Emergences

Even in Kansas we manage a few trout-food type hatches.  You usually can find mayflies and caddis under outside lights on summer nights.  I'd call this one a hexagenia mayfly, but I have no clue if that's actually correct.  He was probably three inches long counting the tail.  Anyway, he was in the garage watching me build a dog topper I'll be posting on shortly--I'm really welcoming the versatility it will bring to my pickup.

There's another change coming this hunting season: Scampwalker has acquired himself one of those hot-shot trial-bred short-haired setters. Two falls ago I saw a dog out of the same breeding run in Montana, and if this gal turns out as good she's going to be a brag-worthy bird dog.

With Scamp's newly acquired pigeons we set out last weekend to give Lulu her first exposure to birds at just over six months of age.  As many well-bred dogs do she caught on quickly and was winding pigeons from range and establishing point like an old salt.  I am captivated every time I witness that first special moment.

Imagine if your entire life were completely devoted to one purpose, one function.  Mayflies and bird dogs both are a lot like that.  The former exists purely to procreate.  They hatch from eggs in a river and live a year as a nymph trying not to become food for an organism further along in the evolutionary process.  Then, when the time is right, they swim to the surface, wildly scramble to crack open their exoskeleton, escape the shuck, dry their wings, and fly away to avoid what would otherwise be a premature death by salmonoid.  Finally they gather over the water in swarming groups in what must be an insect's version of Woodstock.  The males donate their genetic material and, completely exhausted, they fall to the water's surface to give their bodies back to Mother Earth.

Bird dogs also only have one simple function:  to point birds.  Sure, they're bred for conformation, stamina, boldness, bidability, companionship, etc, but the dog has got to have a nose, and he has got to love birds.  Those are paramount.  Anyway, I thought that a well-bred pup's first point must be a lot like a mayfly's (only) sexual experience.  The molecules enter the dog's nose, the receptors process the scent, signals are sent to the brain, and a previously unengaged instinct takes complete control of the dog. The tail straightens, the body tenses and begins to shake. They are helpless to do anything but endlessly ponder the next movement.  Captivating, truly.

There Have Been Birthdays

There's no denying it...I'm officially in my "late 20's."  At least when I was 27 I could sneak into the "mid-20's," but not anymore.  While it could be worse (I could be turning....30!) this birthday has served as a gentle reminder to quit pretending I'm fresh out of school and to start acting my age.  Well, maybe next year...

To celebrate my fiancé and I took in a Reckless Kelly show at Lucky Maggie's in Diamond, MO, near Joplin.  This was her baptism into Reckless live and they have another loyal disciple for life--needless to say we both had a great time.  Maggie herself tossed me a Shiner-in-a-can on the house, nice!

Normally I would forget these things, but Sage's birthday is exactly a week after mine.  This year is his fifth.  It's tough to think that (with his ankle injury) his best days are behind him, but he stuck his share of birds last season and we're looking forward to two weeks out west this fall.

First Impressions of the Garmin DC40

Plant me firmly in the biased camp.  I love the Astro system.  I believe I need it.  I might not have kept Ike around without it.  Not that Ike is a run-off, or a self-hunter, he isn't, it's just that I'm still a (relatively) in-experienced dog handler, and up to that point every dog I had hunted behind had been (relatively) closer working dogs, or younger dogs that hadn't yet found their range. 

Early on I was running the Tri-Tronics G2 collar with the remote-activated beeper.  Every 30 seconds I found myself polling the beeper for clues to Ike's location.  Hunts were not enjoyable.  I was certain that someday I'd lose him, or find him expired on a country road.  There was no trust, and I didn't know how to develop trust with a dog like Ike.

The Astro changed all that.

I felt like I could discern between a wide cast or a deer chase.  It took some time to grow the trust, and there were some moments that found me dropping my vest and gun to chase after him when he pushed beyond the Astro's range (chasing deer).  But I think today we've struck out a mutually beneficial deal:  I let him do what he does, and he maintains his manners with minimal tomfoolery.  In that regard, the original DC20 did what I needed it to do.  But there were opportunities to excel and as such Garmin just released their third iteration with some significant improvements.

The key is that these improvements directly addressed feedback from users of earlier models.  For example, the nylon collar on both of my DC30's are frayed and worn.  As such they have been replaced with the more popular coated nylon collars that e-collar manufacturers use.  Sometimes I have experienced issues charging collars, especially if the collar and the charger are cold.  Now they have switched to use a method that offers more direct mating of electrical contacts.  I've muddied up the contacts and put both in the freezer over-night, no charging problems at all.

I managed to run the dogs for the first time with a DC40 this weekend.  Works as advertised.  I can't image the market for a niche product like this is very big, so kudos to Garmin for listening to users' concerns. 

Oldie = Goodie

Like everyone I have some interesting relatives. Family gatherings are best spent listening to the same stories for the umpteenth time. A lot of the tales revolve around how my Dad and his brother and friends tried to give my Grandma a heart attack...there was the time Dad drove his friend's motorcycle off a cliff...or the time Grandma had to pick him up at a party because he had (temporarily) blinded himself. My sister and I can recite these chronicles word-for-word if called upon, but they're better told by the people that lived them. Besides, we'd rather listen anyway.

Of course you've figured my Grandma never waivered. She's a strong, tough woman of her generation. Her experiences prepared her for life as a mother of crazies, and I'm sure my Dad prepared her for a stint as a California parole officer. There was the one time a disgruntled parolee said he was going to come into the office and blow everyone away, so the entire office decided to start packing. Packing heat, that is. Grandma bought a snub-nose .38 special. Thankfully she never had to use it.

Recently, my Grandma gifted me her pistol, and now I own one of the props that we've been hearing about since I can remember. I was amazed when I first saw it. She still had the original box with manual, and inside she kept the check she wrote for $70 back on Oct 1, 1970. It's in near mint condition, and although it's no collector's piece, it's not for sale.

2009 - Year in Review