"If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it." ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

Rory Hero Shot

 

As I’ve bloviated before, since retirement, this blog’s purpose has mostly been about my “journey” towards becoming at one with the Tao of the Bird Dog. This particular post will be long, with lots of twist and turns. Hang with me. I think you’ll enjoy it.

Dad asked Ann and I to come spend February with him this year. We are a week into that visit.

Rory and I have signed up for a NAHRA Upland test in Mid March. I did not want to leave the Rorz with Katie for the whole month of February, losing all that training time. So, we loaded the dog and his doggie stuff up in the CX-9 Urban Assault Vehicle and pressed off into the murk.

Before we left I did some research. My first question was “Are there any local NAHRA clubs in Central Florida that I could join for their training sessions?” After some online research and a pleasant email exchange with Phil Hines, NAHRA President, I learned that NAHRA is not represented locally.

I entered “Central Florida Retriever Clubs” into Duck, Duck, Go and amazingly enough, “Central Florida Hunting Retriever Club” popped up as the first entry.  HRC is a national organization like NAHRA.  The CFHRC has a very nice website.  I discovered they were hosting a hunt test this weekend an hour’s drive from Dad’s place. I resolved to drive up, watch their test and maybe meet someone who would give me information and maybe an opportunity to join in.

We have members of HRC in our club, one a well respected national judge, so I texted him and asked what mistakes I ought to avoid making as I introduced myself and got a very nice answer back.

Google directed me through the maddening Central Florida traffic that did not exist in my boyhood.  OnX Hunt tells me the venue was set in the Gey Ranch complex and I found it pretty easily.  The terrain took me back to my youth. Big ol’ vaulting Oak Trees with spanish moss,  wonderful shade underneath, close cropped grass and rolling hills with cattle ponds interspersed. I had a flashback to Boy Scout camps out on Lake Hatchineha.

Oak Trees and Moss

 

I found a spot in the gallery area and made myself comfortable.  The club President came over and introduced himself and I recognized his name from the website. “Perfect! You’re exactly the guy I was hoping to meet!” He took 15 minutes of his time out of managing the test and answered all my questions. They do have training days, but not in Feb due to the test, so that was disappointing. I am welcome to join in Mar. My other big question concerned what to do about gators. 50 years ago, when I was a teen, gators were scarce and endangered. If we saw a gator on Lake Eva it was an event.... Like seeing a Bald Eagle soaring overhead.

Today, ecological recovery efforts have been successful and gators abound. Swimming a dog requires some care. CFHRC only trains in small tanks on known ranch land and they go out at night frequently to shine the water. A strong flashlight will light up gator eyes.

Shining gators.

So, Lake Eva is just right out as training lake. Rory won’t get wet again until the water thaws in the frozen north.

Ray also told me I could still enter the mid level test the next because they had openings. If I hurried over to the Seasoned venue I might still be able to watch them. So, I said “Thanks”, fired up the UAV 9 and drove over to the Seasoned test.

Seasoned Test and Oak Trees

 

 

There was a fellow leaning against the grill of a truck as I ambled over and asked if I could lean on his truck with him. “It’s not my truck.” That’s when I realized I was talking to a fellow Minnesotan club member, Joe Cafarelli. So, we said "Howdy" and spent a pleasant hour watching the test. Joe winters on the Florida’s east coast.  He was gonna enter the Seasoned test the next day.

Somewhere in there, I decide to enter the next day too.

Now I’m faced with some problems to solve. I need to find the Hunt Test Secretary and get the entry form. Rory’s AKC data is home on this laptop and I’ll have fill it out over night and bring it back. I’ll need to ensure I have the entry and late fee.

And finally, the toughest problem of all. HRC requires you dress all in camo, which I don’t have. I really want to avoid driving to downtown Orlando to Bass Pro Shop and I’m trying to find something on the way back to Haines City. I make about 10-12 phone calls to local stores and keep getting skunked. 

Finally, a light dawns and I call my sister-in-law Deb to see if my brother Mark had any camo. Which he did and she brought that over. We had a nice visit that night after I got home.

