As my geriatric old pup Mocha limped through her last hunting season, we got Tallulah. It is always hard to watch an old hunting companion go into decline, and that's what it has been for me since I got her. We have had some spectacular hunts, and have seen some scary things along the way, but as time wore on, it just became harder to hunt her. The drive to hunt was there, but her body was no longer willing to cooperate. Rachel and I had discussed thoroughly about getting a puppy, and enter Lou.
We had some setbacks with the new puppy deal, but in the end we got this little spitfire of a pup that has boundless energy. Yes, I was able to get Lou out on a few hunts last fall, but merely to run off a little steam while Mocha did the work. When last season concluded, this season began.
The work started as throwing the ball in the living room until either my arm or, well, it was always my arm... Having a puppy in the middle of the winter is not something I would wish upon my enemies. There were limited opportunities to get the little pup out, and the rising pent-up energy manifested itself into frustration and a mounting obsession with fetch.
When spring finally broke I figured I would get Lou out and break that boundless energy. At first, it was doable. Throw the ball for a half hour; dog would sleep for the rest of the day. It became the daily routine, merely to maintain our own sanity.
One day I figured I may as well see how she dealt with water, and took her out to Bailey's when there was a little open water on the west end. With ice washing up onto shore, Lou was thrown into an icy beginning. Not only was she unfazed by the icy water, she embraced it. I knew then what kind of potential Lou had within her. Each day throughout the summer we did something. Ball in the back yard, or dummy launching at the lake. We got acquainted to duck decoys, and new smells, and obedience, and patience. All in all, we got acquainted with each other.
By the end of the summer, I could not break her. I threw the ball until my shoulder couldn't take it anymore. Seriously, I still need to see a chiropractor. I would take her to the lake and launch half a box of 100 shells for dummy launching. It didn't matter what I did, she brought it back; every single time. She sucked in a lot of water, and ironically sinks like a rock. At the end of the day it didn't matter. This puppy lives for retrieving.
September 1st was our first opportunity to go after live targets. It was finally time for the 'big game'. We had practiced enough and now we were going after doves. Plenty of action and practical experience for new pup. Dad joined me for the dove opener, and I was beyond excited to work with Lou. It was great to share this opening day with my Dad.
As the morning progressed, we got better at the retrieval part of the equation, but there was still some hesitation with the mouthful of feathers. Lou also has yet to figure out that bringing back the bird does not necessarily mean it needs to be pre-tenderized for me. Her nose is strong and she found every bird, but she struggled to finish all the way back. Still, for her first true hunt, she was doing great.
At some point during our hunt, I was collecting a dropped bird when I found a rather sizeable drone smashed into the wheat field. This drone had to have been at least 5-8 pounds as it was, and it was only the remnants of a drone. It was the last thing I expected to see while in Clark, SD. Hell, maybe that's why we found it buried in a wheat field. As I figured it was spooking birds I pulled it from the dirt and threw it into the weeds near our setup. Shortly there after, Dad proceeds to get to business and all I hear is,
"I've always wanted to piss on a drone."
My only regret was not being able to shoot the damn thing down first.
We slowly picked off a few birds here and there, with some spectacular misses, and some miraculous hits. We even managed a pair of pigeons that were lured in to our mojo and dove tree.
It was finally decided that we would call it at 10am as there didn't seem to be many bird still working the area. With seven birds short of two man limit, we were more than happy with our morning's success. Dad and I were able to pick of a few more and it looked like we may actually pull off the limit of birds. As our clock was running out, a last bird came through and I dropped it right in front of us. I continued to work with Lou, and was in the process of coaxing her back to the blind, when the last bird for our limit dropped from the sky. Dad made an exclamation point of a shot right in our spread, and that concluded our opening day dove shoot.
All of our summer's work culminated into exactly what I had anticipated; a great outing with more 'work' ahead of us. She had improved immensely even from the first bird of the day to the last. Each day is a new adventure with this pup and I cannot wait to continue our feathered foe.
Stay Tuned
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