They come in peace, and go in pieces ...

Dove opener in Maryland. Stella and I sat in the shade of an oak at my local IWLA chapter with two very nice gentlemen named Tom and Jerry. Really. I decided that dove hunting would be a nice introduction for Stella to guns 'n birds. I went out without a gun myself, looking to focus entirely on Stella and allow others to bring down the game. I hoped to find some hunters who were "sans dogge", as the French say, and seemed amiable to have two young pups hang around waiting for stuff to fall out of the sky. Things worked out perfectly, Tom and Jerry were more than happy to have us join them. I kept Stella close at my side when shooting time began, unsure how she would react to sound of gunfire. I had, a few months prior, walked her behind the rifle range at the chapter and she seemed unconcerned with the noise, but having shotguns go off so near was a different story. As it turned out I had nothing to worry about.

At 12:05, Tom (or was it Jerry) took the first bird of the day, dropping it 20 yards behind us in the field. I hopped up, and led Stella over. The bird was visible between the rows of knee-high sunflower, quite dead. I called for Stella to fetch it up and off she went, looking for the black and white training dummy she has so enthusiastically retrieved over the past many months. She ran around in circles looking for that dummy, running past and over the dead bird a number of times as I stood providing encouragement. Her nose wasn't down, she was scanning the field in front of her with her eyes.

I chuckled a bit thinking about how I had expected her to magically re-orient herself to the bird. I called her over and physically brought her to the bird. She sniffed at it and recoiled. She approached it carefully, took a longer sniff and pawed it once and recoiled again. She clearly had no friggin' clue what this thing was, but she was just as clearly intrigued. I talked excitedly to her about the bird, hoping to impart joy and excitement to Stella about this bloody feathered thing.

Stella didn't look like she was going to mouth, let alone retrieve, the bird so I picked it up and brought it back to Tom ... mighta been Jerry. I sat Stella under the tree and held the bird right up against her nose, giving her the opportunity to inhale the scent. She was warming up to this new thing, she licked it, took a few light nibbles and walked over to it when I finally put the bird down in front of her. The doves continued to fly and a few minutes later another bird fell in front of us about 30 yards. I led Stella in the general direction and coaxed her to "Fetch it up!". Stella had changed. She was not the dog she was 5 minutes prior.

She had her head down, way down to the ground. She was using her nose. Oh my god, she was quartering. I sure as hell didn't teach her that!

She nosed her way to the bird, and with a one more "Fetch!" from me, she collected it in her mouth and started back to me. I turned from her and skipped, yes skipped, through the field back to the oak calling fetch back to her. She followed me, bird in mouth. She came right to me as I kneeled down to welcome her, I put my hand out to take the bird and she dropped it into my hand. A quick inspection of the bird told me that she had a soft mouth. Stella looked happy and excited. A few feathers had stuck to her nose and mouth. Her first retrieve.

Stella had seven more retrieves over the next two hours. One bird was quite lively, but it didn't bother Stella. She got very business-like when guns went off nearby, she would start heading off into the field. Towards the end she got a bit tired, and by the last retrieve a little less willing to bring her quarry back to me when requested. But that didn't matter.

She now knows what the excitement is all about. I know where I need to take her and what to show her, so her instinct can take over.

Not sure how many more times I can get her out for dove, but it's not too many more weeks until waterfowl.

I think I need to give Tom and Jerry a call ...