"Did you ever walk into a room and forget why you walked in? I think that's how dogs spend their lives." ~ Sue Murphy
Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,
Yesterday, Rory got off the porch and ran with the big dogs. I’m so dern proud I could bust.
Again, if you are offended by hunting, please take yourself off elsewhere.
Rory and I are enthusiastic Four Points Retriever Club and NAHRA members. Every March, FPRC runs an Upland Retriever Test, this year at Pheasant Ridge Shooting Preserve in Ogilvie, MN. A retriever
test is not a competition. There are defined requirements and if you successfully accomplish them, you qualify. It’s more like a pilot check ride. I like that.
I quote these instructions to NAHRA judges, because the last two lines make my heart swell.
“A Senior Upland dog by definition is a finished upland hunting retriever. Senior dogs should be under complete control at all times and steady under all conditions. .... They are the elite of all hunting
dogs and should show it. They are the dogs that any of us would be proud to own and hunt with anywhere in the country.“
There were two concurrent tests yesterday, so Rory had the chance to win two ribbons. We won just one. You ain’t handed a ribbon, you have to work for it. I also like that a lot.
Yesterday, my trophy wife, Ann followed us with her video phone. I could put you to sleep with the videos, but it is my fervent wish to keep this short and avoid that. Several of the judges and shotgunners recorded their footsteps yesterday.
Their phones all said they walked north of 5 miles judging the test.
Doing math in public, there were roughly 15 dogs tested so that means a single test stretched out over a ⅓ of a mile and we did it twice. I hope that gives you an idea of the length of videos she recorded
yesterday.
Further, video of the reasons why we failed yesterday are my business and I don’t care to share them here. Suffice it to say that Rory and I have to work harder and smarter on the Obedience
Facet of the Doggy Mindset.
So, in the interest of brevity and in full disclosure, I’m only gonna show you videos that put us in the best light.
A Senior Upland Test has 6 components. Two Hunts culminating in "steady to shot and fall", Two Blind Retrieves and either a trail or a hunt it up. I’ll explain each below.
The first I want to show you is the blind retrieve. Rory does not know where the dead bird is, but I do. I use hand signals and whistle sits to direct him to the downed bird. This one went
really well. The others went downhill into costing a lot of points. In this one though, I only had to give Rory one cast to get him to the bird. I think the scent trails of the previous dogs and a wind change really helped
us on this one.
The second is a “Hunt-It-Up”. Neither Rory nor I know where the dead bird is. I’m given an area to start in and I send Rory out with the command “Find It”!
He did a great job on this one.
Finally, the hunt and steady to shot. The goal of the hunt is a dog that intelligently quarters the area out in front of the hunters and remains in “reasonable
shotgun distance.” Rory did great on this.
Now a little explanation. A live bird has been loaded into a bird flinger. Here’s a picture.
Bird Launcher
At the end of the hunt, at a precise moment that requires some judgment, the judge presses the remote to fling the bird skyward to seek freedom. The gunners either knock the
bird down or it escapes into the wild. In either case Rory must sit on my command and remain steady until I tell him what to do next. The theory here is that a dog that chases a flushed bird could get shot. Rory is rock solid until I release him to retrieve.
In all the retrieves, Rory must “deliver the bird to hand” which means he has to wait patiently for me to take the bird from him.
I gotta say, the ribbon looks good hanging on the cabin mantle.
If you are still with me at this point,
thank you. On that happy note, I remain,
Dad/Geoff
Monday, February 10, 2025
"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 NAHRAUpland 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.
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!
“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.
"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.
