Mans Best Friend
A short essay on the four legged companions that make life in the Duck marsh so much more enjoyable.
As I sit here this evening by a warm fire, it was not my intention to write about dogs. However, my yellow Labrador, Bree, is sitting next to me snoring softly. After a long day in the cold duck marsh, my mind started to drift over the thousands of hours of my life spent with duck dogs. As I was reliving memories, both grand and tragic, I received a text from a friend informing me his black Labrador of 14 years crossed the bridge. Maverick was 14. A long life by dog years. But it's never long enough. I've hunted over him many times. He was a brute of a dog physically. But he was a big goofball in personality.
Maverick in His prime with Pairs of Mallards and Black ducks
My friend never counted his retrieves. But I am sure they were in the thousands. Young kids first birds. Disabled veterans, longtime friends, Old timers, who hadn't been in a Marsh in years. Maverick retrieved birds for them all, and did it with style.
Maverick with a young hunter and Pheasants
Those who are not duck hunters can never understand the bond that we have with our retrievers. Regular pet owners love their dogs and appreciate them. They are part of their daily lives. But duck hunters have a relationship that goes even deeper. Being able to read a dog's body language. The flash of their eyes when they see distant birds. The true grit they have being able to withstand sub freezing temperatures, winter winds, and conditions that would send even the hardiest of souls looking for cover.
They do it to please us, but they also do it because somewhere back in their ancestral DNA there is a code written that tells them that is what they were made for. Those who have seen the best retrievers work understand this in a way that no one else can.
Maverick was right at home in the snow and ice.
That is why when one of these bright souls leaves the Earth it is fitting that we take time to remember them. And reflect on all the joy they have given us.
I've owned three working retrievers over my 30 year hunting career. The first lived to be 15 and hunted until she was 13. Belle was a wonderful dog, maybe the best I will ever own.Though my current Labrador is going to give her a run for her money!
My first Labrador, Belle. In those days all I had was a canoe, and some homemade Canada Goose tire decoys!
I look at the segments of my life that these dogs occupied. The young man without any children. Training a dog with all of his heart, the hopes she would one day be able to pick up a downed duck. Much to his surprise 10 years later, she's diving underwater for crippled, black ducks on her own without any direction or handling from me.
That's the great thing about seasoned retrievers. They learn the game on their own and can exceed the working handler. I know hard-core field trialers would look down on this statement.
But I found that great retrievers have their own personality and style. Much like great baseball players or running backs, each have their technique and form, so does a retriever follow suit.
Belle at 10 years old with a Greenwing. Photo Len Maiorano
My second dog Brooke did not have superior drive on her own. But she retrieved hundreds of birds merely to make me happy. So much so she retrieved two limits of Teal on the day she died. That was sheer heart. Nothing else. She will always have my utmost admiration for that final act of courage. (Some may have read the account of this written by Anthony Hauck In Delta Magazine Greatest retrieves issue)
Brooke with a Hen Teal
My current retriever Bree just turned three. These are the glory years. Fresh legs, worlds of enthusiasm and drive that would make even a young 20 something green with envy. As it was put to me by her breeder,
"This one needs a job. "
Truer words were never spoken. If she goes for a few days without hunting or training you can see the frustration build. Thankfully I haven't lost a bird in nearly 2 years since she has been by my side. Granted, I tend to be very conservative with my shooting and only take shots that I am fairly competent can be retrieved. But her nose for cripple in the flooded Marsh is something that impresses even me. Much to my surprise she even loves the wide open roiling waters of the wintertime Delaware bay. Snow geese on these wild shores have become a favorite of hers. Dogs will always surprise you!
Bree with a Late Winter snow Goose.
These great dogs are one of the reason I started making Decoy urns. I can't say I was the first to come up with the idea, but I was one of the pioneers.
After my Belle passed away, I was given a square Red painted MDF box the crematory provided. It held the ashes adequately, but inside there was so much more. A lifetime of memories for my family and I.
Since my decoys were hollowed already, I thought about placing some of her ashes inside that bird so I could hunt with her again. I realized there were several other factors that needed to be taken into consideration. And with time and experimentation I perfected the making of Decoy urns.
I've heard it said that I make nothing other than "dog coffins"
At first I was bother by that statement , ( even though it's far from the truth ) However now it doesn't bother me one bit!
I'd rather honor the memory of a hard-working retriever and someone's best friend then make a bird that sits on the shelf to be gawked at and never used.
Truth be told, urns are some of the most meaningful and important work that I do.
Wigeon decoy urn for Hunter
It is more than just something to turn a dollar. It is a calling.
I've connected with people from all over the country, heard their stories, felt their tears, listened to them pour their heart out about things that only duck hunters can understand.
If I had to go, the rest of my carving career making urns, that would be fine by me.
I told my wife on many occasions regarding Bree, "This one better live forever, because without her I won't be any good."
I know that's not possible, however I hope that day is far into the future.
Who knows, even then, with any luck, perhaps there will be another wet nosed puppy that lights my heart afire once again.
Who can resist that face!