Two steps back

The road to perdition is paved with good intentions. What's more, you don't notice the roadside signs until it is too late.

I had some errands to run and (here is the good intention) I took Larsen along with me. Along the way, I parked near a tract of land completely vacant other than a pointless dead-end street and a faded sign optimistically advertising a bustling mixed-use complex.

It wouldn't hurt to take a walk through the field, would it? Isn't that a good intention? We set off on our little hike and Johnson Ferry road soon disappeared behind us. For all intents, we were in a field, so I dropped the leash and watched the singularly beautiful sight of a spaniel springing through knee-high grass. I called for Larsen and he trotted up, so I unclipped his leash. Off he went. He popped over the black silt fences, and he even came when called.

At least for a while he did. And this is where I sped right through the yellow and red lights on the road to perdition.

Larsen got bored with me and decided to explore on his own. I had no leash, no e-collar, and really nothing but goodwill to entice him back and of course he ignored me totally. I could see days and weeks of "here boys" reversing themselves right out of his system as he gamboled about and basically challenged me to make his day.

I finally caught up to him, and considered walking him back to the scene of the crime, as I had been taught. But after corkscrewing around the field, it was impossible for me to take him all the way back to the point where he first misbehaved. Moreover, he had come up to me somewhat on his own, since I was silent and not calling him any longer. So (I reasoned) how could I punish him for returning to me? We more or less agreed that I'd walk him part of the way back (I got him by the collar and throat, lifted his front legs, and marched him partway back to where I initially called him to give him the message. He whined about my inhumanity, and I reminded him that he was not human). Then we stopped. I let him go and told him to "hup". I stepped away and made him come to me from about 6 feet.

We did the "hup" and "here boy" three more times. Each time with a little chuck under the chin as his reward. Then I clipped him up and we hiked back to the car.

It was all I could do not to simply brain the little mutt over my own frustration of having let this happen. I couldn't help myself in wanting to watch a spaniel in the field.

Does your dog bite?

Force fetch, soft style

I'm working on little 5 minute drills where Larsen has to "take" and hold an object for 30 seconds, a minute, or thereabouts and until I say "give".  I decided to formalize the exercise by putting Larsen on the grooming  table.

Sometimes I let him sit or hup and sometimes I make him stand. I walk around him and tap the object and might periodically remind him to hold.

Thanks to Kim's work at Pocataligo Kennels, Larsen knows exactly what to do with a "take" and "give".

Larsen expresses some curiosity about the camera while he waits for the "give" command. 

October scouting report

Training a hunting dog is complicated by the fact that you have to find a place where fat gamebirds can be chased and shotguns can be shot.  This eliminates the backyard and nearby Murphey Candler little league field.  

On Saturday, I drove east on I-20 to the little town of Newborn, Ga to visit some possible training grounds.  I wanted to find a field equidistant from Atlanta and Athens, Ga because our group may include a fellow from Athens.

The National Shooting Sports Foundation has a link to help find venues that are close to you.  After some experimentation, I found two possibilities in Newborn, Ga, and one in nearby Mansfield, both of which are about 45 miles east of Atlanta on I-20.

Newborn and Mansfield are 45 miles east of Atlanta.

My first stop was Burnt Pine Plantation in Newborn.

 Newborn, Ga is home to Burt Pine and Broughton Plantations.





I drove to the lodge and met with Sean, the assistant manager, just back from an Alaskan vacation.  Sean said that Brian, the manager, may have a better idea about the viability and cost of dog training on the property, but he invited me to look around.  The facilities are very impressive.  Burnt Pine looks like a great place for a gathering of bird hunting aficionados, and I might stop by this fall.

Burnt Pine has a wel- coming club- house.

 
Bar and game room.  Pool table at right.

A cozy library encourages con- versation after a day's hunt.

 Breakfast room.

This corn will be mowed into rows come October.






My next stop was the Broughton Plantation.  I had called ahead, but was greeted with a discontinued number, and no wonder.  The clubhouse looked like the Bates Motel.  But, honestly, it might be worth staying there anyway.

The reason was everywhere as I pulled into the driveway and scared up a fluttering of bobwhites from the drive itself, the pasture on the right, and the pond bank on the left.  No doubt these were wild quail descended from farm stock.  I don't have any photos of the Bates Motel - - or the Broughton Plantation - - other than the sign at the entrance.

