Adventures of a young man and a dog named Dan

[JD]

Part 6

The Offseason


By the time that first pheasant season had ended, Dan and I were both pretty beat up. His paw pads were chewed up pretty good, he had lost weight, and was suffering the effects of a bad haircut by me. He had gotten into some burs near the end of season and I couldn’t comb them out. So, I cut them out. His beautiful leg and tail “feathers” looked pitiful. Lesson learned, don’t cut them out. I talked to Clint, and he gave me a little secret. Always spray the dog’s hair down with Avon Skin So Soft before you go hunting. It makes their hair very slick. They pick up far fewer burs, and the ones they do pick up are removed very easily. Although he looked pretty bad, it was just looks and the “feathers” grew back in soon enough.

During the summer months, we continued to work. We did a lot of tracking and retrieving, just the general stuff. He had it down pretty solid, but I just wanted to keep him in practice. While he was a house dog, he spent most of his days in the backyard. He loved running, and soon had a path worn all the way around the yard. He had taken up a new hobby as well. We called it “bird patrol”. He would run, constantly around the perimeter of the fence. If any bird landed in the yard, he would take off after it and chase it away. If a bird were to land in a tree, he would jump up barking at it until it grew tired and flew away. He took being a “bird dog” seriously.

One nice summer evening my father was sitting out on the deck. I was in the kitchen preparing supper for the grill. He poked his head in through the sliding glass door and told me I just had to see this. I went out on the deck and there was Dan at the edge of the yard. He was holding the most beautiful point I had ever seen. It was absolutely perfect. He was locked up straight, back straight as an arrow, right front leg held up, and tail flagging high. Just perfect. He had the most beautiful point I had ever seen, on a pair of jumper cables flung over the fence. First I was in absolute awe, and then it was quickly followed by a good 5 minute session of stomach aching laughter.

Dan was a great house dog. But he had one issue, socks. If you left a sock on the floor, he would quickly snatch it up. Before you even knew what was going on, he was out the back door with it. He would run around the yard playing with it. He would shake it like a rat, or throw it up in the air and catch it. It was simply his most favorite toy. Never mind the fact he had more balls, ropes, bones, toys than a lot of pet shops carry. Didn’t matter, it had to be a sock. I finally just broke down and bought him a couple packs of cheap socks just so he would have his own. He would still snag one from time to time, but usually just played with his.

Dan also had another favorite critter he just loved to hunt. The meter man. I swear he had a calendar in his head. He knew when the meter man was coming. He would hide, maybe under the deck, behind the central air conditioner unit, or a bush. He would wait until the meter man would come into the yard and turn towards the house. Then it was game on! Meter man would quickly get the info, cuss, and high tail it out of the yard. The absolute funniest thing, to me anyways, was that Dan wouldn’t have done anything to him. It was just a game to him.

One hot summer afternoon, my friend Mike stopped by. We were sitting at the dining room table, talking, and Dan was under the table snoring and farting. Mike and I were going fishing the next day, and we were putting new equipment in our tackle boxes. All at once, Dan lets out with the loudest yelp and whine I have ever heard. Then, Mike starts in, hooping and hollering. A quickly look things over, and sprang into action. While we were putting stuff away, we had not noticed that Dan took a lure off the table. It was a Rapala, the kind with two treble hooks. One of the treble hooks was embedded in Mikes leg, the other was in Dan’s nose! I grabbed Dan and held him while Mike pulled the hook from his leg. But there was no removing the hook from Dan’s nose. One of the hooks had gone from one nostril through the center meaty part, and the other had gone straight down into the meat towards his mouth. We quickly taped up the free treble hook so it wouldn’t snag into him, and quickly went to the vet. They numbed his nose, and then removed the treble hook. He got to come home after being there only an hour or so. When we got home he laid down in the living room on the couch, and started working the sympathy. He would lay there, looking at you with those big brown eyes and then sigh. Over and over again until you gave him some love. He really milked this for all its worth. He had my mother cooking him eggs the next morning for breakfast!

