Crooked Arrow – Page 2 – The Crooked Arrow Blog

Huglu 20ga SxS – Review after two years of use

For years, the urge of owning a nice side by side shotgun in 20ga has floated around in my brain, briefly resurfacing from time to time, but never becoming overwhelming. Mostly because I didn’t hunt birds very often, and more importantly, because the price tag on most of these guns caused heartbeat irregularities and sudden surges in blood pressure every time I looked. Spending some time (days) in a hospital bed, waiting for a surgery spot to open, slightly delirious with hunger, I decided the time had come. And I knew which one I wanted: the CZ Bobwhite G2.

Contacting a local dealer, it quickly became clear that getting one ordered and imported from the US would come with very uncertain timelines. Months for sure, many months perhaps. But the dealer had an alternative. Apparently, the Turkish company Huglu makes the gun that CZ rebrands and sells as the Bobwhite model. And they had several Huglu shotguns in stock. Just not in the same finish, and not with the same barrel length, but cheaper and available immediately. So, a few days out of the hospital, we made the 5-hour road trip, one-way, to have a peek, and maybe bring one home.

First impressions

Honestly, I was not impressed by the looks of the gun, but my intention was to buy something that I would not be afraid to use. I wanted to drag this up mountains and ridges to look for blue grouse and ptarmigan, and put in the kayak when paddling for ducks, and drag through coulees and marshes, without having to worry about denting or scratching it. This one would probably fit that bill. The case colour hardening looked “thin”, and lacked the characteristics of a quality finish of that nature. It almost looked like a spray-on job, the colours vibrant, the pattern oddly regular. Hard to imagine this finish would last very long. The opening lever had a gold-coloured double-headed eagle, acceptable if stand alone, but rather boldly contrasting with the case colouring.

But the little gun fit! Eyes closed, shouldering, and finding the bead sitting right where it needs to be, was a pleasant surprise. Just shouldering the gun a couple of times had me sold, and forgiving it all the finish gaudiness. For a cost of just under a thousand Canadian dollars, it was not hard to justify this purchase. You wanted a gun over which you wouldn’t cry if you hurt it? Well, here it was.

After two years of use

The front trigger proved a bit heavy, and opening the gun requires a little downward tug on the barrels. The latter will likely improve with time, the former might require a polish, but in the field, it doesn’t seem to bother me. Hard to recall how many rounds went through this gun, or how many times I have taken it out into the field. Wild guesses would be 500-600 shells, and maybe thirty outings: hunting days, range visits and shooting during dog training and NAVHDA trial events.

The gun has not disappointed in terms of fit. If I do my job, don’t rush the shot, shoulder the gun cheek-first, keep my eyes on the birds, and don’t think, good things happen. I’ve made some amazing (in my world) shots, and had some events where I shot way above my pay grade. I attribute that mostly to the fact that my body and the guns dimensions just mesh. There are, however, a few things that need mentioning. It’s not all puppy dogs and rainbows.

The finish. I knew it. It started coming off within months of using it. Around the grip and trigger guard it is completely gone, similar on the bottom corners of the action; any place where your hands regularly touch it.

That was not the first issue. After shooting a few rounds of trap on the range, pins started coming loose. The pins that hold the cocking levers, and the one on the forend. As it happened at the end of the first season, I sent it back for a warranty repair. Months later the gun came back, with new pins installed, reportedly. The next range session, it happened again. Instead of sending it back once more, I used some epoxy to set them in place. So far so good. Time will tell.

Unfortunately, there is more. The forend has started to wobble. There is side-to-side movement, where there should be none. Easily remedied for now, by putting some electricians tape inside the barrel channels, but in time this may need gunsmith intervention. For just two seasons of fairly light use, that is disappointing.

Conclusion

Since I am the worrying kind, I worry about what issue might arise next. Clearly, the quality of this firearm leaves something to be desired. Or should I be fairer, and say: you got what you paid for. The next step up in price would easily put five thousand devaluated Canadian dollars on the credit card, and likely one or two thousand more. Such a price difference would have to show itself somewhere, in this case a finish that doesn’t deserve the name, poorly fitting pins, and (perhaps) improperly hardened or lower quality steel on the forend lock.

Maybe it is time to start counting my pennies, regularly putting some change into an old tin, and investigate what options are out there on the right side of affordable, without getting cheap. In the meantime, I’ll keep taking this gun up and down ridges, through swamps and coulees, and hope that magic keeps happening, every time the operator doesn’t get too excited and messes things up. Unfortunately, that still happens way too often.

Frans

Sage Grouse – Montana, September 2022

The sun had turned to orange early, filtered by the smoke of a nearby wildfire, and the dust of the two-track trail. All around, vast expanses of sage brush stretched to where nine thousand feet high ridges framed the scenery. The oppressive heat of the day still lingered, as our minds slowly started to shift from birds to the cool waters of the alpine lake ahead, and perhaps trout for dinner. Suddenly something stirred in the shrubs ahead. One bird head bobbed in the sea of grey-green leaves, shortly followed by a second. Sage grouse!

It all started with a spur-of-the-moment email to a friend in Butte.

“What do you know about sage grouse hunting in Montana?”

The response came quickly and oozed confidence: “I know everything about sage grouse hunting in Montana, my family has been hunting the opener for decades. We are going again this year. Why don’t you join us?”

