Summer is over, time to school the dogs for the upcoming hunting season

 

Fall is here. A birch is turning yellow. As will the wild sarsaparilla in the woods. The woods honeysuckle will turn early too. Summer is over. It’s time for us to get back to schooling.

Months and months of play and loose reins make the pups errant. Autumn, from mid-September to the early part of winter, is a more serious time. The time when spaniels go into the woods to work – unlike any work you or I have ever known. Butt-wagging, hopping and jumping, panting and smiling kind of work. Working in a Happy Hunting Grounds, an Eden for us sinners, a Hundred Acre Wood. Run, sniff, quarter, triangulate and flush, and retrieve the product of our work, the ruffed grouse of the great Northwoods.

First, though, it’s back to school for some remedial education, to recall the old commands, to remedy some that have gone feral.

I started out a couple weeks ago with the whistle. The whistle builds on some of the original puppy commands. My buddy Mike, who hunts woodcock and grouse over an English setter, reassured me a few years back that all we need to hunt birds is a mutual understanding of and commitment to “come,” “sit,” and “stay.” And hunt. Daphne’s got all that; Foxy is a little too independent minded. Untrainable. She has no desire to please anyone, and is generally both shameless and guiltless.

“Fetch,” set or point, “heel” and others are treasured options. Again, we’re talking bare minimum for bird dogs, not waterfowl retrievers. The point is off-limits to us because my dogs are free to run year-round. I could never get them to commit to the point because they chase – flush up – everything in the woods.

“Come” we express also with hand clapping, a lip whistle (I’m a terrible whistler), or an extended blast on the dog whistle. For big woods control and serious work, we have Cabela’s and SportDog shock collars with a vibration option. Pushing the vibration button means “come.” Supposedly the range is a quarter-mile. If the girls are out a quarter-mile, it’s not really hunting. Anyway, I like using the vibration command for “come” out in the silent woods – I don’t like to shout or blow the whistle. I’m generally noise adverse. Or it’s good in the windiest, stormiest days when the loudness drowns out auditory commands.

“Sit” is easy. That’s one short blast on the dog whistle. Foxy is slow to respond – stubborn – sometimes, but I always get her to do it in the end. In training, you can never give in. I’ve learned that the hard way. She’s the same with “stay,” which is expressed with the hand gesture, showing the palm.

To begin the hike, two quick blasts on the dog whistle or an exaggerated arm gesture means “Let’s go!” They are released from the sit or stay.

“Come around!” means we all turn into the direction pointed to.

When we hunt, “let’s go” turns into “Hunt ‘em up!” And they know what that means. They’ve anticipated it with the sight of the shotgun and blaze orange vest.

Eventually there’ll be a dead bird or a wounded bird in the woods, and I urge the pups to “Find the Birdie!” They use their nose for that.

Once they’ve found the birdie, I call out “Fetch!” And one of them takes it up. There’s often a little circuitousness from there, a little keep away, but they’ll listen after some urging of “come” or “fetch” or the extended blow on the dog whistle.

Daphne is the better retriever. Not much refreshing is necessary for her. In early September I’ll take the ball out to the road, and I’ll roll it underhanded – she loves to chase it – or bounce it like a grounder – she tries to catch it on the high hop or low hop. From the drive there’s a slope down in both directions, so when I throw it like Yastrzemski from left field to home it goes and goes. Daphne is tired in five minutes.

Then I’ll start carrying a canvas dummy on the road, and loft it into the grassy ditch or woods, and she sniffs it up to retrieve. Then two dummies: I cast the first off down the road, and while she’s chasing that, I’ll toss the second in the ditch near me; she retrieves the first back, then I cast her off towards the ditch with the “Find the birdie!” And she goes in and sniffs it up and retrieves the second after some time searching.

Eventually they’ll bring the dead bird back to me. Or, let’s say, near me. At which point I bend over and kneel down as pleased as punch, and say, “leave it,” and after some hesitation they leave it. And then we’re off again, even more excited than before, because the schooling has come together for all of us all over again.