Artemis gone

Goodbye Artemis.  You left too soon. Thanks for that last retrieve.  I had no idea.

Love Always,

KGT

Unsung heroes--- unwritten stories

Well, I THOUGHT there would be exploits and stories, war songs sung and war dances danced.  The guns are now silent, and the war songs and dances never came... But the brown dog and I, we soldier on.  We apologize in advance for our personality disorders.

Painting of Chesapeake Bay Retriever at Old Ebbitt's Grill, Washington DC.

30-minute epic

Sunday afternoon, misty, foggy, Sandy on the way. Nolan's been plugged into the d!@#$% I Pad.

Must... Get... Kid... OUTSIDE! 

I offer a walk in the woods to check on our deer stands --- naaah. I offer to take away the Ipad until further notice if he doesn't get his boots on and meet me at the door --- whi-i-i-i-i-ining. How about we get Brody and look for a bird? -- Okay. (... ev-er-y-one's a win-nah!)

Okay then.  A bell & beeper, vest and shotgun, and a bit o' orange, and out the door.

Up past the barn to the red maples where we've found woodcock in prior seasons. Brody finds old scent - stop and go, searching.  Stopping long enough to activate the beeper, but no woodcock this time.  

He hunts farther down the maple stand, and bumps into a woodcock and gives chase to the edge of the big woods.  I give him a little "what-for" and we resume the hunt down the hill along the edge of the old field, to the other old field edge below the house.  Nolan and I scoot along, keeping pace while Brody works in and out of the woods, making bell music as he rolls along.  

Pretty soon he stops in the woods near the trail where Richie Feller and Angela dragged a deer out last fall.  Nolan and I follow this other music, SportDOG's bobwhite electronica, to the source -- Brody on point.

 

Nolan stays tight behind me as I walk wide around the dog and come in for the flush.  A timberdoodle whistles high for the sky, my gun barks, and the red gods smile. The bird plummets while feathers float softly to the ground as we walk toward Brody and the retrieve. The off-season retrieve training has been paying off, as last year he would've more likely mouthed the bird whereas now he's retrieving to hand.  Woodcock, at least -- still more work to do for consistency on grouse. I take the bird from Brody, and Nolan takes it from me to inspect and carry. Nolan is impressed with the shot, and I disguise my relief. With any luck, we won't find another bird.

But we do.  Brody works farther along the woods/field interface and into a little popple peninsula that juts into the field. This spot has held both woodcock and grouse in the past.  Into the aspen goes the dog, and out runs a deer -- a good-size one, but I couldn't tell whether it sported antlers or not. Ahead, bobwhite beeps are interspersed with tinkerbells, and Nolan and I follow Brody into the aspens. We approach Brody on point, and a woodcock lifts off out ahead, and glides across the field and down into the woods from which we just came. No shot. 

We continue on as before, working into the north breeze, and after we take just a few steps Brody's on point again. This time he's in the edge of the field pointing down into the woods to our left.  As we walk over a little knoll, Nolan get's a good look at the dog and we stop to admire the scene and discuss strategy. And the plan is a simple one -- I walk just inside the woods as Nolan trails along at the field edge. 

Our plan works to a tee, as the woodcock flushes away north down the field edge, with Nolan getting the perfect view.  My first shot misses behind to the right, but the 2nd barrel centers the bird and it falls. We wait as Brody goes for the retrieve, finds the bird, and brings it with speed right back to hand. Nolan, of course, is all proud of his dog, and full of questions about shooting -- were the shots hard? which one was harder? why'd you miss? 

We agree that two woodcock are enough today, no need to hunt further. We walk up the field to the house to get into dry clothes and warm up by the woodstove.  Our little hunt couldn't have turned out better, and I bet Nolan will remember it long after he's forgotten whatever game he was playing on the Ipad. The hunt will be re-lived at Thanksgiving when we eat these birds (prepared according to Pete's interpretation of March Woodcock). Oh, and Nolan's been jonesing to go turkey hunting next spring down in PA (thankyou PGC for the Under 12 Mentored Hunt Program!).  Time to look into youth sized shotguns... but that's another story.



Brody, Nolan, and two timberdoodles



Wicksall setter breeding planned

I know most of you guys with two year old dogs aren't in the market for a new pup, but perhaps some of our intrepid readers may be interested. The dam is a litter mate of my Phoebe. Here's the info:

I’m responding to let you know that a breeding is planned for late Feb. with pups ready to go in late June. I have attached pics of my Daisy and her sire Bandit who I also own. She’s the one next to me but as you can see the two are carbon copies. I have also attached a pic of the sire I plan to use for the breeding, Ben, who is owned by a guy that works in the same office I do. Both have passed the Penn-Hip with flying colors and Daisy is registered with FDSB, Ben will be within a month. Ben is a great uncle of Daisy which I want so I can hopefully have access to this same bloodline in the future. I do not plan to keep a pup but the sire’s owner wants first pick.

