Hunting 101 - or what I learned on my first trip hunting By Bridget Curry

I've never been hunting in my life. The closest I've ever come is twice Toni found a pheasant in the field where I run my dogs. The first time, she was doing a stop stare and creep thing in the middle of a huge patch of star thistle. I kept calling her out and she kept going back in.

After creeping in the star thistle for about 75 yards we were at a fence line - Toni was to my right and my other dogs were coming from the left. It became apparent that Toni was doing a masterful job keeping tabs on a rooster pheasant when my other dogs came in and flushed the thing about 10 feet in front of me. I don't know how many of you have had a pheasant flush in your face, but it is a whirlwind of color, noise feathers. I jumped backwards, screaming and cussing (I assume this is the proper response all hunters want directed toward a dog that has been working hard, but I could be wrong here) as Toni stood and stared at the bird as it flew over the fence line and into a neighboring field. My second experience was much the same except I was cussing at Toni because she wouldn't run and I had a limited amount of time for this exercise outing. I did however manage to praise her work this time when once again my other dogs flushed the pheasant.

Last Wed. I got the call. Bill was getting off work early and called to say we were going hunting. I said "who's going with you?" He said "you." So here are the things I learned on my first pheasant hunt (in no particular order).

The Toni we took hunting is not the same dog I take running. The Toni I take running hits the ground at top speed and doesn't slow down for at least 200 yards. She then runs from interesting thing to interesting thing taking care never to get close to me (in case I should want to do something to her, this is play time you know). When we got to the field, Bill told me to put Toni's collar on and take her out while he put on his boots. I put the collar on and looked around. Seeing nothing to stop her headlong flight for miles, I left her in her crate. Bill said to let her go, I asked if he was sure, after all we only had an hour and a half to accomplish this trip. He said let her go and I did. She jumped out put her nose to the ground and started making little circles around the car. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. When Bill started walking, she trotted off in front of him LISTENING to him, staying close, NOT running. She just did the Spinone, extended trotting interspersed with short gallops. My baby girl hunts like a Spinone!! My baby girl also has different praise requirements for me than she does for Bill. When I praise Toni for working for me (in obedience or conformation) the required praise is, awe at her brilliance, enchantment at her willingness to anything I ask, rapture at the fact she did any part of the exercise requested, all the time petting, rubbing and scratching (Toni not myself) and giving her cookies for her good work. When she's working in the field for Bill his praise is (in a happy voice) "what a good girl Toni is - good job." Apparently this effusive praise is too much for her because she takes off in search of more birds.

Just because Toni found the first pheasant in two minutes does not mean she's going to find three in six minutes. The first find was exciting. I was anticipating an action packed hour and a half! An hour later I finally asked Bill where all the birds were and whether he had seen any. He responded he hadn't seen any birds and that's why it is called hunting not harvesting (he was smiling when he said it).

I was the handler and Bill was the gunner. Here's what I learned about handling. Keeping the whistle in your mouth at all times (so you can use split second accuracy) is a great theory. In practice, after an hour of going through rough terrain it's really hard to keep the whistle in your mouth and breathe at the same time. I also learned that when you blow the whistle as a result of stepping in a hole, the dog reacts just like when you mean to blow the whistle. I also learned that it's harder than you would think to bite through a plastic whistle and your front teeth will stop hurting after a couple of days. Handling is a lot easier on the flat open ground where I run them, than it is in hip high grass and in a field where they can go up hill and down dale.

Here's what I learned about hunting in fields. Fields where pheasant like to hide are not necessarily the same type of flat easy walking fields that I run my dogs in. Pheasant like uneven, canal strewn, grass clumped nasty walking stuff. I run my dogs three times a week and it's a good aerobic workout. I was dying after 30 min. in this stuff. It was at this time that I learned not to mouth breath no matter how tired you were. There are HUGE flocks of bugs flying around just waiting for a chance to fly into your mouth out there. It was also at this time I learned flailing your arms around trying to get the bugs to leave you alone, can confuse the dog when its looking to you for direction (did I mention I accidentally blew the whistle here too).

