Maggie's Farm

Our buddy last week, in south Texas, with a  265 lb. tusker shot with a 338 Win Mag at 85 yards. Pig goes to the local church for their summer pit barbecue. Wild pig is always in season, and no-one complains.

Vizslas, aka Hungarian Pointers,
are not only the most
frequently-misspelled breed, but, in my experience, the most eager, alert, energetic, and driven hunters I know for upland game. They are considered medium-sized, but I have hunted with some that were fairly small, which was good for getting under briar patches and alder thickets: I prefer the smaller bloodlines. 

They are said to be very tolerant of the cold, but I have seen them shivering and miserable after four or five hours in Maine sleet. But so were we brainless humans, who should have been sitting by the wood stove sipping brandy and telling lies.

Cuddly babies at home, they are lions in the field.

The svelte Vizslas have only come out of Hungary in the past 50 years. Excellent, loving pets, too, but they were born to run and need lots of space and vigorous exercise. I'd love to have one or two of these guys.

A sporting breed? Historically known as the "Water Dog," the Poodle is a product of Germany and the lowlands, where the poodle's assistance with duck trapping and duck hunting were essential. They were also very effective at fetching ducks from the marshes when they were in the moult. They love marshes and love to get wet and muddy, but do not love deep water and are not born swimmers, so when they chase something in the water, they often look as if they are about to drown. "Poodle" comes from German puddle, for good reason. Call them "Puddle Dogs."

The only challenge in training this brainy breed is the fact that they are more intelligent than most humans.

Some are natural pointers; all can be trained to be effective retrievers. Since they are hypo-allergenic, they are becoming more popular as field dogs for the allergy-prone, and some breeders specialize in this.

Powerful, often cantankerous, and protective of their master to a fault (they are known as "one-man dogs"), most of the ones I have known do not take kindly to strangers and need tons of daily exercise - preferably in the water. They love to retrieve heavy logs from heavy surf, preferably with ice in it. I think of them as professional hunting dogs more than as house dogs, but I have heard that some of them can be the latter, especially if female. But they are not really family dogs (I know I may get some flak for uttering this fact, but these are dogs for crusty old baymen, from the era of market hunting). Breed info here at AKC.

Despite the similarity in appearance, the Chessie is a very distant cousin of the Lab, via their common Newfoundland blood, as is clear from the differences in personality. (The Newfie, while a work breed and not a sporting breed, might be my favorite breed in all of dogdom. But they are tough to train, which we humans, in our anthropocentric way, term "stupid." Loveable, cuddly, loving and protective - but big and dumb, and they need about 500 acres for exercise.)

There are of course a number of Pointing breeds which contain that strange and fortunate DNA which causes them to freeze when bird scent is close, but in the US "Pointer" refers to many generations of breeding of the English Pointer. I have been told that the Show lines can make good family pets, but the Hunting lines seem to Live to Work, like your friends at Maggie's Farm.

Pointers are typically hunted with a bell or a beeper collar to keep track of their location. They are the classic dog for quail hunting, and are a more popular breed in the southern US than elsewhere: in the South, "dog" tends to mean Pointer, and "bird" means Bob White quail.

There are few sights as dramatic as that of a Pointer on point. Photo below is an example. This dog which hunted with some friends in Valdosta, GA in March, is pointing a covey of quail in the palmettos.

Here's an excellent review of all of the basic types of bird dogs.

This hunt story from this past winter, in Florida, came in over the transom:

Today, I had something very different happen to me at Burn's field.  This morning saw me sitting in my tri-pod, suffering thru 30 deg.  temps with a biting NW wind in my face. Sure, some of you have it colder, but, this is Florida!! Right about the time I started to begin a stalk hunt (to warm up), seven does filled the end of the field and I picked out the one safe shot and dropped her in her tracks. The other does ran off, then slowly returned to stay around another 45 min. or so. When the last one started leaving, I began to get down as no Bucks wanted to come out and play. Half-way down the ladder, I looked back into the field and saw my doe jerk!!! By the way, she was only about 120 yds. away, so, to see her move, something bad was going on. At first I thought she had only been stunned with a high spine shot and was starting to get up. Then, I saw another body along side of her and I thought the .270 has shot thru her and hit another deer that was bunched up after all. Then the object I couldn't make out, attacked the doe's head and was all balled up around it. 