I’m taking reservations now and asking $550 and $600 with $100 down to hold a pick. I’ll refund the $100 if you change your mind but it’s the only way to develop a priority list for those serious about it. There are a few others ahead of you but you would be pretty high on the list at this point. I don’t anticipate them lasting long since I recently heard that several other breeders in the L.P. including both Bandit’s and Ben’s breeders are not planning any spring litters.

I can send Daisy’s pedigree but I need to scan it in which I have not done yet. I have the pedigree of one of Ben’s littermates if you want it but his will not be available until he is registered. This bloodline has quite a mix including Bondue and some Llewellyn. The line was developed by a group of woodcock banders in Mich. who wanted close working, cautious dogs. That’s what you will get- these dogs don’t range much over 50 yds. in the thick stuff but will stretch it out on the Montana prairies when they can see the handler better. There is no field trial in this line. The offspring should run 40-55 lbs. and if they are like their parents they will be very personable. I want them to go to hunters only but they make great family dogs too. My two greet my whole family every morning and act like they haven’t seen us for a month the way they carry on.

Feel free to call me at work or home if you wish to talk more. Also let me know if you want the pedigrees and hip results. I also have more pictures- Ben made the cover of the MI hunting guide in ’08 with his owner and owner’s two daughters (bottom photo).

Daisy is owned by Jim Caron of the Michigan DNR, in Crystal Falls, Michigan (U.P.), and I can put anyone who's interested in touch with Jim. thanks everybody.
Jim

15 minute epic

Opening day for ducks (as well as the morning following the full moon and west wind that might bring a flight of mudbats) coincided with Nolan's last soccer game of the season as well as the long-awaited Insectapalooza at the university (and notwithstanding my lack of federal duck stamp), so the sporting life of this household didn't get started until the sun, under a heavy veil of clouds, had descended substantially in the west. Both the boys thought it was a good idea to put off supper for awhile so that we might bring Brody out to look for a woodcock.

And so, attired in boots, orange vests and hats, and toting side-by-side shotguns real and real-looking and a spear, we three trudged with Brody up past the barn and pigeon loft to a small stand of red maples above the pasture. We were going woodcock hunting.

A light wind was out of the southeast, so we entered the woods from the north to give the dog some wind to work with. I activated Brody's beeper collar and sent him in. Nolan and Collin followed me; we paused while I answered questions about the beeper and how we'd know if Brody found a bird. In a minute or so (probably less) Brody went on point. I found a good place for the boys to stand and watch while I went ahead to flush the bird. Collin was backing me up with his shotgun (minus caps), as was Nolan with his spear. My stomping about didn't produce a bird, and before long Brody worked cautiously ahead. He came to a stop after another 30 yards.

I brought the boys up to another opening where they had a view the dog, and again I went in to flush a bird. This time a woodcock whistled up. My first shot whistled up through the air past the rising bird, and the second shot tumbled the woodcock to the ground. There was no need for Collin to fire his pop gun, and fortunately no need for Nolan to hurl his spear. Brody over ran the bird, which allowed me to get there in time to take it from the dog soon after he picked it up (haven't progressed that far w/ fetch yet). The boys were pretty excited (so were Brody and I for that matter). They'd seen the dog go on point, the bird fly up, the shooting, and the bird fall. They each wanted a "smoky shell". It was getting late, and the odds of improving on the hunt were about nil, so I heeled the pup and we headed to the house. The kids took turns carrying the woodcock. They recounted the hunt over pizza, and after supper they did a fine job of plucking the bird. The only drawback of this perfect hunt is that their expectations may be a bit too high now. For what it's worth, it didn't seem like a flight had come in last night.

Boykin update

in case you don't check in to Cold Duck regularly---this, er, "just" in---

http://colduck.blogspot.com/2009/12/boy-can-this-boykin-hunt.html

Lilly c. Feb 24, 2009

No disrespect to the late, great, greatest Kate, but I had to share this with you.

Lilly, most versatile hunting dog ever, succumbed today to her would-be quarry, Mr. Tiger. The battle was going her way until he caught her jugular in his vice-like maw.

