Picking a pup

I’m sure that everyone who reads this post has gone through the process of picking a hunting partner for chasing one kind of bird or another. I’ve been there 8 times before and each time something in my life has changed to make the process a little different for me. This time it’s my age.

At 75 years old, I wonder if I’ll be able to give a new dog the time he deserves in the field. Looking back over the years of posting about chukar hunting, I remember meeting a guy over at Brownlee reservoir who had an 8 month old GSP. After visiting with him, I found he was 80 years old. I remember, Greg Allen saying that he was a real optimist. He was right. And so am I. I have decided that with some preparation on my health I should be able to handle the chukar mountains through my 80’s. If not, I’ll find some flatter land to keep my new partner happy.

Up until 30 years ago, I hunted with Brittany’s. They were great dogs and hunted hard for me. We hunted all upland birds and were well trained. I used all the bells and whistles to train them and my last Brittany, Rookie, might have been able to compete in trials, although I never attempted it. I had launchers, pop up bird silhouettes and everything else to make them my kind of bird dog. But there was something missing that I didn’t realize at the time. Trust. I didn’t trust them when they were out of sight. Of course, in chukar country, that is quite often. So, I quite often recalled the dog after they went over the ridge. Rookie was my last Brittany, and he could hold a bird as well as any dog I have ever owned. But I never knew what he was doing when he was out of sight. I would nick him to come back, not knowing whether he was on point or not. so, although he could hold any bird we hunted, he wasn’t as good of a chukar dog as the GSP’s I soon was to hunt with. So, my reason for changing breeds was not because of the dog’s ability. Rookie would have been a great chukar dog had I been a good trainer. I changed breeds because of burrs. After hunts I was constantly pulling burrs from Rookies hair and ears. My hunting partner, Greg Allen, hunted with GSP’s and never had the same problem and that was my sole reason for going his way.

While looking for a dog, I located a kid I coached in high school football twenty years earlier. Mike Thacker had a litter of pups, and I was looking for a whiter male pup just because I wanted to stay with the color of my Brittany’s. The whiter ones were already spoken for, and I hesitantly decided on a liver-colored male. I had no idea of what a great dog he was to be.

Tucker immediately took control of my training. I live in a place where there are plenty of quail, along with some pheasants and Huns. After a short bonding period with Rookie and me we started going to the fields daily where Rookie helped to get Tucker excited about wild birds. It was all over. From that point, all I had to do was go where the birds were and he trained himself. No gadgets. Between Rookie and the birds, Tucker became one fantastic chukar dog. His only downfall was with quail. For some reason, he couldn’t keep from swallowing those little guys. He’d come back to me with the bird in his mouth as it slid down his throat with a look like, “I can’t help it”. The easy fix was just to not hunt quail with him. So many great things happened with Tucker I was sold on the breed and the color.

From that point on when looking for a pup, three things mattered. I want a GSP with solid liver color that comes from hunting parents. I was fortunate enough on finding another pup when Rookie passed and Tucker was three. Greg Allen wanted him to sire his bitch and promised me a liver-colored male pup if there was one. Along came Dakota. Tucker and wild birds did a great job of training him for me.

The two of them became quite a team and Barb named them TEAM TUCKOTA. I’ve kept that name to this day, knowing that each of the following dogs would be proud to carry on their traditions of making me look good.

As Tucker aged, it became time to give him more couch time with his future replacement. Finding Riley was not quite as easy. As I’ve mentioned several times now, I want a liver-colored male with hunting parents. There were none around. I finally found one in Oklahoma. After many visits with the owners, they convinced me that their dogs hunted quail and pheasants and were pretty good at it. Riley was soon on a plane headed to Boise.

I had one glorious year to hunt behind all three dogs, and it was amazing how they complemented each other in their hunting.

Tucker’s time on the hill was shorter and shorter each outing and he was finally retired to the couch with a few short hunts by himself now and then. He passed and we were down to Dakota and Riley. Three years later, Dakota passed and it was time for a pup for Riley to train. Once again, there was not a solid liver pup in the state. But there was one in Montana. So Riley, Barb and I traveled over there to pick up Jake.

Riley was a very tall GSP and we figured that might have been the reason for his multiple injuries. He, like all of our dogs in the past, was a great hunter and was loved. He had both knees repaired. He spent time in the hospital with the vet chasing the canal of a piece of cheat that was working its way to vitals. At seven years old, the year we picked up Jake, he severely broke a front leg and was stuck to house patrol for three months with only short walks outside. He had to have three more operations on his leg for broken screws. Blood clots finally took him, and it hurt so terribly bad to have his life cut down so early. I’d spent over $17,000 dollars in vet fees so that he could live a good life around the house. I didn’t care if he ever hunted again. I would have spent five times that just to give him five more years. I really believe that if I hadn’t of picked up Jake when I did, I would have given up having bird dogs. But I was responsible to give Jake the life he deserved. Riley didn’t get to train Jake, so we were at ground zero with him and he did a great job on training himself on a couple of down years with chukars. But we stayed with it and soon he had some fine years with the chukars.

I don’t even know how it happened. I was feeling like Jake was our last shorthair. The hills were getting a little steeper and maybe it was time to find another hobby. Somehow Barb and I found a local litter of GSP pups in Emmett, Idaho. After the pups were 8 weeks old, a male liver colored shorthair came home with us. Say hello to Grady.

Everyone knows about the great accomplishments of Jake and Grady. They rival the best pair of chukar dogs I’ve ever seen. Team Tuckota. But good things don’t always last forever.

Now, Jake has gone. He gave me all he could. Not only in the field but in the love and companionship we all find with our canine partners. Once again, it hurt so bad saying goodbye and I contemplated over Grady being my last GSP. He’s been a little lost without Jake here at home but becomes a hunting machine as soon as we get to the hills. But, in two months he will be 8 and each year will be having a harder time negotiating the steep chukar hills. In fact, tomorrow we’re heading to the vet for a checkup on an ear infection and breathing problem. We hope it’s just a minor problem, but he is family and we will do whatever it takes.

Now to the short of it. I have decided to look for a liver-colored shorthair pup. I prefer it be a male, but Barb would like to have a female in the family sleeping in our bed with Grady, her and me at night. I’m not into pedigrees and expensive dogs. I’ll be spending thousands of dollars over the years keeping the pup happy and safe. The only pedigree I need is that the parents are both hunters. From there I believe I can still give a dog all the bird experience he’ll need through my year of 80 and beyond. Keep your fingers crossed that I find another partner show to off in the future.