Two days before the opener Finn, my seventeen-month-old Small Munsterlander, and I drove down, met up with my friend and his son, and set up camp the next day in time for a reconnaissance drive. Finn and I had chosen to stay in a tent. I like my privacy, and he would likely be too much puppy to allow for a quiet night in the trailer, with other people and other dogs. But mostly, I like my privacy.

The nights at seven thousand feet were cold. Despite the daytime mid-thirties (Celsius) temperatures, nighttime temperatures straddled the freezing mark. Though that notion had crossed my mind, I had still brought a sleeping bag that could not be cinched up across the shoulders. Rookie mistake. Finn was comfortable, I think, in his kennel, with fluffy pillow, wearing a jacket. I was not.

We hunted the early mornings, to avoid overheating the dogs. Finn was running big, using the freedom the long views provided, casting nicely left and right, like he had been doing this for years. A few hours were all we had, before the dogs started to suffer. I fed Finn all his water and most of mine
but halfway through the mornings it was time to call it. The area had a surprising number of alpine lakes and shallow creeks, when everything around it was bone dry. Both dogs and hunters took advantage of the opportunity for a cool swim after the morning’s hunt. Late afternoons, with the sun losing just a hint of its sting, we would saddle up again, slowly driving and walking two-track rocky roads and field edges, trying to spot moving birds.

The choice of fields to hunt looked random to me, as for a mile in all directions the terrain was featureless, but it was based on years of experience in this area. I was beginning to pick up small clues about what sage grouse might like. Fresh greens, of which we saw little, grasshoppers, which were ubiquitous, just not in every field. Water perhaps? Some animals get their moisture from plants, but things were pretty arid here. I just imagined birds hitting up water early morning, working their way up to higher areas to catch a breeze, perhaps to return to water late afternoon, before retiring for the night in cover. But that was just speculation.

The first morning we flushed a single sage grouse, and two huns, which all escaped unscathed. Finn had not pointed any of the birds, but he had seen them fly, and had decided to abandon whatever steadiness we had so tenuously achieved in the pre-season prep. I could not fault him, because I had forgotten all my intentions to focus on the dog with the first few birds, and help him remember. The dog did not know better, I should have.

That evening we found the bobbing heads near a small water course and just off the two-track. I suggested falling back and around to get downwind of the birds and letting Finn work the breeze, but it was decided to follow the moving birds, taking the leashed dogs with us. As soon as we had stepped
across the water, Finn’s nose glued itself to the ground, the tail started working, and he became a handful. To my great surprise we managed to get within range before the first grouse flushed. The big bird worked hard to gain altitude, and the shot was not hard. Training a pup and hunting an elusive bird do not go well together. Both dogs rushed in for the retrieve but got distracted by two more falling birds, shot by my buddy. Each grabbed one of the fluttering birds and retrieved nicely, and my bird was found not too much later. A nice male bird, perhaps not the biggest, but not a young of the year either. We cut off wings for the registry, and took breasts and legs.

The second morning was mostly a repeat of the first. We hunted a large swath of land, in semi-circular fashion, above a small water source. My friend connected first, missing birds in a covey, but then connecting with the third shot on a single. Finn was bullied out of the retrieve by the other dog, but he got another chance. First a pair of grouse were bumped out of range by my friend’s dog, but not much later I shot a single with the second barrel, as it was rocketing down and around the slope. Finn nicely
delivered to hand.

After a short, late-afternoon fishing session the next day, catching some cutthroats to add to the intended grouse dinner, we again found some birds. We tried to get organized, but waited too long and the grouse flushed. I followed them with Finn, on leash first, but as I got downwind, I let him run. The birds were in the open, and two grouse flushed out of range, but the third one hesitated, and once airborne, followed the downhill slope which curved towards me. I gave him a good two body lengths lead, and the bird crumbled at the shot. Another nice retrieve for Finn.

We investigated the crops of our birds and found they contained fresh leafy greens, and whitish, or light-yellow berries. We have yet to identify what those were. The fresh greens indicated that perhaps water courses, or the few fields that had not been grazed recently, were the preferred feeding areas this time of the year. But again, this is speculation, based on just a few observations.

At night, my friend’s son cooked us up a nice meal of cubed, breaded grouse breast, and cutthroat trout. A few cold beers went with that, and life could not have been much better.

Seek Outside Cimarron Light/Stove combo – first experiences

I’m getting old. There, I said it. Bones ache, injuries comes easy and take a long time to heal, and mostly, I feel a strongly decreased desire to endure discomfort. Cold nights in a tent on a windy mountain don’t appeal as much as they used to, and they only appealed moderately to begin with. For some reason cold gets to me quickly, which would make for a very short outdoor season if I were to give in.

Enter the “hot tent”. Horse guys have drug around canvas wall tents and iron stoves for a long time, but backpackers had to wait for lightweight fabrics and thin light sheet metal and the idea of some brilliant manufacturer to put it all together into something that could be carried on a man’s back without breaking it. I don’t know when the first lightweight stoves came onto the market, probably long ago, as I am generally slow to catch on, but after enduring years of marketing, and mostly positive reports on the media, I finally gave in and ordered a Seek Outside Cimarron Light pyramid-ish tent and their Large sized titanium box stove and chimney pipe.

Last weekend the weather was perfect for laying on the couch, watching Youtube videos of people catching big trout in sunbathed Western rivers, so after some serious discussion with the inner sloth, I packed up and headed out, encouraged by a very excited pup who figured all this gear accumulating by the front door could only mean one thing: we’re going hunting! Here are a few observations based on this one night of experience and the preparations leading up to that.

