The sun is different somehow.  It's the angle during the day maybe, or just the fact dusk comes a little sooner each week.  There's a quickening over the land, stirrings of wild things heading into a season of migration, of breeding, of laying by for winter.

It's as if the dogs can sense it, too.  They seem a tad more restless, a bit more eager in conditioning and training...or more likely, maybe that’s just projection, watching the calendar, plotting the bird season ahead.  For those with a young dog heading into its first or second campaign, it's not just a time of anticipation.  It's also a time of resolution, of "getting our minds right," as the warden in the classic film "Cool Hand Luke" famously cautioned his inmates. With a derby-aged dog, there are big-picture responsibilities and regimens that beg to be followed in setting the agenda for a young dog's entire working life.  We want to get our, as well as our dog's, mind right in terms of the program best designed to move him along on the learning curve as a gun dog.  With respect to others who have had success over the years doing things a little differently, and for what it's worth, here are protocols we will generally follow for the rookie dog we'll dub "Nimrod."

That entire first season Nimrod will be the only dog down when he hunts.   We want all of our focus on him.   We don't want Nimrod spending his day either backing (hopefully) or blundering (perhaps) another more experienced dog's finds.  We want to manage the experience, which is to say make certain there's no gunfire except over birds the dog handles correctly.  That's a fundamental discipline too many would-be dog handlers can't manage, especially if he or she has sacrificed a great deal to get into the woods, especially if there's much fallow time between flushes, especially...if...the handler...just...really...loves...to...shoot.

The decision has to be made - What's the priority?  Correct dog work over the long haul or killing birds?  We love wingshooting as much as most folks we know.  But we got into this game for the dog work, for the sport of hunting in partnership with an animal that not only can actually help us make game but brings an art to the whole experience that jump shooting never, ever can even approach.

If we do agree to a hunt with a (as in "one") companion, it's the highest compliment we can ever pay that other hunter because he or she is absolutely, totally committed to being on the same page in all efforts.  The partner doesn't talk to the dog.  The partner follows the same prescriptions about shooting.  He hinges his hunt on the range and direction management we're trying to establish with the puppy.  The partner is willing to sacrifice her hunting time when things go haywire - birds get flushed without drawing a shot, turkeys get chased, the dog gets turned around and lost from the handler, whatever.  If the partner isn't there for the dog, that's not who you want along with the 'Rod.

Meanwhile, back to the handler.  One of the most telling and important steps in the evolution of our dog handling was many years ago when we borrowed one of the (then) new camcorders and took it along on an Iowa pheasant hunt.  We even had a player along with us to use with the motel room television so we could replay the day's adventures.

That first night's viewing became cringeworthy about two minutes into the tape, primarily because we became aware of how much useless and distracting noise we (read “I”) made while our dogs were trying to hunt.  Constant commands, urgings, warnings, whistlings to no effect...a total horror show.  It was a wonder those good dogs could manage to get anything done using their natural talent as well as the careful "training" we'd invested...only to use that background like a bludgeon instead of as support once we were in the field.

With first season dogs especially, we stuff our whistles in our pockets and, if necessary, our fists in our mouths.  Too many young dogs are over-handled, over-cautioned, overwhelmed…which can contribute to ranging issues, flagging on point, blinking birds, false pointing, and other nightmares.  

In that first year, we select coverts that are not only likely bird pockets, but ones that lend themselves to short, easily run shifts.  It's like a young baseball hurler on a pitch count;  we want to keep the puppy's mind fresh and keen while protecting Nimrod physically as well.  We'll heel Nimrod into the cover;  we'll likely "whoa" him a time or two as well along the way, signaling school is in session and establishing the same organized point of contact we've worked hard to forge since the puppy came into our lives.

But once we cast that dog, we're going to keep communication to a minimum.  How do field trailers on horseback keep their dogs pushing out?  They sing to them;  that way the dog can keep track of them, know all is well, and drive on to likely objectives.  For the foot hunter, especially one with a young dog, silence is golden.  If we've done our homework and created the sort of rapport with the dog we should have, Nimrod is going to want to know where we are.  If we're constantly whistling or shouting or engaged in loud fervent prayer, potent imprecations, on vulgar entreaties, why would the puppy bother to check in with all of that?

Obviously, there are extenuating circumstances when the dog may need to be "handled" by voice or whistle.  But in the main, here's the deal:  Shut up.  Go hunting with the dog. Enjoy the day, come what may.

When that dog does hit point, we generally do not offer a "whoa" command.  #1...we don't want to talk in the presence of game.  #2...we don't know for sure if Nimrod has game or not.  Whoaing a young dog every time it stops as if on scent is one way to not only steal initiative but create a false pointer who, unsure of itself, locks up at even the faintest whiff of scent of a bird that may be long gone awing or afoot.

Exception:  When we're teaching "whoa" back in the yard (and we do so for a different reason than most, more as support than a command), we alternate the “whoa” word for a hissing sound until the dog will stop, or remain still, with either the word command or the sharp, leaking air “sssssssss”.  If we happen to see the bird in cover or see it begin to move and want, for whatever reason, to keep the dog still, we will give that hiss which generally beats the spoken word (or epithet) in terms of maybe, just maybe, keeping game set.

But most of the time, walking in on point, we'll be silent while doing everything we possibly can to walk in at an angle into the front of the dog.  Not only might that help The ‘Rod stay steady, but it may cause the bird to believe it's between a rock and a hard place, and that discretion to hunker is better than valor in run or flight. 

