Spidey was a Grouse Dog

 

Bonasa Northern Spy, Sept 6, 1997 - Oct 11, 2013

 

Last Friday Spy breathed his last.  I saw it coming, and dug a hole for him a couple days earlier.  He went to the earth in the side yard on a pleasant October morning with a couple grouse tail feathers and a 20 gauge shot shell. That evening after playing catch and shagging grounders and flies, Nolan and I stood over Spidey's grave and I told a few stories, and a bit after sunset a woodcock came in low over the field and set down on the lawn about 20 yards away.  It seemed fitting.

Spy was the last of his litter; Kate went before him a few years ago.  He was okay on woodcock, but he seemed to really enjoy finding grouse.  He was certainly more fleet of feet than either Kate or their dad Butch.  Rather than trail birds, he seemed to pin a higher proportion of them than did Butch.  I remember the first pointed grouse that I killed over Spy, his first season when he was a year old.  It was an October afternoon at Frye Mountain WMA in Maine.  The bird held very tight and I was expecting a woodcock. When it rocketed out I downed it with one shot from my 20 gauge SKB SxS; that was also the first shot I had taken on grouse with that gun, which I had picked up that summer. That gun and dog combination was together for 13 seasons.



 

Spy split bird dog duties with Butch for 4 years. In the era Before Kids, they got plenty of time on the ground.



Spy on woodcock, rookie season 1998 -- see the birdy?



Old dog on woodcock (bottom center).  Same old ATS Basic Beeper!



Spy's retrieves of upland birds were memorable... because they were relatively few, and usually were tough cripples brought back alive.  He pointed dead more often than not.

Ducks were different -- he had no problem retrieving them until ice-up.  Not very stylish, but he liked fetching them.

 

Rich and Spy, northern Maine 2008.

I don't recall the first woodcock I killed over Spy, but I vividly remember his last.  Three years ago, when Spy was 13, I'd hunt him up to a couple hours a day and Brody (1.5 yrs at the time) would get the lion's share of time.  We were in Minnesota and I was guiding a gentleman from PA.  Spy pointed this woodcock 3 or 4 times and each time we either didn't get a shot or missed.  It was getting late and the dog was getting tired. FINALLY, my guy from PA kills the bird, and I'm jumping around cheering, it was such a relief and I was so grateful.  So I leash Spy and lead him -- or more accurately, he leads me -- out toward the truck.  I've got my shotgun (same 20 ga SKB) over my shoulder, Spy tugging on the leash pulling me through the brush and saplings. He suddenly stops and I just about trip over him, and a moment later up flies a grouse.  My shotgun comes forward off my shoulder, butt-stock to cheek and shoulder, and pop -- drops the grouse.

Good old Spidey.  He was a grouse dog. 

 

 





Requiem for Herter's decoys

Yes, it's sad but true, Herter's decoys are no more. As reported on a number of hunting sites, including http://www.yellowdogpatrol.com/2010/09/cabelas-discontinues-herters-decoys.html

In Herter's and KGT's honor, I spent some time yesterday repainting some Herter's 72s that were looking a little beat up. Better keep an eye on the Pennysaver and Craigslist for now on, 'cause they ain't making any more of these.

Cabela's is starting to garner a reputation as an evil empire. Hard to believe.

jt

p.s. And in case anyone's wondering about the size of those neck bands . . . take a look at the videos on takeem.com .

Google killed Bambi

apparently this has made the rounds the past few years.

New York state street address. No wonder.

Homage to Kate

This was kind of a bittersweet camp for me this year. The new dogge Phoebe getting her first lick of grouse feathers, but the old dogge Kate in attendance at what was undoubtedly her final grouse camp. I've got to say, it was one tough ride home in the truck with Kate . . . it's really about over except for that last big decision.

Thus in an elegiac mood I spent some time today putting together this ode to Kate. It's just not going to be the same without her.

Kate the Great

Some of you know this already, but I may as well say it here as well--my setter Katie has bone cancer. She's probably got until the first week or two of June, then that's gonna be it. But it probably explains a bit why I'm obsessing about the fox hunting--I need the distraction.

It's off to St. Louis this week for Ethics in Action and the Hunter Education conference. See you all when I get back.

Ouch!! That must have hurt!

Can you imagine the hunters surprise when this beast walked out? What about the deer that he didn't see? Look at the length of the drop tine. This is one monster deer that won the battle but lost the war.
Anyone care to take a guess at what this monster dressed out at? Nice pictures it still looks like the deer has his head angled in pain from having the antler in it's eye socket.

...a moment of silence

Double Black has gone
mourning its ice out demise
a drake canvasback

the bright side

Well, at least Katie isn't as bad off as this poor critter . . . .


Not a very nice way to go, eh?

Careful, it's rough out there, Bambi

Two deer locked antlers in a fight in Indiana and then drowned when they fell through the ice of a farm pond. For details and photo, read the full article.