What I learned about hunters. They get all excited when you point a shot gun at them, even if you don't have your finger anywhere near the trigger. Bill handed me his gun to hold while he checked a bird. I'd never held a gun in my life, but I figured what the hey. Bill glanced at me and (it's hard to explain - it wasn't a shout or a shriek - I guess the best description of his tone is unearthly) as he faked right yelled "Honey, don't point the gun at me!" I of course in an attempt to listen to him, tracked him with the gun. When it dawned on me, what I was doing, I swung the gun to the side. It was then I learned that a hunter isn't any happier when you point a shot gun at his dog than he is when you point it at him. Bill was able to strangle out "in the air, point it in the air" and everything returned to normal. It was at this point Bill felt a short lesson in gun safety was in order. I also learned that hunters will get filthy to keep their gun clean. When Bill slipped in mud, I stood behind him and watches as he did everything to keep from falling, except stick his gun on the ground to keep from going down. He was so proud, laying there in the mud, when he managed to keep his gun clean. I learned that people who are sensitive to cussing probably shouldn't stand close to a hunter who has only winged the bird. A clean kill is obviously preferred. Finally, I learned that "Oh look, you missed!" is something you should think and not say out loud.

General impressions:

The following statements may or may not be true:

1. "put your feet where I put mine and you'll be fine"
2. "if I can make it so can you"
3. "it's not that deep"

It may not look like it but Bill has legs that are MUCH longer than mine. He can step over these stupid little canals that are everywhere. I have to do this little step-hop thing. I'll be frank. I'm fat. Step-hopping over canals is not the most fun I've ever had. The statements mentioned above are applicable here too.

Toni's ability to find the tiniest hole in any fence is a practical skill. The place we were has fences that seem to begin and end for no particular reason. They're just sitting there. After the third pheasant, Bill and I were on the opposite side of a fence from Toni. I was waiting at a break in the fence and calling her. Toni was (as she had done all day) ignoring me to go with her daddy. Bill finally asked what I was doing back there and I told him trying to get Toni to come through the fence. He just laughed and told me to catch up. Sure enough, Toni was trotting along and all the sudden just popped through a hole in the fence. An invisible to the human eye hole. She didn't even stop and look at it, just popped through. Now I know why it was so hard to escape proof the yard.

The phrase "hurry up, you're getting too far behind" should be grounds for acquittal in a murder trial.

I could never hunt anything that you had to sneak up on. After the first 30 min I was puffing like a steam engine. After an hour I had the most amazing wheeze thing going. I am definitely not stealthy!

Bringing a video camera would have been just another useless thing for me to carry. I already told you I missed the first bird entirely. I missed her working the second bird because I actually saw a pheasant running under a fence and was so busy watching to see where it went that I missed everything before the gun going off. The third bird (the one I saw) was immediately tracked into a little ravine where I could only see the top of her head. Bill was in front of me (as usual) and he saw the bird take off running, so he sent Toni. This was the one he winged. Toni did a good job of chasing the little bugger down. All I would have had on video tape, would have been Toni trotting, Bills back, Toni chasing a wounded bird, and three BEAUTIFUL retrieves. Not really worth lugging the camera along.

Speaking of the bird I saw, I missed her working the second bird because I was watching the runner. I wanted to note that I very carefully made mental notes as to where the bird went, how it got through the fence, what the two fence poles looked like and how far the tree was etc. This was all a total waste of my time. After retrieving the bird and getting her praise, Toni immediately dropped her head and within two seconds was on the track of the running bird. Before I could open my mouth to offer any information on where we should head, Toni was tracking down a dirt road, across the grass and through the fence (it may have been the same hole the pheasant used, I'm not sure) and on point. How can dogs track the tiny little feet of a 4-lb. bird that well, but when I stomp myself through shin deep grass, dropping food as I go and leaving a big pile of food at the end - nobody can seem to find anything? I guess this is another story.

The Spinone standard says they have incredible endurance. THEY DO. Toni can hunt longer than both Bill & I put together. Our hunting trip took place on a sunny, yet cool day at 2:30 in the afternoon. By the end of the hour and a half I was walking on the road (I don't care if we find any more birds, handle the dog yourself, where is the car?) and Bill was walking on the other side of a ditch. For once I was close enough to see he was sweating bullets (much to my delight - I hate to suffer alone). Toni on the other hand was covering ground and barely panting. Bill said I (as the handler) had to be really careful as this was when she tended to try to range out too far. She knew we were heading back and too tired to watch closely. My response was something along the lines of "big deal" or "she's right, I am too tired to care" I can't remember for sure since I was suffering from oxygen deprivation.

I really enjoyed watching Toni do what she was bred to do. I've never seen a dog look as happy as she did while bringing those birds back. Both Toni and Bill did their part to make my first experience fun. Toni found three birds (I'm told three birds in an hour and a half is pretty good) and Bill didn't even tease me when I would turn my back and put my hands over my ears when he would shoot.

Honestly, if you can get past the shooting little birdies out of the sky thing, hunting is a lovely way to spend an afternoon with a loved one & it's even better if your spouse comes along too.