Rock of Ages

Spy seems to have come down w/ anaplasmosis. Thought he was going to die last Mon./Tues -- shivers, couldn't stand, cried out in pain a couple times, could barely raise his head. But put him on doxicycline Thursday and he was ready to hunt again Friday -- 4 wc and 1 grouse point, 2 wc killed, 1 hr. He's his old self again.















I've gotten Brody out a few times since getting back from WI. It's always been maybe half an hour for exercise if nothing else. Tuesday afternoon (10/27) I had 15 minutes to run Brody before I had to pick up the kids. I put him down in a wet aldery area. Lots of white wash (day old?). Brody went on point.... but started flagging. He wouldn't take a step so I walked in and put up a low, weak-flying woodcock, which he chased out of sight. He came back around and continued hunting, and pretty soon went on point. Again tail flagging but wouldn't take a step . This time when I walked in a wc sprang up strongly. Easy shot. Bang. I missed. This time Brody just watched it fly away. I still haven't shot a bird over a long-held, statuesque point by Brody.

Wednesday afternoon. This time I had an hour. I brought Brody back to the same covert as yesterday. Ten minutes into it I bumped a woodcock that Brody didn't see. We continued hunting in the direction the bird flew. Brody was ahead, down slope among fir, cedar, and alders in a fairly soppy area, just about the right distance for land fall of the bumped bird. The bell went silent. I waited a bit for him to start moving again, and when he didn't, I moved ahead to find him. It took me a good minute, but there he was statue still in the thick wet stuff. A dark dog is hard to see in the dark woods. I moved ahead of the dog, approaching from the side. I was startled by a rustling of vegetation and a brown blur of hare hair hopped away. One jingle of the bell told me Brody saw or heard the bunny, but stayed put. I took two more steps and up twittered a timberdoodle flying right at me until it was about 5 yards away, at which time it turned away but quickly dipped low around a fir thicket and it was gone. Arghh! Brody had turned to rock, but my hands had turned to stone. Stoned by the woodcock. I really want to kill every bird pointed like that, to reward the good behavior.

So Thursday, a potential buyer of our house was visiting with a house inspector. I got them started, then got out of their hair for awhile. This gave me an hour and a half to try to get Brody into birds. Most of the first 60 minutes where uneventful. Then we worked along an old road lined by a stand of jack pine sloping down either side of the ridge into aspen and alder. I heard a grouse flush, so whistled Brody in to hunt the vicinity. He went on point about 30 yards into the pines. I walked in to flush, and a grouse busted out of the tree over my head, and my one shot did no harm. We followed, and again Brody pointed, this time looking up into the canopy to a spot from which a grouse burst forth. This time my load of steel 6s knocked it down -- Brody's first grouse on a solid point that lasted more than a few seconds.

Further down the ridge Brody's bell indicated he was moving slowly and pausing. In a little while the bell went silent. As I crept to his point from higher ground a bird flushed from about 30 feet up an aspen, and my shot broke a wing, at least. At the shot, the bird Brody had been pointing flushed.... toward me. I turned and took a going-away shot as it banked and flew down slope. The grouse went out of sight as I shot, but I did see a small cloud of feather dander hanging in the air in its wake. Shooting birds over Brody's solid points was just what I wanted. However a potential downside to this happy story is that both these last two birds were live on the ground so Brody then caught them (notice one bob-tailed bird in the photo). Time will tell whether he still wants to point, or if he thinks he can just run 'em down.

Last day for woodcock is Saturday, so I'll be out tomorrow trying to add a couple more birds to the larder for Thanksgiving appetizers.

Red Tide Hits Downeast Maine

Brody ("... from the muddy place") arrived in Bangor yesterday evening on a Northwest flight that originated in Missouri. Geographic location of breeder will weigh more heavily on pup choice next time around -- shipping a verb can be expensive! Things have changed since I paid $25 for Butch puppy's flight from Detroit (but he did share the crate with his sister).

So far, so good. Eight weeks old, first of his clan to hit the highway. Seems like a bright little devil. No accidents on the floor, didn't cry the whole night, pretty mellow (so far), and the bride and boys love him.

