They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I personally never taught a young dog any new tricks either. I've taught them a little obedience. I've taught them to behave socially. I've taught them a few basics in order for "us" to be a little more successful in our hunting ventures. But most of the teaching came from wise men, many years ago, who didn't actually train dogs, but instead they bred dogs that had the desired knowledge born in them. Men who had far more patience than I do. Men who weren't greedy. They worked toward a goal that they knew might not be achieved in their lifetime. But they were men of necessity. They were men who knew they needed help retrieving their ducks. When these wise men lived, duck hunting was a job. Well, I'm sure some guys hunted for sport, but they didn't have the NEED for a duck dog, like the market gunners did. The market hunters needed a dog that was multi-talented. A dog that was at home in the water; being able and willing to take on the cold, rough, dangerous swims that went along with the job. They needed a dog to take care of things around the hunting lodge - a guard dog. They needed a companion to help keep them sane on the long, cold, days and nights of the Winter gunning season. These traits were developed fairly well, and many a duck hunter has reaped the benefits of the dogs developed more than a century ago. But the true gunners needed another trait in their dogs. Gunning for the market was a rough job. Face it, alone on the water in the the winter, with much of the work being done at night, is no job for the weak at heart. The gunners had a lot to think about: survival, prices of the birds they shot and sold, keeping their powder and/or shells dry, keeping their guns in working order, keeping their boats seaworthy. Since they almost always worked alone, there were a lot of things they had to tend to by themselves. These men knew they needed a duck dog that could be depended upon to share the responsibilities of their work. A dog that needed no special attention, no handling, no directions, no help getting the job done. They needed the Chesapeake Bay Retriever. A dog that could mark multiple downed birds and stay in the ice water long enough to retrieve them. A dog that would swim out into the dark, in crashing waves, time after time , searching for more fallen birds. A dog that would quit only when all the birds were gathered up. Sometimes that came after the hunter had long since left the water and headed for the fire. Then the dog guarded the gunner while he slept, and guarded the gunner's meager belongings while he was gone to town to sell his birds. A dog that could live on corn meal and cracklins, with a few fish heads and coot gizzards to add some flavor. A dog that needed only a pat on the head at the end of the day to signal that he had done everything asked of him. Those market gunners developed the one true duck dog. Brannen's Seahorse was such a dog, and I was able to spend 12 years with him. Pretty lucky for me. I was much younger, and not even as smart as I am now (hard to believe) and for a while I didn't know what I had. I was crushed at my inability to "train" Hoss as I wanted to. I could not accomplish even the simplest steps of dog training, but he was always there beside me, loved being with me. Since he was all I had, of course I took him hunting as soon as his first duck season rolled around. I was all set with my dog trainer's whistle, ready to give him all sort of commands, just like the field trialers do. He ignored me completely. He just hunted along side of me. He retrieved over 2300 ducks and surprisingly, he didn't need my help on any of them. The only thing he asked was to be allowed to go along, he handled the rest. Hoss and I rode many a mile in my old CJ5, and across many miles of water in my Herter's Model Yukon. I can still see him braced against the wind, staring out into the distance. I can still see him curled up beside my bed in the trailer at Lowland. Hell, those were the only nights of his life he ever got to sleep inside, and I sure hope he enjoyed it as much as I did. Big Hoss, I still miss you.