The seams on the tent need to be sealed. You can either do that yourself with the provided tubes of goop, or have Seek Outside do it for a fee. Before going cheap like I did, consider if you have a spot where you can either set-up, or hang and stretch out this tent with a sizeable footprint, and still be able to walk around to apply the goop. Also consider the weather if you are considering doing this outside, since the stuff needs a certain temperature to set properly. Let the goop sit long enough for it to set completely!
Do a trial set-up in controlled conditions (a good idea with any tent). The tent comes with pieces of cord that need a loop tied to them and finagled through the pieces of plastic on the stake-out points. Best done indoors, and not on a windy hillside somewhere with your fingers freezing.
The stove, mostly the chimney, needs a break in (by burning a fire in the stove, so the metal will heat-set). First-time rolling of the chimney is best done with a few people and a piece of PVC pipe as a mold. I’ve seen video of a guy trying to do this alone in the field, and the result was a severely mangled chimney pipe. After the first burn the metal will have a tendency to pop back to the shape it was in under heat.

Staking the tent fabric close to the ground requires that you keep the loop in the cords as close to the tent as possible, with the stakes hammered in at an angle. The shape of the tent causes an upwards pull on the loops, which you can counter by having the stakes in at, say, a 60 degree angle. Then if you want to have ventilation space at the bottom, you can slide the loops up until they sit in the notches near the top of the stakes.
By the way, this tent has three guy-out loops, on the sides that do not contain the door, but it does not come with cord to do so, and it comes with only one extra tent stake surplus to the number of stake-out loops on the bottom, so you’ll need to buy two more stakes or rely on vegetation or rocks.
Do NOT hammer in the stakes too deeply if you are dealing with frozen ground, or you’ll have a heck of a time getting them back out.
The carbon pole is a four-piece affair, though it comes assembled as a three-piece. You can even manipulate it so in storage it is a two piece. Here is the danger. The springy thingies at the end of some of the pole segments, used to fasten the pieces together are not secured inside the poles! Innocuous as it may sound, if by improper handling you manage to push one or more of those things further into the pole sections, the metal protrusion doesn’t pop up anymore, and you cannot fit the pieces together! I got lucky that I hadn’t pushed them too deeply, or I’d have been hooped, or would have had to chop a sapling to size to get the tent set up. Now I got lucky and with a tiny stick I managed to push them back out. Of course these things always happen at -15 oC/5 oF and never during a summer’s day. So beware of those springy thingies, keep the protrusions popped up through the holes in storage, which may mean sticking with a 3 piece.
Set up in the field was easy, with the previous practice in mind. Stake the corners, push up the pole, stake the remaining loops and guy-outs, all pretty simple (there was no wind). In a gale I can imagine this being a little harder. Stove assembly is fairly simple too, though fitting the rods through both holes (top and bottom of the stove) can be a bit tricky. Keep in mind that all this is simple in the backyard, with a beer to wash away any frustrations, but can become a major task after a long arduous hike in sub-zero weather. Try fitting a small wingnut on a threaded rod with mitts on, and you’ll understand.
It wasn’t very windy, but there was a fair bit of movement and some creaking where the chimney meets the stove, and flapping of tent fabric whenever there was a breeze, so it will be interesting to see how this all behaves when the winds are up to 50 mph (not uncommon around here).
Floorless. To floor or not to floor. I guess it depends on conditions and the type of trip. If you want a stove, you need a floorless, I assume, to prevent melting a hole in your tent? For argument’s sake, let’s say that is correct. If you are on a run and gun kind of trip, on the move all day till late at night, jumping in the tent just to fix a meal and sleep (and you don’t need a stove to keep you warm while sitting around), then a regular backpacking tent would be preferable. But if your are spending any amount of time in camp, going in and out of the tent regularly, or you are camping around the winter equinox with more hours of darkness than daylight, then the flexibility of the floorless tent with some headspace is nice to have. Keep your boots on when you walk in and out (walk, not crawl), a warm place to sit and read whiling away the long dark evening before bed time, it’s all very nice to have. If you are planning to hunt out of a fixed location where you’ll be returning every night, the little extra weight of the tent/stove combo is definitely worth it. If you run into weather, like days of rain on end, it seems like a no-brainer that the comfort of this set-up compared to holing up into a small one-person tent can make the difference between going home and staying out. Throw a dog into the mix, and the choice is clear. No risk of nails puncturing the tent bottom, no muddy paws all over your stuff. Provided you have taught him the difference between a sleeping bag and the dog blanket. Mine is a work in progress in that respect.
Condensation and bugs, the big issues. Unfortunately I will have to defer judgement on those. At -15 oC there are no bugs to worry about, and any moisture in the air does not turn to droplets on the tent’s inner, but it freezes. Clearly there could be moisture issues. During the night I could see a layer of frost build up on the fabric above me. However, this disappeared quickly whenever the stove was going. That said, the bottom foot of fabric was never ice-free. Heat rises and the outside bottom edge is pretty far removed from the source of heat. It will be interesting to see how this will pan out during humid but above-freezing conditions. Keep in mind that this tent was purpose-bought for the mission, which is early and late season hunting or exploration, and that it is unlikely that I will use it without the stove, which should keep condensation issues to a minimum. Ask me again in six months or so.
This tent has a huge footprint for a two-person shelter. I know it is claimed that four guys can sleep in this (with their gear outside). You can probably fit 5 or 6 in there if you really wanted to, but for comfort (which is where we started out), I’d say that two persons, and one gun dog, with room for gear, stove and firewood is about as good as it gets. See comment above about the ice build up on the bottom. I’d not want my fancy down sleeping bag to be rubbing on all that ice, and subsequently get wet, so the effective footprint is a little smaller. You can stuff some non-temperature sensitive gear closer to the edges I guess, but given that everything you put there will freeze, keep things more centralized could be advisable. For me and my hunting puppy this is a little palace, and over time we’ll figure out the optimal configuration of who lies where. E.g. putting a puppy that likes to chew on sticks next to the stack of fire wood, when you are trying to sleep, is not a good idea.
Running the stove to provide a steady temperature level inside may require a bit of practice, and may require manipulating damping controls in the door and chimney and size of wood used, considering also the dryness of your fuel, the amount of ventilation you have going, and so forth. Also note that this thing has no thermal mass to speak off, so when the fire dies down, the temperature drops rapidly.
I have yet to discover how best to transport the stove in a backpack. The tent is easy enough as it folds and rolls up and fits into a shapeless bag that you can stuff anywhere. The stove is made of awkwardly rectangular panels and the pipe, even rolled up sideways, has some bulk. The sheet metal is thin enough that I suspect you don’t want to crush it too much with compressions straps common on most backpacks. For this first trip I strapped it to the outside of my pack, where it covers up two external pockets, and gets undone every time I need to be in the main bag. Something I need to work on. If anybody has experience with transporting these things I am open to suggestions.
Cooking: I trusted my ability to get a fire going (got lucky, threw in a spare lighter and wouldn’t you know it, the main lighter wouldn’t fire!), and did not bring a gas burner, just a billy pot to put on the flat upper of the stove. While a little slower than a Pocket Rocket or Jetboil, you can boil water reliably, or endeavour more challenging culinary experiments. Remember though that you’re not supposed to do that in your tent in grizzly country. And grizz stay out a lot longer than you think. Just because we had a few frosts and some snow doesn’t mean that they are all hibernating.
The verdict: would I buy it again, knowing what I know now? It’s perhaps a little early to tell. It got me out on a weekend that was cold enough to keep me from overnighting with regular gear, so that’s a win. Set up on flat ground is easy enough; stove transport a little awkward until I learn a better way. You can stay warm and dry out gear in cold and wet conditions. Unproven (by personal experience) as yet in the wind. It’s a fantastic shelter if you are bringing a dog. It has a lot going for it therefore. At US$ 929 plus shipping it is not a cheap proposition, but then lightweight comfort in the backcountry seldom is. It may just be the ticket to keep these aging bones going to the mountains a little longer. What would make it really perfect would be one those small folding chairs. Ah, the luxury of leaning back, stretching the legs, putting another mini-log on the fire, taking a swig from the hip flask, admiring the wet-steaming dog that pointed those coveys of ptarmigan, while the weather outside is taking a turn for the worse… wait, that might be next year’s adventure.