Pointing golden retriever? Well, officially he's a red setter (http://www.nrsftc.com/), owing to an injection of English into the Irish ancestry in the 1950s.
His dad's a field trial stud from Kansas (http://pinehollowkennel.nrsftc.com/), mom is a hunting dog from MO. He should be about 50-55 lbs (Spy's 53); he's got bits of white on the toes of his rear feet and specks of white on his armpits and chest. He'll be at rookie camp this fall. Hard to tell just yet if Spy's nose is out of joint.

Phoebe's first woodcock

Decided to take a day off from the theater business to pretend I'm a college professor. After spending the bulk of the morning grading papers, it was off to the thickets with Miss Four-Month-Old Phoebe for the woodcock opener.

We were in a favorite covert by 3pm (and if I told you which one, I would have to kill you). It was a balmy 50 deg F, I was as usual wearing jeans, Carhartt vest, Filson cap, LaCross rubber boots with the airgrip tread, but in a nod to safety with Phoebe not yet wearing a bell or beeper, donned an extra Filson blaze cape over the Carhartt.

I was with my new best girl Phoebe. She had received some preliminary gun training before today, mostly 22 cal plinking in the back yard during chow time, and one or two shots with the 16 gauge while she's playing in the dog pen. I figured today I'd take the gun along, "just in case" the opportunity presented itself. So I toted the 16 gauge Parker with the lightest 7/8 oz. RST loads of #8 shot I have.

So along we went through the brushy pasture, poking through all the likely spots and looking for splash. Phoebe was using her nose throughout, sniffing the ground, plants, leaves, dirt, you name it. Very nose-oriented. After about an hour of that, with no results, we landed in a corner that has always produced woodcock in the past.

We weren't disappointed. After ten or so minutes in the thick stuff, Phoebe went off into some dogwood and all of a sudden stopped short, standing totally still. I took a close look at her, and her head was up, nose out, nostrils flaring. The real deal.

We took it slowly, me trying to let her figure it out for herself. When all of a sudden, a woodcock flushed from my right and circled back to the rear of the dog. I let it get out about 25 yards and dropped it cleanly with a single shot.

Phoebe didn't seem fazed by the gun, and I had a great mark on it. Found the bird pretty quickly, and Phoebe had an absolute ball mouthing her first bird. Needless to say I was pretty pleased.

After a couple of minutes of playtime, I gathered up the bird and we moved on. Almost immediately she got birdy on another track, and I looked down and saw splash. Sure enough, within twenty feet another woodcock went up. This one presented an equally good opportunity, and once again after letting it get out about 25 yards, I dropped it as well, marking it on a gnarly apple tree blowdown.

This one was hard to find. I had marked it well, but I circled it twice before Phoebe finally found it! she was mouthing it before I saw it. So that was cool, her first real "retrieve" of a downed bird. Once again needless to say I was pleased.

After another two minutes of letting her play with the bird, off again we went. This time we made our way slowly upslope, not getting any hints of bird scent or anything. Just as we were running out of terrain, she scented a track from the gulley she was in and headed up over the bank on the other side. I crossed the gulley and followed her, this time convinced she was completely in charge.

Sure enough, she followed the track about forty yards, probably the longest trailing of the day, when she stopped in some dogwood. I slowed, again trying to let her figure it out. She relocated, me moving alongside, and within ten yards the third woodcock of the day went up. Once again, the red gods smiled on us, and I dropped the bird cleanly with one shot at about 30 yards. We marked it well, and Phoebe found her third woodcock on the ground as we approached it.

Phoebe's first three birds

Three birds, and a four-month-old woodcock dog. All in all, I'd say it was a successful day. She's got an idea now what the bird scent is about, she's absolutely crazy for woodcock feathers in her mouth, and I'm not at all doubtful about taking her in the woods next week in Maine, gun in hand.

A great opening day all around. And this dogge loves to run around with the bird in her mouth--which Katie never did. Looks like I may have a retrieving setter in the works, boys and girls.

Out with the old and in with the new!