Before I knew it, summer was fading fastly into fall. Hunting season would be here very soon.

[allhunter]

Oct 20, 2010 14:46:18 GMT -5 deerslayer said:

Had me worried there for a minute with the water thing...............

same!!!! i thought jd was goin to have to take a swim. keep them comin jd this could be a book. defenatly my favorite part of the site so far. maybe you can start a story thread or something. this is amazing

[JD]

Part 7

Season 2 (Iowa)


September 1, 1996. Dove season was finally here. Our dove field was ready to go, and we had been seeing a ton of birds the week before. I found myself up and at ‘em well before dawn. As I hauled stuff from the back room to the front door, there sat Dan patiently waiting. Last thing I had to grab was my vest out of the closet, and when he saw that he could no longer contain his excitement. He began wagging his tail wildly, and started to whine a bit. It broke my heart to tell him he had to stay home today. He instantly knew what I meant, and hung his head down. A couple days before we were out at the farm and he had torn his belly on a barb wire fence. The vet told me not to take him hunting until the stitches had been removed. I got back home around noon and took my limit of doves into the house to put in the freezer. There he still sat, right by the door. My mother told me he had not moved one inch, nor could she get him to move. I got down on my knees and gave him a big hug. I was rewarded with unwavering love, in the form of a wet tongue on my face.

Luckily, his stitches were out in plenty of time for opening day of Iowa’s pheasant season. Mike, Dan and I made the trek to the southeast corner the day before the opening. My uncle lived in a farm house, and the farmer had given us permission to hunt it. We had a little over 100 acres of prime pheasant land all to ourselves. We awoke early the next morning and headed up to the fire department. Opening day in Iowa is almost a holiday, and the fire department puts on a pancake breakfast. We ate our breakfast, drank some coffee, and spent a while talking to the other hunters. Then, it was back to the farm. As we were walking out the back door, the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. It was a calm, cool morning, and a thin layer of fog laid down in the low spots. Once we got a little ways from the hog lot, I released Dan off of his lead and we loaded out shotguns. We came to the top of a small rise, and you could see nothing but CRP for the next ¾ mile. Dan just stood there, tail flagged high, taking it all in. My attention was now drawn just on him. He was regal, almost majestic. After a couple moments he turned his head towards me, and the look on his face was clear. Time to go to work. Without so much as me saying one word, he was off. The moisture on the ground was holding the sent very well. It wasn’t long until he got on a trail and started working it like a pro. He was actually working pretty fast, and I figured he had a runner, and then he locked up in an instant. We crept up, and the unmistakable slamming of wings rocked the quiet morning air. Mike and I quickly shouldered our shotguns, and the Fox B and Winchester 101 barked almost simultaneously. One of us missed, my money is on Mike, and the other hit was in the right wing. Mike fired off the second barrel of the old Fox as the bird came down, but he missed, again. That rooster hit the ground running for Missouri. Dan was on him like white on rice, and quickly brought it back.

We were cutting diagonally across the field, and intersected a fence. We walked that quite a ways, and Dan had several points. All hens. After the fourth hen in a row came up, he gave me a look of; “What the heck man? I’m doing my part!” We then started working our way back across the field. Soon Dan was hot on a trail. He went on point, and it was the smallest clump of grass I have ever seen. I figured it was just a false point on a strong scent, and moved up to him to get his attention. ROOSTER, ROOSTER , ROOSTER Mike yelled out. Sure enough, up he went. I snapped the old 101 to my shoulder and a solid hit of 1 1/4oz of #6 brought it down. Two in the bag. We managed to get our sixth rooster late in the morning. It was time to head back to the house, clean the birds, get some lunch, and relax.

