I’m not a land baron. In fact, while I have access to a large tract to train Pritch, it’s three hours away, and that’s just not practical. Instead, I’ve had to become crafty at finding places that work for us closer to home.
Ever since I brought Pritch home I’ve been hearing opinions about gun dogs. My brother told me I’d suffer because I was used to retrievers, and that Boykins “just don’t have the same fire.” And a fellow outdoor writer only half-joked that I had gotten a “chick dog.” But you don’t have to look too far back at the comments to some of my pervious posts to see that Boykin owners are certain they have the best dog on the planet…all of which makes for a great Hump Day discussion: What’s the best pound-for-pound hunting dog?
There was a bit of news out of Wyoming last week that had me thinking all weekend. A man named Bobby Jenkins was on his farm with his three labs when one of them crawled beneath some heavy machinery. The dog, Tank, let out a yelp, and when Jenkins reached it he noticed it was bleeding from two fang marks in its nose. Immediately, Jenkins began sucking the venom out of the dogs nose and spitting it on the ground.
Ever have one of those days? One of those days when you get the boss to let you knock off a little early. You rush home, grab the pooch, throw her in the truck and make a beeline for your favorite training spot. So what if you hit a little traffic. You’re out of work, it’s a beautiful afternoon, and you have a pup in the back of the Jeep.
As I navigate the many pitfalls that come with training a gun dog I often wonder what’s the biggest mistake an amateur can make. Here’s an example of one of my errors that I feared would cost me big time.
There’s an old saying, “You can’t fall off the floor,” and as far as training Pritch as a retriever goes, I’m lying prone on the floor. At 13 weeks I shouldn’t be expecting too much from her, I know. In fact, all the books (and I’ll have more to say about the books soon) say I should concentrate more on the SIT, STAY, COME commands at this period. But I’m like most over-eager parents, expecting to see my child perform miracles.
I admit I’m a sucker for having a dog in the house. Growing up my dogs lived in a kennel, and I always pined for the day when I could have a pooch in the house. Well, now I do, and I wonder if I’ll ruin Pritch's chances of becoming an excellent hunting dog as she matures. You don’t have to venture far to find an opinion on the subject.