Archive for August, 2015

A few posts ago, titled “Why we need Codes of Conduct,” I noted that the Irish Water Spaniel Club of America, of which I am a member, was preparing a new Code of Conduct to propose to the membership. I ended that post by saying that I hoped it would propose one that I could agree with. The club is planning to require members to agree and adhere to the Code of Conduct, and I’d really like to stay a member if I can.

Unfortunately, although much of the proposed code is well written and well thought out, there is a requirement I can’t agree with (although, so far, I have adhered to it).

I wrote a letter to my fellow members, asking that they reject the proposed code. Here is a copy of the letter I wrote:

Dear fellow club members:

I got my ballot yesterday, and with it, the printed proposed Code of Conduct and its Addendum. And I want to thank the committee for their very hard work on this. It can’t have been an easy task.

I love the Addendum to the Code of Conduct. It embodies everything I have tried to work toward in my own behavior in owning, caring for, competing with, and breeding my dogs.

I can agree with most of the Code of Conduct, but in my opinion, it has a serious flaw. My issue is with these sections:

“1.Breeding the purebred Irish Water Spaniel with a non-­‐purebred Irish Water Spaniel can jeopardize the continuance of the unique characteristics of the breed.”
combined with
“It is our desire that the Board of Directors take appropriate action against any member who does not uphold these basic tenets.”

It is true that, done irresponsibly, breeding an IWS with a non-IWS could potentially jeopardize the breed. But this section does not discuss only irresponsible mixed breeding. It implies an assumption that all mixed breeding is irresponsible, and therefore, sanctionable.

I had a wonderful IWS. He was my dear companion, beautiful, talented, and recognized for his many and varied achievements. He had the unique characteristics of the breed in both appearance and in behavior. But he also inherited propensities for health issues that significantly impacted his quality of life and shortened his lifespan.

He was not alone.

If you are on Facebook, or are otherwise following the many IWS around the world, you have seen how so many recently have died way too young of cancer, like my dog. Like my dog, a number of IWS have suffered through Symmetrical Lupoid Onychodystrophy, which has recently been implicated in the same genes that regulate thyroid levels. I’m sure many of you could come up with many more examples of genetically involved health issues in our breed.

What I don’t want our club to do is make impossible a project like the The Dalmation Study: The Genetic Correction of Health Problems. In this project, concerned Dalmation breeders wanted to keep the characteristic Dalmation spots, but not the high uric acid levels that seem to come along with those spots. So, this project included a backcross of an English Pointer, which have the spots but not the high uric acid levels. It took planning and many generations, and a lot of discussion and disagreement, but these healthy Dalmations are now registered in the AKC as Dalmations.

Instead, I would like us to support breeders who responsibly mix IWS with non-purebred-IWS as part of a breeding program with the goal of creating physically and temperamentally healthier IWS. If we really feel it’s necessary, we can sanction those members who do it just to sell “designer” puppies or who mis-represent their puppies.

You might be one of those people who think, “Well, I’m not a breeder, so this doesn’t apply to me.” But it does apply to you if you want IWS who are as healthy as they are beautiful, now and into the future.

You might also be thinking, “Well, how do we define the difference between responsible and irresponsible mixed breeding?” Or you might be dreading the inevitable disagreements that would come with that discussion. Or possibly you are thinking that if everyone would just get on with this and agree with the Code of Conduct, then this would all just be over and done with, and we don’t have to think about this anymore.

Well, I think about it. I don’t want any more IWS to suffer like my beloved Cooper did. And if we as a club can support efforts to prevent that, then I think that’s what we should do.

Please vote no on this Code of Conduct. Let’s try again.


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This last weekend was the debut for Carlin in the hunt test world. But Ms. Tooey also plays in this game from time to time. She already has her Junior titles in retrieving and spaniel upland work, so I entered her into the Senior level spaniel test last weekend put on by the Northwest English Springer Spaniel Club. Tooey was a late bloomer in the world of field dogs, but when she discovered upland work, she turned into a great hunting dog. Last hunting season she put up and retrieved about 50 birds. And with our last week in Montana, she has now produced birds in 8 states*.