    I quickly climbed back into the shooting chair, re-attached my steady stick, centered the mass outline on the doe's head and squeezed the trigger. Puff of hair, no movement. After getting down and easing over to the doe, attached you will see the huge male bobcat that was trying to kill my dead doe. He died instantly by my .270 injection, so quick in fact, he still had the death grip on the doe's neck. I've never seen or heard of something like this in my life. Even when I loaded the doe up on my carrier, the bobcat was still attached to her neck. While I didn't weigh the bobcat, the doe was in the 120 to 130 lb. range. You can see how the bobcat was almost as long as she is.

Most deer hunting injuries
are caused by falls from
tree stands, and the
conventional safety harnesses can leave you dangling helplessly in the air with a couple of broken ribs, while the deer gather around to laugh. Cabela's has a safety vest that is a true improvement.

A versatile sporting breed, the Pudelpointer is a mix of Poodle (aka Water Spaniel) and English Pointer.

I have a buddy who has two of them. Good family dogs, strong retrievers and pointers. Unlike Poodles, they like water retrieving. Unlike workaholic Pointers, they are family pets.

There are not many of them, so the gene pool is thin.

The less rare German Wirehaired Pointer (the Drahthaar) is a mix of Pudelpointer with several other German sporting breeds.

This site gives a good run-down on some of the German sporting breeds.

This is what a .28 ga. shotgun looks like. They are graceful-looking little pea-shooters used by good shots on small birds like quail and dove, and clay targets. The only smaller shotgun is the .410, used by expert shots on targets, also on starlings and pigeons around the barn. This one by Connecticut Shotgun Mfg. Co. This pretty side-by-side can be had for a mere $19,000. Too bad it's a little late for the hubby this V. Day.

And here's a nice new .28 ga side-by-side one from our friends at Griffin & Howe, for a reasonable $9950. Nice wood:

Last time, we did the Gordon Setter. The English Setter is a more popular favorite, an excellent family dog, and the finest of gun dogs.

Setters are members of the Spaniel family, with Spanish ancestry, as the name implies. Like most modern dog breeds, their blood lines were established in the late 1800s, but in the case of the English Setter, there are two lines: one bred for appearance and one for the field.

All setters retrieve, track, and point with a "set," a behavior which originally is thought to have been bred for bird trapping. More about the English Setter here.

Another classic versatile 
hunter.

What do setters do, and why are they called "setters"? They point in a crouching manner - "setting," and they will track, and retrieve too.
That is all very good stuff.

The Gordon Setter Club here.  

The Smell of Cordite in the Morning

It is time for one of our occasional free plugs for a good place. Wild Goose Lodge on PEI has been a loyal donor to our local Ducks Unlimited Chapter for many years, and everyone that I have spoken with about their trip has had a great time with Canada Geese. I look forward to my chance to go, because there are few adrenaline rushes like those that come with a flock of these giant (and delicious) birds cupping their wings to come into your decoys.

The Connetquot River

See photo of a stretch of the river posted yesterday. Had a fine introduction to the famed Connetquot River on Long Island, NY, by my dear pal N on Sunday, at an outing with the extraordinary but very low-profile Anglers' Club of New York.

This unique stream, about one hour from downtown Manhattan, is an oasis of peace in the middle of development-run-amuck suburban Long Island, and runs from the relatively stream-less central part of the island down to Great South Bay and the Atlantic Ocean through a splendid and wild 3400-acre park,  It is known for its sea-run Brown and Rainbow trout which can achieve impressive size. But it is also stocked, of course, as is every trout stream in the Northeast, by necessity.

The fishing is organized along English-style beats to which you are assigned, by reservation. High waders are essential. Fly-fishing only, barbless hooks only, and mostly catch-and-release. We did bring dinner home, though -  the big Brown, in photo, who barely fit in a net.

As a truly casual fly-fisherman, with borrowed gear, seven hours of casting of all varieties raised my level of technique quite a bit, which isn't saying much. Is it wrist, or arm, or just "feel"? Well, in the end, everything is just "feel", I guess.

The wine at lunch seemed to help, but the week of heavy rain in New England did not, as the river was overflowing its banks, and the color of strong English tea from the tannin so that when you were almost up to your armpits in the water, you had to watch your step by feeling your way with your feet through the October-cold water so as not to trip over a submerged log, and thus end your day - or your life. But challenging is always a good thing. Too much easiness not good for Indian brave. We did catch and release quite a few nice fish, despite the challenges. And how wonderful it is to spend a day literally immersed in God's creation. Baptism by trout.

