Dennis Anderson
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Column #1:
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Obedience—and a lot more
We all want our retrievers to be well-trained. Even people who
don’t hunt appreciate a dog that is obedient — an
animal that comes when called, one that heels, sits, stays and
lies down. We’re going to teach you to train your dog to
be obedient. And a lot more.
By providing this information on the
Subscribers Only portion of this Web site, we can convey to subscribers
our unique training methods
using a variety of media, including text, photographs and audio.
We will use these media to teach you new ways of thinking about
retriever
training. Your job will be to read, listen, watch and learn, to
transform your thinking about dog training—whether based on a
lot of experience,
or none—to our way of thinking.
One result will be more
joy at home and in the field with your Lab, golden, flat coat or
Chesapeake.
Another will be an understanding, finally, of the training
methods that will make your retriever second to none in the field.
This
doesn’t mean your dog will win a field trial or qualify
as a Master Hunter, though he might. It does mean you will be able
to walk with your retriever at heel, under control as you enter
a pheasant field, the grouse woods or
a marsh, looking for ducks. And pass the day hunting with that dog.
Under control.
Chaos often rules
How many times have you witnessed this scene
while hunting: You and a friend arrive at your hunting spot, with
your friend’s
dog riding
in back of your pickup. The truck comes to a stop, your friend drops the tailgate
and there he is: Good
Ol’ Fido, whining, panting and scratching to get out.
Your friend opens
the crate door and out blows Fido — into the nearby ditch,
and soon into a distant marsh. Ducks and pheasants scatter like the wind. Now
Fido is returning, crossing roads, dodging into and out of the path of traffic.
Finally, the hunt begins, with Fido dragging his master — and you — toward
whatever birds have not yet departed.
But by now, the hunt has been ruined.
Control first
Now consider this scenario: You and your buddy arrive at your
hunting spot. This time you’ve got
your dog along. After you stop the truck, you drop the tailgate to find your
pal — we’ll
call him Jake — lying alertly but comfortably in his crate.
You get
your gun out, as does your buddy. You load your shell vests. When you open
the door to Jake’s crate, he doesn’t move. He’s
trained to stay put whether the crate door is open or not. Finally, you
softly call “Jake,’’ and Jake bounds from
his crate and comes to your heel, awaiting your next command.
You and your
friend walk into the field, planning to walk for pheasants for a while,
then sit in a duck blind for the last hour of daylight. Jake steps smartly
at your heel until you cast him ahead, saying, again quietly, “Get
on, Jake!’’ The dog bounds into cover, quartering side to
side, nose down. Always under control, your dog works ahead, then checks
back — and
works ahead and checks back again. So it goes during a tough, long walk
for roosters.
An hour passes before Jake’s tail begins to work
faster and faster. Clearly, he has picked up the scent of a bird.
“Easy, Jake,’’ you say, calmly, your voice level. “Easy.’’ Jake
understands, because he’s been trained to listen to his
handler. In a flash the bird is up. You touch the trigger. Soon,
the pheasant is in your hand, Jake panting at your side.
Challenging
as the pheasant hunt was, the duck hunt is more challenging still.
Nothing is in the air for the first 50 minutes. But Jake can handle
it, because he’s been trained to sit
and remain calm for extended periods of time. With you, the dog
eyes the sky, watching. Waiting.
Finally, as dusk nears, a mallard
begins working the far end of the marsh. You blow your call. More
alert now, Jake nevertheless remains under control. Steadfast,
he’s
not creeping forward; not whining. Closer and closer the mallard
flies. You shoulder your gun and fire. And again. Your buddy also
throws two shots into the air. Still, the duck flies away.
Then,
finally, drops — a lone pellet must have penetrated
a lung. All the while, Jake has remained at your side. Watching.
Waiting.
The bird fell too far away, out of Jake’s sight. You walk
your dog outside your blind, line him in the direction of the fall
and say, “Dead bird.’’ Next, you say, “Back’’ — the
command sending him into the water, Jake swims past the decoys.
And farther still. Finally, you blow your whistle. Jake turns to
look at you, and you indicate with your arm that he should continue
back but at
45 degrees
to the right. Jake turns, takes the cast as directed and swims
another 50 yards to find the duck. And returns it to your hand.
At
dark, with Jake at your heel, you walk to your truck. “Kennel!’’ you
whisper, and watch as your best friend goes airborne and into his
crate.
That can be your dog
You too can own and hunt with a trained retriever. But you need
to know a few things first. That’s what we’re here
for.
Welcome. |