As we followed an English Cocker Spaniel onto the course, this test got off to an awkward start. That dog flushed a bird near the beginning, picked it up and brought it only 2/3rds of the way back, dropped it and proceeded to run uncontrolled around the course, flushing up all the remaining birds. I am sure this not only embarrassed the handler, but probably put the judges on edge and lowered their tolerance level for poor dog work.

And so we had to anxiously wait until the course was replanted with birds and start back at the beginning. Tooey flushed her first bird to the right and the gunner dropped it at the edge of the course. She promptly picked it up and made a very polite delivery to hand from the seated position.

Bird #1 on the way

Bird #1 on the way

Bird #1 delivered to hand

Bird #1 delivered to hand

Further up on the left side, Tooey flushed her second bird. Unfortunately, the gunner did not get a quick, clean kill, and the wounded bird ran a bit before Tooey tracked it down. And then the bird put up some resistance to being picked up in the mouth of a 70 pound dog. Tooey managed to get a firm grip over the fighting bird, but not before a third pheasant flew up a few away from where Tooey was sitting (with a live bird in her mouth).

She patiently waited and watched to see if this new bird was going to be shot and where it might land for yet another third retrieve. The judge told the gunner to let that third bird go, and so as soon as it left the area, I called to Ms. Tooey, still quietly sitting with a live bird in her mouth, in for her second retrieve. And yet again from the sitting position, she delivered it to hand. That is steadiness that one could only lust for in a Master level spaniel.

Bird #2

Bird #2

Here is your bird sir

Here is your bird sir. May I have another?

So with less than a third of the course covered, Tooey put up and retrieved two pheasants and was rock steady for a third flush. (Maybe I should have entered her in the Master level test?) After the Juniors were to run their field work, the Seniors and Masters were to move on to the “hunt dead” work and the water series. I put Tooey back in the car and positioned myself to watch Patrice run a spectacular Carlin in his Junior land series.

However, before that series started, one of the judges called me over to tell me that he had failed Tooey on the land series and she was out for the rest of the test.

Say What?

He did not think that she hunted that well and should have shown more enthusiasm in her quest for the birds. (Like that Cocker?) Hunt tests have rules, and the bottom line is that dogs are judged on their hunting style and not just on their finding and returning the two birds.

What the photos do not show is that behind Tooey and me are two judges, two gunners, and small gallery of people, including the next dog that was going to run. Tooey always keeps an eye out for strangers, and as a consequence, she monitored these interlopers while still finding and retrieving pheasants. I suspect that her keeping a cautious eye on the crowd slowed her quartering speed, and the judge may have been a bit cranky as he watched the prior Cocker scare $100 worth of pheasants into the sky.

But, if one is going to fail, one can not ask for a better performance with master-level steadiness.

Maybe it’s just time to visit more states to add to Tooey’s real-world hunting chops. (Nebraska and the Dakotas are next.)

*To date Tooey has found, flushed, and retrieved birds in Oregon, California, Washington, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Montana, and British Columbia.

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During the 2-hour drive down to Monmouth, Oregon for Sunday’s upland hunt test (also put on by the NWESSC), I remembered another second event I competed in, this one with Tooey.

Back in 2010, I showed Tooey in conformation at the June Puyallup shows — on Saturday, she showed beautifully and got Best of Winners, but on Sunday, nothing. As we were disappointedly leaving the ring on Sunday, Colleen came up to me and said, “You got complacent. You won yesterday, so you thought you’d win today. You can’t do that. Every time, you have to bring your best to the ring.”

She was absolutely right, and that’s what I was thinking about on Sunday as we drove to the test. Carlin passed his first Junior upland test on Saturday, but that didn’t mean he’d pass on Sunday. Regardless of the previous test’s beautiful scores, I had to bring my best game to the field this time, too.

Fortunately, the boy did it again.