That afternoon, we headed out back to the farm pond for some bass and catfishing. Dan came out with us, and I was expecting him to make a mess. He sure did love water. Instead, he just laid down next to me and took a nap. He rightly earned it. Mike and I were catching some nice bass, and my catfish pole started doing a dance. I ran over and set the hook, it was a biggun’ and the fight was on! After a good fight, the old cat kind of gave up and let me pull him in. Just as it got to shore, Dan decides that he MUST retrieve this fish. Mike is on the other side, and here I am trying to keep Dan away AND reel in this fish. Finally I just grabbed his collar and started walking away from the water and pulled the fish onto shore. I’m trying to grab the fish, Dan is licking the fish, and Mike is on the ground laughing. Some friend. I finally got it up, and it’s a hog. Scale read 18 pounds, not to bad for a pond raised channel cat. That night everyone, including Dan, ate like kings, grilled pheasant and fried catfish. It was an end to a terrific, memorable day.

That may have ended our Iowa adventure, but the fun was just beginning.

[passinthru]

Great read Jd.

[deerslayer]

Nice....................

[allhunter]

awsome!!!

[Deleted]

Im guessing you should be talking to some major Hunting Magazine Publishers. You're writting skills are very worthy of a paycheck Buddy. As a reader, I feel like Im hunting with You & Dan. Thats what great literature is all about. Keep up the great work.

[JD]

It had been my intentions to not respond to posts in this thread until after I was finished with it. But now I feel that would be more than a little disrespectful on my part.

Thank you one and all for the kind words. I really, truly, appreciate it. I am glad to be sharing these memories with you, and I am glad you are enjoying them as well.

To answer some questions now.

Great read man!!! You write books??

Yes, I do as a matter of fact. I have several ranging from hunting stories, all the way to the supernatural. No, I have never been published. Not that I have tried though, I just write for my enjoyment of it.

maybe you can start a story thread or something.

I did start a story thread, this is it. LOL If you mean a separate board, probably not now. Anyone can start their own right here. If it were to become something more, as in more people doing it, we would create a board.

Im guessing you should be talking to some major Hunting Magazine Publishers. You're writting skills are very worthy of a paycheck Buddy. As a reader, I feel like Im hunting with You & Dan. Thats what great literature is all about. Keep up the great work.

I have actually considered trying to do just that. However that is a very tough field to crack into. I'm glad you are enjoying it.



Also, this is pretty rough writing. Basically, this would be my first draft. It needs refinement, polishing, and more detail. I do not want to take that time here as I want to keep it flowing. Everyone is different, but this is how I start out. I will decide later if I want to go ahead and work on it some more. My basic goal here is to share with you my adventures, and how a dog changed my life forever. If I do decide to refine it, it will be a long, drawn out project that wont begin for some time. I just started a new writing project earlier this summer and I would like to see that completed first.

Thanks again all, I'm going to go do some more writing and hopefully have the next part up sometime this afternoon.

[deerslayer]

Keep it coming JD, rough or not its still good reading bud, your doing just fine!

[passinthru]

Sounding pretty good to me. Keep after it!!

[grassi25]

I am enjoying it as well. I miss my dog Gator.

[deerslayer]

Just wondering when we can have some more reading JD? Really enjoyed it!

[JD]

Should be pretty soon, halfway through the next section.

[passinthru]

Cant wait!!!!!

[JD]

Sorry for the long, unexpected hiatus. Back to writing, more to come very soon.

[JD]

Part 8

1996 Season opener (Illinois)

This year I would be hunting with Dan by myself on opening day. Over the summer I had secured ten new hunting spots. I spent a couple days before season checking some of the new spots out, and had decided to start this year on a nice secluded 12 acre CRP plot.

