Finding forever! The joy of falling in love with a bird dog.

My rookie season is an ever evolving philosophy to try something new annually. Equal parts growth mindset, and punishment to remain comfortable pushing against failure. Last year, I decided my rookie season would take place on the upland prairies, watching bird dogs work and holding my breath waiting for the shot as the covey rises. I knew immediately that this sport would take hold and it would be something that I’d continue for the rest of my life, or until I was no longer able to walk the fields with friends and family. Even then, I know I’ll obsess about new techniques and enjoy hearing the stories of new hunters. 

Let me explain. The smell of the field in the morning, the dew damping my pants and the smoke billowing from my first shot hooked onto my soul. In short, it’s forever. What I didn’t know was the depth and how steep the slope was going to be once I decided to get a dog. That moment changed everything. I supercharged my desire to be in the field and quickly consumed most of my thoughts daily.

As you might have guessed, I made my way through the progression of gear, guns, endless amounts of youtube videos and mentorships. I won’t bore you with those details, as I believe it follows a similar track for everyone up until they meet their pup. That when it changes, the adventure and companionship begins something else. That’s when a being swears its life to helping you fulfill your goals and you swear your love and resources to your bond. Dogs are all great, but you a hunting dog is something different. Something that you hear about and think, “Man, they really love their dog.” But the story is often of admiration and respect for a finished dog. So let’s start there, the moment I met my pup.

Once I decided it was time, I obsessed over the breeds and their functional skills or all around demographics. The figurative rabbit hole is deep. Do I want a family dog, a strong retriever, pointer or all of the above? If you talk to a dog owner, they all have their favorite breeds and favorite dogs that they’ve fallen in love with. “I bet my retriever out hunts your pointer any day of the week,” one will exclaim! Hunters have come to tears telling me stories of their favorite dogs over a lifetime. Their forever love of an animal that brought them joy and seemingly always found a way to piss them off as well. Stories of seeing more birds than they could imagine or working a brush line in a snow storm for only a couple of shots. Stories of family dogs who laid with children by the fire in the mornings and chased pheasants all afternoon. In these narratives, the dog is always the main character and is always their hero. 

I found myself wondering, if we could ask the dog, would they share the same admiration for the hunter? Would they tell the story of glorious shots, or heartbreak of spent shells and no fallen birds? Would they laugh at hard fought walks or long rides to the fields with us being their champions? I hoped so, and I knew I wanted to share in the feeling of owning a hunting dog and finding a forever love while watching the dog work across a prairie.

Let me backup for just a moment. Before deciding to purchase a bird dog, I’d just been laid off from my corporate career and was spiraling to find some additional purpose. I decided that I would take a year off and pursue something that, within a few years, I may be too old to do or something that I was always too busy to complete. I thought I would embark on whimsical adventures and bathe in freedom. In fact, I found myself searching to be helpful to anyone in need but never feeling I was in the right place. It may have been my ego, but I was struggling with feeling needed. I struggled with understanding my value. I dove into my fly fishing business, which was already operating but didn’t require my full attention once it was a full time gig. I volunteered as an assistant coach for my son’s lacrosse team but I never had a true spirit to coaching kids athletics. I studied up on new culinary practices hoping to be a better cook for my clients but that also never made me smile beyond the moment. 

In short, I sort of felt broken, after months of rejection emails for recruiters and limited career options. I knew I wanted to pour myself into something meaningful to me. I wanted to dedicate myself to a selfish endeavor as I had spent the last 20 years as a husband, father, and leader. Always of service, always burnt out. The term “good problems” comes to mind. Blessed for all the experiences and titles but rarely did I have the time to do something I wanted to do. Though still a husband, my wife completely understands the need for rest. As a father, our children are all old enough to care mostly for themselves and I am no longer needed to brush teeth or tuck little ones in. As an employee or corporate leader, that had just been swept right off my plate in a surprising Zoom call. I was in the privileged position to ask myself,  “If time, or money wasn’t a problem, what would you do?” The answer is, I’d take the time to train a puppy to be a lasting companion in a sport that changed my relationship with my food, environment and mind. Now, back to the story. 

