NAVHDA - The North American Versatile Hunting Dog Association

Most of you know that I am a member of the Merrimack Valley Chapter of NAVHDA.  Some of you have asked "What K-Lee is learning?"  (Actually, I'm the one that's learning!)  

The purpose of NAVHDA is "to foster, promote, and improve the versatile hunting dog breeds in North America; to conserve game by using well trained reliable hunting dogs before and after the shot; and to aid in the prevention of cruelty to animals by discouraging non-selective and uncontrolled breeding, which produces unwanted and uncared-for dogs."   Sounds like a mouthful doesn't it!  Each word is carefully crafted to capture the efforts of NAVHDA. www.navhda.org/about

The manner in which NAVHDA members measure their progress in their training regimens is by conducting "tests" along the way.  For instance, a young pup is entered into a "Natural Ability Test" which measures its inherent abilities as a versatile gun dog.  (K-Lee took underwent this test years ago.  Now,--though delayed by surgery-- she is working on the "Utility Preparatory Test" (UPT) which is a stepping stone towards the "Utility Test" (UT).  The "Utility Test"--in my opinion-- is the test that measures the amount of completeness in the training and discipline (manners) of a versatile hunting dog.  The "Utility" is the highest local test that is run, and anyone would be extremely pleased to own a dog that ranked high in the UT. www.navhda.org/testing

Did I mention that the dogs are measured against a strict written standard?  Unlike some tests that complete one dog against another, NAVHDA tests carefully compare the performance of each dog against a written standard.  Thus, a dog can be awarded a Prize I, Prize II, Prize III, etc. or can receive "no prize".  Personally, I like this because it is more specific as to abilities and weaknesses of the dog being tested.  A dog that receives the highest rating possible is invited to the International "Invitational", where the dogs compete to obtain the title of "Versatile Champion".

Last September, Scott Linden's "Wingshooting USA", filmed an episode at the 2015 "Invitational" of NAVHDA.  I enclose the "YouTube" link for your viewing pleasure.   I must say, I think "Wingshooting USA" did a great job in presenting  the story for viewers.  Thanks Scott!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3DVrReefWk 

If clicking the provided link does not take you to the video, simply copy and past the address into your browser.

The 2016 "Invitational" will be held in New Sharon, Iowa September 15-18.
If you would like to know more, go to the NAVHDA.org website, or visit your local chapter.  You may find a new friend there!

WHY DO DOGS DO THAT??

We've all noticed it--the things that dogs do that seem to defy logic. 

"Grazin' in the Green Grass"

A dog can smell a bird at nearly thirty or more yards, but when it comes to "skat", a dog will put his nose within three millimeters and seem to check out the donor's DNA.  ...Or how about the meat-eating dog that is a great hunter and can (with wonderful slight-of-tongue) remove the breast meat of the day's first grouse during a retrieve to the boss....and then start grazing on green grass like a steer. 

Of course there's the licking, elbows, "nethers", and such.  (I asked my mentor once why dogs did that and he paused for a moment, thought, and said, "Because they can." and walked off.)

However, this month's "Why Do Dogs Do That" trophy should go to K-Lee.  

A certain member of the family--who is related to me by marriage and whose name will remain unsaid--left a "partial" (denture) on the nightstand next to the TV chair.  A little voice inside this relative-of-mine said NOT to leave it there, but --as we all often do--the little voice was ignored.  It was such a small decision.

Evidence

Evidence of the stealthy Pudelpointer's mischief was found in the adjoining room.



 
Our dentist now drives a BMW.

OBSERVATIONS AT THE WATER'S EDGE

Each month, my field artillery unit "brothers"  and friends gather for lunch at a local restaurant.  We are loud (We lost most of our hearing due to cannons--and perhaps 'rock and roll'.), boisterous (In the middle of the restaurant, we start by pledging allegiance to the flag.) and happy.  Sometimes we talk about our aches and pains, but most of the time we talk about life--and express our opinions.  (How do we!)  There is very pleasant, young waitress (Nearly everyone is young to us!) who takes care of the entire group (usually over 20 men) and does a great job.  She knows that if she keeps our glasses filled, we will all be so engaged with each other that it won't matter how long it takes for the meal to come out.  Besides that, the food isn't that bad either!