As we were loading the UAV 9 Sunday morning, a slightly mystical event occurred. It was still pre-dawn dark and I stood looking north straight up Hill Dr looking for Polaris, the North Star. I'm standing in just about the exact place as I was when I first saw Polaris as a 13 year old astronomy geek kid. Just as I found the star, a big, bright Meteor streaked across my vision from west to east. I talked about two other meteors here. Just like them, I took this as a sign from the Lord to calm down and trust Rory’s preparation. I calmly whispered “Thanks” and prayed for continued wisdom.

Finished loading, Ann, Rory and I set off in the UAV 9 around 0600 to make the drive up to Clermont. 

At this point, I gotta tell you about HRC’s gun rules. HRC has three levels of dog training. Started, Seasoned and Finished. Seasoned and Finished require that you safely handle and fire a shotgun for each retrieve. The shells are “Poppers” - shotgun shells where only the firing cap has been installed. No powder and certainly no shot.  They make a nice, not too loud gun shot. 

Violating gun safety is a really easy way to get ejected from the test. Further, the gun I am to use was a right handed pump. For various physiological reasons, I’ve been shooting a left handed auto loader for years now. My trap, skeet and hunt habit is to click the safety off as I mount the gun and HRC’s rules are very clear that the safety is to come off only after the bird is in the air. So I’ve got a well drilled habit pattern to over come and if I screw up, I’m out. This had my attention.

If you are still with me at this point, Ann got video of both series. She couldn’t get close enough to the water series to get a good shot.

 

The first event is a double water retrieve. I managed to flail my way through the shots and not violate the rules. I was really relieved when I could stow the gun and get to the part I had confidence in - running Rory. Rory really did a great job. He hadn’t been able to swim since late October when the water froze in MN and WI. There’s a slight bobble where he runs down the shoreline for a bit before entering the water. I was about to whistle sit him and cast him across the water but he saved it.

Two great retrieves to hand and it’s time to turn and set up for our first ever water blind event. We’ve been training casting using the whistle and arm signals for almost a year.  This was the first opportunity I had to actually do it in a test. A bird handler had hidden the dead duck across the little water cove while Rory was retrieving. Rory didn’t have a clue where the bird was. I am really pleased at how obedient he was.

On the way back, the judges threw in a “Diversion Bird”. I had to load the gun, do the gun safety thing and then we “shot” the bird off to the side as Rory swam back. He was supposed to note the fall but continue on and deliver the bird to me. We’ve been practicing that and it paid off. Then he did a great job retrieving the diversion bird.

Still with me?

 

Now the land series. It starts off with double. The gun jammed as I cycled the gun for the next shot. So... both the judges yelled “Bang”. Which tickles me now, but I was totally concentrating on maintaining gun safety as it happened. I did as instructed and held the gun muzzle in a safe direction while I asked for help and handled Rory. Rory did a great job.

Then we went over to the line for the Land Blind. Same thing, bird handler hid the bird while Rory wasn’t looking. Rory decided that any sane person would hide the blind bird in the shadow of the tree. Florida Sun! Hot! He kept wanting to run to the shadow. I finally cast him off it and we got a good retrieve.

Finally, the last event is a “Walk Out”. Load the gun, keep it safe, heel up Rory and start walking the pre-briefed path. The “Bird Boy” threw a bird, I whistle sat Rory, safety off, gun shot, safety on, cycle pump. Rory sat and stayed steady to flush. Good Boy! He made a final perfect retrieve and we were done. Adrenalin Crash ensued.

Here’s the ribbon Rory won hanging on Dad’s Hearth.

Dad's Hearth

 

 On that happy note, I remain,

Dad/Geoff

 

'24 Ruffed Grouse

 

 

 “It is always darkest before dawn.” ~ Unknown

 

Geoff and Rory Celebrate in the Cabin

 

I have a great Rory bird dog story to tell. As always, if you find hunting offensive, please go find somewhere else to be.

As I talked about any number of times, come the Fall, I’m totally invested in hunting for Ruffed Grouse with Rory, my best doggy buddy. This year, Rory really got the big picture and he loves him some Ruffed Grouse. He found birds for me almost every day we went out.