Wild quail exploded from just beyond this sign.

Wild quail were burrowed right into the grassy driveway at the Broughton Plantation.



My final stop was the Burge Plantation in Mansfield, Ga.   I walked up on a family shooting 5-stand and struck up a conversation with the dad.  It turns out that Burge Plantation is a private club with a rumored waiting list of 20,000 or 200 or something like that.  So it is eliminated as a training cite.  Burge has a nice looking clubhouse and some interesting sporting clay courses.

Berettas on display at Burge Plantation.

 I visited Burge Plantation and all I got was this T-shirt.

Quail Unlimited's new look

In principle, you should join conservation societies to promote the sport and the dogs that you love.  In the real world, you can inadvertently fund inefficiency and mis-management.  This seems to be the case with Quail Unlimited.

I joined the group because it claimed to be a conservation society, it was headquartered in Edgefield, SC, just across the river from Augusta, and I thought that a local organization in quail country would be the way to go.  The organization claimed:

Quail Unlimited® is a non-profit conservation organization dedicated to the wise use and management of America's wild quail, doves, upland game birds and other forms of wildlife.

Unhappily, for the three years I've been a member, there have been rumors of inefficiency and mis-management that I could never get the straight story on.  The latest magazine obliquely acknowledges some problems by claiming now to be on the right path, but does not explain what they were.  The Edgefield headquarters has been sold, and the group now is organized in Traverse City, Michigan, a beautiful town in the upper midwest (the upper pinkie of the Michigan mitten to be more precise). 

The latest issue of the magazine certainly looks promising, with this beautiful cover.  The photo essay "Wings Afield" is nicely composed and beautifully printed.  Photos of old Parker shotguns by Athens, Ga photographer Terry Allen make you want to cash in your 401(k) and buy one.  There's an article on a repeating shotgun written by the always persuasive smaller-gauge specialist Bill Hanus. 

The new magazine is nicely produced on heavier paper stock.






I took a look at what sort of managerial changes were made in the reorganization.  I cannot tell from the names how the changes will resolve QU's problems.  The Chairman of the Board remains the same, Cameron Harris.  But there seem to be fewer executives and directors in the new organization.  Let's wish QU well in its efforts to preserve, protect, and advance  the sport of upland bird hunting.

There are fewer directors and executives in the new QU.

Summer workouts

Now is the time to get those exercises in that will pay dividends this fall. 

I'm going through my notes to determine what to do with Larsen.  I'll sign up for Rally classes in September.  Right now, I want to get him on the force-fetch table every day for a minute or two, just for the "take" and "give".  These will just be drills, since he understands the commands.  I have to figure out some "here boy" commands that are both fun and repetitive.  I'll work on these in the back yard.  Then I'll move beyond the back yard, probably with the e-collar, to reinforce and improve his decisionmaking.  I've noticed of late that on our hikes, calling him has turned a little more hit-and-miss than it should be.  Larsen is starting to look around before hightailing it back to me.  Unh uh.  Let's get this straight. 

Here's the list of commands we'll work on:

• Here boy.
• Hup.
• Take.
• Give.

We'll also do whistle work on the here boy.

I'll try to take 5 minute breaks twice per day and head out for a few drills.  Some of it depends on the heat and his attitude as well. 

Why we do it

A Welsh Springer Spaniel is first of all a springer.  He is balled up energy.  He is also a spaniel.  He is sweet, sensitive, and block-headed.  On weekend mornings, we drive 35 minutes to go for a walk.  Not simply a walk, exactly, but a hard run over steep hills and deep valleys, through thickets and into the deep green forest and finally down to the lake, which itself falls into deep water only a few feet from the shore.  You run your little dog hard, alone or in a pack of red and whites, until his and their tails stop wagging (a physical impossibility), so that you can get a silly, wall-eyed, out-of-focus picture like this.

After Saturday's hike and swim at Lake Allatoona, the boys settled in for some he-man-style work hanging shelves in the garage.  Larsen watched as I measured twice, cut once, and still had one support board one inch longer than the other.  I tried, with fair success, to make sure that the cabinet was level in two dimensions (side to side and front to back).  Larsen was the ideal companion: amiable, interested, and uncritical.