DISCLAIMER: All experiences listed above are based on two set ups, of which one in the backyard, and a grand total of 15 hours in the tent (5pm till 8am).

Four Point Kennels

In our search for a breeder of Small Munsterlander pups, we were extremely lucky to find one a mere 20 minute drive away. Tanner and Toby run their operation a little North of what used to be a small town, on a acreage with horses, goats, chickens, pigeons and quail, and two blocks of kennels inhabited by their band of very merry Munsterlanders.

Tanner and Toby are very personable individuals, who make you feel welcome from the get go, and who go to great lengths to show off their dogs and provide you with all the info you need to make a decision on whether a Small Munsterlander is for you.

Not being a person that makes decisions on the fly, with a desire to control all parameters that borders on the unhealthy, I struggled a lot through the process of selecting a pup, or rather selecting three. When the sorting was all done, and all the pups had traveled home with their new owners, I asked Tanner and Toby to put some words to paper about the history of their kennel, their breeding program and more specifically how they deal with the process of matching pups to owners.

Four Point Kennels history – how did you come to the Small Munsterlander breed, and what attracted you to starting the kennel and your breeding program?

Tanner was looking for a dog for his Dad to hunt with that could do both waterfowl and upland game, but smaller than a Labrador Retriever. After researching and contacting a few breeders, Hunting Hills’ Vivi Katy was welcomed into the family as Wayne’s dog. Soon after falling in love with the versatility of Katy, Robingun’s Cindy Lou Who arrived as a female breeding prospect.

What are your goals/visions for your line of breeding?

Our goal as a kennel is to breed healthy, stable Small Munsterlanders who are also well balanced, loving companions in the home. A dog’s temperament is as significant as their hunting ability so we strive to produce truly versatile hunting dogs that can not only hunt but also be a lifelong member of a family. Each litter is planned for the improvement of the breed and our breeding program.

How did you pick the name “Four Point” for your kennel?

Four Point Kennels was chosen with a compass in mind. Being a symbol for guidance, and the ability to point you in the right direction, in a way our bird dogs act like a compass for directing us to where game birds are. We also wanted to see the pups we were producing go in all directions across North America.

How do you get prospective buyers? Do they contact you? Do you have to advertise?

We do not advertise our dogs. People tend to find us through internet searches, social media platforms or word of mouth. They usually contact us by phone or email, or fill out a puppy application located on our website.

What criteria do you apply to prospective buyers?