 …And I missed them all. I’ve probably run through a box of shells alarming but not harming the majestic Ruffed Grouse.

 Last summer, the Grandsons were visiting and I was talking about Ruffed Grouse with Brody. He waxed enthusiastic and said he couldn’t wait to eat one. I told him we’d sure save him some when he came to visit next.  I was really confident I'd get him a bird.  I always get grouse for the last 4 years or so.

Which is why my inability to harvest one this year was really starting to weigh on me. I really didn’t want to have to tell Brodz that I didn’t get any birds.

 This brings us to today’s story.  I have great little short quarter mile walk along a fire road that borders Loon Creek. It always has birds. Rory and I set off today and he was doing a great job working the woods trying find birds. It had warmed up today and it was somewhere around 34F with a light snow/rain mix falling. Nothing a hat couldn’t protect my bald head from.

 Suddenly, Rory went birdy and lunged several feet to his left into a patch of fallen oak limbs next to the fire road. There’s the unmistakable “whirrrrr!” and the bird erupts from the pile, Rory hard on its heels. It’s all a blur of memory as my muscle memory takes over.  Safety off, shotgun mount and I’m swinging through the grouse as it enters the woods to the right of trail and I shoot and swing. I honestly thought I was behind the bird and missed. Despair.

 Rory does the curious and unmistakable kangaroo like stand on his back legs as he tries to see into the brush. His ears are up. He’s in predatory mode. Then he’s off and I let him go. Half a minute later, I call him in, pretty much in deep despair because I’ve missed again.

 Rory breaks the cover with the grouse in his mouth and I’m completely dumbfounded. 

 

 

 Finally, I remember I'm the boss and I get all dog handler again. "Heel” and he makes a great deliver to hand. That’s when I started screaming like a happy little kid. It was the best feeling ever!

 

This is the first time Rory's found a bird I thought I'd missed.  

Rory knows he’s done a good thing. To celebrate, he runs down the bluff and belly flops into Loon Creek - which has to be mere degrees above freezing. He paddles around lapping the water then runs back up to me, shakes and then breaks into the greatest minute and a half of celebratory zoomies a dog has ever had.

The bird is all cleaned and butchered and in the freezer, waiting for the Brodz. I feel like the mighty hunter!

I poured a glass of Woodford Happy Water to celebrate while I cleaned the bird. I thought it might be clever to include Rory but he really does not appreciate the bouquet of a great whiskey!

On that happy note, I remain,

Dad/Geoff
 

 

Castor Canadensis Redux ( Edited )

 

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action” ~ Ian Fleming

 Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

 Earlier this week, I related the silly story of the Wily Namekagon Beaver. Today, Rory and I were involved in yet another encounter with Castor Canadensis. This one is much more bizarre than the first. As with the first, I’d like to take this opportunity to implore that you turn away from the urge to indulge in cheap puns and double entendre.

 Ann is up at the cabin with me the last couple of days so I have been availing myself of the opportunity to have her drive the truck to a pick up point while I walk a hunting trail. It is quite the luxury to not have retrace your steps to return to your ride.

 I have a very nice little trail on Burnett County’s lovely Loon Creek Basin. We got out and walked a little loop that resulted in Rory bouncing not one but two woodcocks. Sadly, Woodcock season ended a week ago so I had to stand there and watch the twittering Timberdoodles flitter away across the creek.

 After Rory found the woodcocks, we went up the shallow hill and began walking the fire trail that parallels the creek. To the left is a cute little beaver pond handmade by actual natural Beavers. 

Loon Creek Beaver Pond

 

Suddenly, Rory breaks hard right up into the scrub Oak and Popple cover that is on the right side of the fire break away from the Beaver Pond. I can hear him aggressively routing around in there and have my shotgun at the ready.

 Then I hear the rhythmic stepping sound he makes when he’s returning on a retrieve. It’s different than running back while hunting. I’m puzzled. As he breaks the edge of the cover and I can see him, I see that he has something in his mouth. At this point, like Hedley Lamarr: “My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.”  

I have no idea what he has in his mouth but I have a ton of theories.

