My Next Best Dog
Posted: Tuesday, November 08, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
I continually ‘bad mouth’ Dobie’s hunting skills. I know it’s wrong and unjust, but I can’t stop it. I can’t seem to forget the past and move on. Maybe I’ll be able to with time and effort, but for now I’m still comparing him to his predecessor. The last dog I used for guiding pheasant hunts, the renowned Riley, was a once-in-a-lifetime gun dog and set the standard high. Whenever Dobie makes the smallest mistake, or falls even the slightest bit short of perfection, I’m disappointed and talk about what my old, now dead dog used to do. It’s simply not fair. Besides, Dobie is one heck of a bird dog; the best one I have.
The last hunt of this year’s spring season began as a real disappointment. The other gunners cancelled out at the last minute. It was just Dobie and me at the preserve. I decide that I didn’t want to miss the opportunity for one last pheasant hunt, so I told them to go ahead and stock the ten birds for the two of us. We got a mixture of six hens and four cock-birds.
They gave us a field of about a dozen acres that was surrounded by other similar fields. The natural grass and weeds cover was pretty thin and beaten down over the winter. It was a lot of area to cover and the birds were likely to run. After the birds were placed, I turned Dobie loose. With just one shooter I decided to hunt the perimeter first to avoid chasing the birds out of our fields.
It wasn’t long before Dobie went on point. I walked in, flushed the bird and shot it. Dobie rushed over and pinned it down. It wasn’t dead and tried to run away when he let go of it. I told him to “fetch.” He grabbed it again and carried it over to me. I told him to “give.” He dropped it at my feet. I picked it up, wrung its neck and stuffed it in my game bag.
And so it went. He did get out a little far from me and flush one bird out of range. It was one of those mistakes his predecessor seldom made. I wounded one rooster, breaking its wind. It took off running. While Dobie was chasing it, he flushed up another hen. I shot it dead. While I was retrieving the second one, I flushed up another one and shot her, too. We had three birds on the ground at the same time. Dobie finally got the rooster and we bagged them all.
After one loop through the field, we had seven of our ten birds. We took a short break and covered the field again; being sure to hit the spots we’d missed chasing down ones we’d already gotten. In a short time we had the other three. Several required great shots. Several required great retrievals by my dog. We were done with our hunt, had all ten birds in the bag, and were back at the truck in less than an hour. There is really nothing to it when you have an adequate shooter and a great dog.
I recently took Dobie dove hunting. It’s the first hunting season that opens around here, usually September first. Many bird dogs don’t like to retrieve doves. Some say it’s because their feathers are sharp and the bird is uncomfortable in their mouth. The dogs don’t usually like the heat that time of year either, but dove hunting is most frequently done from a blind and there is not much running around. Hunters find a place where the doves fly by and conceal themselves. The grass and brush are high and thick that time of year. Doves are small and difficult to find when they go down.
Dobie out shined my friend’s dog, a Labrador retriever, that day. He didn’t miss a bird. If he didn’t see where it went down, I led him to the general vicinity and told him to “fetch.” Once he knew what was up, he got busy and soon found it. In a few hours I had my limit of 15 doves. I was starting to think that maybe Dobie was a lot better than I gave him credit for. My buddy commented on how good he was, which is rare when two dogs (dog owners), are competing.
Saturday Dobie had his first guide job of the season. A dad and three sons in their late teens, early twenties had scheduled a family hunt at the preserve for ten pheasants. I was a little nervous about how good of a job we’d do for them, like I always am, but Dobie did great. They stocked our birds in two long fields that were separated by hedge rows. The hunt took about three hours with a short break to get more ammo.
Dobie and I got them shots at 14 pheasants, and they were pretty good marksmen. They bagged eleven birds. Dobie didn’t accidentally flush a single bird and there were only two that he ran past and the hunters kicked up. He wasn’t perfect, but pretty darned good for the gun dog I always bad mouth. Dobie made almost $30 an hour for his efforts.
I don’t know why I can’t forget the past and move on. There will never be another Riley in my life. I knew that long ago. But, I still have one of the best gun dogs around. His clients always get shots at all their birds. We all are individuals with our own talents, so are our dogs. I’ve decided to stop comparing him to any other. He’s great and I love him, just the way he is. He's my best dog.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)So glad you ended it with that realization about Dobie. You have great memories of Riley, and no one likes to be compared to another. Dobie sounds very talented too.
What I love about this article is the depth you take us into the hunting paradigm, the way you characterize yourself as a hard hearted demanding master, but also how your heart feels so much for both the passed and your present dog.
As for me, I would give Dobie a gigantic hug. He is doing his best in the face of grief, memory and a relationship he will never be able to surmount.what a great comment--thanks. his next hunt he got 10 out of 10 in less than an hour. We go for geese tomorrow.
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