Saying this has been an interesting year would be a complete understatement. Our lives have, without a doubt, changed in many ways. But hopefully you have all been able to make lemonade out of the lemons we have been dealt. Whether it has been more time with family or less time on the road for work, there are silver linings in these times that we can look favorably upon. One bright point that so many of my friends and clients have mentioned has been the ability to spend more time with their dogs. Being stuck at home gave them the time they always wanted to pour into that relationship and training.

I love this for so many reasons and I am hopeful that all the extra training means that much more enjoyment that everyone can have in the field this season! But since training gun dogs is what I do every day for a living, I wasn’t able to capture that added benefit of being at home. To be honest, not much changed for me except the fact that I didn’t have people wanting to come over to check in on their dog’s progress in person. This meant I got really good at video chatting!

Being able to talk to people in a different light made me see something that is so easy for someone in my profession, and all of us if we are honest, to take for granted. That is, how much joy our dogs bring to our lives. When I would talk with people on the phone that were cooped up, all they wanted to talk about were the great hunts and amazing retrieves the dog had in the previous season. People had time to sit, think, reflect and appreciate those times. As I enjoyed listening to those stories, they got me reflecting a bit on my own season and some of my fondest moments. I will share a couple with you here.

I could share with you the big blind retrieves that were ran or some of the gnarly set ups that the dogs had to conquer. I know these would be the sexy stories but the two I am going to share here are more meaningful to me and make me smile just thinking of them.

The first reflection that came to mind was an early season timber hunt down in northeast Arkansas. I had with me a dog named Clyde. And Clyde, at the ripe age of 5, was on his first ever hunt. Now I know, some of you may be wondering why that would be. Well, I didn’t always own Clyde. When I first found Clyde in Scotland, he was a young pup full of potential and drive. So much in front of him and I knew from the moment I was around him, he was a good one. But I was at a point in my life that I could not afford to purchase him. So, a great man helped me get him and bring him over. A great man that fell head over heels in love with Clyde himself but there was a kicker, he wasn’t a hunter. So, there was an agreement worked out that would fit this man’s travel life. Clyde would spend the spring and summer with me training and being a part of my breeding program while he would spend the fall and winter putting around a lake in a pontoon boat and taking long walks on country roads. It never felt right. It was like having Secretariat as a pasture pet. Well, as fate would have it, I ended up owning Clyde myself. Now, fast forward back to his first hunt. I didn’t know how this was going to go. He had prepared for this literally his entire life, but I had to go into it with an open mind that anything could happen. From the second I sat him on that tree stand I could sense an overwhelming feeling of happiness coming from that yellow boy. As each duck fell to the water and he got more and more feathers in his mouth, it was a feeling everyone in the woods that day got to feel through Clyde. I have never seen a dog so happy, so fulfilled and so at peace in all my life. This was truly where he was meant to be, and I will never forget that day and what that moment taught me about life and appreciating the ride.

The second reflection I will share with you is with my boy, Bud. Bud is a 2-year-old black British Labrador and another dog I brought in from overseas at a young age. Bud’s first season consisted of sitting and watching. Soaking in the experience and being sure we were going to be calm, quiet, and steady. Now, in his first real season, he was ready to hit the ground running. I was hunting with a great friend of mine, Steve. On the first day we out together, we hunted with my yellow stud named Brock. Brock is the real deal so naturally, I had to show him off on the first hunt! Which, as expected, he was as impressive as ever. The second day I ran Bud. I knew Steve would appreciate a young dog developing with so much promise. I laid out all the excuses before we hit the blind so that everyone would know that he was a young dog that had never been in this situation before. Well, he made me look foolish as he handled everything in stride and looked as if he had hunted in that blind for years. After I understood what was unfolding, I stepped back, and I watched as my young all-star grow up before my very eyes. The last bird of that day was a Green Winged Teal that sailed on us big time. After Bud picked up the stoned birds in the decoys, I lined him up for what would be one of the longest blinds he had ever ran. He took that line through the splash water as perfectly as could be. At some point along his line, I could make out the crippled bird swimming away to the right of where I had lined Bud up. One whistle blast and he snapped around at attention. I gave the right-angled back cast, and he took it on a string right to that bird. Once on the bird, it dove on him. As he worked for it, sure enough it would dive again and again and again. Finally, the bird popped up in striking distance and Bud made the grab. The blind erupted as if we just watched Michael Jordan hit a buzzer beater during a Game 7. You could see the pride oozing out of Bud as he strutted back to us, but I am sure I was beaming with as much, if not more pride myself. Steve leaned over to me and said, “He is something special. I can’t want to see him grow up in the years to come.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

I hope these stories help you reflect on your own moments of not only this last season but all the seasons’ pasts. At the end of the day, when we think of those special hunts, we rarely remember the limits or the big wads of birds that finished. Rather we hold dear the people we share those moments with, both two and four legged alike.