We only sell to hunting homes, so it must be a hunting home in order for us to place one of our pups with a prospective buyer. Our dogs love us, but they live to hunt. We want to see them doing what they were bred to do. Obviously having previous dog experience (hunting dog or not) is always a plus. Wanting to test their pup in NAVHDA (North American Versatile Hunting Dog Associating) OR AKC/CKC trials is an asset as well. We view puppy applications as a prospective buyer’s resume.

What does your ideal future Four Point puppy owner look like?

Someone or a family that is going to love the heck out of their hunting partner and companion. Hone the dog’s natural ability and desire to hunt game. Obviously hunt with their dog. We love to get updates on the pups we’ve put on the ground and are here to help our puppy owners, so not being afraid to reach out when they have questions, or are stuck on something during training.

When multiple people express a liking for the same puppy how do you manage that?

This is one of the main reasons we ask puppy buyers to pick their top three and we place the pup within that is best suited. It eliminates picking a pup based off of looks and markings, and sets our buyers up for better success with personality being the priority. We often breed a roan to a brown/white so we can get roughly a 50/50 roan to brown/white ratio. We try to accommodate buyers’ preference in colouring, but if there are only three roans out of six males, we will just tell people they need to drop a roan from their list and add a brown/white. If they don’t want to, they will have look elsewhere for their Small Munsterlander pup, or be bumped to the next litter.

How do you go about assessing the personality of future owners, and that of the puppies?

Quite often a casual conversation about our dogs and hunting will tell us a lot about future owners. Often people will send us an email telling us about their lifestyle giving us a small glimpse into their lives, which always helps as well. If you live close to us, it’s easier for us to get an idea of personality types. If you live a long distance from us, we make an effort to either phone, email or text multiple times to keep things fresh when we start looking to place the pups.

What process do you go through to match owners/puppies? How much is reasoning, and how much “gut feel”?

We’re probably looking at 50/50 for reasoning and gut feel. We spend a lot of time with the pups we are raising. So we get to see their personalities develop, and sometimes change as the dynamic in the litter changes, or they are introduced to new things. For example, a baby bird dog can tell you a fair amount about their personality during their first encounter with a pigeon or coturnix quail.

When we have a puppy buyer that does more waterfowl hunting, we look for pups with a high retrieving desire or wanting to pack a toy around in their mouth at a young age. We don’t really take the size of the pup into consideration as sometimes the runt of the litter is no longer a runt in their new home. Our stud dog Camilo is a whopping 42lbs and will retrieve Canada geese for us repeatedly. He has a lot of heart in a tiny package.

If we have a first time pointing breed owner, we tend to avoid placing the alpha bitch with them, or a pup that tends to be more independent compared to other pups. We want our puppy buyers to be successful with their hunting partners, and we strive to put pups on the ground that anyone can train whether this is your first hunting dog, or your fourth. If you are a loud boisterous person, we don’t necessarily want to put a timid pup with you, or put a timid pup with a young family. Ultimately, the personalities need to match.

It’s hard to describe hunting characteristics besides waterfowl hunting and having a strong desire to retrieve. With upland hunting, the genetics should be there based off of the sire and dam pairing. So besides seeing the more methodical puppy that points and watches the quail fly off, or the pup that is more bold in their approach and points the quail, but then wants to chase it down and pick it up, puppy placement goes more towards personality of the person and pups at that point.

Find out more about Four Point Kennels and their dogs at www.fourpointkennels.com/

Meet Loki!

When you look into a little hunting puppy’s eyes, one that you have just brought home, a little shivering bundle of promise, torn away rather unceremoniously from his eight-week old world, yet oddly trusting that life with you will be the best thing that could have happened to him, it’s hard to not feel a little emotional. The human equivalent of what just happened to the pup would be unimaginably sad. But quickly the little munchkin shows you that you need not worry. He is here with you now, life is good, let’s get going!

A whirlwind two weeks have passed since we picked him up. It took us a week to settle on a name, but it is official now: meet Loki!

The first night was a little rough. He howled for a while, probably an hour, and my presence on a mattress next to his crate did nothing to alleviate his sorrow. I slept next to him for a week, but after three nights he went into the crate quietly, and the first night that I moved upstairs he didn’t whimper or whine for seven glorious hours. That’s about where we still are. I think he is up with the first crack of daylight so Daylight Saving Time is timed well this year.

The first few days we just let him adjust, and took him out for short walks. Our old dog Teeko wanted nothing to do with him, and still doesn’t, but Loki keeps trying. We need to separate them from time to time as the old guy’s knees are not up to enthusiastic puppy attention.

“Sit”, “Here”, “Pillow” and “No”, are the only commands we’ve been using. The first three go fairly well, especially when he knows food is on hand. The “No!” command, well, sometimes it works, but often it needs repeating. There are just too many fun things that need trying!

He had two visits with his sibling Purdey (formerly known as “I am Bulletproof”), and got acquainted with horses, and their tasty excrement.

We spent a few walks on getting used to cars driving by, and watching school busses come up the hill, something we need to continue doing. He’s improved lots already since that first scary encounter. Being a passenger in our vehicles is going very well, we’ve had several trips. He doesn’t particularly love being put into his kennel, but he’s accepting now.

I’ve had a grouse and a duck wing out in the field, and he worked the wind like a champ. He’s not shy about taking those into his mouth, and, if left unchecked, would certainly eat them.

People still puzzle him a bit, he is very cautious when he sees unfamiliar faces, but if the human party is understanding and patient, he quickly warms up to them. With the COVID restrictions it just isn’t as easy to line up a good variety of meetings, but we take every chance encounter we can get.