Larsen does not mention that the support boards are of unequal length.

July 4th

It would be nice indeed to have a cheerful smiling pup showing off his red-white-and-blue collar.  Instead, Larsen's modeling method looks like I should draw a chalk outline and call CSI.

Larsen recovers from his weekend hikes and swims.



 

We all headed to Allatoona on Saturday.  Today, Aki ran the Peachtree, so, meanwhile, Larsen and I thought we would head back to the wilds along that lake.  We hiked the peninsula path at the Civil War monument down to the lake, and then followed the shoreline around the tip of the peninsula.  Ultimately, and because of the crenelated shoreline, we decided to return to the path.  This required some cross-country navigation, which involved a compass and a lot of head scratching.  We finally found our way to the path, which, after all, runs along the spine of the peninsula and in principle should be findable by the simple rule of always walking uphill with the water at your back.

In the mood for more adventure, we struck out for Pine Mountain, just east of Cartersville.  We hiked up the switchbacks until we could see the Allatoona dam.  Finally, we headed home to meet Aki, who showed off her hard-won Peachtree t-shirt.

And that is how I wound up with a dog that today is moving from shadow to shadow and air-vent to air-vent.

To all, a happy 4th.

Cheatgrass

Late summer is a time for cheat grass and foxtail. These grasses are clumpy and whispy. They produce seeds that are shaped like miniature porcupine quills. The seed pods can work their way into nostrils, throats, and even hides (between the toes, for example). The seeds work their way into lungs, abdomen, intestines and can cause severe illness and death.



What should I look for?

Growth Characteristics: A weedy annual grass, 2 inches to 2 feet tall. Has a branched base and is typically rusty-red to purple at maturity. Seeds germinate in the late fall or early spring. Has rapid spring growth, with seeds maturing within 2 months of beginning growth. Reproduces from seeds. An aggressive weed.

Seedhead:Open, drooping, much branched panicle; spikelets contain 5 to 8 florets; glumes and lemmas pubescent or downy; lemmas narrow with awns 5/8 inch long or longer.

Leaves: Pubescent blades and sheaths; blades flat, 1/8 inch to ¼ inch wide; leaves rolled in the bud; ligules 1/16 to 1/8 inch long, membranous, rounded to collar shaped, with long pointed teeth; auricles absent.

http://extension.usu.edu/range/Grasses/cheatgrass.htm

Where is it?

Cheat grass has been identified in Georgia in Carrol county, Bartow, Pike, and Harris on the western side, and in Habersham, Elbert, and Oconee on the north-eastern side. (J.L. Lester WMA is in Polk County, which is just below and to the west of Bartow. Bartow is the green-colored county in the northwest portiono of the map. The green-colored county to the south is Carrol County.)

www.plants.usda.gov



Is this a sub-urban legend?

No.

What should I do?

• Inspect your dog daily for hair mats (where Cheatgrass likes to hide) and between toes.
• Clip the hair between paw pads in dogs to reduce the potential for picking up awns.
• Keep an eye out for excessive sneezing, drooling, head-shaking, ear-scratging ears, whining, licking at their paw or other body part excessively. Have the pet checked by your veterinarian as soon as possible to prevent further damage.
• After a run, do a "tailgate check." Looks for cuts and scratches generally. Check for grass awns in or around the eyes, ears and mouth, between the toes, etc.
  
• An imbedded grass awn left unattended can cause life-threatening complications.

(vetmedicine.about.com)

Resources:
GunDogDoc's Awn Case

Three cars along the Seine

Three classically idiosynchratic cars:  Citroen (2CV), Jaguar (XJ6), and the Saab (900 S CV).  French, English, Swedish.

Ok, a Frenchman, Englishman, and a Swede roll into a bar . . . 

The hunter

Dianna, goddess of the hunt, in the Louvre's Galerie des Caryatides.

Louvre

There are uncountable depictions of mother and child in the Louvre, and each is timeless and precious.

Bring flowers

Tulips in Holland.


Aki said that in Germany, and probably Holland as well, you wouldn't dream of showing up at a dear friend's house without a bundle of flowers. And why not?  With a bag of 50 cheerful tulips available for 7.50 euros.

Back home

That work assignment in Holland was a lot harder and more time consuming than I thought it would be.  It's nice to be home and catching up on recent events (and when did Gilligan's Island go off the air?). 

