Sharing hunting adventures with a good bird dog is a special thing and it is even more so if you're lucky enough to share them with a Boykin Spaniel. Of course, I cannot be objective because I'm lucky enough to share my time with my Boykin, Tobey. His zest for life is infectious. Bird hunting is not something he likes to do; it is who he is. No matter the weather, no matter the terrain, no matter the game, let's hunt is his moniker!
Last weekend we enjoyed an overnight waterfowl hunt at Summer Lake, Oregon. The wind blew ferociously. We set up our little camp above the water saturated ground in one of the primitive campgrounds that the Oregon Fish and Game has set up for hunters. We got there at 11AM and our site selection for our two person backpacking tent would become very important later that evening. It took us thirty minutes to finish setting up camp. We shared a quick lunch of salami and provolone cheese on a hard roll, and went out for a jump shoot that served a dual purpose for selecting our spot for an evening shoot over decoys. The wind was too strong for many birds to fly so we set up early in a tiny area of a small pond that was protected from the wind's fury.
Per usual, Tobey sat at the pond's edge and inquisitively watched me place out a half dozen decoys. I purposely selected water that he'd not have to swim through to make retrieves. At 38 pounds, I was concerned about the wind blowing him across the pond. Believe it or not, this tiny body of water was covered in white caps. We had just settled in behind a quickly assembled blind behind a large sagebrush plant when a brace of drake mallards appeared overhead and circled back into the wind and struggled to reach our decoys. Now, it is my policy that no guns are loaded whenever decoys are being set or recovered and I would soon pay for my middle aged forgetfulness. The brace of drakes edged ever closer and finally they were directly over our decoys. I rose to my knees, Tobey prepared to launch and "Click", the firing pin on the lower barrel of my Browning Citori Lightning fell on an empty chamber. At the sound of the metallic click, Tobey redirected his gaze from the mallards back towards me and I swear, he rolled his eyes in displeasure. Normally, I would've gotten mad at myself but his look made me laugh at the whole event.
We ended up taking a hen ruddy duck and a hen mallard. The wind was simply too strong for birds to fly. We pulled up stakes and had only made it to within 200 yards of my Jeep before the sky opened up with pounding wind blown rain. I don't know about the rest of you but, towel drying my Boykin is always a rambunctious affair. For some reason, he feels that squirming around must be part of every towel drying event. Let me set the stage for you. The wind blown rain was bordering on becoming sleet. The wind's strength blew at a steady 40 MPH. Our two person tent was getting battered as I opened the fly's zipper and called Tobey inside. He hardly noticed the wind while he bounced around and enjoyed the "attention" from his favorite towel. I got him inside the tent, fed and watered him, managed to pull my chest waders off while hunched over in the fly and we both settled down for the night. Yes, Tobey is spoiled. I have a matching set of -40 degree synthetic sleeping bags. One is for him, and one is for me. They zip together and make for one large sleeping bag. Around 8PM, the wind died down and both of us slept soundly inside our joint sleeping bag. In fact, he woke me up twice during the night because he was snoring.
Fast forward to yesterday and once again, we made another memory. Tobey made a difficult 100 yard blind retrieve on a green winged teal. Would he have scored well on a hunt test? No. He's a meat hunter and I don't expect him to obey a perfect line. Rather, I expect him to solve the problem. Twice, I had to give him our whistle command for "back". He has a unique way of treading water that brings his front shoulders above the water so he can see better. On his second attempt, he spied the teal and swam straight for it. After he'd brought it to hand, he pranced around me kicking the dirt with his hind legs. It was very obvious that he was extremely pleased with himself.
Regardless of which breed you hunt with, hunting over a well trained bird dog is a Zen like life event. Quickly, the stress and drudgery of the week will dissipate and time will stand still. Enjoy your time afield with your canine partner. I guarantee you, the never-ending wag of my Boykin's stub of a tail makes me a better human being. Hunt 'em up, little buddy!