Today, the two-week point in our relationship, we celebrated with a big trip out to the sporting clays range, about an hour’s drive from here. On a nice day like today, it was packed with shooters. We stopped about half a mile from the trap stations, and just went for a little walk. No problem. Then we closed the distance to about a quarter mile, and did some “sit” and “here” drills, involving some good treats. All was well. I think I was more bothered by the blasts than Loki was. Next stop was across from the parking lot. He was not bothered at all, so I decided to walk up the drive. All trap stations and two of the skeet stations were occupied. Still good. At the back of the club house we met a friendly gentleman, who gave him some good attention. That sealed the deal; Loki didn’t want to leave. He met a few more friendly people, and we walked around the club house, bringing us within some 35 yards of active shooting stations. Still no reaction to the shots at all. A very good introduction to gun fire, I think.

That leaves house training. He doesn’t pee in the house if we take him out every hour, but I’m convinced that the concept of peeing out on the backroad instead of in many much more convenient places has not yet sunk in.

I think it was the evening of day three when he first crawled into my lap, and settled in for his nap. Possibly I have been found worthy. Now, if only I can manage to not disappoint him.

The Start of a Journey

It’s not every day, or every year, not even every decade that you look at adding a pup to the family. Our last two new recruits were not hunting dogs, but rescues, so there was no litter to pick from. My first two hunting dogs were obtained through “this is your pup, take it or leave it” situations, and Aika, our last working dog, sort of picked me. So I was a little taken aback when Tanner and Toby informed me how the selection process was going to work: “Pick your top three, and we’ll match future owners with what we feel is the best pup for them”.

Ehm, what?

I suppose if you are a laid-back, take-it-as-it-comes kind of person, this wouldn’t phase you, but if you are a control-freak in rehab, this just won’t do. Even though I was educated as a scientist, learned how to deal with uncertainties and ambivalence in data, and even worked on Multi-Criteria Decision Analysis for a while, I’ve been tainted by the company of engineers and project managers for most of my working life. I need to be in control. So… what do you mean “pick three”? What if I only like two? What criteria are you going to apply to see which pup matches my personality and experience? What if I only like one? Who’s gonna get their number-one choice and who will not, and why? The “pick-three” approach caused a lot of heartburn.

Inferno

The first visit with the littler was a blur. “Everybody likes the roan-coloured ones”, Toby said. So did I. I focused on two which colour I liked, ignored the two with a lot of white, and came home with strong preferences, and a realization that I failed to give the rest of the mob a fair chance. My second time with the pups, I came prepared with an unbiased mind, handled each pup, but wasn’t much closer to picking three.

We discussed in more detail about how I like to hunt and what I do with the dog that isn’t hunting. Ivan with his size and dark colour could be prone to overheat sooner on long mountain runs. Reluctantly he was taken off the list. I’m Bullet Proof was the number one pick of my friend Peter by a big margin over the others. I decided to take him off my list as well. I would not be able to face him, if Bullet Proof were given to me. However that left only two roans to choose from, and I would have to add one of the brown/whites. Tanner and Toby indicated that Indy was a favourite: bold but not overly independent. Good traits for a hunting dog, who cannot be clinging to your heels, but who you also do not want to range far and wide without consideration for the guy with the gun. With some trepidation I added Indy, the darker of the two brown/whites, but also slightly smaller. My number one was Inferno.

I didn’t get him. I was given Indy.

(to be continued)

Indiana Jones (Indy)

Indy enjoying his first snow

A New Dog Part III – “A Small what…???”

In the end there were two contenders: the Griffon, and the Small Munsterlander. “The Small what…?” is the response I got a few times, even from my vet’s assistant. The Small Munsterlander, or Heidewachtel as we used to call them back home. My first dog was a Small Munsterlander. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but we both tried. Serendipity interfered when I found a breeder of Munsterlanders a mere twenty minute drive from where I live. They even had a few Dutch dogs in their kennel. A Dutch hunter and a two Dutch dogs travel half-way across the world to end up in the same place. It was preordained.

The Small Munsterlander is a breed that originated in Germany.Reports of dedicated breeders of dogs that fit the description go back as far as the mid 1800s. At the time no standard existed, and it wasn't until 1912 that a breed association was founded. Although purists proclaim that the bloodlines follow German huntings dogs back for hundreds of years, it is more than likely that some French Epagneul blood was mixed in at some point. The story is laid out in detail in Episode 4 of the Hunting Dog Confidential podcast. Well worth a listen!

Four Point Kennels turned out to be a pretty solid operation. They have been hunting and breeding Small Munsterlanders since 2013, sell puppies only to hunting households, and are active in the local chapter of the North American Versatile Hunting Dog Association. All their dogs came from great hunting lines. I provided them with a bit of a resume in my introductory email, and we agreed on a meet and greet. I stopped by their place coming back from a morning’s grouse hunting, the smell of which made me instantly likeable to each and every dog. Their kennels looked spacious and clean, all the dogs were friendly, active, happy, and eager to receive my pets and cuddles (because I smelled like grouse). On top of that Tanner and Toby proved to be pretty nice as well.

The next week I was back at their place and watched four dogs work on homing pigeons. We discussed litters. I handed over a down payment.