Aki and I picked Larsen up at the Waynesville, NC show.   He didn't do quite as well there as in Asheville for the simple reason that some other dogs showed up.  Larsen lost out to Starbuck, who is as friendly as he is handsome.  No dishonor there.  Starbuck was 2nd and 3rd in the Sporting Group on Saturday and Sunday, which is a wonderful accomplishment.

All the same, it was great to get our little mutt back.  I've turned the air conditioner blower motor on so that it runs even when the compressor & conditioner are off, giving Larsen some favorite spots (the floor vents) to nap. All is well.

Thanks to Kim at Pocataligo Kennels for her efforts in keeping Larsen, getting him groomed for the Asheville and Waynesville shows, and even running him to Dr. Curry's clinic in Bishopville to address that intestinal problem he seemed to have had.  Really above the call.

Frank LOL

Well, the BOB joke is on me.

I was so happy for little Larsen in his (not one, but two) BOBs on Saturday and Sunday in Asheville, NC.  It turns out (and Susan W. was nothing if not diplomatic in her information to me) that Larsen was the only WSS at the show.

That certainly  paves the way.

In any event, Meghen Basel was the judge, and she knows Larsen well.  I'm sure she has her own private thoughts about his strengths and weaknesses in the conformation ring.  Still, it is all for the good.  Larsen was out, being handled, and being asked to move about the ring.  A good weekend for him and a nice, if evanescent surprise for me.

Larsen BOB

That's the text message I got from Kim Parkman while standing in a hotel lobby in Holland.  It came at wonderful time.  My work team had finally completed its business project, which had us working long hours for over two weeks.  We were gathering in the lobby to eat dinner and celebrate the conclusion of the project  when I got the buzz of a text message from Asheville, North Carolina, 4,300 miles away.  Kim was kind enough to let me know.

Rindi Gaudet of  Conundrum Farms handled Larsen.  Rindi has handled Larsen before.  She had him in the ring when he got his first Major in Montgomery, Alabama and when he got his second Major and championship points in Greenville, SC.  She really gets a great performance out of Larsen.  

What a nice way to end the week.  The hard work in Holland is over, and Larsen is having a good outing in Asheville.

Like any Western city, the Haag has a goodly share of modern buildings from the 1984 totalitarian school of design.  It still has city sections that are beautiful and timeless.

Cityscape near the Centerum (city center) of the Hague.

Nature red in tooth and claw

In the courtyard of the Peace Palace is a magnificent porcelain fountain. It was a gift from Denmark, or, as the Peace Palace website says, from Greenland, which at one time was in Denmark's empire.

Look carefully at this spectacular fountain. Look at what it shows. At the top of the pyramid are the polar bears. Ermine, regal, malevolent. In one bear's claw is a salmon. In another's, an unlucky seal. Surrounding the bears at the bottom of the pyramid are other seals, barking and crying out. Inset into the pedestal is a human face showing distress.

This is nature's immutable law.  It is the law that awaits us when our own system of laws fails.

Porcelain polar bears on
the hunt.

Seals mourn their fate.

An unhappy fate, below the polar bear but above the seals.

Going to market

Pablo and I rode our bikes to market this morning to pick up some snacks for the team.  Bread, fruit, cheese, bananas, yogurt.  We stopped at the bakery to pick up some of those fabulous French baguettes, and here is where the story gets interesting.

We spotted a small, dense, dark, and seed-covered loaf sitting behind the counter.  The story was that this was a traditional Dutch bread made with traditional Dutch grains - - heirloom grains.  Years ago, the EU had mandated consistent grains across Europe, said the baker.  In permitting this non-standard bread, it seems that the bureaucrats in Brussels had made a minor concession to the lowly subjects who sought to keep a small traditional connection to the past.

The loaf was sold unbaked.  I wondered if that was part of the regulation.  (Well, we are technically not selling non-conforming bread, you see, because it is not baked and so it is not bread.)  The baker was kind enough to turn her back on Brussels and bake it for us while we ran off to a cafe.

With that story behind it, and as it was hot from the oven, the bread was, of course, especially good.

It didn't take long for us to plow into this fresh, hot loaf of dark Dutch bread.

We picked up some cheese and other delicacies.

Pablo ok's the cheese.