 As he nears, it looks like he has a black Croc in his mouth. I am puzzled why he would have found a Croc deep in Wisco scrub oak forest. As he gets closer, morphing, it begins to look like a black oven mitt. Now, I have the same puzzled question concerning forest and oven mitt.

 Rory’s tail is going in big, happy proud circles. He knows he’s bringing me something special. I heel him up, he sits and I reach down to take the oven mitt in a textbook “Deliver to Hand” retrieve.

Then I look more closely at what I hold and my paradigm is suddenly forced to shift. Gentle Reader, I kid you not - I have in my gloved hand, a recently severed Beaver Tail. ( I implore you here to stifle your punning reflex. ) I can truthfully say that one of the first thoughts to flash through your mind when you find yourself holding a recently severed beaver tail is “Now what do I do with this?”

 Because I am the damaged human that I am, I held it back out to Rory, and commanded “Fetch”. Obediently, he performed a flawless Tim Springer Obedient Fetch so that I could pull out my phone and take a series of photos against the gorgeous setting sun. Because, who wouldn’t?

Rory and the Beaver Tail

 

Rory and the Beaver Tail

 

 Do not ask your humble scribe to explain exactly how a beaver tail came to be severed and laying in the scrub oak woods. I do not know. Were I forced to guess, it would be that one of the Fur Trappers that enjoy the bounty that is Burnett County trapped this poor Beaver from the contiguous Beaver Pond and skinned it. I would guess that the process of skinning requires a surgical removal of the tail. I would not be surprised to learn that had I gone into the woods in the direction that Rory came from, I would have found a pile of Beaver remains in the process of being returned to nature.

 At this point, I’d like to indulge in a little braggadocio. I am a member of “Four Points Retriever Club”. The members of this club are all fine dog trainers and good people that far outstrip my meager efforts at training Rory. While I will not go so far as to say that today was a singular accomplishment, I am willing to say that only a small subset of the Membership has achieved the signal victory of having a Beaver tail delivered to hand by their dogs.

 The setting sun provided a beautiful backdrop to end this saga. I hope you found it as entertaining as I did.

Loon Creek Sunset

 On that happy note, I remain,

Dad/ Geoff

Addendum:  I just learned mere hours after hitting the publish button that a Full Moon occurring in November is called "The Beaver Moon".  How I missed this crucial piece of research as I drafted this Gadabout will remain a stain on my story telling skills forever.  I apologize to all of you.

 

 

The Wily Namekagon Beaver

 

"I never tell a dirty joke - it's a cheap way to get a laugh." ~ Red Skelton

The Wily Namekagon Beaver

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

 Amongst my tens of readers, there is a small kernel that enthusiastically seeks opportunity to engage in the low act of punning and double entendre. With sorrow, your author must count himself amongst those sadly stricken souls. The saga I am about to recount offers ample opportunity to gratify those sinful ways.

But, before you blindly quip, I encourage you to indulge in a moment of self reflection and consider the permanence of Al Gore’s Information Superhighway. Further, please reflect on whether you wish your base word play to sully your reputation among those who do not appreciate the fine art of the pun and entendre. Thank you.

On to the story. I am here in our family cabin in Burnett County, in NW Wisconsin. Replete with many marshes, streams and lakes, aquatic fur bearing mammals abound, the majestic Beaver being chief among them. The historical re-enactment of the early 1800s Fur Trade is one of the many reasons that this writer would encourage you to visit and support the county’s Fort Folle Avoine Historical Site. We took the grand kids there last summer.

Today, Rory and I went off to stalk the wily Ruffed Grouse along the banks of the magnificent Namekagon River. There are those who claim, with a lot of truth, that the Namekagon river basin is the most secluded river in the US. I have many grouse covers scouted out along the river and seldom do I run across others there.

