From the Editor

You may recall that in September/October 2005 I wrote glowingly about the latest addition to my family: a feisty Deutsch Drahthaar puppy named Gunnar. The young dog was from excellent lines and, like all puppies, held all of the promise in the world. Unfortunately, Gunnar arrived just as other aspects of my life were about to fall apart, and late that winter I made the agonizing decision to give him away.
    I couldn’t have been more fortunate that the Drahthaar group is close-knit, as when I mentioned my problem to Gunnar’s breeder, Ron Nichols, he called the next day to say that Ray Derman, a fellow hunter and Drahthaar owner, had offered to take Gunnar for a couple of months. After that Ron would take Gunnar to his summer home in Nova Scotia and not only train him but also run him in the two breed tests I had committed to when I’d bought him. Like I said: I couldn’t have been more fortunate.
    By September most of my “issues” had been resolved and I was ready to reclaim my pup. I timed my trip to Nova Scotia so that I could watch Gunnar take his Fall Breed Test. (He had done well in his Natural Ability Test several months earlier.) I was looking forward to a stellar performance.
    But the day turned out to be one of those a trainer would rather forget. Right out of the box, instead of making the thorough search he was supposed to, Gunnar made several wide casts and then decided he would practice his herding technique on the dairy cows in the next pasture. (One test judge turned to me and commented wryly, “Well, they are supposed to be versatile dogs . . . .”) After Ron caught him up, Gunnar did well in the next couple of phases, but then he refused to deliver a dead duck—instead parading back and forth with it out in the water—and just like that he was disqualified. Ron was crushed.
    The next day Ron and I ran Gunnar in the woods near Ron’s home, and I was thrilled to see the young dog flash-point two woodcock and a grouse. I returned home with high hopes of finishing the job.
    But, alas, it was not to be, as an encounter with a porcupine and then a thorn in the eye ended Gunnar’s season. A long Maine winter followed and a relatively birdless spring and summer (my fault), and before I knew it I was starting another fall with a far-from-finished dog.
    Partial redemption came on our first morning of duck hunting, when Gunnar made a picture-perfect retrieve on a downed mallard and a textbook blind retrieve on a green-winged teal—both birds delivered to hand. A week later in New Brunswick he pointed and held several woodcock (see “Black Rapids Woodcock,” March/April) and had a bird shot over him—the first I’d witnessed since getting him back.
    It was with that momentum that we returned to the Maine woods, where on our final woodcock hunt of the season I saw something I thought I never would. After finding and holding several birds that I was unable to get a shot at, Gunnar slid into a point in a small copse of popple in a relatively open area. As I moved in the woodcock flushed, and I saluted its departure with two errant shots. Damn! Then I remembered the dog. I looked down to find him standing staunch, watching the bird fly away. Steady to wing & shot!
    I know, I know, it may have been a fluke, but for me it was a sign that I hadn’t completely screwed up this dog and that with more time and work I might actually end up with a stellar performer. I’d been given a second (or third) chance to do things right, and now it was up to me to follow through. I welcomed the opportunity to make amends.

This issue contains our seventh annual Special Hunting Dogs Section (p. 88), which we hope you’ll find informative and entertaining as well as inspirational. After all, there’s no better time than now to begin preparing for next season—and no better way to turn dreams into reality than with hard work . . . .

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