At that time, Toby and Tanner were still eagerly waiting to see if Lou’s artificial insemination had taken. Right now, Lou’s pups are three weeks old! She whelped eleven pups, six males and five females. We had indicated our interest in a male, so there are choices to be made. When they are a bit older we’ll go meet them and see if one (or more) of the pups pick us. Call me silly, but it happens. Aika, our German Hunting Terrier, was the only pup in the litter that showed interest in that strange guy visiting their snowy kennel near Hannover, and that was the one I brought home.

Until then we are just enjoying the photos and videos that Tanner and Toby put up on Instagram and Facebook. Go have a look: @fourpointkennels. They have another litter coming soon, so the next two months their feed will be full of adorable pups.

The six males: (top row) Inferno, I am Bulletproof, Ivan, (bottom row) Identity Theft, Iceman, Indiana Jones.

But seriously, how do you pick? I’m trying to not develop a bias just yet, based on their looks only. But I like Inferno! Or Ivan, as he is the biggest. The paw print patch on Identity Theft’s butt is cute, and Kyle’s kids have proclaimed him the favourite. In the end, Tanner and Toby’s opinion will play an important role as well, as they have the opportunity to observe the squirmy critters for a much longer period than we can. Which one shows more dominance, which one is more laid back? Is one of them more independent than the others perhaps? Who likes to cuddle? They probably all chase a pheasant wing when pulled away from them on a string. There is only so much you can try to approach objectively. In the end, the heart will have an important say. And perhaps there are one or two pups who think that the weird guy that is coming to visit (again) is really not so bad after all. I’ll stick a grouse wing in my pocket, to increase my odds.

Ivan

Cuteness overload

That looks like Ivan smothering one of his siblings

I’m Bulletproof sleeping on Inferno

Hard to see where one ends and the other begins

To be continued…

A New Dog Part II – “Decisions, decisions”

Labrador Retriever, Golden Retriever, Chesapeake Bay, and Duck Tolling Retriever, Flatcoated Retriever. English Pointer. English Setter. Irish Setter. German Shorthaired Pointer. German Wirehaired Pointer/Retriever. Griffon. Epagneul Breton. Brittany Spaniel. English Spaniel. Welsh Spaniel. Cocker Spaniel… The list goes on. No shortage of choices. It is amazing how many different hunting dog breeds have been developed in the last few centuries.

A very interesting series of podcasts is called Hunting Dog Confidential. If you are at all interested in hunting dogs, where they came from, and how they developed into what they are today, Season 1 covers them all: Hunting Dog Confidential

Sometimes it’s love at first sight. And sometimes that emotion provides poor guidance. If I had followed my first impulse, I would have looked for an English Setter, based on this photo alone (I hope SportDog forgives me for stealing their photo from an ad in the Pheasants Forever magazine).

I needed some criteria to narrow down the playing field, and to insert a modicum of objectivity into the process.

When it comes to hunting of small game and birds with a shotgun, the dogs used by the majority of hunters can be roughly divided into three categories: those mostly interested in work after the shot, also known as retrieving; those known mostly for their work before the shot, finding the game, and pointing or flushing it; and those that show a more or less natural aptitude for both. There are big grey areas between these categories, and many breeds that the average guy wouldn’t even consider for these task would actually perform admirably. But most would admit that an English Setter would look out of place in a duck blind, and a Labrador Retriever might be not the best choice for a stubble field partridge hunt.

With the image that beautiful setter still in my head, and the proverbial easy-going, easy-trainable nature of a retriever in the back of my mind, it would have to be neither of them. My dog would have to be as much at ease in my tiny duck boat as in a coulee cruising for sharpies and pheasants, or running an alpine ridge looking for ptarmigan; poking around for ruffies in thick cover, or lying on his pillow in the living room enjoying a quiet weekend. Even tagging along on long runs while I train for an ultra, although pretty much any dog would outlast me. Finding game, retrieving game, and good around the house. Although September can still be brutally hot, being able to cope with the cold of late fall and winter would be more important. Shorthaired dogs were out.

Taking out the specialists on either side of the spectrum still left a big pool to choose from. Pointer or flusher? Pointer for me. I feel I hunt fairly open country more than I do thick cover, where a flusher like a Springer would shine. Close or wide-ranging? Closer would be better. I like to keep my eyes and ears on the dog, and like it if he (or she) keeps in touch with me as well. And while a point 400 yards away on a stubble field can be reached with a quick dash, the same distance across a coulee, or down (or up!) a steep slope above the trees might just be too much to deal with (getting old, I know). Likes water? Yes, absolutely. Poking around the marshes on foot or in my little duck boat when the weather is still nice, is great fun! Size? Big enough to retrieve an occasional goose and deal with deep snow, but light and agile enough to follow me into sheep and ptarmigan country.

Four Point’s Alberta Bound “Alta” (http://www.fourpointkennels.com/)

Throw into the decision mix things like looks (totally subjective), proximity of breeders, breeds that buddies own and their opinions, and first-hand experience with the breed narrowed it down to two.

Part III – “A Small what…?

A New Dog Part I – “Eleven Years”

Eleven years. That’s a long time to be without a hunting dog. Eleven years is also how long Teeko, a husky-look-alike mixed breed from uncertain progeny, has been with us. He was the perfect hiking and backpacking companion, never straying too far, friendly towards people and other dogs, and, a very commendable trait, alert during long, dark nights. His low growl when some, mostly unsuspecting animal approached camp would raise me from the dead, and there is a story about a night spent in prime grizzly country, a 3AM growl and a porcupine that I have to tell one day.