After much debate and research, I finally settled on my breed and sex. A German Wire hair female, who was purchased from a breeder in Isanti, MN. I looked at multiple litters. None of the dogs spoke to me. They were all NAVHDA registered or AKC lines. All fine dogs, but none felt like they were supposed to be mine. After some time of searching, there were only two local litters left to look at, and my wife accompanied the final two to help me find the one as the dog would hybrid as a family dog as well. When we walked into the second to last litter’s yard, there were four puppies all playing, one came immediately to me, walked to my side and sat down while looking at me lovingly. Could this be the one? My wife called her out and said, “That’s your dog. She won’t leave your side and is clearly choosing you.” Yes, the dog had an amazing temperament and desire to be with me but it was a female and the wrong color. I went over to her brothers, the bigger and more raucous alpha puppy had my attention. My wife cautioned, “He looks good, but he isn’t your dog.” The female came back to me and again sat next to me to show that she was the one. The alpha ran off and began biting at insects. I was torn and decided to go see the last litter before making a decision. That evening I poured over all the puppies' images, mental notes I’d made of their demeanors and bloodlines. I questioned my wife’s notes as she continued to reinforce, “It’s your dog and your decision. I am sure the alpha will make a fine dog but the smaller female fell in love with you and she is the best pick for you.” I stubbornly rebutted with the alpha’s qualities but could not deny that I felt a bit of joy for the first time in a while when working with the female. After sleeping on it, I woke to the thought that my wife was right. Even though she wasn’t the right color, there was something to this dog that felt like a bond. I was trying to ignore it due to the sheer size of her big brother. She was clearly smarter, quicker, and wanted to be with me. “We should buy her,” I said as my wife opened her eyes. “Well, go see them both alone one more time. If you're with them and you see something we haven’t, get the boy. If you feel she is going to be a better fit then you have your answer.” Who better to know my heart than my wife and which dog would be its best fit as she’d been its keeper for 15 years. So that's what I did, I loaded the family into the car and we went to spend time with the puppies separately and together. It went as we thought. The alpha was uninterested in myself and playing with the kids while the smaller female was focused on commands and our unit. The last thing was her gaze. She looked to me, not just at me. I knew then she would make the perfect companion for the next 15 years even if she pissed me off frequently. I knew then, I was in love. My wife whispered, “There wasn’t a bad choice, but I think you made the right choice.”   

I’d like to introduce you all to Covey. My project, champion, and guide in the field. For the next few months Covey and I worked hard on commands. We spent hours in the lakes working on retrieves. She spent weeks scenting and honing her point. I’ve called all my mentors ready to send her off to be trained as I felt I was ruining her natural ability and I was coached to correct and enjoy the journey of training my first bird dog and find forever in her. Each mentor could tell me stories of their first dog. “The learning curve is a part of the process as you are a team,” one mentor reminded me. “We are a team,” I repeated back as the lightbulb went off. To be successful we have to work together. We have to understand each other and I hadn’t taken much time to understand her. I just wanted her to perform my commands as a tool, not a partner. I am not sure if that's the right line of thinking when training a bird dog, but once I made that switch mentally, we began to hum while running our practice reps in the back yard or on field walks. I feel forever coming. I see the potential of our many adventures coming into sight for years to come. I watch her learn and make the moves before I instruct them and I seem to understand her quirks more every day. We’re building confidence in one another. 

I know she isn’t perfect and I try not to sound like parents who all say their child is gifted. But after having and loving many dogs before her, I can tell this one is special. This story most likely reads as a “dog who saved me,” or “I’m an egotistical broken man,” which may not be an incorrect assessment. I am not saying it's not true, but I believe there is more here. There is more to a hunter’s and dog’s connection that you only hear about from those who have trained their dogs and spent hours in the field together. There is more to the healing power if nature partnered with purpose when you are going through a dark time. I have found a sweet spot for it all. Hunting aside, I love the thought that she chose me and we have become a solid pair. I’ll one day tell the next generation of children about the time Covey bumped a few huge turkeys and she ran back to me because she had bit off more than she could chew with that group. I’ll share the first time she caught a dove and retrieved it perfectly for me. We will laugh about how she wants to swim laps at the lake with the kids even when they are exhausted, she asks for more. “Just one more time,” her eyes say. I will grin about the tears my daughter dropped after leaving her for boarding the first time knowing that there is real love between the two. I now understand why hunters speak so lovingly of these animals. They want to work for you. They enjoy being out in the fields as much as we do and their bred to be there. The bonus is companionship, the bonus is their love. It may be too soon to say Covey is the best bird dog I’ll ever have, but she is sure to shape up as one of the best dogs I’ve had. We’ve already made memories and I don’t doubt there are many more to come. Here is to finding forever, in a field as you watch your dog work. Cheers to forever friendships and shooting buddies made in the field. Here is to finding a forever love of a sport or a particular dog who turns out to take a piece of your heart. Here is to finding forever in a sport to give to your children, a sport of a lifetime.