me to the woods in the fall; Without a dog, or actual game that can be cooked up, and shared with friends it will remain just something to be done in the off season.
While regular shooting is something I believe anyone can benefit from, don't ask me how I do it. I have read some books, and watched some instructional shooting videos, but I can't impart an Yoda type wisdom on the subject. I find shotgunning to be visceral, something I feel, and experience, and once I've found the sweet spot I instinctively know it. Like a good day of Judo training, I shoot best when my mind is clear, and I have a feeling of centeredness, my arms, legs, head, eyes, and core all functioning together as one unit.
I do believe there are a few things that shouldn't be over looked by any shooter. Gun fit is one of them. A properly fitting gun will shoot where you are looking. Period. Also, know your eye dominance. I struggled with this some years ago when I got my first double gun. Though I'm not cross dominant, I do have almost equal eye dominance, which allows my left eye to pick up too much rib on the gun; Something that doesnt happen when I shoot over-unders, or single barrel guns. I also believe that one should practice their gun mount. In fact, I've found this so helpful, that I believe that even if you don't have time to shoot regularly, or find yourself unable to shoot for a while, practicing your gun mount a home will help to improve your percentage afield. And of this I speak from experience. Like I said, I squeak by on a bit of commitment.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Saying Goodbye
"...And he was jest a dog, Lawd, but such a dog as ain't never been on dis-yeah green earth....It ain't for no common field hand like me to know what kind of 'rangemints you got up yonder, and maybe dey ain't no allowance made for dogs and such. But in time I heard birddog folks say you got a plantation leased up yonder, and it's a thousand miles long and twice as wide, and dey ain't no briers ner rattlesnakes, and it ain't never hot and ain't never ground-froze, and de birds is golden birds with sapphire eyes and dey don't run, and dey don't flush wild, and ain't no night to spoil de hunt, and no whistle to call de dogs in; and dat's where de good ones go when dey die...."
Wesley's prayer for Old Sam.
Two of a Kind
Vereen Bell, 1943
Austin passed today. I'd made the decision to end his suffering. Though his condition had worsened over the last ten days, he'd only started to loose the sparkle you see in his eye a couple days ago. Part of me felt I could nurse him, and have him with us a bit longer, but knowing what was happening I made the appointment. When Austin was a pup I had committed to being his care-taker, and whenever something was wrong he looked to me for help. And I always helped him. This weekend, whenever I looked him in the eyes, I could see that he knew something was wrong, that he needed something, though he didn't know what it was. I'd scratch his ears, and he'd lean on me, and he knew daddy would take care of him. And today, in the vets office, he drifted off, away from his pain, with me scratching his ears, and him comforted knowing I was with him, taking care of him.
I've lost dogs before, and it's something one never gets used to. When we loose a dog, we are really loosing a piece of ourself. Our dog has become what we've created, and is who it is because of us. Existential beings that they are, we are amused by their antics, amazed by their abilities, and very often humbled by their forgiveness. Often wanting little more than a scratch behind the ears, they stand loyally by our side, sometimes crawling onto the bed, and readily accept us as theirs, though we spend their entire life time molding them to what we believe they should be.
Thank you for being part of my life, part of me, for the last ten years. I couldn't have asked for a better pal. You put a smile on my face everyday, and were a sympathetic ear when I needed one. A more endearing dog you couldn't have been, and I'm proud that you reached the hearts of so many people, and worked so tirelessly to make people love you. I certainly did. I would have been happy to have you as my dog for the rest of my life. Happy hunting, my pal.
L-
Wesley's prayer for Old Sam.
Two of a Kind
Vereen Bell, 1943
Austin passed today. I'd made the decision to end his suffering. Though his condition had worsened over the last ten days, he'd only started to loose the sparkle you see in his eye a couple days ago. Part of me felt I could nurse him, and have him with us a bit longer, but knowing what was happening I made the appointment. When Austin was a pup I had committed to being his care-taker, and whenever something was wrong he looked to me for help. And I always helped him. This weekend, whenever I looked him in the eyes, I could see that he knew something was wrong, that he needed something, though he didn't know what it was. I'd scratch his ears, and he'd lean on me, and he knew daddy would take care of him. And today, in the vets office, he drifted off, away from his pain, with me scratching his ears, and him comforted knowing I was with him, taking care of him.
I've lost dogs before, and it's something one never gets used to. When we loose a dog, we are really loosing a piece of ourself. Our dog has become what we've created, and is who it is because of us. Existential beings that they are, we are amused by their antics, amazed by their abilities, and very often humbled by their forgiveness. Often wanting little more than a scratch behind the ears, they stand loyally by our side, sometimes crawling onto the bed, and readily accept us as theirs, though we spend their entire life time molding them to what we believe they should be.
Austin 6/23/00 - 2/15/11 RIP
Austin,Thank you for being part of my life, part of me, for the last ten years. I couldn't have asked for a better pal. You put a smile on my face everyday, and were a sympathetic ear when I needed one. A more endearing dog you couldn't have been, and I'm proud that you reached the hearts of so many people, and worked so tirelessly to make people love you. I certainly did. I would have been happy to have you as my dog for the rest of my life. Happy hunting, my pal.