It was tougher on Sunday, though. You can see that by his scores. Instead of all 9s and 10s like on Saturday, on Sunday there were a 7 and an 8.


I’m not sure why, but I think there could be two potential explanations. Let me explain.

First, it’s possible that Carlin just doesn’t do well on the 2nd day of any kind of event. That would be like his uncle Cooper. Cooper had a hard time on 2nd days, whether in field events or Rally. It’s like his brain was over-tired and he couldn’t focus as well.

Another possibility is that Carlin was just too amped up by having to watch other dogs work the field and get birds. I noticed this in Montana, on the day when he had to watch two other dogs work on the water before him. Although he did a nice swim out to the bird, he couldn’t, for the life of him, focus on holding onto his bird.

What happened at Sunday’s test was this: Carlin was dog #4. Dog #1 took the first 1/2 of the course to get his birds. That meant that Dog #2, who had followed Dog #1, started in the middle of the course. From the middle to the end of the course, Dog #2 hunted up one bird. So then, Dog #2 had to come back to the beginning to the course to try to get his 2nd bird. So, as Dog #2 was working, Dog #3 followed in the gallery behind Dog #2, anticipating that Dog #2 would finish well before the middle of the course. Given that assumption, they asked Carlin and I to follow Dog #3 down the course, figuring that we’d start maybe 2/3 to 3/4 of the way down the course.

So that meant that Carlin had to watch Dogs #2 and #3 run the course and flush birds, while he wasn’t getting any of that action. And as it turned out, Dog #3 needed to work until the end of the course, so after Carlin and I had walked the whole course, Carlin didn’t get to work, so we had to walk all the way back to the beginning.

This whole time, Carlin was wiggling and vocalizing. He wanted those birds that Dogs #2 and #3 were getting. He was getting more and more amped and less and less focused. By the time we actually got to start, he was ready to totally blast off.

Which he did. I had a real challenge keeping him within gun range. He didn’t respond nearly as quickly to the whistles, and I had to use my voice and him name much more frequently to get him to respond to me.

He did find his birds, though. He trapped his first bird, and brought back to me, but then he dropped it on the ground next to my feet. I didn’t grab it soon enough, and it flew away. The judge wisely told the gunners not to shoot it, so that Carlin would not be rewarded with a retrieve after having dropped his bird. Then, he flushed another bird, which was shot and fell into the heavy corn field that ran along the side of the course. Carlin went right into the corn to try to find the bird, but the judges had me call him out, saying such heavy cover wasn’t fair to a Junior dog. Then, he flushed a third bird, which the gunners shot and Carlin retrieved to hand.


That dropped bird cost us some points, and his wilder running with less response to my commands cost us some points in the Retrieving Abilities and Trained Abilities components, respectively. But he passed, so we were on to the water.

His water work was beautiful. He had the leash looped in front of him, so he couldn’t break. But he didn’t even get up — he was steady and waited until I sent him, and then he left the line with a flying leap. He grabbed the bird, swam back with it, and delivered it nicely to hand.





Carlin was such a good boy, that I gave the bird back to him and let him carry it off the line. We handed the bird to the bird steward, took a picture of the score sheet, and went off to celebrate with ribbon pictures and a satisfied ride home.


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As Carlin and I were walking off the land portion of today’s spaniel hunt test, a fellow participant came up to me and said something like, “It’s so great when the first dog can put on a real show like your dog just did.” And it’s true. Despite the heat in the 90s F, despite the skies hazy with smoke from forest fires in eastern Oregon, and despite my relative lack of experience, Carlin really did put on a show.

The Northwest English Springer Spaniel Club held their annual hunt test at the Lukiamute Valley Pheasants hunting preserve. The field was 8-12″ straw left after the wheat was harvested, dried and yellow in the summer heat, interspersed with the occasional lone corn plant, green weed, and some kind of prickly thistle.


Carlin was the first Junior dog to run, and as we waited for the bird planters to plant the pigeons and for the judges and gunners to get themselves sorted, Carlin stood in a stock tank filled with water to cool off.


