Last week the dogs and I, along with some friends, traveled to North Dakota for a week of duck hunting. Much was learned, more shared, and memories made while in the prairie pothole region. Last year was my first trip to NoDak, which opened my eyes to an area I had previously held as "fly-over" territory. By the way, I use NoDak to make it appear as though I'm part of the "cool crowd."
I will have other posts about my experiences in the future, but for now I want to reminisce and pay homage to my duck hunting partner of the last few years- Drake. Drake is not my dog. He came with the girlfriend and was already trained and knowledgeable on early morning hunts when we met. He's the yellow Labrador retriever featured in many of our pictures, website, and brochure. Drake has the drive to hunt like few other dogs. Normally he's an easy-going well-mannered table food-begging puppy, but when there's fowl in the air he has a laser focus.
I'm not a great shot by any measure and remember one of my first hunts with my Chubby Buddy. He was seated behind me when I fanned on a few ducks. I had that feeling that someone was staring at me. I turned around and saw Drake was staring holes into me, as if to say 'Your job is to shoot the ducks so I can fetch them. You're not living up to your end of the deal, pal.' In ensuing hunts, I've been able to knock down a few ducks to whet Drake's thirst for fetching.
Drake LIVES for fetching birds. Watching him bring back a bird in his mouth is the epitome of happiness. Prior to Chubby, I never had a hunting dog. After seeing him bring back birds, I am convinced a Lab doesn't get to achieve true happiness unless fetching a bird. Drake enjoys bacon, grilled chicken, belly rubs, down comforters, fireplaces, and fetching sticks, but he'd give it all up to go duck hunting.
Last year in North Dakota, Drake made about 40 fetches in five days of hunting. He eagerly ran and swam in the cold water for every retrieve. He went out and got diver ducks in whitecaps, dabblers in Dakota muck, and flushed a crippled mallard from the cattails. One retrieve I hope I never forget was on a crippled diver. As Drake got closer, the diver dove under the water. It would come up a little ways away from Drake. Drake again swam to the duck until the duck dove under again. This repeated a few times with Drake closing the gap a little bit each time. Drake got about a foot away when the duck dove one last time. Drake stuck his head under and came up with the duck. He grabbed the duck with his head under water! That's drive and can't be trained! The duck was still crippled while in his mouth. Normally, a handler would not want the dog biting the duck, as this would possibly ruin the meat, but I watched Drake make a slight crunch on the duck and killed it. When cleaned, there was no damage to the meat. Again, this can't be trained.
While planning for this year's trip to North Dakota, discussions were had about which dogs to bring. Drake is 12-years old and can't hunt like he did even a year ago. There were two puppies that needed a chance to prove themselves and get some experience. We also added an extra hunter to fit into the truck, too. It was determined that Chubby had earned a spot in this year's trip because of last year's efforts. He watched me get packed up by putting in camo gear and a shotgun, so he knew I was going somewhere he wanted to go. He was beaming when I helped him into my truck for the trip.
I didn't hunt Drake every day and he only saw limited action when I did hunt him. Letting him sit in cold water for hours on end and trudging through mucky cattails would be too hard on him. We didn't dare leave him in the house alone while we were hunting, so we left him in the truck while we took the puppies. I'm not sure who was more broken hearted when I closed the topper- me or Drake. He wanted to go so bad each time, but felt it necessary to protect him from himself. There comes a time when we all have to watch from the sidelines.
When we got back to the truck, we'd let him out and he'd be happy to see everybody and sniff the birds we got. He didn't seem to hold a grudge or be angry. Drake was happy to see us and happy for us that we got a few ducks. He reminded me of a grandpa going deer hunting. Grandpa might not have gone deer hunting, but he was the one at the truck making sure the grand kids were warm and had hot cocoa. If he felt up to it, he'd maybe go for a short walk just to see if he could drive a deer past someone. Grandpa may or may not have bought a license, but he most certainly did not sight in his rifle as there was no chance he was going to shoot a deer. That was Drake on this duck hunt.
I did some jump shooting with Drake when I knew there wouldn't be much walking and took him to sit in the blind for a one hour hunt. He made a few retrieves with the same zeal as he always has. When he was bringing back those ducks, he looked like a lean hunting machine in his prime. At night he slept like the ol' dog he is.
Take a kid and a retriever hunting. You'll never regret either experience.
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