We were a National Guard unit that went "active" Army during the Vietnam War. Some of us joined simply because we preferred to serve with people we knew--"our" people--rather than be drafted. (Enough said about that!)  We are a brotherhood--molded, with a common bond. 

(Bring) Down the Plane

As I understand the history, "in the beginning", our unit was a rifle company, and later made into an anti-aircraft battery that was deployed in World War I. It was then that it gained its crest--which you can see here.  When I "signed up", folks said it meant "Down with the plane". (which seemed like "political protest" at the time, but I accepted it.  It was the sixties.)  I've since determined that a more correction translation of "A BAS L'AVION"  would be the command to 'down' the plane or in today's language, "(Bring) Down the plane!"

Yesterday, I went to lunch with my "brothers".  Several asked me when the next "post" would be on The Pudelpointer Chronicles.  It pleases me that they enjoy it.  Here it is.

Morning on the Merrimack

That very morning I was doing water drills with K-Lee at the Merrimack River, and I observed something that made interrupt the training for a while and let her "do her thing".  There must have been turbulence upriver at the dams because there were hundreds of little foamy bubble-patches approximately 3 by 6 inches floating down the river.  They had about the consistency of soap bubbles blown by a child.  K-Lee was distracted in our retrieving drills, and would stop partway in her return to investigate the foamy "patches" that drifted by.  At first, I was trying to correct her behavior. 


Then a small voice inside me whispered that she had never seen anything like that before, so I took the bumper from her as she sat by my side and then released her to go play.  

She swam to the middle of the river and popped the bubble patches like a child popping bubbles that someone else was blowing.  (I thought back to how I would pop bubbles when I was a child.  Now I have very little interest.)  Thinking that she would go through this experience and then tire of it, I gave her freedom--without correction--to "pop" as many the foam "rafts" as she wanted.  It took a while, but she finally was satisfied.  Seeing that she was ready, we began again--with more success.

Water Retrieve

Early in today's morning cool, patches of the river's surface sparkled like diamonds in a jeweler's showcase.  Several schools of tiny minnows were feeding on the surface.  Each time a minnow broke the surface, its splash twinkled with a captured ray of the early morning sun. I released K-Lee to investigate.  After all, she's a "thinking" dog--like a child in so many ways. She tried to catch the minnows without success.  Now, it's not a new thing for her and she can more readily problem-solve the task at hand.

So the rhetorical question I have is this:  "Are we taking the time to let our children and grandchildren have experiences that build up their confidence and understanding--are we allowing them to fail and learn from the failure -- or are we (for our own expedience's sake) telling them "what" to do, "when" to do it, and (sometimes) "why"-- when we should be letting them discover 'the law of consequence' and how to benefit from it??  

After all, when you don't get what you want, you get wisdom.

WHY I LOVE A PICK-UP

Present iteration

One afternoon, many years ago,  my friend John and I put my black dog "Criquette" in the back of his "pride and joy" Ford Bronco and we piled into the front.   With our shotguns and bird hunting gear, we were bound for a cornfield where we were sure there were birds aplenty.  After more than an hour's drive through the mountains, we descended towards the intervale.    Like a couple of Army Rangers, we paused and reviewed the terrain from an overlooking hill.  The plan was that Criquette would bust up the birds and we'd get shots.  It was going to be great!

Careful not to interfere with the still-standing corn, we moved between rows and along pathways.  It wasn't too long before we realized that birds were running ahead of us and we weren't closing the distance.  In a flash of brilliance, we carefully pulled out of the corn and performed an "end-run" to head off those running birds.  It was reminiscent of Stonewall Jackson's move on the Union Army in Virginia.

We were functioning like a well-oiled machine--dog included.  It was going to be one of those special moments when everything comes together.  We moved westward along the edge of the field.  Sensing the urgency of the moment, Criquette decided to make her move. She bounded over the stone wall and into the corn.  Our olfactory senses told us that she had come face to face with a mature skunk.  Both of them were spooked, but the smell that immediately filled the air told us which animal was spooked more!  ...or at least the skunk was faster on the draw!  A quick hundred yard trip to the Connecticut River did little to remove the odor emanating from the dog. We now had a combination of "skunk" and "wet dog" smell.

