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Home > HuntSpot > HuntSpot Journal

HuntSpot Journal:  One Seriously "Doggy" Day

We like to pretend we are masters to our pets, but here's one day that definitely proves we aren't as in control as we think we are.

Everything bad that happened on a recent duck hunt of mine was quite literally the dog's fault.  The real problem with it, though, is that he was being such a good boy the whole time.

The day started out well.  I mean, after my son and I finally got my car through the snow drifts clogging my driveway, and after we finally found a way to the river not blocked off by other snow drifts, that is.

In short, the roads were bad, and my truck was limping on bad brakes so we had to take the car, but we were determined not to let that stop us from hunting. 

Before too long, we had seven ducks between us, four mallards and three scaups.  Nugget, my chocolate lab, had retrieved them all quite well, even the four mallards that we had taken at once.

Nugget is still young, and doesn't have a lot of experience yet, but was really doing well and being a good boy thus far.

And then he went and killed a deer.

We had just sat back down among some rocks, waiting for shots at passing ducks, when I noticed Nugget eyeballing the trees just up from the river.

By the way he was staring at them, I knew something must be in there, and since he was shivering from being in the icy river, I decided to let him go for a run and check it out.

"All right, go get it, Nug," I told him, figuring he was merely after a rabbit, or a group of tweety birds, or at best a pheasant.  

I had turned back to watching the sky for ducks, when suddenly, here comes Nugget, chasing a deer and closing fast!

The deer, a young buck, took to the river, hoping to escape pursuit by swimming away.  My son and I were yelling at Nugget to stop, naturally, but he was too intent on his target.  Next thing I knew, he bit it on the rump and that deer started screaming.  

We ran down the riverbank, calling for Nugget to come, and he did, after he grabbed the deer by the back of the head, turned it around, and started swimming it to shore.

It was a bad situation, really, but one I couldn't help but be amazed at as well.

My dog was retrieving a freakin' deer for goodness sake!

Unfortunately, the deer's head was twisted around such that his face was underwater.  We got Nugget away from the deer once he got to the bank, but it was too late.  The deer stood up momentarily, then collapsed back into the river.

My son jumped in the icy water and pulled the young buck out, and we did our best to revive it, but it was too late.

I'm not sure if it drowned, had it's neck twisted too hard, or simply went into cardiac arrest over the whole situation, but nevertheless, it died.

Well, what do you do?  

Obviously, I don't want Nugget chasing deer, but how do I explain to him that hunting one animal is good and chasing another is bad?  I couldn't really get after him for anything other than not coming when I called him.

So, we did the proper thing and called the Fish & Game.  An officer came, took the deer, gave me a warning ticket, made sure I understood that it had better not happen again, but overall he was nice and appreciative that I had called in.

It was a depressing thing, really, seeing a deer die for no reason, but at the same time, my dog retrieved a freaking deer!  Talk about going above and beyond for a bird dog, you know? 

So, we went back to duck hunting and before long my son shot a goose.  Unfortunately, however, the goose made it out onto an island before dying. Nugget swam out after it, but as it was up on the bank, I guess he figured that was good enough because he left it there!  Apparently, I need to get through to him that he is supposed to retrieve dead birds to me, not just out of the water.

We tried to get him to go back out again, hoping he would bring the goose in this time, but no luck.  

You know what I was saying to Nugget at this point, don't you?

"You'll retrieve a friggin' deer, but you won't bring in a damn goose?!"

Yeah, I was kind of ticked at him by now, as you can imagine, but at the same time he was doing really well with what he understood.

Anyway, remember my ailing truck that I didn't want to drive?  Well, we headed home to get it so we could bring my canoe along and go retrieve that goose.

An hour and a half later, we had gone home, got the truck, loaded the canoe on it, and were heading back to the river.  About a mile short of the river, however, the truck broke down.

At this point, it simply became "one of those days", and it was all the dog's fault.  Dog killed a deer, dog wouldn't go get the dead goose, and now dog broke the truck.

How did the dog break the truck, you ask?

Well, you see, there was this squirrel.  OK, I know that sounds like it really came out of nowhere, but let me explain.

Last summer, while on a gold digging trip, a squirrel the dogs were chasing found its way up under my truck and on top of my gas tank.

The dogs, in all their tenacious brilliance, clawed and pawed at that thing for hours until they finally scared it out and ran it down.

Unfortunately, in the process they managed to rip the wiring off of the fuel pump.  I fixed it up, or so I thought, but apparently not well enough.

Now, here I was, laying on the icy ground under the truck on the side of the road, trying once again to repair the dog damage, so I could get to the river, so I could put in the canoe, all so I could go get a dead goose my deer retrieving dog wouldn't fetch up!

Oh, and guess where Nugget was while I was freezing my finger tips off playing with cold wiring on a cold metal gas tank?

Yeah, laying on the seat of my truck, all nice and warm, taking a nap, undoubtedly dreaming about the triumph of nailing his first deer!

You know?  I mean, come on, seriously, do you know anyone else in the whole wide world besides me that would end up in such a situation?

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