But he is not a hunting dog. He stumbles across the odd covey of huns, and I have seen him walk into the wind to flush them, but generally he is more interested in sundry other sights and sounds and smells. In his younger years he also refused to swim, which is inconvenient when hunting waterfowl, and despite trying, I could never interest him in retrieving anything, not even a stick.

These days, a knee problem has him hobbling behind me on ever shortening walks. Hopefully medication and a knee brace will keep him mobile for a bit longer.

Through some unforeseen circumstances, we ended up adopting another mixed breed dog. Hailing from a village some 250 miles North of Yellowknife, the first two years of his life will remain a mystery. We melted when we saw him. If ever there was a dog in need of a home, he was it. He has also flushed some birds, but like Teeko he does not seem particularly fond of water. He’ll run with me all day, and curl up beside me all evening, but a hunting dog he is not.

Eleven years is a long time to be without a hunting dog indeed; but I won’t be much longer. It’s just not the same, upland hunting or waterfowling, without a dog. You can find a bird, but you’ll walk past a whole many more. And even with a canoe or boat, and judiciously picking your shots, ducks will end up where they can’t be retrieved without swimming (which I have done), or they will fall where finding them is neigh impossible. The urge became too strong to ignore, and after a partridge, at my shot, fell into deep snow, and the dog on duty proved gun shy and refused further cooperation, it was clear that it was time. It was only a matter of selecting a breed, and finding a breeder.

Part II – “Decisions, decisions”

Upland hunting – way up!

The wind howls from the West. Chinook, we call it. Snoweater. Down on the plains the temperatures will rise, the snow will melt, and some will wear shorts even though it is only late March. Bloody cold up here, where nothing grows to block the wind’s path. It’s been a long winter as usual, and the end is not near, but the mountains called, and we went. Labouring up the steep slope at 9,000′ of elevation I have the occasional thought of a soft couch and a steaming cup of coffee.

Preoccupied with my own thoughts, I hardly notice the change in the dog. But something is up. The wind is doing 50 miles per hour from the back, but the dog’s focus is in front. I look up and around but see nothing. A band of ewes generally hangs out here, they like the open patches that the wind creates. Then, a movement. Something stirs, and it’s white. Another one, then five, six, ten. Ptarmigan. Beautifully camouflaged they rummage in the snow-covered grass. I take some photos. With the help of the zoom on the computer screen I’ll later count twenty-seven in this covey. Hardy little beast, surviving winter up here. I’m sorry I have to spook them, but my ridge lies beyond. They scurry around nervously before flushing to the left and sailing over a cliff.

A full year and three seasons later I’m heading up the same ridge. It’s not been a good year. A nasty little virus has the world in pandemonium; and on top of that I developed a condition that doesn’t seem to want to go away. CT scans, surgery, MRI’s and maybe more surgery, I’m sick of it in more than one way. A few days of feeling OK, a spell of decent weather, and a forecast with a lot of snow in a few days has me up well before dawn, and climbing while the sun is still hiding. The snow is not too deep, and the trail has not seen too much of the thaw/freeze cycle that turns most into a sheet of ice later in the year.

After an hour of steady climbing, with daylight started, I hear voices below. I’m not the only one here. Not even on a weekday is mountain solitude guaranteed these days. My plan requires that I am the first. It only takes one hiker to chase the birds off the front face to parts unknown. Soon enough we come to the little grassy plateau underneath where I found the ptarmigan. Time to uncase the side-by-side and slip in a couple of shells. A few ewes and two lambs look at us with wide eyes. A three year old ram takes the opportunity to get a good sniff, neck stretched out, horns turned. It is the rut after all.

The young dog (almost four years old) behaves admirably. He only needs a few whispered encouragements to stay close to me and not give chase. He’s turning into a good buddy, though some of his habits still need work. We know little of his history, other than that he was born in a First-Nation’s community 200 miles North of Yellowknife. His early life may not have been easy.

We climb past the sheep, and come to where two-dozen-and-then-some birds were feeding last time. I scan around for white blobs on white/brown speckled substrate. Failing to see any, I work the binoculars, and look for pitch-black beaks and eyes. Nothing. I check the dog. No sign of agitation. Slowly we work our way up, and find lots of ptarmigan droppings, but none of their creators.

We take a break on the other side of the ridge, to glass for sheep, without luck. Before us lies a deep canyon-like valley that flattens out into treeless alpine tundra as it gains in elevation. Only the odd section is free of snow. Immediately below us lies terrain not dissimilar from that holding all the sign on the other side, but despite our search we turn up no birds and no sign. As I turn to work my way back up to the ridge, muscles protest. Three months of reduced activity, antibiotics and hospital stays are making themselves known. It’s fine, it has been a good morning.

Back at the ridge, hunkering low because of the wind, I feed the dog some treats and water, and devour my lunch. I peak over, back down the way we came, and find four hikers resting in and around the ptarmigan slope. The sheep are gone. So much for hunting that area again on the way down. Suddenly there is movement on the ridge, higher up, towards the peak. A ram appears, and looks down on us. He walks away at first but then changes his mind. He turns, follows the ridge down, and walks on over, crossing not 40 yards below us. It would have been a long shot with the longbow, but not impossible. As it is, season closed over a month ago, and I take pictures and relish being so close to a good-looking, mature ram.

Mid-afternoon we are back at the truck, with no birds to show for, but full of impressions, and new information for the next time the itch to chase birds in the alpine become unbearable.