We figured, "What the heck!" and tried to finish the hunt, but by then, the dog, John and I were totally distracted.  The sun was setting,  so we finally decided to call it a day. With everyone in the Bronco, we headed home.  As we rolled along, we noticed that the pungent smell seemed to be gone.  John said,  "I guess the smell wore off." 

Feeling hungry and only about a half-way home, we stopped at a local roadside diner.   We walked right in and sat ourselves in a booth where we could keep an eye on the Bronco.  The waitress came to the table, took one look at us and --with a tone that indicated she was on the verge of hostility-- said, "Do you want this 'to go'?"  Oblivious to her hint and a bit tired, we decided to just "rest a bit".  We casually said, "We'll eat in."

As we waited for our food, we noticed people starting to file out of the diner.  The exodus started with the booth next to us.  Then others paid and left.  We figured that it was just 'that time of night' when business was slowing down. Shortly, our waitress brought the food, but didn't hang around.  We thought she was rather "cold" to be a waitress...maybe they were short on help.

We finished our sandwiches and left a tip--just to show we were "gentlemen".    Eager to get back, John got behind the wheel and we finished the drive home.

He dropped me off and headed home.  My wife-- who has a sense of smell that rivals that of a German Shorthaired Pointer--shrieked at me when I came into the kitchen and drove the dog and  me back onto the porch while spraying a can of Lysol.  With temerity that rivaled my old Army Drill Sergeant, she shouted  "Strip!!!" and handed me a garbage bag with instructions to leave my clothes outside for later incineration.  I was ordered to carry the dog to the shower so Criquette wouldn't track the smell into the house.  Through the closed bathroom door, I was told not to come out until the "job was done"--meaning that there should be no smell.   After several "wash cycles" and   de-skunking attempts, the job was "done" and the dog and I wondered what happened to her sense of humor.

Dogs have their own "suite"

John suffered another fate.  Although he didn't have the dog, he had the Bronco.  The interior fabric--seats, carpet, headliner et al-- was apparently saturated with "eau de skunk"!  Typically, John is a "can do" sort of guy, and good Karma seems to follow him around.  However, it seemed that John was not going to dodge the bullet on this adventure! The next day, John took the Bronco to a car dealership and traded it. He said that he was planning to do that anyway, but I think he wanted to get rid of the smell.  He never complained to me--not even once! That's what kind of friend he is!

Although there was a faint, lingering hint of "eau de skunk", our wives forgave us for stinking up their "domain".  A few nights out at local restaurants helped. John ended up with a Nissan 280-Z, and me...  I'm older now and, ...

Well, that's why I love a pickup truck with a kennel in the back!

BOBCATS and BLACK BEAR HAVE ONE THING "IN COMMON"

An Army buddy shared several pictures of a Bobcat that visited his yard.  They are magnificent creatures!  My friend had a once in a lifetime event.

We have a couple of bobcat pictures in our entryway that were taken by Roger Irwin, a professional outdoors photographer and friend.  Some of his work can be seen at  (http://www.rogerirwinphotos.com/)

Thinking about a squirrel breakfast

Recently, the State of New Hampshire had to settle an issue concerning whether or not to have a limited (50) bobcat hunt.  The "massaging" of information and half-truths was interesting to see.  As I carefully looked at what was being said, I realized that the bobcat --and significant money--was being used to further 'other' agendas--non-hunting agendas to be specific.   I'm not sure how New Hampshire will weather this, for it was surely the first shot across the bow of the hunting community and it went mostly unanswered.  That mustn't continue.

In Maine last year, a significant struggle between scientific game management practices--which include hunting--and emotional "feel-good" politics took place using the black bear as its poster-child.  Fortunately the good folks in Maine figured it all out and wisdom prevailed.

So the next time you see a TV commercial with sad music that begs money for a poor mistreated puppy...or perhaps a furry little kitten, ask yourself: "Where does this money really go, and how will it be spent?"   In my opinion, 'national' humane organizations are little more than political action groups in a fur coat.  For that reason, my wife and I only donate to local shelters where all the money/food/bedding goes directly to the shelter. It takes slightly more work to go locally, but by doing so, I feel that the charity we 'offer up' is not being turned against us. 

 

 



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