The little hunter walking trail I used today runs right up against the steep sandy banks of the river. Now that the foliage has fallen you can easily see the river down below. My basic grouse strategy involves me slowly walking along a trail - the better the trail, the better for me - while young athletic Rory quarters the woods and brush around the trail. Rory now knows the scent and sound of the grouse and the woodcock and does a creditable job of flushing them from their hides. Whether they fly an escape route that exposes them to my fire is always a crap shoot. But, just the sheer thrill of working as a team with a dog that I have trained is starting to be more important than actually bagging a bird. ( Yeah, I know, that's really weak.... )

I try to keep my eye on Rory for cues to maintain readiness. He suddenly disappeared to my right down the steep bank.  I quickly tried to locate so that I had the freedom to swing the gun and then looked to see where Rory had gone. I noted he had gone down the steep embankment of what I thought was a very well used deer trail and had jumped in the river. He was paddling around with that wild abandonment that only dogs living in the moment of sheer happiness can achieve. I called him up and here he comes but now he has “The Zoomies”.  He’s running wild circles around a specific location. I look closer and note that what he is circling is a tree that has been cut down very recently by a Beaver. Reassessing the situation, I realize that we are passing through an area that a wily Beaver is harvesting and that the scent of the Beaver must be replete all through the area. That is why Rory is so excited.  Further, what I thought was deer trail was actually a path beaten down by the Beaver as it hauled wood. 

I get Rory calmed down and into a sit and I took this picture. You can see the stump, the stick and the tree laying on its side. I wonder if we surprised the Beaver and drove him off. ( Please recall that you can click on these pictures to enlarge them. )

Rory, the Stump, the Stick and the Tree

This is occurring near the end of our hunt.  Rory knows we are walking out to the Truck which is about 300 yards away.  He grabs a piece of tree trunk that the beaver sectioned up and falls in love with it. 

Rory's new stick

 

He picks it up and starts carrying his "stick" out to the truck. I got my camera out and got this short video.

We walked all the way to the truck, Rory proudly parading his “stick”. He wanted to take it home with us.  No, we did not bag a bird.  Had great time though. 

On that happy note, I remain,

Dad/Geoff

 

 

Old Friends Visit

 

"Old friends aren't made overnight." ~ Saint-Exupery

Al and Geoff, Namekagon River

 Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

October is the height of Fall Colors and also Ruffed Grouse and Woodcock season here in NW Wisconsin.  Every year, Al Cave and his wife come to visit.  Al and I hunt the wily birds and Lisa and Ann have fun together.  We never really have a lot of luck bagging birds, but we have fun - especially working with my dogs.  The story is the same this year.  I did get some fairly nice video I'm about to share with you. 

As usual, if hunting stories offend you, please go read something else.

There is a Fire Break trail along Loon Creek up here that everyone knows about and it always has birds.  I told this short story to Al as we walk up to a bramble cover that Rowdy and Rory have bounced birds out of before.    As always, you can click on these videos to make the bigger and better resolution.  

Its a good setup for what happened immediately after this.

I sent Rory to look into that same bramble cover and dern if he didn't bounce up the first Woodcock I've seen this year.  Al made a great shot.

Al follows through, Rory Chases

As happens many times, we didn't need Rory to retrieve this bird, it's laying right there at our feet.  But...I haven't spent all those hours working with Rory to get Obedient Fetch drilled in to miss a chance to retrieve a freshly killed bird.  Especially a Woodcock, because Rory really needs more familiarity with the Timberdoodles.

So, this next video is a couple of minutes of Keystone Cops because Rory really did need some training in Woodcocks.  Please skip over this unless your are really interested in seeing dog training foibles...

Al bagged the Woodcock and we continued on up the Fire Break.  I really love this little piece of Burnett County, WI.  It's really pretty.  Rory goes out and bounces up another Grouse.  I have to wait for my shot after the bird passes Al and I totally missed it.  But we sent Rory out to look anyway. 

 

Muzzle Discipline?

I have no more stories to tell from that Fire Road and Ann drove us over to another little forest two track not far.  There's a little corner where I frequently see birds sunning and sure enough, Rory bounced up another one.  I'm pretty proud of how obedient Rory was in the run up to this. 

A bunch of family kids came up that night and we all climbed aboard the Poontoon Boat.  A sunset cruise and dashed hopes to see Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS.

Ham Lake Sunset Cruise

On that note, I remain, 

Dad/Geoff

ps, Found the comet tonight!