I awoke well before sunrise, and Dan was already lying by the front door. I scrambled us up some eggs and we both ate in silence. When I was done I got up, and put my plate in the sink and let Dan out the back door to do his morning business. While he was outside, marking every square foot of his domain, I went back to the gun room to get my gear. First, I needed to pick a gun. I had plenty to choose from, that is what made it a tough decision. I finally settled on the Beretta 686 Onyx for the day. I also packed the old 101, just in case. I got my gear out in the truck, then went around the side of the house and opened the fence gate. It was still so dark I couldn’t see Dan. I quietly said; “Ready to go gets some birds?” Here he came, running like a fool. We walked around the house together, and he jumped up into the cab of the truck and we were off.

We pulled off the old, gravel road into the field access drive just as it was getting light out. It was a very chilly morning at 30* and overcast. There was a slight breeze out of the north, which was almost perfect. We slowly drove along the half picked cornfield on back to the edge of a stand of timber. I parked the truck, and the first thing I did was hook Dan up to his lead and then clipped the other end onto the trailer hitch. I put on my hunting boots, slipped on my vest, and got my blaze orange hat on. Dan watched me with intent, he knew what we were doing and could hardly wait. I slipped some shells in my pocket, and unzipped the gun case and slid the Onyx out. A pheasant cackled in the distance, time to start.

Dan and I started walking down the mowed path, and we could here the birds in the trees starting to come to life. As we approached the CRP field, I loaded my shotgun and unclipped Dan from the lead. Again, he just stood there in the early morning sunlight, and took it all in. This became a ritual for him every time we went hunting. He was studying the field, picking out where he wanted to begin. This was not something I could teach him, it was just Dan being Dan. With a quick swish of his flag, he was off and the hunt began.

Soon he was on a scent and started acting birdy. As I moved in closer, the pheasant flushed. Accelerating skyward like a rocket, it picked the worst path it could have, for me anyways. Right into the rising sun. With the sun obscuring the bird, I could not tell if it was a rooster or a hen. After what seemed like an eternity, I could finally make out that it was in fat a rooster. I snapped the Onyx to my shoulder and launched a hail Mary of #6. Miss! Followed through and touched off the Roman Candle of #4’s. At the shot the bird simply crumpled, and dropped into a patch of tall grass some 40 yards away. Dan took off, bounding into the grass looking for the prize. While he was trying to locate the downed bird, I reloaded the shotgun and moved in closer. A load of #6 in the bottom barrel, and a load of #4 in the top. Dan was really working the grass, which told me the bird was crippled and running. Quick wing beats, and a cackle told me the bird was coming up. Just as it cleared the 6’ grass, I made a 15 yard chip shot with a load of 6’s. Dan came bounding out of the grass, carrying the bird I thought had just flushed for a second time. He brought me the bird, and then we both walked over and picked up the second rooster that had fallen.

First day of the season, and we were limited out in less than 10 minutes. This was going to be an excellent year.

[allhunter]

ya the stories are back and still amazing!

[passinthru]

Some really good reading man keep em coming!!!

[JD]

Part 9

That first week of the season, we managed to hunt every day. Dan was working his tail off, and loving every minute of it. Out of 7 days, we were up 14 roosters. Now that the season was in full swing, the birds were starting to get smarter, and would not be coming as easily from here on out.

The day after Thanksgiving I was up well before sunrise. I was not braving the stores looking to buy cheap gifts, I was braving the cold front for roosters. Dan and I sat at the table eating breakfast in silence. This also became a routine for us. We ate scrambled eggs and bacon with a slice of toast. My vet had recommended that I feed Dan eggs in the morning when we were going hunting. He certainly didn’t mind it one bit. After breakfast I put the dishes in the dishwasher and let down out the back door to do his morning business.

Everything was still packed and sitting by the front door. All I had to do was go get my shotgun that I would be using today. We were hunting some rough stuff today, so I grabbed my Remington 870 Express. It was a 3” chambered 12ga that sported a 28” barrel that had a matte black finish. The furniture was best described as some type of wood that appeared to be stained dark brown. It was an ugly, soulless critter to look at. But step out into the field with it, and it was like a long lost friend. This was my “working” gun. I carried it into some of the nastiest habitat Mother Nature has ever thought up, and never worried for one second about scratching or dinging it up. I quickly swapped out the Improved Cylinder choke for an Improved Modified, and stuffed it into the soft sided shotgun case.

