Panic

I’m sure most of you use some kind of tracking device while out bird hunting. I have been using a garmin Astro and now an Alpha since they first came out with them. It’s made it so easy to keep track of where my dogs are. Looking back now I don’t know how I hunted with dogs without one. I remember the days when the beeper collar came along and I thought that was the best thing ever. I had a lot fewer panicing days on the hill wondering where my dog was. But the new GPS collars took care of most of those moments of panic.

A few days back, my unit went debunk. It wouldn’t show where my dog was. It was working just fine and the batteries were charged when we left the truck but after a few good points it quit showing where Grady was.

Everything else worked but the dog pointer screen. After about five minutes of not seeing Grady, I started panicing and looking for Grady. I moved to the top of the ridge where I could see more and took my whistle out. I blew it several times and yelled for him, but no dog. I don’t know how long it was before I finally located him, but it seemed like an eternity. I had that sick feeling of what to do. Finally I saw him come out from behind a rock outcropping real slowly, looking my direction. He obiously had some birds on point and was reluctant to move. I started moving his way and he slowly moved back behind the rocks. The rest was all good with a bird in the bag.

Grady was ready to take off to find some more birds but I made him stay and repaired the collar to my hand held. It wouldn’t work. It showed it was working but wouldn’t show my dog on the screen. I even made the big mistake of clearing everything and than realized I couldn’t go any further without having a computer to resink everything. Being about two miles from the truck, I had to go back to hunting like I did thirty years ago. It wasn’t fun. I have become too dependant on my Alpha.

I had several moments of looking for Grady that seemed like hours and would finally see him off at a distance doing what he was supposed to do.

The only good thing that came out of it, was that I could trust him to hold point longer than I thought.

The rest of the hunt, I was in panic mode. A couple of times, it was at least a half hour without locating Grady. All the yelling and blowing my whistle didn’t peovide a sight of him. Suddenly, he would show up to my releif. I didn’t know if he was on birds or what and I didn’t really care. Just having him where I knew he was safe was enough. The feeling of a lost dog was too much for me and I headed straight down to a trail where I had Grady walk back to the truck with me. I’ve never had a lost dog but have helped others find their dogs and now I know how sick in the stomach they must have felt.

I helped one friend of mine for five days go back in the Owyhees looking for his 12 year old GSP. It was foggy and cold and there was nothing we could do but cover the country yelling and hoping. There was two ranches in the area and I had stopped and told them the story and darned if they didn’t find her the fifth day walking one of the back roads. Happy ending but a lot of sleepless nights for my friend. Grady, like all my past dogs, is family and it would be so hard to lose a dog that way, not knowing what he had to go through.

Now the good news. I got everything working like it should and I have to pass on one of Grady’s retrieves yesterday. It’s probably something most of us have had in the past, but it’s fun to pass it on. Grady was on point on a covey of chukars and after taking a picture, I moved in for the flush.

As they blew out, I dropped one going to my right. Grady was right on it and than a straggler took off behind me. I crippled it with my second barrel and watched it hit the ground trying to fly. Grady brought the first bird back to me and I took him up where I thought the second bird had dropped. Telling him “dead bird” he looked like crazy but didn’t seem to get any scent. It took about five minutes, but suddenly his nose hit the ground and he was hot on the track of the bird. I watched my Alpha as he went over the ridge. He was at a steady pace out to just over three hundred yards. Suddenly, he changed direction and was heading back towards me. I was sure he had the bird but as I walked in his direction, I saw a chukar flying off and Grady making a short chase with no bird in his mouth. He ran about thirty yards to warch the flying bird and then turned back to where he had come from. Once again I watched my Alpha as he went 150 yards chasing the downed bird. He finally came back to me with the very alive bird. Grady put the bird in my hand and it was ready for another race. It spurred me and I lost my grip. One more short chase and the bird was in my bag.

Anyhow, Life is good but I just wanted to tell this story in hopes that the rest of you have stronger hearts then me when it comes to losing a dog in the hills.

We got a couple of weeks left. Happy hunting.