Kate et al circa 2001

10-Year-Old Spaniel Completes Comeback

check this out: Stump, a Sussex spaniel, became the oldest dog to win Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/11/sports/othersports/11dogs.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

Washed-up flushing dogge finds new life in show ring

Sports / Other Sports

10-Year-Old Spaniel Completes Comeback

By KATIE THOMAS

Published: February 11, 2009

At 10 years old, Stump the Sussex spaniel should be well into his dotage. Instead, the dog who technically retired four years ago took home Best in Show on Tuesday at the 133rd Annual Westminster Kennel Club show at Madison Square Garden, becoming the oldest to win the award.

Stump, officially named Ch. Clussexx Three D Grinchy Glee, might have surprised aficionados, who had their eye on a giant schnauzer, but the crowd clearly preferred the jaunty spaniel. Stump was greeted with deafening applause each time he plodded around the ring.

It was the first time that a Sussex spaniel won the top prize, although the breed, which originated as a hunting companion in England, was among the first to be recognized by the American Kennel Club.

Judge Sari Brewster Tietjen said she made her decision at the last minute.

“I didn’t know who he was or how old he was,” Tietjen said. “He’s just everything that you’d want in the breed, and I couldn’t say no to him.”

Season's End

The 25^th of January, 2009, last day of Pennsylvania grouse season, a day that I had hoped to spend in New York coverts, but that’s another story. I called my friend Dean and we were on our way to Pine Grove Mountain a little after lunch, two GSP pups in tow. We had hunted the coverts along the mountain top hard during the late season, encountering plenty of grouse but unable to provide our young dogs with anything to retrieve. I had watched my now 7 month old dog grow from inexperienced pup to a reliable partner, but since our trip to Maine in October I had been incapable of holding up my end of the partnership: the kill.

So it was that we found ourselves at the covert called Broken Rib, crashing through thick stands of 20’ pines for porcupine meadow. Winter sun overhead, 20 degrees, crusted snow. The two pups knew their business and hunted independently. Once at the meadow we tracked the line of white pine that rims the lower edge: Lilly and I upslope; Dean and Mauser down slope. Occasional seeps create breaks of barberries and laurel through the pines, about the only place where I could see Dean, only 20 yards down slope.

At the first seep Lilly began a series of points that pulled me further and further upslope, away from the pine barrier. Four points and nothing. Old scent? Just then I heard two shots from Dean. Four grouse had flushed from the pines and his second shot brought a fountain of feathers but no bird. We followed the flight path of the wounded bird, crossing a creek, cutting through pines and eventually emerging onto a laurel covered talus slope. Roughly eighty yards from where it had flushed, the grouse was found running on the ground. Dean grabbed it. We celebrated briefly, then pushed on.

Dean, Mauser, grouse

Back at the lower end of porcupine meadow more grouse flushed from in front of Dean. I heard and saw nothing. Then, a bird flushed wild from the pines. I allowed a lapse in judgment, taking two pot shots even though Lilly had not been part of the transaction. The red gods did not approve of my poor judgment.

We pushed on, still only half an hour into the hunt. Then, not 30 feet from where Lilly had her first encounter with a porcupine, Lilly went on point. I snapped a photo then walked into the pines. Nothing. Lilly ran past me and pointed again, feet away from the log where I had pulled dozens of quills from her jowls on New Year’s day. I walked past her and heard grouse flush on Dean’s side of the copse: one; two; three. A bird emerged overhead. I brought the gun up hard, and, to my relief, the bird dropped to earth, full of lead ballast. Thus spake the Parker!

Spawn of Artemis executes a perfect point

What ensued was a bazaar period of parallel activity, i.e., pandemonium. Lilly had broken at the flush and anticipating the trajectory of the birds flight was blind to its fall. As I called her back for the retrieve, I became aware of barking from Deans direction. Lilly stumbled upon the bird, then completed the worst retrieve of her brief career. I hadn’t worked with her on retrieving since early fall and she played with the bird before reluctantly delivering it to hand. I was elated – point, flush, shot, bird, retrieve! Only then did I hear Dean’s shouts of desperation. I cut short the celebration with Lilly and went to investigate.

Recalcitrant pup

While I had been focused on grouse, Mauser, the 6 month old GSP, had discovered the thrill of mauling Grandpa Porcupine, who waddled just yards from where Lilly had earlier made his acquaintance. After initially recoiling, the versatile hunting dog was clearly getting ready for retribution when Dean stepped in, noting that Grandpa P now sported very few quills on his back, thanks to two young GSPs. Things were under control by the time I arrived with Lilly on leash, although Mauser’s jowls and leg were bristling with quills. By the time I was able to photograph the scene Dean had removed many of the quills. We pulled the remaining quills and the pup seemed none the worse for wear. Onward Ho!