The video will tell the story of how the land and water portions of the test went. As you can see, he quartered the field beautifully, turning when I whistled him to turn. He found and flushed his first bird, but the gunners missed it, so as Carlin chased after the bird, the judges told the gunners to let the bird go and asked me to call my dog back. Lo and behold, Carlin did exactly as asked. “Wow,” said one of the judges, “Nice recall.”

He trapped his second bird and brought it back to me, but put it down at my feet. Before I could grab it, that bird flew out of my hands. The gunners brought it down, and Carlin re-retrieved that same bird to hand.

The water work was equally beautiful. I looped his leash around his chest (allowed at the Junior level) to stop him from leaving the line early in case he decided to break. But he didn’t break — he just sat there and waited for me to send him for the bird. And then when I did send him, he went straight out to the bird and straight back (except for that small deviation arriving back at the bank of the Lukaimute River). He delivered that bird to hand, too.

As you can see from the score sheets below, Carlin’s scores were really high — all 9s and 10s. To pass a hunt test, a dog has to get an average of 7 points per test component, with no component being scored below a 5. (Components are the same for all levels, but the higher the level, the more stringently the requirements are applied.)



It was a fun test and a fun day. I was very happy with Carlin’s performance. Plus he got a lot of compliments about his drive, style, and desire to hunt. I did mostly OK, too.

Stay tuned to this station for a report on Sunday’s test.

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The night before Cooper died, I took him to the park and threw bumpers for him. It was a lovely, warm evening, filled with the orange light of sunset. Over the course of a couple of hours, I threw his bumper about 20 times. He ran to retrieve it, then came back and lay down to rest until he was ready for me to throw it again.

Over this past two months since he left us, I have been so grateful to have overcome my inertia that evening and taken Cooper to the park. I knew that he loved to retrieve, almost anything, anywhere, and I wanted to make him happy.

At the time, I had no idea he would die the next day. But I knew it would be soon.

Since then, I’ve thought a lot about that evening. And I’ve come to realize that it was much more than my making Cooper happy. He was making me happy, too.

When I look back at that evening, I can see that his rests between retrieves got longer as the sky darkened. Those retrieves took effort. For each one, he had to heave his fluid-filled body up off the ground, using back leg muscles that had already begun to weaken and whither. He’d trot out to the bumper, pick it up, come back, and lower himself slowly to the ground to rest.

I think Cooper was thinking, ‘She has always loved to throw those bumpers for me. I’ll retrieve them this one last time to make her happy.’

There we were, the two of us, making each other happy. One last time.

Now, one could think that this was just a woo-woo almost-ending to a sad story, but honestly, I think Cooper did quite a lot just to make me happy. All those years in the conformation ring – that he did just because I asked him to. There’s nothing inherently fun about running around in a circle for a minute and having some stranger come up and touch body parts. There is nothing to chase, nothing to retrieve. But he did it, and with some style, too. True, he was a bit goofy, turning to face whatever camera was being clicked at him. But he my beautiful Pretty Boy, and it made me happy to show him off and win his championship.

And then there was Obedience. That I know he did to make me happy, because there is no other reason on God’s green earth to walk around in an apparently random pattern, twice. And even less reason to sit and then lie down 40 feet away from the person who brought you to this shindig. But he did it, eventually, and together we earned his CD.

Now, Rally was a different story. There were many trials when I know he was enjoying himself. It was as if we were dancing together, using familiar moves in new patterns every time. I have pictures of Cooper and me looking at each other during Rally trials, partners in harmony. He kept agreeing to go into the ring, and I kept accepting his invented variations on the exercises. We made each other happy enough that we kept going all the way through his RAE title.

We were a partnership, Cooper and I, because we loved to make each other happy.

