Cockers on the Coast

During the past 12 months, our cockers retrieved a substantial number of upland birds; a multitude of ducks; two hare; and one insolent, crow. This bounty - except for the crow - went to our freezer, and eventually to our table. We don’t eat the socks, pot holders, cloth napkins, firewood, spent shells, and shot wads they retrieve without being asked; we forgive them for that. They are irrepressible clowns, and ours often get away with some things they shouldn’t because we’re laughing too hard to discipline them. They are our dogs for all seasons.

	Dutch brings in a black duck at low tide on a snowy Maine day. Photo by: Author

During upland bird season, the cockers earn at least a part of their keep working for my Maine Guide husband. During the waterfowl season, the dogs don their neoprene vests for duck-hunting adventures here on the coast. In late winter when we’re ready for some warmth and more action, we might take off for Mississippi and some quail hunting. Springtime and early fall bring hunt tests and field trials, goals to shoot for, plus we love hanging out with dog people.

UPLAND
Cockers are fierce on pheasants, a bird that seems to bring out the best, and occasionally the worst, in our dogs. They don’t give up on cripples and if necessary will follow birds underground to retrieve them. Wild pheasant abound on some of our Maine islands, and a privileged few of us get to hunt them - aren’t we lucky?. The warm ocean water moderates the island temperatures; there are no significant predators, and acres of wild roses cover vast areas of the islands, where the pheasants hang out. Few humans or self-respecting dogs would attempt following a runner into the thorny muddle, but the cockers like the chaos just fine. I must say it is a bonus to hunt pheasants with the Atlantic Ocean and working lobster boats as a backdrop. It is also a kick to get there in a four-seater island hopper with the dogs peering out airplane windows just as if they were in the pickup.

On the mainland, we have few pheasants, but do see a healthy number of grouse and woodcock. We hunt the heavier cover on the peninsulas where a close working dog is a must. They quarter through what would be impenetrable cover for most dogs and all humans. And when they encounter promising scent, their pace shifts into high gear, the wagging tail becomes a blur, the nose does some serious ground work, and their pattern becomes excitingly erratic. Eventually, we hear the flush, and hopefully we have enough of an opening to get a clear shot. Sometimes a confused bird flies right at us in an effort to escape the charging spaniel.

WATERFOWL

When you live on the Maine coast you see ducks everywhere and new priorities surface. Photo by: Author

Several years ago, a full day’s upland hunt was all we expected from our flushing dogs. But,.. when you live on the Maine coast, you see ducks everywhere, and new priorities surface. During duck season, if we have a precious hour of down time, we slip on the coveralls, grab our 12-gauges, and call the anxious cocker with the liver and white face. We head out the door, walk down the drive, and disappear into the thick spruce woods. The three of us take our positions at the edge of the woods along the rocky cliffs of the river and wait; this particular cocker waits well. Forty minutes later we can be back, two shells lighter, with the dog displaying a fine drake golden eye for the benefit of his jealous canine companions.

One day on the way home from the post office in our small village, we saw a flock of black ducks drifting and working their way along the edge of a narrow cove. They were feeding on the incoming tide, so we turned off the blacktop and followed a narrow tote road in as far as possible. My husband grabbed the shotgun and ammo; I grabbed the black cocker - the one who doesn’t wait so well.

	Dutch watches over his golden eye. Photo by: Author

An early November snow dusted the landscape, and we pointed at the bright red apples topped in white still hanging on the old tree near the shore. I followed my husband down the confined trail with my over zealous companion on lead. The dog and I stopped at the apple tree, while man and gun continued on. The light snow muffled his steps as he moved away, and I laid a calming hand on the cocker.

We didn’t have long to wait; a single shot soon echoed across the cove. I released the dog, then heard, "Dead bird; get back." By the time I clambered through the snow-covered spruce, the dog was swimming back toward us, a large black duck in his grip. He didn’t put it down as he pulled himself over the rock weed and up the bank. He came to us in his typical style: no shake, and prancing slowly before the delivery, unlike our liver and white who has a more expeditious delivery, followed by a leap into the air for one more up close and personal, a common cocker trait.

Snow coated my husband’s legs and arms, evidence he crawled the last yards toward the water’s edge and the crafty blacks. That’s nothing new; sometimes we even slither on our bellies and like it. When duck hunting, we’ll use whatever method the situation calls for - a few somewhat unconventional.

For example, on very cold days my husband sometimes goes to the edge of the river without me or a dog and waits until a sea duck comes close enough for a decent shot. If he drops the bird, he reaches in his pocket and calls me on the cell phone or walkie-talkie. I open the door and a spaniel streaks to his side within seconds. Within minutes, the dripping dog and duck are back in the warm house, sometimes accompanied by the handler, sometimes not.

We never trained for this particular scenario, but the dogs know where he is and they will retrieve to either of us. That started accidentally in the house when I’d see a cocker with my husband’s sock or vice versa. Sending the dogs to each other became a habit and they do it nicely. The commands we use aren’t particularly dignified, and I’ve never seen them in a training manual, but they have come in handy for us.

We’re not totally bizarre in our duck hunting approach, however; most of the time we’re remarkably ordinary. We use a canoe, put out decoys along the edge of a narrow dead end cove, then pull back into the cover of trees to wait. When the ducks come in, we get a bonus - two chances for shots: once as the birds fly in, another when they fly out. With Buffleheads, you need all the opportunities you can get. The dogs are used to the canoe and, if necessary, we use both dogs to make the retrieves.

SUMMER TRAINING

The summer we purchased the canoe, we made sure the cockers got accustomed to riding in it and retrieving from it IF SENT. These dogs are light enough to pluck out of the water, but we haven’t figured how to keep ourselves dry during the process. Not so bad in July, but December is another story.

Tracking ducks is another summer skill the dogs can practice on the water. We use a resident clip wing mallard, turn it loose in the weeds of a local pond, then wait a while before sending the dog. The duck swims and dives to escape, but the dog persists and eventually brings it in none the worse for wear. We use the same mallard over and over year ’round for a variety of training activities on land and water that pay off during the regular season and in competition. The training provides another more significant reward - safety. We can call a tenacious dog off a diving cripple that’s heading into a sea full of ice.

In all seasons, these rough-shooting little dogs accommodate our demands plus demonstrate an astounding ability to think for themselves. Because of them, our hunting and competitive interests have broadened and the laughter in our home has multiplied. Our larder is full, and the pleasure they bring us in and out of the home more than makes up for soiled socks, pot holders, napkins,........whatever.