Haven't posted in a while. Here's a pic of Phoebe with her great-Aunt Katie, who continues to hang in there. I'm hopeful that Katie will last until Maine grouse camp the week of Columbus Day. If she points one more grouse before she goes, all the better.

Lilly's First Week in PA

Lilly at Penn State's Ag Progress Days

And she's off and running! Lilly is the proverbial handful and a heck of a great pup. I am guessing that she has more energy than all dogs that I've owned, combined. To channel that energy I've spent more time in the woods and field with her than I had with Cody all of last season. She is a bold pup, prone to coprophagy and an incessant nipper. We have crossed paths with one grouse and a flock of turkeys, as well as snakes, switch grass, pine cones, sticks and chipmunks. With the grouse (this morning), we investigated the barberry patch from whence it flushed and she showed general curiousity. More remarkable was her drive to push through the barberries. She is definitely my kind of dog: driven and bold.

We're working out the Cody dynamic. Lilly gets one solo walk a day and up to three walks with Cody. Cody, poor, loveable Cody, is Lilly's chew toy. If Lilly is alpha, Cody is omega or zeta or whatever comes last. Our combo walks begin with Lilly attacking Cody, Cody moving out of Lilly's 0-20 yard range. After awhile Cody can return and the two dogs largely ignore each other if we are in an area with plenty of things to investigate. If not, then Lilly the ambush predator takes out Cody when she is least expecting it. On the bright side Cody will be in great shape this fall, if she survives Lilly's assaults.

Lilly and Cody, getting to know each other

Phoebe's first grouse

above: cancer dogge Katie
below: partridge following Phoebe

Got out with the new pup tonight to take her for a test drive. We've been around the Potomac Loop trail once or twice to stretch our legs. Tonight it was out for the real thing: grouse.

The weather was a typical 60 deg F August afternoon. (yeah right) (but we sure are enjoying our early fall this summer.) I wore my green khakis, Lacross mud boots, and a yellow t-shirt. Phoebe was sporting an attractive red puppy collar.

We were on the trail and in the woods by 7pm. She got her first taste of a muddy woods road; then we ventured into a favorite patch of thick stuff that most of you have seen at one time or another. Phoebe was seeing it for the first time.

We flushed a grouse at approximately 7:15 pm. We went over to where it had been, found a grouse feather (lucky!), and then moved on.

We flushed a second grouse about ten minutes later. This time, she started putting her nose to the ground and, although I may be imagining it, started using her nose to sniff out ground scent.

We spent a bit of time going over the area--scenting conditions were great, light breeze, damp ground, and she really seemed gradually to be hunting for scent. It was fun to watch.

We never put up another bird, but she went from being a dorky puppy to a grouse-dogge-in-training all in one evening. Pretty fun stuff.

all in a day's work

Lilly "Here!"

9:00am
Artemis and Tiger Lilly bid adieu



Canoga's Tiger Lilly now resides in Pennsylvania Furnace, PA. Her transition has been lightening fast. She's clearly smart as a whip and amazingly adaptable. After a quick trip to the world's greatest vet for a check up (all systems go) and shots, she was running round the backyard, investigating flowers, vegetable beds and children. She was particularly intrigued with Clayton's wheel barrow, which she eventually pointed. We worked on "no" and "here." Most remarkable, she now comes when called. No kidding. I am one, happy, proud GSP owner.

10:00am Lilly at Lamereaux Landing

see you when I get back

I am twenty minutes from being out the door to Maryland for the Josh Winchell Memorial Izaak Walton League Weekend Ethics Fest. But this just in.

this one's got a long tail

I'll be driving to Michigan to pick her up next week.

Today was pick day

here she is: female #1.

the newest addition

Pup number one arrives

The house is quickly losing all semblance of normalcy.

That used to be my pillow.

with factory-standard ears

litter update

four weeks and counting

More Puppy madness...Tiger Lilly

Click on the picture...

Which of these is the lucky one?

Here are six of the nine from the litter that whelped on June 13. Two females, seven males. Somebody help me pick the one I want!!

the next dogge?

could this puppy be the next Kate? only time will tell. this one's a male, though. we'll see.

so much potential . . .