Come On Spring!!

Snow to sleet to rain to sleet to snow to ice.  It wasn't all snow!!  I think we broke 'Ol Man Winter's back.  Now we can begin to plan Spring.  I need to do some repairs to the house, apartment and barn after this long hard winter.  Build some fencing to keep the dogs in the yard.  Start hatching some quail, pheasant and chickens.  Finish cutting up next years firewood.  Plant my garden, mmmm tomatoes.

 

As the snow recedes and the trees come back, everything seems new and fresh.  Colors come to life with Spring.  The first grass mowing of the year is the best, that smell of fresh cut grass.  I know, I know, it's still February - but it's the end of February!  The puppy will be introduced to grass and dirt and sticks and rocks very shortly.

Spring also means, racing!!!  The Thompson Speedway ICEBREAKER.  Practices start in late March and racing begins in April!!  What a way to spend a Spring or Summer evening.  Beer, fried food, the National Anthem, checkered flags and the smell of burning rubber.

 

Puppy

We couldn't find a Hunter Orange puppy collar for Wyatt, so my wife the crafter decided to make one.  She figured if she was going to make a collar, she might as well put his name on it too.

His Name Is Wyatt

Got the call on Friday, Bruno the breeder said pick up the puppy Sunday morning.  This was a week earlier than we expected but we were happy to go get him.  He is doing great so far.  First thing he did when he walked in the house was to chase the 2 year old beagle mix.  He ran her twice around the kitchen table then put her on the back of the couch.  He then jumped on the Bichon's back, Missy is not exactly a dog person, she ended up on the back of the couch next to Clover.  Then came the Poodle, Winston attempted to be the alpha male and stand up to the puppy.  It didn't take the puppy long to couch the poodle.  "Wyatt, don't chew on kitty" soon followed.  It took this little fireball less than five minutes to rule the floor of the house.

He is very confident and curious, which is what I wanted a puppy to be.  The weather outside is not cooperating with my house breaking schedule.  This morning was -8 with a windchill of -30, kind of tough to bring out a 7 week old puppy in those temps.  A trip to Petsmart for some extra puppy pads is in the plans for today.

Crate training should be ok.  The other dogs are all crate trained, they look forward to going to bed at night.  Wyatt screamed and cried for about 10 minutes last night before he settled down in his crate.  I laid down in my clothes thinking I would be getting up every couple of hours or so to let him out.  I know that this is getting up every couple of hours is very short lived for a puppy.  Well the little man stayed in his crate with no accidents or sounds for a great nights sleep, 6 hours with no problems.

Ya, that is a sweatshirt on the puppy.  He is a momma's boy, the Deer Wife thought he was chilly and put a hoodie on the boy.  Chewing will be another story all together, I thought my house was puppy proof.  Boy did he show me the things I missed.  Day 1 was pretty cool, I cant wait day 2.

Life can be pretty funny at times and not so funny other times.

Still No Name

Only three more weeks till puppy time!  I have yet to decide on a name for the boy.  Not because there hasn't been enough input (nieces, sons, friends and Deer Wife), but because I just want to make sure it's the right name for him.  Caitlain's name choices of Fluffy, Squigles and Scrunchy are on the back burner for now.  Jenna's choices of Call of Duty, Football and Snowflake have also been put on simmer.  Bryan's choice was just one, Quint.  "What the hell is that Bryan?"

"It's from Jaws, Dad." 

"What could that possibly have to do with my hunting dog?"

"Nothing, I guess, but I like the name."  So I suppose if I ever do get blessed with grandchildren, the boys name will be Quint, because he likes that name.  People keep this in mind next time you drive by a tractor-trailer, because it could be Bryan driving it!  I have stopped talking to my younger son, Bob, because he is just crazy.  He may have given up a name or two, but I prefer to ignore much of what he says.  The Deer Wife has offered some good hunting names, Trigger (Lone Ranger's horse), Gunner, Tracker and quite a few others.  Then I came with Dakota and Cooper and a few others, I know it will come to me when I get the dog, it has to, I don't want to just call him "Dog".

I have been on a mass catalog ordering spree, the mailman is going to know that we are getting a new dog, he will probably be able to tell the breed.  In a few months the fragile packages will start to arrive, loaded with pheasant and quail eggs.  Holding houses, flight pens, recall pens, the lumber yard will like the idea of me getting a new dog.

I know the dog comes from good lines and good breeder.  Anything that is wrong with the dog when is comes to hunting will be all on the trainer!  That is why I am spending so much time on reading and watching all the information I can absorb.  I know there will be mistakes, I am hoping they are the small ones that I can fix easily.

Life can be pretty funny at times and not so funny other times.

The Newest Addition

Went to visit the new boy last night.  He is still 4 weeks from coming home.  He is unnamed, that will come when he develops a personality.  I really do love the German Shorthaired Pointer breed, I find them to be very, very intelligent.

Sorry for the picture quality, taken with a cell phone

Traded For A Player To Be Named Later

I don't know if I mentioned in my very first post, I was given the option of getting another dog after we had put Bailey Boy (the German Shorthaired Pointer) down.  I wasn't ready for another dog.  We had an old lab mix and the Bichon.  Well, when I didn't pick up the option, that left the door open for Mr. Winston, the Poodle.  With four dogs in the house, including my son's dog, any mention from my wife about getting another GSP was met with one of my instant brush offs.  I never even considered getting another dog.  Some quick math on the lifespan of these smaller dogs and how many more years I have of bird hunting, left me with the reality of the fact, I probably wouldn't own another pointer.  Not that I am old, but the little dogs can live up to 18 years old and I am 46, so an opening in the stable wouldn't occur until I was about 64.  I don't know if I will be trudging through the swamps chasing pheasant at 64, I know I will be in a tree stand hunting deer, just not sure about the birds.

