Fozzie, my young Golden Retriever, was really coming along as a hunter once he realized that he could find pheasants with his nose, and not just wait until he or I kicked one up by accident. From the moment I dropped the tailgate on my truck, his nose was to the ground as he kept within 15 yards or so out in front of me. He always kept up his part in the hunt by kicking up any birds he winded, and quickly finding and retrieving the ones his dad dropped. It always made me laugh though, on the rare occasions when I would miss.
As the cackling cock rose, leveled off, and then increased the distance away from us, Fozzie would run after him. Even after I messed up- rarely- and missed two shots with my over and under, he continued to run and run and kept looking back over his shoulder at me as if to say,
"Hey! This is the part where I chase the bird, you shoot him, and then I get to retrieve! Come on Dad! Do your part!"
A great example of his love of the hunt easily comes to mind...
Frozen Lake
It was a very cold December morning, as overnight, a front had moved in. As the sun slowly rose in the east, and Fozzie jumped from my truck at the hunting farm, we were greeted with a beautiful winter morning surprise. At only ten-below, every weed and blade of grass had a heavy frost covering, close to a quarter-inch thick. Backlit by the sun, it was an amazingly icy view that I'll never forget. It was so cold out that I just let my buddy run around for a while so he could warm up before plunging into the frosty ground cover in search of pheasants.
We walked for over an hour in the cold, but did not even get one rise. The birds must have found really heavy cover to hide in to keep them warm on this frosty morning. I had on thick wool mittens that had a place to slip my right trigger finger out when needed. With a scarf also wrapped around my neck and lower face to keep warm, I constantly had to unwrap it to allow the fog to clear on my glasses as my breath condensed on them that morning. The cold didn't even faze my buddy. He was having a great time rooting through the frosty brush. In no time at all, his face was as white as could be from the crystals being transferred to his face. And each time he exhaled, it was amazing the cloud of moisture that slowly rose in the cold air. The sun was still very low in the morning sky and everything in sight...
sparkled of frost, fresh snow, and ice.
The sun was still very low in the morning sky and everything in sight sparkled of frost, fresh snow, and ice.
After about an hour and a half, I decided with no action at all, we’d best head back to the truck and call it a morning. We were on the north side of a long, slender, frozen lake that was mostly covered in a very light powder of snow. The open areas looked as if the ice had been polished by a Zamboni which gave it the effect of looking like a mirror. We were heading west back to the truck, and if I looked backwards, the sun’s reflection on the lake ice was blinding.
The north shore of the lake was perhaps two or three hundred yards long, and I chose to walk about 10 yards from the edge, hoping to possibly kick up a bird from the scattered frozen cattails. Fozzie, of course, worked that area just in front of me as always. Finally nearing the far west end, there was a good sized triangle of cattails just to our left. We slowed down, hoping some birds had holed up in there, battling, as we were, against the cold. I finally got to the very far end, but Fozzie was hanging up in the cattails, his nose working through the frost covered brush.
I finally got to the very far end, but Fozzie was hanging up in the cattails, his nose working through the frost covered brush.
Obvious to me that there were no birds holed up inside, I had to call repeatedly to my buddy to come along. I turned away from him and gave the COME command, knowing he'd come running in no time at all. Suddenly, I heard the cackle of a flushed and rising cock from behind me. I pivoted back only at the waist, hard to my left, in time to see Fozzie leap up at the slowly rising pheasant. He knew there was a bird in there!
The bird was still rising, as he greatly increased the distance from my son, I was blinded by the sun shining directly into my eyes. Fozzie was running like a sprinter on the smooth, polished frozen lake, kicking up a cloud of powdery snow in his wake. He was running on the ice as easily as if it was paved. By now, the cock was a good 30+ yards out, and perfectly backlit by the sun. Still facing away, and pivoted at the hips, I released the safety and send a load of nickel 4s after him. The cock went "lights out" in the air, but his great speed carried him...
farther away from Fozzie, who was running as fast as he could at the shot.
he stopped sliding well past the bird.
The pheasant landed on the frozen slick and continued to slide a ways. My buddy, still running flat out, tried to slow down, but realized he had no traction on the ice. Surprising to me, he sat down... like I had just given him the SIT command. As I watched, he slid on his butt into the bird while throwing up a cloud of powdery snow on both sides of his bottom. The bird was struck and flew off to the right as Fozzie continued to slide away, still throwing up a cloud of powder! Finally, he stopped sliding well past the bird.
I let the proud Golden carry our only bird for the morning all the way back to the truck.
He got up and tried to run, but his feet simply moved under him at first, with no forward progress. I was laughing so hard that my eyes were tearing up. Realizing that on ice he first needed to walk, Fozzie slowed his pace to get traction, but then ran up to the downed bird. Picking the trophy up in his mouth, he proudly trotted back to his dad with the hard earned bird. It was the most spectacular and memorable retrieve I have ever witnessed my hunting buddy make. Not to spoil his joy after he happily gives me his retrieve, I looked at his joyful, sweet face, and then gave it back to him. I let the proud Golden carry our only bird for the morning all the way back to the truck. He surely deserved that great honor, as such a dedicated hunter...