In a wonderful book called The Hounds of Heaven: Living With An Ancient Breed, author Stephen Bodio writes about an old English Longdog expression describing when the penny drops for a young coursing dog.
Such a dog is approvingly marked as having “gone wicked,” turned by centuries of genetic inheritance meeting opportunity. Bodio describes his own tazi pack hunting the high plains of New Mexico, “loping like wolves and using their eyes, their noses, and their brains,” distilled into what Stephen’s stepson described as “a wind in the grass with teeth” (Bodio 104, 136).
I suppose the word “wicked” is a jarring juxtaposition against the rather genteel image of modern pointing dogs, but virtually all of us can readily spot that moment when the lights come on for our slaphappy, woods rambling adolescent gun dog. Suddenly, the taint of game bird makes intoxicating sense informing every ounce of his drive and attention. His entire world narrows like the old shotgun Poly-chokes wristed from cylinder down to tight full bore, and he becomes a stone-serious predator.
But, just as with a gun that’s over-choked for the game, post-maiden puppy performance can be a hit or miss proposition…with even the hits, at times, regrettable, blowing breeding, training, partnerships, clean living and occasional temperance all to pieces.
So it’s up to us to make ready for when something “wicked” this way finally comes. We do our homework and choose a breeder who has a vetted track record of producing puppies that hunt the way we do. We spend quality time with that puppy, establishing a connection far, far beyond chain link, feed pan, and water bucket. We want ties that bind…or if not exactly bind, at least streeeeeeeeeeeeeetch and hold when the presence of game (and this would include “off game” – in our country that means turkey, deer, rabbits, and squirrels – as well) does to our puppy what that first slow dance in 8th grade does to most boys and girls.
And for the same reason junior high dances are chaperoned, we will do our best to make those early bird contacts modestly supervised. We will choose favorable cover under the best conditions possible. Whether that introduction comes with hardy, hyper, hard-flying released (rather than planted?) pen birds, spring woodcock, or late-summer prairie birds, the idea is to keep sessions short, sweet, and slanted as much as possible in that young dog’s favor.
A chaperone is one thing; a helicopter parent is quite another. We want to chaperone that proto-gun dog, offering a mooring, encouragement, and low risk/high reward schooling.
We’re patient and generous. We’re clear-headed about what we want to accomplish. This is a shaping experience with the fewest commands and harangues and harping whistle serenades as possible.
For instance, when young Lady Gunstock goes off on a toot, the last thing we’re going to do is toot our whistle over and over and over and over…or shout ourselves hoarse. Why do field trailers sing to their charges? They don’t want that dog wondering where they are. That’s the opposite of what we’re trying to shape.
So we strike off in the direction of the chase, we listen, and we wait. If we’ve bought a puppy of the right breeding and done our connection homework, sooner or later (or, face it, oft times later rather than sooner), L. Gunstock is going to come out of her bird trance and wonder where be the dance partner what brung her to the ball…and come looking.
When it seems she’s now on the hunt for us, we’re not going to stand still. We’re going to move, catch her eye, toll her in. And when she finally does arrive, we’ll love her up, set her up, and cast her again. Sometimes, we’ll do an upbeat “heel” session, just to remind L.G. that school is still in session and reestablishing our connection.
When Lady Gunstock flash points or even just ducks her head at scent before charging in on game , we’ll grit our teeth through the chase, briefly contemplate taking up racquet sports, then bring her back in when we can. We will set her up where she should have stayed, and remind her of how unbelievably amazing she is. When she has stood and had a chance to gather herself, we will heel her in the opposite direction of the flush, then cast her again.
As best we can, we keep to the principle of not offering commands or demands or even heartfelt, (mildly) heated suggestions that we can’t support into compliance.
Through it all, we remember we’re all about process. If our process is good, then by and by, we’re going to walk in on a dead solid, dead certain point that’s just wicked fine.
Bodio, Stephen. The Hounds of Heaven: Living and Hunting with an Ancient Breed. Skyhorse Publishing, 2016.