Waterfowl hunting and fond memories

Alaska’s waterfowl season is set to open on September 1, about three weeks from now. I hope to get out. If things really go well, I might try going up into the Delta area and hunt some geese and cranes in the barley fields. I need to check into the guides available who oversee these hunts to learn costs and general locations. I would expect the first trip to be more of a learning experience rather than a full-blown hunt.

Having a good dog while waterfowl hunting can make all the difference in the world, not only in recovering downed birds, but also in the simple companionship of sharing the hunt with a special “friend.” My first very own dog was a Black Labrador named Troubles.

The following are some excerpts from a story I wrote about Troubles several years ago. He will always be my first and “bestest buddy.”

“Troubles was a natural retriever, so throwing and fetching sticks became a regular pastime. We soon graduated to a rubber ball because it went a lot farther than thrown sticks. The longer retrieves often forced him to use his nose to locate the ball in the weeds when he lost sight of how it had bounced and rolled…”

“While Troubles was growing up, one of his favorite games was tug-of-war. Only after we had established a play routine over several months did I learn that tug-of-war was the worst thing you can do in training a retriever. Troubles had developed what is called a “hard mouth” when retrieving. This trait would concern me later…”

“I planned to hunt Troubles and started teaching him basic commands when he got old enough. We moved from the rubber ball to a retrieving dummy, and he began getting accustomed to the sound of gunfire. I hate to admit that he often learned what I wanted him to do despite my methods, not because of my talent as a dog trainer…”

“Opening day of the Maine grouse season that first fall found Troubles and me out hunting in the woods behind the small rural cabin we shared 20+ miles from town. We both saw the sitting grouse about the same time and when the bird flushed, I made one of my better shots that season. After following the flight of the bird and seeing it fold with my shot, Troubles made a “by-the-book” retrieve on the first game bird he had ever seen…”

“It wasn’t until we returned to Alaska, though, that Troubles discovered his true passion in life – retrieving ducks...”

“On one hunt with a friend in Tutka Bay, across from Homer, the seas were running about three feet with “white-capping” waves and the winds were howling. Bill wanted a drake Harlequin to mount for his collection and had spotted a couple off in the surf several hundred yards down the beach. He took off at a near run to get within range and Troubles went with him. I was adjusting my hip bootstraps and fell hopelessly behind. Bill got in position, the birds flushed off the water and he downed them both with a single shot each.”

“Troubles saw both ducks fall and immediately went after the first bird. The waves were breaking over his head as he swam to his first retrieve. He brought the bird back to Bill and immediately went back out after the second. By then, Troubles had lost sight of the duck. Bill was giving him hand signals, directing him toward the bird’s location. Troubles found the floating duck and retrieved it to Bill. I watched all this while still trying to catch up to their location. Because of Troubles’ “hard mouth” retrieves, I feared he might have ruined the birds for mounting.”

“Two things surprised me here. First, I had never consciously used hand signals while training Troubles. I didn’t know how. Bill commented to me later that Troubles reacted like he had been raised using hand signals. Second, both Bill and I knew Troubles had a “hard mouth” and I figured he had ruined the birds. Bill told me that when Troubles delivered the ducks to his hand, there wasn’t a feather out of place. Troubles just sensed that he needed to be gentle with these birds…”

“His last retrieve was a lucky triple I had made with a single passing shot on three Harlequins, a drake and two hens. Troubles died on March 9, 1986. He was just shy of his thirteenth birthday. I cried that day…”