We don't creep in.  We walk in with our gun in a safe position and try to flush confidently and quickly.  The sooner that bird gets up and gone, the better we like our chances of Nimrod holding staunch.

In the first season, and sometimes the second, too, we don't worry about the dog being steady to flush.  When the bird goes, Nimrod can go after him.  If all before that has been handled properly, and the dog is totally clear, we'll shoot to kill that bird.  Please understand that ultimately, we want a dog that's steady to flush.  We think it's safer, we think it helps the dog better mark the bird, it's another point of contact and control to hold through the flight, as well as wild flushes, and it's the linchpin to ultimately being steady to wing and shot, if that is, indeed, our goal.  More about laying the groundwork for steady to flush in a minute...

Let's say Nimrod nailed the point and all is kosher through the flush and shot.  Here's where we differ from a great many hunters - early on, we don't encourage the dog to retrieve.  If Nimrod dashes over, scoops up the bird and comes trotting in, we grin to ourselves, carefully accept the retrieve, offer quick praise and move on.  In our opinion, too much encouragement to retrieve can undermine the staunchness in a young dog.  If the dog retrieves, that's, as Havilah Babcock once wrote, the "lace on the bride's pajamas."  If it doesn't, that's fine, especially if we've marked the bird down.  We'll walk over, let the young dog “hunt dead’, but pocket the bird ourselves and get on with the hunt.

If we don't get a good mark on the fall, and if a perfunctory search doesn't turn up the bird, and especially if the dog broke at flush, we'll bring Nimrod back in as close to where he first established point as possible, set him up again, then cast him in the direction of the flight of the bird.  For us, the best case scenario here is for Nimrod to "point dead."  If he stumbles into a wing-tipped bird and pounces on that runner, we accept whatever help Nimrod can muster to bring that bird to possession.

Again…here’s another spot where we differ from other bird hunters. In the end, a dog that "hunts dead" with intelligence and tenacity is more important to us than a retriever.  We can put up with a non-retriever; a dog that won't work hard to locate a wounded bird is not much bird dog.

Understand this...We dearly love an accomplished retriever, the flourish to finish and already successful experience.  We do some perfunctory "natural retrieve" play with all the puppies in the beginning.  We do the "drill" in a hallway which makes it easier to contain the student who would really rather keep the dummy than turn it over and would so love to lead us on a merry chase.  A hallway cuts down on all pursuit angles.  Just as importantly, we limit the practice to two or three fetches a session to keep things fresh and the puppy eager.  There is absolutely nothing sadder than the proud owner who burns out a natural retriever by throwing and throwing and throwing dummies until the pup loses interest.  

Most of the dogs we breed are natural, dare we say, fanatic, retrievers.  Again, we do sparing play retrieving.  It's no surprise when a Blizzard’s Huntmore puppy picks up the first bird dropped for him;  we walk away from him, get him to follow us a bit, then gently corral and accept the bird with as little fuss and muss as possible, often slipping two fingers under the collar and taking the bird either by pushing it back into the dog's mouth to get a release or by blowing in the dog's ear to get the drop.  Bird in the hand, we breathe a prayer of thank you to good genes and get on with the hunt.

After the first couple of hunts, assuming the dog is hunting keenly, pushing cover, enjoying the search, we begin reminding Nimrod of the conditioning we did on steady to flush.  Once we’ve established a happy, purposeful hunter, on every bird flushed, whether wild, by the dog, or by the handler, we will do as much as possible within reason and without hacking to bring the dog back in to a spot closest to where he was when the bird went out.  When possible, we’d prefer to catch the dog up and gently carry that dog back to the spot, reminiscent of how we “took away his legs” when we were teaching “whoa.”   We'll gently set him back up, reboot him with our "whoa" and/or "hiss," let him stand, then send him on.

That's "every bird flushed," as in "every...bird...put in the air that doesn't elicit a stop from the dog."  That's a level of hassle not enough hunter handers are willing to endure to help their dog on the road to steady or stop to flush.  But we think it's essential, so much so that we once had a Beretta Ultralight with the stock painted blaze orange so that if we had to break it and set it down to corral Nimrod and carry him back to the flush, that gun was easily found when we were ready to move on.

Some of the check cord drills we do with young dogs and bags of thrown pigeons incorporating advanced “whoa/stop” work will actually produce first season dogs that do stop, or at least give a (very) pregnant pause, when a bird takes wing.  That's molding.  Shaping.  There's no scolding or discipline of any kind in that scenario, only repetition and praise when it’s done right.  We're helping the dog learn a desired behavior too much dampening of her powder. 

We try to make the transition into the hunting season as seamless as possible, so on Nimrod’s earliest woodcock hunts close to home, we will take a shoulder bag of pigeons into the cover and do our drill:  when Nimrod swings by, we’ll throw a bird across his bow. If we’ve done our homework, The ‘Rod will skip into a tall stop and watch that pigeon batter off through the brush toward home.  Not only does that set a tone for range (“Cool stuff happens when you swing by The Boss”) but it’s reinforcing our stop to flush foundation.

We’ve no doubt that other very successful handlers may tip over their desk top refreshment in apoplexy at reading some of our methods. That’s OK.  This is only what works for us and the dogs we breed, train, and hunt ourselves, as well as what has worked for the dogs and handlers with whom we’ve been privileged to train or hunt over the past three decades.