Daughters, Dogs, and Fishing

(as published in the Mountain Gazette, April 18, 2013)

Once again I’m writing from the road – an all too often occurrence. It’s a bit more of a challenge writing about the outdoors when you are in the city and you don’t have the great outdoors staring you in the face like you do back in Vermont.

So here I sit, surrounded by my outdoor reading material, lugged all the way from Vermont for writing inspiration – a Ruffed Grouse Society magazine; Fly Fisherman magazine with a “cannibal trout” on the cover; a spring edition of Northern Woodlands, featuring an article on “how young animals disperse” – clearly aimed at graduating seniors from college; and two issues of Northwoods Sporting Journal, featuring articles on “big trout tactics,” “ice out brook trout,” and “a boy’s first gun.”

My daughter Katie called and suggested that I write about the difficulty of training a bird dog in suburbia, which is where we got our first bird dog. Now I can’t get the thought of dogs we’ve had over the years out of my head. I trained my first bird dog about a mile away from where I’m now writing. (OK, for those keeping score, he was about the only really trained dog I’ve had.)

It wasn’t really that hard training a bird dog in the suburbs of Washington. It was most difficult training a bird dog with two little girls around who tried to undo any obedience I tried to instill. I remember coming home one night after a long day and was greeted by my two little darlings giggling hysterically. I asked them what was so funny and they said in unison, “Look at Daddy’s bird dog!” Then old Tupper comes running to the door wagging his tail. I think he was wagging his tail, but it was tough to see since he was wearing Little Mermaid panties. My little girls couldn’t have been more proud of themselves. Never has a good bird dog been more disgraced.

It was in training Tupper (a Brittany) that I first got published in Gun Dog magazine. I had sent in a training tip and a picture of Tupper. I still have the page from the magazine framed and hanging in the house. I even sent Tupper away for a few weeks to be worked on birds. When I went to pick him up the trainer was telling me all that he could do, all obedience training stuff. I think the trainer was hoping I’d be impressed. I wasn’t. “He could do all that when I dropped him off,” I said. Truth is you don’t have to live in the country to train a bird dog well on basic obedience commands you will use in the field.  Obedience training can be done anywhere…except maybe around a house with two little girls and a dog-indulgent wife.

Maddie helping to pick out our first gun dog

Tupper was a great dog. He had a good nose, was biddable, loved to hunt, and he could play “dress-up” with the best of them. He has been gone for over five years, but you never forget a really good dog…or a really bad one. My dad still hasn’t forgotten or forgiven Bentley, our first pound-rescued dog, for drinking his martini. Stories of Bentley could fill a book. He was a miscreant from the beginning – chewing everything, soiling the carpet, the refrigerator door, cabinets…don’t ask. His most redeeming characteristic, and it may have been his only one, was that he was great with children – especially ours. Whenever we returned from a walk the first thing he’d do was find the girls, then plop himself down and watch over his flock. He was a Bearded Collie after all.

The memory of each dog we’ve had recalls a stage in the life of our family. Thinking of Bentley, after suppressing memories of cleaning up after him, brings up memories of being newly married and starting a family. Tupper and Dixie (an Australian Shepherd) saw our transition from Virginia to Vermont. Calvin Coolidge, aka “smiling” Cal (a Brittany) and Cabot (an English Setter) are our “native” Vermont dogs and kept the nest from becoming too empty.

“Dogs,” thanks for the idea, Katie. You can train a dog anywhere, just like you can start and raise a family. But when it comes to “finishing” a bird dog or a child, is there any place better than Vermont?

OK, what about fish? As if I had forgotten. Fish are good to eat, but more fun to catch. Bass catch & release season opens April 13^th. Regular Bass season opens June 8^th and runs through November 30^th. Trout and Landlocked Salmon season opens on April 13^th and runs through October 31^st (no closed season on the big lake). Finally, Walleye season opens May 4^th and runs through March 15^th (2014) for all waters except the Connecticut River and Chittenden Reservoir.

Happy days afield. Please visit www.sportingafield.blogspot.com for more news, musings, and interviews or to leave questions or comments.

The winter solstice:

A. The shortest day of the year
B. The longest night of the year
C. The Mayan end of the world
D. Time to plan a fishing trip

Me and Dad at Libby's a few years back

Forget that it is the shortest day of the year or the darkest day. Forget that some think the Mayans predicted that the world will end today. Let's be honest, can you think of a better time to start planning a late-spring fishing trip? Yes, the correct answer is D.  Thoughts of standing in a clear mountain river with the sun warming up the day, eager trout taking your poorly cast fly, enjoying the day with family...you get the idea...warm and idyllic. This seems a lot better than perpetual darkness or the end-time. Come on, you can't have the end-time right before Christmas. You'd never know whether you got the rod or reel, hunting jacket, pocket knife, or SmartWool socks you wanted.

I started planning for the annual fishing trip that my brothers and I take with our dad. OK, it's not always every year, but we try. We are looking for a motel and trying to nail down prospective dates between children graduating from college and work commitments.

brother Jim at Bog River Falls

Last year we fished the West Branch of the Ausable River in New York. It was our first time on the river and we were guided by our cousin Jim Boucher (pronounced Bushey). This was confusing since my brother's name is also Jim (last name Boushie, pronounced Bushey). Hence all fishing stories reference "cousin" Jim and/or "brother" Jim. We had a great time. One reason may have been that we actually caught a fair number of fish. A fair number of fish for us was some fish, any fish. We even caught some smallmouth bass over on Tupper Lake. Pretty astounding for our group.

Dad and cousin Jim on Ausable (real fish)

We hope to catch even more fish this year. We are also hoping brother Kirk can come, that our waders don't leak, that no one's reel breaks, and that only an acceptable number of flies and lures are lost.

I wish you and your families a very merry Christmas and happy, healthy New Year.  Happy days afield.