A Bird Dog of My Own

It is the eve of my dog's first birthday. 

It's hard to believe how much has taken place over his young life thus far. This time a year ago, owning a bird dog was nothing more than a nice thought stashed away in the back corner of my mind—something I'd like to have some day. But with three young boys, us being renters of a not-so-large house, and no dog training experience, it remained stuck in that back corner of my mind.  

Fast forward to now, as my almost-one-year-old dog that we've had for nearly 10 months, lies at my feet, chewing on a treat. 

Just yesterday, he spent the day in a field finding planted chukars and retrieving the ones I was able to shoot. We are continuing to prepare for his first hunting season, which is rapidly approaching. He is gun conditioned, has a solid foundation of obedience, and exhibits tremendous prey drive. He's everything I have wanted in my first bird dog and more.  

As an "adult onset hunter," I had taught myself how to duck hunt with a buddy. I'd half-heartedly walked WMAs that looked like the pictures I had seen with the hopes of flushing a pheasant. I'd even walked some logging roads toting a shotgun to shoot a grouse, though, having never actually seen one, I probably wouldn't have known what to do if one actually did flush up in front of me. I knew very little about these birds and even less about their habitat.  

In the past several years, I've enjoyed mild success hunting whitetail deer. Pursuing them as a food source to fill the freezer, I've never had much of a desire nor the patience to try and harvest a monster buck, so I was content with any legal deer that I could ethically harvest. 

But sitting still in a cold tree stand was not for me. Every morning I'd head out with the best of intentions to stay put until late morning, but, inevitably, no sooner was the sun coming up than I was ready to climb down. Forget sitting in the stand all morning waiting; I was going to get out and go looking for the deer that were obviously never going to walk by my stand.

A more active type of hunting is what I wanted to do. And, though I had never had success in my few and feeble attempts at upland hunting, I did enjoy the effort of actively pursuing my quarry. 

Through a couple of recent changes in jobs and towns, I was able to connect with a couple of different colleagues, now friends, that invited me to hunt with them. 

And they had dogs! 

On the handful of occasions that I have gotten to hunt with them over the past few seasons, I still was unable to bag my own bird. But the one thing I couldn't get over was how fun it was watching their dogs work. Seeing a pointer locked up, or a flusher quartering across a field hot on a bird's scent. It was infectious.  

"That's what I want someday—a bird dog of my own."

Then, one October weekend, as we ventured north for some time at the family cabin in northern Minnesota, my wife made a comment—another of several I had picked up on in recent weeks—alluding to being OK with getting a dog some time.  

Seizing the opportunity, I silently began searching for puppies for sale in the area. The next day, I took my oldest son out for some father/son time doing fun, "manly" stuff in the north woods. We returned that afternoon . . . with a puppy!

        

We named him Scout. He is a cross of a German shorthaired pointer and a collie.

This blog series is going to be all about our journey—Scout's and mine. This is my way of chronicling this crazy adventure—my journal, as it were—to look back on some day, perhaps many years from now, as I recount my successes and failures, relating them to my own children and theirs. And perhaps it can give guidance, reassurance, or at least a hearty chuckle, to others that read it along the way.

I have visions of grand hunts, heart stopping flushes, impossible retrieves, and many a tale spun around the campfire after a long day afield. Bonds built between a father and his sons, between friends present and friends yet to come, and that indescribable bond between man and his dog. This is my foray into the world of upland bird hunting and training my very own bird dog.