TRUST YOUR DOG

Love him or hate him, legendary NFL coach, Bill Belichick of the New England Patriots is known for his edict, “Just do YOUR job.” As a varsity high school football coach for 35 years, I can’t tell you enough how important this mindset is in forging a winning team chemistry. The morning after a game, the coaching staff would evaluate film and invariably, failing to execute on offense or giving up a big play on defense came down to a common denominator: a player tried to do somebody else’s job and failed to do his.

You may wonder what this has to do with owning and handling a bird dog, or more specifically, an EB. Quite simply, the core result of each team member doing his or her job is Trust, and such is the case of both the handler and the pup!

And now, I’ll turn it over to Tux, who has some tales of his own on the subject-

A howling, nub-wagging hello to all of you in EB land. I’m so excited to be back telling tales, so let’s get started.

My first tale is about Roscoe, “a 60 pound, wolf-cattle dog mutt with a formidable demeanor,” as Colin puts it. Now I don’t know what breed that is, but if mutt dogs are as cool as Big Roscoe, then I’d sure like to meet one someday. Anyway, Roscoe came to Colin “by chance” and as Colin tells it, Roscoe hated to be in the backyard. He hated it so much or maybe he loved being in the house so much that he would go so far as to jump up to a windowsill, open the window from the outside, and climb into the house. Now that’s doggone amazing!

Now one day Colin came home from work, walked in the front door and immediately smelled a problem, an unmistakable odor of poo. (We EB’s know that doing “our business” in the house is a huge transgression of our owners trust.) Colin was ready to snarl and give Roscoe a major barking, but something unexpected stopped him. As he looked down, he saw some cardboard that had been torn and on one of the bigger pieces, Roscoe had done his business. Colin’s growl melted into a smile, then laughter then praise for big Roscoe. He really earned Colin’s trust that day.

Colin then decided Roscoe was worthy of accompanying him daily to work in the truck. One day, however, a property owner for whom Colin was doing work, ordered him not to bring Roscoe on his property again. Roscoe had not done anything to break Colin’s trust but the mean guy snarled about Roscoe being on his property. Thereafter, Colin left Roscoe inside the house while he was at work. Now, you have to understand that Colin never allowed his pups in the house unless they were feeling puny so this decision was a howling and nub-wagging big deal, but Roscoe had earned Colin’s trust and Colin decided to do likewise.

Colin came home one day to find his house burned to the ground. Ironically and sadly, Big Roscoe was gone. Colin’s heart broke and a little guilt and loneliness understandably dominated the days following. With time however, pain gave way to warm memories of the one pup who could always be trusted!

I experienced the next tale. Daddy Ric had taken me over to the park along the Beaverhead River in Twin Bridges, Montana so I could cool off. While I was shaking off water at river’s edge, two little children and their moms were standing in the river above me. The moms were chattering away like magpies. Suddenly, one little girl waded out too far in the river, fell and started floating downstream. The mom started screaming upon seeing this, but Daddy Ric handled it. He said, “Go Tux” and I swam toward the little one. (it was no big deal because I really liked the water, especially water retrieving).

Then he told the little girl, “Grab his neck, grab his neck!” And she did.

He then said, “Here, here Tux!” and I swam to him, little girl in tow.

Now the mom’s were crying with joy, kissing the little girl, and I enjoyed a few hugs and kisses myself. Now personally, I prefer licks, but it was all pretty doggone good with all the attention. I don’t think I did anything special – it was just another water retrieve for me, but Daddy Ric said he discovered a trust in me he had never anticipated.

Speaking of trust, another tale comes to mind. I spent the whole summer with Uncle Butch being “molded” as he called it. Finally, it was time for Daddy Ric to come see what I had learned. With Daddy Ric and Uncle Butch following, I zigzagged and pointed pheasant after pheasant. After about 45 minutes, we turned around and headed back in the opposite direction towards the trucks. I was still working the fields, but they were just talking about dogs, birds and people – in other words they weren’t paying much attention to me. But I was paying attention to the scent in the air and after a short spell, I screeched to a stop. Now Uncle Butch told Daddy Ric that no bird was there, as we had probably cleared all of them out already. Well, he had no sooner barked that out, when a big rooster blew up the bush and took flight. I stayed on point and watched it glide over the hill only to hear Uncle Butch say, “I was sure wrong on that one. Always trust your dog, Ric.“

A few weeks later, I competed in a “friendly trial” in Three Forks, Montana. This was Daddy’s first rodeo where the bird would be pointed and shot. Daddy Ric asked somebody else to plant the bird, and shoot the bird once it was flushed. Shortly after the hunt began, I picked up the scent and pointed the planted bobwhite. Well, I heard the shooter tell dad that it wasn’t a bird I was pointing because the bird he planted was over on the left and walking away. I heard Daddy say “So you think it’s just residual scent?”

“Yes!” was the reply.

Daddy Ric said that he would call me off but all of a sudden, he stopped and said, “You know what? I’m going to trust my dog!” He moved in for the flush, and sure enough, out came the bird. The shooter was so startled and surprised, he forgot to shoot. I heard him say, “I was positive there was no bird there!” to which Daddy Ric replied, “I’ve learned to trust my dog.”

It was on that day that we became teammates, winners, and pals who trusted each other.

In closing, as Tux illustrated, we handlers and owners must do what Bill Belichick advises – we must do OUR job and a big part of OUR job is Trust OUR Dog!