My Little Canine Friend

Last night Rudy coerced me into taking him out for doves again. (Truth be told he didn't have to twist my arm too hard.) A post or two ago I mentioned that upon finding downed birds he chewed them up instead of bringing them to me. I'm happy to report that after endless reminders that retrieving is his only choice, he's decided to change his ways. In fact, the pup has proved himself quite the gun dog lately. He didn't hesitate fetching these three birds right to my hand, but when photo time came he made me hold them, and then decided he was too cool to even look at the camera.


Sorry it's a little blurry. It was actually a lot darker than it looks. We explored a new piece of land last night and right before dark we found the jackpot, - a small pond beneath some old cottonwoods near a bunch of dead trees filled with thirsty doves. One flew overhead and fell at the shotgun blast, which spooked the whole flock. Rudy ran to, picked up, and brought back the bird and was off looking for more before I could even get out a "good boy." Sometimes he can be so cocky.

We walked over and placed a few decoys in the dead pines where the bunch of them had just been perched and took up a nearby hiding place.


Within ten minutes I had missed three birds coming into our little ambush. Rudy searched hard for each one until I called him off, which made me feel bad so I threw a dummy out into the tall grass and sent him for a retrieve. He got to where it was lying, smelled it, looked at me with disgust, and then kept looking for a real bird. A battle of egos ensued about who was going to pick it up; the whole scene being spectated by at least four more doves soaring overhead. We resolved our differences (meaning I gave in) just in time to pick up the gun and shoot two more. Rudy had some struggle finding these two, but eventually came up successful. I wouldn't have found them without his nose, and I think he knows that. He just sat and soaked up the much deserved praise.

On the way back to the car he had an experience which quickly ended the "who needs you" attitude that he had given me all night. Because the grass was taller than him, he didn't see the edge of a little cliff until it was too late. Down he fell and plunged into the stale water in the old canal. He tried to come up for air but his head was blocked by the blanket of fallen branches and leaves floating on the surface above him. The poor dog frantically began searching for a way through, and because of the way the water was covered, he might not have found it in time if I hadn't dropped the gun and hopped down the little cliff myself. I anxiously pulled up the floating mess of entwined leaves and branches just enough that he could breathe and I could call to him. Wide-eyed and gasping, he dog-paddled over and put his front paws on what little shore there was. With his tail between shaking legs he just stared at me till I could get into position to pull him up by his collar to dry land.

Late that night Courtney captured a picture of me and the little "tough guy" who, as you can tell, had the "I-don't-need-you" attitude scared right out of him.