I got everything loaded into the truck, and made my way around the side of the house to get Dan. He was impatiently waiting for me at the gate, obviously annoyed at how long I had taken. We walked around the front of the house, and both got into the truck. Soon we were on the road, headed to the farm to pick up Mike.

We pulled up the long drive an hour or so before sunrise. I parked my truck in front of the grain bin, and we both got out in silence. We walked up towards the front porch, and Dan sat down by the picnic table. I hooked his lead up to his collar, and the other end to the picnic table. I was about 95% certain Dan would have stayed there. But, there was a 5% chance an old farm cat would have caught his attention. So, I always hooked him up and erred on the side of caution. I went inside and poured myself a cup of black gold, and had a seat at the table with Mike’s dad. We quickly struck up a conversation about harvest season, and making plans for which fields would be harvested in the next week. Not only these people very close friends, they were also employers. I worked for them during the harvest season every year, and did so for very little money. Basically gas money to and from the farm. But I did it because they were like family, needed the help, and I got exclusive hunting rights of their land.

Mike finally stumbled down to the kitchen, gave out a morning grunt, and we were out the door. I grabbed Dan and we hopped into the truck. The destination for today was a good 10 miles away on their second farm. The trip was made fairly quickly, and we were pulling into a freshly picked cornfield just as the sky started to turn. As we were getting ready, you could just start to here the birds in the trees starting to come to life. I unhooked the lead off the hitch, and connected it to my belt as we began our walk back to the field.

Where we were hunting was an old drainage ditch that ran some 300 yards long, and approximately 50 yards wide. It was filled with grass, cane, and a ton of multi-flora rose bushes. We had just picked this field four days earlier, and we left 6 rows of corn along the ditch. While we had been picking it, we had noticed quite a few rabbits and pheasants running around. When we got with ten yards, I unhooked Dan’s lead, and stowed it away into my vest. While he stood there looking things over, I loaded 3 shells of 1 1/4oz #4’s into the 870. The sun was just starting to peek over the trees when Dan swished his flag and went to work.

Dan was working his way diagonally back and forth the waterway. He was definitely onto a scent. Judging his movements, it was a rabbit. He closed into a clump of grass, and went on a weak point. I love this dog! You can usually tell what he is after just by watching his mannerisms and reactions. I told Dan to whoa, as we moved up closer. I came up slightly on the right side of Dan, and Mike was fifteen feet or so to my left. Just as we got up to him, the rabbit bolted out of the thin grass cover. It was busting off to the left, and Mike snapped that old Fox to his shoulder in anticipation of the shot. Once the rabbit had put some distance between us, Mike let the old Fox roar to life with a load of #6. It was not that rabbits luck day, as he rolled end over end at the edge of the ditch. A quick yell of “Fetchum’ up” and Dan was off like a shot. He quickly picked up the rabbit and brought it right back to Mike. This dog was smart, not only would he retrieve it but he would bring it back to the person who had shot. If we both would have shot, he would have brought it back to me. Again, this is something I could not have taught him. It was just the way he was.

Mike put the rabbit in his vest, and we were back at it. Soon, Dan was back on a trail. This time he was definitely acting birdy. I worked the scent like an old pro, and was locked up on a solid point within 20 yards. We managed to take a whole two steps forward and the morning silence was broken by slapping of wings and shrieking cackles. The 870 seemed to jump to my shoulder by itself, and quickly established a lead. It barked once, and the wily rooster dropped almost 40 yards distant. Dan took off on the command, bounding into some of the thickest stuff Whiteside County has to offer. We walked towards the cover, talking as I dropped another shell into the magazine. As we got near the edge, we heard the most blood curdling yelp you could ever imagine….

[allhunter]

more more more!! jeez its like a commercial break!!!