Travel hunting with a retriever

Duck and goose hunting without a retriever is as enjoyable as honeymooning without a bride. What's the point?  My policy is bring them.  For man and beast alike, travel duck hunting is a way to add days to the cumulative hunting season, to develop as a better hunter that the experiences of different hunting conditions provides.

Foremost considerations are airline policies (if flying) and health certification.  Having commercially flown with retrievers for the last 20 years, I've not once experienced anything to be concerned about.  To the contrary, most US airlines take especially good care of pets.  Food and water must be provided, forms signed, and extra fees paid.  For what you pay to fly your dog, they should be provided a seat up top, and given a milk bone when the beverage cart comes by.

Each airline has their own pet policies and some don't allow pet travel at all.  Most policies stipulate that pets may be transported only when the outside temperature is 45 to 85 degrees F, and most airlines will not fly retrievers.  Outside of this range requires a veterinarian statement that you per is acclimated to these extremes.  Some airlines will not fly pets as a matter of policy between mid-June and mid-September, so plan your trip to Canada accordingly.  These temperature ranges generally preclude bringing retrievers to the Southern Hemisphere. 

It may be winter there, but it's usually to hot here in the States during June and July - and vice versa depending on hunt timing.  Fortunately, there is excellent Argentina duck hunting to be had March-May.  Consider that such travel will require Fido spend 18 or so hours crated.

Mexico and Canada provide the perfect opportunities to travel with your retriever.  Most outfitters encourage client retrievers (it's the client's hunt after all) but ask first.  During a great trip to Canada or an average duck hunt in Mexico, your dog may likely fetch as waterfowl as do many retrievers during an entire season here in the US.  Marking and handling distances over dry barley or pea fields is a great experience, but when flocks of honkers are pounding the spread in quick intervals, it's usually more effective for hunters to quickly sweep up dead birds.

Be sure to bring some dog boots while Mexico brant hunting.  Shell reefs will cut dog pads and there's no sense in Fido limping around on injury reserve during the trip of a lifetime.

Health certificates must be completed by a veterinarian within 14 days of pet travel. Consult your veterinarian about any special concerns for the country you'll be hunting.

Keep a leash in your pocket.  You'll be required to removed your dog from the crate by TSA, and surely they'll be ready to stretch and do their business soon after departure.

During the past 20 years, it's been a joy hunting with retrievers throughout 5 Canadian Provinces, all 4 US flyways and Western Mexico.  One of the most memorable events didn't involve retrieves at all.  After Memphis TSA had checked her kennel crack-of-dawn early one morning, I instructed Cooper to "kennel."  Much to everyone's surprise, she leapt onto the ticket counter, grinning and in full-mode spin cycle like only a young lab can, and swept the counter void of everything and then some.  Off to a great start, the following week duck hunting in Manitoba was equally spectacular.

Ramsey Russell, GetDucks.com 

Delta

COPYRIGHT RAMSEY RUSSELL GETDUCKS.COM

Years ago, soon after my preschool-aged sons wrestled her from a litter of squirming black pups, I'd told myself she was just a retriever.  But a very good one she turned out to be.  At 9 years old, and with 7-and-a-half seasons under her belt, she delivered to hand many thousands of documented birds to hand.  I can remember Delta Retrieves Number 5,000 like it was yesterday. Ducks and geese from across North America mostly, but also a fair share of doves, snipes, pheasants.  One summer we'd pulled down the water in a slough to broadcast jap millet in knee-deep mud.  That was the day she proudly brought to hand a large, frog-green bowfin she'd found in the murkey tailwater.  Among the lifetime tally were countless firsts: ducks, limits, species and leg bands for my children who have hunted their entire lifetimes with a black dog named Delta.

Second only to the report of a shotgun, she loved the sound of aluminum bats hitting baseballs.  She was tireless in her job to retrieve baseballs during backyard batting practices.  She subsequently developed a penchant for round objects, and the back yard remains littered with dozens of round balls every size and color imaginable.  I'm sure we'll find them while working in the gardens for many years to come.

I learned over the years to let her out to do her business well in advance of cranking the 4 wheeler.  As soon as the 4 wheeler was cranked, she loaded up, ready for the day's adventure.  More than once she finished her business during our drive to the blind.  It became especially problemmatic as the boys grew old enough to share that space with her!

She lost her hearing about 2 seasons ago, rendering a whistle moot.  We worked it out, like the team we were, and it was actually alot more relaxing without having to blow a whistle.  She'd take a line and hunt the spot, looking to me for a hand signal only if she lost confidence in the area.  She rarely came back without the retrieve, proving time and again that her nose and hunting ability were far superior to my marking skills.

She seldom came inside until we were traveling.  If we stayed in a hotel while hunting somewhere, she'd find a sofa or bed on which to stretch out.  She'd usually earned it.  I woke up more than once being pushed off the bed as she made herself more comfortable.  Left unattended, she'd sometimes sneak onto a couch at home even though she knew better.

A week ago she climbed onto my bed at camp.  It was a first.  Walked in and caught her red-handed, sound asleep and softly snoring.  Lacking her hearing, she was oblivious until I reached down and stroked her soft, gray-muzzled head.   I couldn't help but grin and she couldn't help but slowly wag her guilty tail.  I had no idea at the time that cancer had completely eaten her insides.

I buried her with a greenhead this Saturday, precisely 2 weeks preceding the Mississippi Duck Season Opener.  Her final resting place is a lake site that sits in the shadow of a tall cypress where eagles nest.  The spot is framed perfectly in the pane of my camphouse window. It was under that same cypress that  an epiphinal light clicked on when she suddenly realized what her role in this duck hunting thing was all about.  Whether she's the best dog I may ever own remains to be seen; that she defines the very best decade of hunting in my life is doubtless.

Whoever said grown men don't cry has never had their life blessed with a retriever like Delta. That's the greater of two tragedies.

Ramsey Russell, GetDucks.com

  

5,000

New Year's Day seems fitting for milestones and renewed beginnings . The sun rose slowly and remained obscurely in gloom.  An flock of green-wings flying low to the water skirted the decoys, never checking up.  For about an hour, several thousand snow geese paraded overhead and well out of shotgun range, and as their ululating cries faded we were left with only the deafening silence of wind sweeping across the bleak Grand Prairie. The hunt was perfectly slow paced for gathering thoughts between whispered visits with son Duncan, who just the day before had garnered his first double with a pair of green-wings.