No more grouse were encountered, to my recollection, but we finished the hunt in high spirits. I do remember a joyous feeling as the bird in my game pouch bounced rhythmically against my back. The 2008 season now closed, I’m looking forward to 2009.

Now that's what it's all about!

January Snow Storm

Watched the radar with keen interest as a narrow band of snow barreled down on Central PA. After a mid-day sledding excursion with the family, I loaded my daughter Kendall and my pup Lilly in the truck and we set up the mountain for an experiment in grouse hunting.

“I’ve never been in such a winter wonderland” exclaimed Kendall with 100% Kleinman enthusiasm. We eased our way down the long track that leads to coverts with the names of Broken Rib, Search and Seizure and Laureltown. The landscape was spectacular, a shellac of ice covered with six inches of feathery powder.

The shooting party

At Search and Seizure I unloaded the menagerie, placed Kendall in the sled, and slid down the old tote road to the pines, barberry and laurel that attract wintering grouse. The covert is named after a grand mal seizure my black lab Cody suffered during one of our first hunts there with the Vicar, who had discovered the spot. The walking was treacherous, as I had to negotiate curtains of ice-laden limbs, tinkling like wind chimes, while skidding over the base of ice that lay under the snow.

Ice curtain

It was particularly hard paying attention to little Lilly, whose bell was almost impossible to distinguish from the resonating ice. Kendall noted that other than her collar, Lilly's white and liver fur was perfect winter camouflage. But, as soon as the ground leveled and we reached our first cluster of pines, the dog went on point. It was a moment of truth. Kendall and I were sixty yards off and I was hesitant to leave my six year old daughter alone while I searched for the bird. The cover was too thick to drag the sled through. There’s my 7 month old uberpointer holding fast. What’s a multitasker to do?

By the time I made up my mind Lilly had been on point for at least a minute. We ditched the sled and I had Kendall follow me, reassuring her that I would come back for her if I got too far ahead. When I eventually reached Lilly she had been on point for at least three minutes. What’s another few seconds to snap a photo of my canine pride and joy?

First point

After the photograph I circled around to the pines. No flush. I released Lilly and she moved in, pointing again. Just then Kendall called. “Daddy, where are you?” Another moment of truth. I left the dog for the kid, immediately feeling the pressure pulse as the bird flushed in near silence into the whiteness.

We returned to the sled and hunted for another twenty minutes, winding through laurel and over limbs, all the time pushing through icy curtains of branches. Kendall was an incredible trooper, a true snow princess.

Second point

Lilly pointed several more times but we never saw or heard birds. Restricted to the open trail we could not follow up her initial points, as I normally would (she often points several times before we get close enough to the bird for it to flush). It was a long slog back to the truck, but worth every molecule of ATP. Daughter and pup added one more experience to their bond.

Bonded

Post Script: The real adventure occurred just as we were about to exit the state forest onto the two lane highway that leads down the mountain. A pickup had turned onto our icy road, the only one I’d seen all afternoon. The driver slowed to let us pass, slid on ice, slowly, and was only stopped from sliding down the mountain by a forest service sign. If it hadn’t been there he would have slid into a steep right-of-way and rolled down the hill. With tow ropes and ax we were able to rescue him.

A good day

My boss took me hunting again today. He and another two-legged named Eric shot pretty well, which means fun for me.

8 mallards
2 black ducks
1 teal
1 gadwall

This is my rookie year and I find myself "riding the bench" a bit more than I like, but I am learning, and when the boss has put me on the starting line-up, its so fun! So far, in the second half, I have been getting in the game more. I have at least 20 retrieves in the second half, and more than 30 for the season. Not quite MVP material yet, but I think the boss is pleased. I have stuff to work on though. I am glad Nick, who is a fourth year starter and a veteran, is pretty cool to me when I get to get in the game. He doesn't seem to hold it against me.

Gotta go. I'm hungry.

New Year's Quills

Drove up Pine Grove Mountain to Broken Rib Covert to usher in the New Year with Lilly. Temps in the 20s, bright sun, dusting of snow. Grouse tracks everywhere. Within 20 minutes we had flushed roughly 5 birds (hard to precisely count with the noise I made breaking through ice), several off of creeping points. Lilly was starting to settle. Then, a perfect point. I swung wide around her and she held. Perfection. When I was but five yards from her nose, she broke. Off waddled a porcupine. We'll try again tomorrow.

Double Black Opening Weekend- Cayuga Lake

Ducks

Sat- 13. 5 teal, 8 mallards
Sun- 12 1 black duck, 1 merganser, 10 mallards

Dog Retrieves

Brant- 5
Sage-1
Suzie- 3

Winds

Sat 25-30 mph S/SE
Sun 15-25 mph, S/SE

Canoe Trips

Sat- 3
Sun-2

Best opening weekend in the history of Double Black. Period.