This has all changed!  My wife, who doesn't listen to me anyway, decided I did need another bird dog.  I can't say I'm not excited about the future prospect, because I am.  The puppy was born on 12/6, so I wont be bringing him home until the end of January, but I will be going to meet him very soon.  A new puppy with all these other dogs is going to be crazy.  Potty training, basic commands, advanced commands, bumper training, live bird training, crate and household rules, all while maintaining and building the relationships I have with the other dogs sounds a little overwhelming.

I guess you can say that I traded my sanity for a puppy to be named later.  Sanity is way over rated anyway, a puppy is much more fun.

Life can be pretty funny at times and not so funny other times.

 

Not Just My Dogs

It's not just my dogs that are the problem.  My older son, Bryan, brought home a puppy.  He is an OTR (over the road) trucker and was in need of some companionship for those long drives.  Memory loss can be a good thing, I don't recall if he changed jobs, the dog hated the truck or his company said no dogs.  It started off with Clover, some sort of beagle mix, just staying with us for a couple of weeks until he could find a good home for her.  Fast forward 1 1/2 years, and it is now "Clover, Clover, Clover, come, come, Clover, Clooovvveeerrrrrrr, I'm gonna kick your ass as soon as I'm done with kickin' Missy's."  I had put up a 3' enclosure for the Poodle and Bichon, which worked great for them.  This beagle/mix can leap it easily, I'm not sure a 5' fence could contain her.  She looks like a gazelle going over the top.  This dog has a beagle bark, have you ever heard a beagle bark/howl.  That sound they make when they are on a rabbit!  It may be music to some people, but that wail goes right through me.  We had actually found people who wanted to take her but my son said no.  I guess our house was the only approved, good home he could find.

Number 2 son comes for a visit every couple of months or so.  He and his girlfriend bring their dogs Bubbles, a Jack Russell momma puppy mill rescue, and Boozer, some kind of bulldog mix slob.  I'm going to start charging admission to view the friggin' zoo that becomes of my house.  "Look Dad, Bubbles is smiling at you."

"Bob, if that dog bites me, it's going in the beating line right behind Clover!  Jesus Christ!  Missy is fixed, get that damn Boozer slob off her!!"

"What are they doing Uncle Scott?  Are they playing?" asks the 8 yr old niece.

"Yeah, well I guess they are Baby Girl.  Bob, Bob, BOB get that............ where are you going?  Out where?  Are we watching your dogs?  What the hell!?"

"Look Uncle Scott, Boozer is now playing with Mr. Winston".

"That's it!!!!  Crate up, crate up, crate up, CRAAAATTTEEE UUPPPPP, Missy I'm gonna beat your ass, crate up!"  The matinee is at noon so step right up to see the greatest show on earth. 


Life can be pretty funny at times and not so funny other times.

Hunting Dogs

Meet Mr. Winston (Poodle) and Missy (Bichon Frise).

My wife says these are now my hunting dogs.  Non shedding and much smaller than my previous dogs.  Remington was my 75 lb. Golden Retriever that I had for 18 years and Bailey was my 100 lb. German Shorthair Pointer.  I know what your thinking about Bailey-Boy, but he was a GSP (on PED's).  My wife looked up the poodle on the internet and found them to be water dogs and the Bichon is a "sturdy breed", hence it must be a hunting dog.   Hmmm, tough to argue with that logic.

Training has been, how do I put it nicely, a challenge.  Neither dog obeys basic commands.  "Missy, Come.  Come.  Come.  Missy.  Missy.  Missy.  Hey dog I'm gonna kick your ass"!  If she had a middle finger, I think she would use it on me.  "Winston, Winston, Winston, Winston!!  Ahhhh what the hell!  I hate the French!".  Remington, the Golden and Bailey, the GSP, would kill themselves or anyone standing in their way, to get into heel-up.

Lets talk about maintenance.  After a long day hunting, swamps, mud, manure, or whatever, I would turn on the spiket for the garden hose.  November duck hunting, 25 degrees out, the dog still needs to be hosed off.  Now as far as Mr. Winston and Missy, let me put it this way, a groomer is way overpaid!!  These dogs have cost me more in 2 years of grooming than I have spent on my own haircuts for the past 15 years.  What the hell is that all about?  It almost ended last trip to the groomer.  Mr Winston came out with a pom-pom on his tail, my wife loved it.  I stand 6'1" and go 215, I felt emasculated walking across the parking lot with a toy poodle with a pom-pom.

"Fetch it up Remmy, duck down, duck down."  That dog would crash through ice to pick up a dead bird, and swim back to crash through another section of ice to get ashore.  Mr. Winston needs to put on a sweater to take a pee if its under 40 degrees.  Retrieve is another "challenge", that we have not mastered.  Most times they will not even pick up a ball.  If the bichon does pick up the ball then she proceeds to do something called a Bichon Blitz.  I really cant describe it without clenching my teeth and feeling as though my temples are about to explode.  YouTube "Bichon Blitz".

I would not recommend either of these breeds, toy poodle or bichon, for hunting.  But on a cold New England night it is nice to have one or two of these little mini heaters curled up in the crook of your knee.

Scott