L-
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Partnership
Typical of winter, I spend lots of time thinking and dreaming about future seasons. I usually try to make an assessment of things I could do better, changes I could make, and dog issues I'd like to resolve. This winter it's different.
Recently I've met a few dog people. These people train dogs, hunt with dogs, and are hunting guides. Though we all basically find enjoyment in the same thing, hunting Ruffed Grouse, I was a bit surprised at some of the differences in the way we operate in the woods.
Ask anyone who hunts with dog, and they'll tell you it's a partnership. But is it really? I've noticed some people train their dogs to hunt, and then expect them to go right out there and do it, perfectly. They just follow their dog, and enjoy any success they achieve. Others, in a similar fashion, put their focus on the dog. They follow behind, and marvel at the work it's doing, almost not believing it's actually happening. Everything that happens is a spectacle. The dog a performer. I, on the other hand, take a different approach. The partnership I enjoy with my dog isn't one of, he finds birds so I feed him. It's based on my observations that he really loves to hunt, and he loves to make me happy.
Grouse, and Woodcock to a lesser extent, are runners. Before you ever get to take a shot at one on the wing, your dog has to decode the scent, and track the bird for some time. Of course, having a dog you trust, and who understands the behavior of grouse makes this task less risky, and we can help the dog if we're willing.
We can start by learning to trust our dogs. Let your dog relocate, and re-point a bird if it feels in needs to. Remember, he' got the nose, not you. If you "whoa" your dog on every point, you'll quickly get frustrated, and start doubting your dogs ability after walking in on a few unproductive points. I learned a long time ago not to command my setter to "whoa" when hunting grouse. For those unsure of what I mean; whoa, just like with horses means stop, and when told the dog should stop until released. For some reason it is tradition to release your dog with a tap on the head, which is impractical in the grouse woods. Let your dog have some control. When he's got the bird locked down you'll know it.
We can also help our dog by getting out in front. If you start walking in on unproductive points, or see your dog relocating, get and stay 20 yards in front and to one side of the dog. The bird is running ahead, and you'll cut off an escape route this way. If you give the bird a little something extra to worry about it'll lock down sooner. But don't crowd the dog too much. Twenty yards to the side, as well, is about right. Any closer and you run the risk of flushing the bird before it's pointed. Often, when I know we're on a runner I'll try to boogie ahead about 50 yards and slowly work towards the dog as he works the bird between us. Pinching a bird like this can also get it to lock down. While it is the dogs job to point birds for me, we are partners, and there is no reason why I shouldn't help. After all, successfull, productive points are fun for both of us.
So, how are you helping your dog? Other than the guy with the gun, what role do you play in this partnership? Think about it.
Recently I've met a few dog people. These people train dogs, hunt with dogs, and are hunting guides. Though we all basically find enjoyment in the same thing, hunting Ruffed Grouse, I was a bit surprised at some of the differences in the way we operate in the woods.
Ask anyone who hunts with dog, and they'll tell you it's a partnership. But is it really? I've noticed some people train their dogs to hunt, and then expect them to go right out there and do it, perfectly. They just follow their dog, and enjoy any success they achieve. Others, in a similar fashion, put their focus on the dog. They follow behind, and marvel at the work it's doing, almost not believing it's actually happening. Everything that happens is a spectacle. The dog a performer. I, on the other hand, take a different approach. The partnership I enjoy with my dog isn't one of, he finds birds so I feed him. It's based on my observations that he really loves to hunt, and he loves to make me happy.
Grouse, and Woodcock to a lesser extent, are runners. Before you ever get to take a shot at one on the wing, your dog has to decode the scent, and track the bird for some time. Of course, having a dog you trust, and who understands the behavior of grouse makes this task less risky, and we can help the dog if we're willing.
We can start by learning to trust our dogs. Let your dog relocate, and re-point a bird if it feels in needs to. Remember, he' got the nose, not you. If you "whoa" your dog on every point, you'll quickly get frustrated, and start doubting your dogs ability after walking in on a few unproductive points. I learned a long time ago not to command my setter to "whoa" when hunting grouse. For those unsure of what I mean; whoa, just like with horses means stop, and when told the dog should stop until released. For some reason it is tradition to release your dog with a tap on the head, which is impractical in the grouse woods. Let your dog have some control. When he's got the bird locked down you'll know it.
We can also help our dog by getting out in front. If you start walking in on unproductive points, or see your dog relocating, get and stay 20 yards in front and to one side of the dog. The bird is running ahead, and you'll cut off an escape route this way. If you give the bird a little something extra to worry about it'll lock down sooner. But don't crowd the dog too much. Twenty yards to the side, as well, is about right. Any closer and you run the risk of flushing the bird before it's pointed. Often, when I know we're on a runner I'll try to boogie ahead about 50 yards and slowly work towards the dog as he works the bird between us. Pinching a bird like this can also get it to lock down. While it is the dogs job to point birds for me, we are partners, and there is no reason why I shouldn't help. After all, successfull, productive points are fun for both of us.
So, how are you helping your dog? Other than the guy with the gun, what role do you play in this partnership? Think about it.
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