Grouse Camp 2008-Cagey's Take

Call's for red meat and carnage not-withstanding, the 2008 Maine Grouse Camp was for me all about the meaning of a good dog.

As we avoided thinking about aging, about the fact that much had changed in the world and amongst ourselves since the last time we raised glasses of whiskey in the Macannamac Camp (a mere month after 9/11/2001),we were constantly reminded of the hope for the future, the joi de vive of puppies reveling in existence, in their own lives, all wrapped up in ours. While we ignored aches and pains, new conditions found in old men, and politics and religion at the dinner table, our consorts tussled, vied for top dog, and did their best to make us proud, while doing their damnedest to learn and be who they are. Here's to Connolly (Sp?), Lilly, and Phoebe-- who will teach us much.

I took special pride in Lilly, progeny of Canoga's Artemis. She was a part of the Tidball family for a short time, stole our hearts and took up the banner of our dreams for the everyman's dog; versatile, close-working, and a loved family pet. The Kleinman family is her family now, and she is thriving by any measure. The fruits of Pete's labors were evident though-out the week, and I beamed with muted pride as he walked out of the woods having shot at his first grouse over Lilly. Very nice work Pete.

The "grown-up dogs" had their work cut out for them. There were three; Stella the Boykin Spaniel, Spy the English Setter, and Artemis the German Shorthair Pointer. Stella, the least experienced, made a nice debut before succumbing to what so many ardent hunters find irresistible, a woman's stocking. Not all of us eat them, but be honest, the thought crosses the mind when confronted with fishnet, lace, etc. God bless Stella and women's stockings.

Spy had all the work he wanted, given his age, and from all reports, did not fail to impress. I wish I would have had the chance to hunt over him and with Andy.

Artemis was the "go-to" dog for the trip, hunting hard and hunting well every day, all day. Of the 20 grouse and 5 woodcock the camp brought into possession, Artemis had a large share. She was gritty, she was smart, she was tolerant. She impressed me beyond my wildest dreams. If only my performances were as virtuoso has hers.

These three grown up dogs were all great camp mates. They held up their ends of the bargain, and were great role models for the puppies and the people in camp. They continue to teach us much.

And there was Kate, the veteran. Her career cut short by illness, the infirm inspire. So many firsts with this dog, for so many of us. I admired Jim's commitment to her, and empathized with his feelings of betrayal, never by Kate but by whatever Red God graces us with the number of years we will spend with our canine partner. Damn you Red Gods...thank you Red Gods. The paradox and the sublime before us all, and the era that was Kate, at least for me, ending where it began, at Spider Lake. I said my goodbyes, and visualized a place on my wall for a picture of her, where a taxidermied grouse adorns my office, pointed by Kate, my first grouse and the opening of new galaxies. Thank you Kate. You will not be forgotten.

Our dogs define us at least as much as we define them. The beauty of that is that they are doing their best to train us not to measure ourselves by what we kill, but by how well we hunt. This is both art and craft, measured not in numbers but by our ability to reach, or to be taken to, the ecstatic place of "now." Always optimistic, always seeking, they are helping us learn the meaning of unconditional love, of true courage, and of faithful loyalty. There were feathers in mouths and game birds in the bag, to be sure. But the 2008 Maine Grouse Camp was, for me, all about the meaning of a good dog.

Preparing for Lilly

Bird crate with purpose-built Mustang carrying car in background

It's a real blessing to be transitioning from a period of bereavement over Abbey's loss to anticipation over Tiger Lilly's arrival. This morning's blog photos of pups prompted me to scrounge around the garage for materials to build a bird crate. Two hours later and the pigeon/quail crate was completed from the flotsam of past building projects. A bit over-built with 2x4s and 0.5" plywood lid, but not too heavy to lug from the truck to the midst of a training field (tested by completing one lap around the house). I will add a quail entrance from Lion Country Supply (20 min away) to make it a come-back cage, increasing the material cost from $0 to $16. Happy to build another for others with pups on the way...

More Puppy madness...Tiger Lilly

Click on the picture...

Grouse Camp 2008 trailer

Looking forward to grouse camp 2008 . . .

Artemis has puppies!

2 males, 2 females-very cute and plump. Artemis is doing a great job, especially given this is her maiden attempt. Vet check went great and the pups are very healthy.

1 deposit on a female, 1 request on a (uncommitted)

2 puppies left!

German Shorthair Puppies coming soon...

Puppies will be for sale in August...reserve now!

The Dam- Canoga's Artemis






















































The Sire- Molyneaux's Spud