The Snow Goose, seemingly endangered in the 1970s, has now become a threat to itself, due to a population boom which threatens its arctic breeding habitat and might be caused by the abundant food which farmers leave on their fields after harvest, along the Mississippi and Central flyways.

In recent years, I have seen their flocks block out the sun in Canada. It's referred to as a "tornado" when they descend upon your decoys in a field in enormous numbers. There are no large numbers in the Northeast, but they do gather in the Chesapeake and I have seen them flying over ski slopes in Vermont in the winter, and loafing on potato fields on Long Island.

This goose comes in a "blue" form, and various mixed-color versions, including the "eagle-head' - blue with white head. The blue version was once called a Blue Goose, but is now known to be just a color variant. The Canadian and US govts are doing all they can to encourage hunting Snow Geese, including a spring season and permitting electronic calls.

They are fun to hunt, if they chose your field, and if you hit them they "go down like a prom dress," as the expression has it: easy to kill, compared to other geese. The deeply frustrating situation is when they chose a field adjacent to yours, and you end up standing there like a dope in your dorky camo hat with earflaps and an unused pile of ammo while hundreds or thousands of them land out of range.

Daily limits of Snows are high in most areas. They are not exactly delicious like a Canada Goose, but there are ways to make them an enjoyable meal, and the rule is that if you kill it, you eat it. More about Snow Goose at CLO here.

Your editor, Bird Dog, is away this week. It's duck, goose and bird (Ruffed and Sharp-Tailed Grouse) season up in Canada. The 100 year-old private club/camp we go to is on an inlet on the upper edge of Lake Winnipegosis (not a disease) in Manitoba. Tough to get to and definitely out of touch - no cell, no cable, no phone to speak of unless you count a party-line with one outlet, no electric except for a big Cat gasoline generator on a flat-bed trailer, which enables abundant hot water and a sybaritic sauna if dehydration is your thing - it is my misfortune that I prefer Scotch whiskey as medicine for cold-wet. Nice old place, open only 6 weeks/year, then boarded-up and the furniture covered with sheets til next fall. Hey, ACLU - female guests not permitted.  Jimmy Doolittle used to stay and hunt there. Not many people up there, and more Indians than Anglos. Craig is bringing Harley this year - an over-sized tough Lab with a chest like a fortress and a fine nose, who will no doubt do all of our brain work and our dirty work very well. I get invited for my Injun eyes, and Craig for his dog. I post the Google earth image below of our inlet (much of the green is marsh - this is duck heaven. Scale is about 10 miles laterally on image). There will not be much new posting this week unless Dylanologist can hold down the fort (a damn shame he can't come this year, nor can Gwynnie's young pup), but I will pre-post some stuff, and some of Maggie's Farm's Greatest Hits. We'll be back next week...God willing and the creek don't rise. Will post some photos when I get back, if I don't drop the camera in the water. Got to hope for ugly weather. 

What guns am I bringing?, I hear you asking. My Beretta auto 12 ga, and my old Abercrombie and Fitch side-by-side 20 ga for birds.

From my grieving, but wine-comforted Connecticut and Ducks Unlimited pal Rick today, re his Lab Buzz, with whom I have hunted - but not often enough. Buzz was an aggressive dog, a true bird dog, but not a natural family animal:

The world lost another four legged soldier yesterday.  At 3:00 in the afternoon yesterday a fine hunting companion whose earlier years of strife were washed away with lots of love in the remaining 4. Buzz lost a battle with Cancer which was unexpected and only found yesterday. I had to put him down immediately  Though he was only in my family for 4.5 years he was a valued and loyal companion. He learned that he could love and be loved in the last 4 years and developed a very nice relaxed way about him after coming to me from the Texas Penitentiary.  A convicted felon who had truly been reformed. He passed in my arms with dignity and never let me know he was sick until this weekend. He will be missed.

Eider, R.I.P.

Dear Bird Dog,

Wanted to let you know I finally had to put Eider down. I know how fond you were of him, and some of his best points on grouse were birds you shot. Lots of fine memories.

Here's the painting.

Best,

Craig F

(note from Bird Dog - Eider was a Large Munsterlander who wouldn't quit, and a sweet guy too. Many fine hours in the Maine, Ct, NY, Saskatchewan, So. Dakota, etc. fields, marshes, and woodlands.)