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It’s Friday now. We spent half of Wednesday and all of yesterday traveling home from Montana, along rivers and over mountain passes. If this hadn’t been fire season, it would have been a beautiful drive. As it was, the grey, dusty, smoke obscured the skies and the scenery in both Montana and Washington state. We drove past staging areas filled with people and fire-fighting gear, temporary road signs that said, “Fire ahead. DO NOT STOP”, and whole swaths of blackened ground and charred trees. It made me grateful for all these people and the work they do, protecting the wild areas that I love to use and enjoy.

So, having described Wednesday’s land work in my last post, now on to Wednesday’s water work…


The water was this lovely, large pond. We used the same area, marked on the map with a “3”, previously in the week. First Carlin and I watched two other dogs (including Tooey) do their water work. Then it was Carlin’s turn.

The gunners, standing back from the peninsula, were going to try to bring the bird down on the other side of the peninsula, so that Carlin would have a land-water-land-water mark. But, the duck actually landed in the water off the point. Unfortunately, Carlin was not steady this time — in other words, when the gun went off, he got up out of his sit. So I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off the line and back over the dike that contains the pond. (Having watched the other dogs may have been too much distraction for him.)

We tried to use one of the other dogs as a “pick up” dog, but she wasn’t advanced enough in her training to retrieve a bird that she hadn’t seen fall. So, after a break, I brought Carlin back to the line to see if he could get it. I positioned the two of us facing the bird, but Carlin was busy looking around for a gunner rather than looking where I was facing. So at the same time that the gunner put a shot into the water near where the duck was floating, I took Carlin’s collar with my right hand, put my left hand pointing to the bird just to the right of his head, and gave him the hand signal that my obedience trainer is just starting to teach us. He pointed himself in the right direction, and I sent him off with a “take it!”

He did that whole 75-yard swim, directly at the bird. And then he picked it up, and swam directly back, dragging that heavy bird through the milfoil. He held the bird onto the land about half way to me, but then dropped it to shake. Sigh. I went over to him, put the duck back into his mouth, told him so sit, walked off about 8 paces, called him to me, and this time he delivered the duck to hand.

Ok, so one more time.

This time he was steady to shot, and so I sent him off. He swam, picked up the bird, brought it back, and again dropped it to shake when he got back to shore. I put it back into his mouth and told him “Hold”, but he spit it out. I put it back into his mouth again, told him “Hold” again, and he spit it out again. A third time, I put it back in his mouth, and this time also pushed my index finger up into the underside of his chin, lowered my voice an octave, and repeated “Hold”. For 10 very long seconds, I repeated “Good Hold” and he held it. Finally, I said “Drop”, and he put it in my hands.

“Good hold, Carlin. Good boy!” I said. He glanced at me, and wandered off aimlessly. The boy was tired. A full morning’s fieldwork, four 75-yard swims, on top of 4 solid days of training. But then I changed my voice to a song, “Really good, good boy. What a boy, good boy. You a good dog? You get a bird? You got your bird!! Good boy, good dog!” He looked back up, came back to me, and started to dance around trying to get the duck I still held in my hand. We played and I sang “What a good boy! What a good dog! Good boy, good dog.”

It was a good time to stop for the day. I didn’t really want to stop for the week because an opportunity to train like this is a rare luxury. But I could see that we were all tired and could use a lazy day at home. So we said goodbye to Richard and Laura, packed up, and took off west and south for home.

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Today, Wednesday, was not supposed to be our last day of training. But after Carlin did a beautiful job of quartering two different fields; finding, and retrieving his bird on each; and then after doing two 75-yard water retrieves, Carlin was done. He was tired. My brain was about full to the brim, too. So we decided to call it a day, a day early, and go home. (And honestly, I think Richard was looking for a well-earned day off, as well.)

The day started off in a field of low cover, about 8 to 12 inches of grasses. If you look at the photo below, it’s the field labeled “1”.


This day’s training was set up to mimic a hunt test. While Richard ran a Springer, Carlin and I followed along behind. This often happens in spaniel hunt tests, where one dog follows the working dog. This is done so that if the 1st dog finds and retrieves all its birds before running the whole course, the 2nd dog comes up and starts the course where the 1st dog finished. Carlin has never done this before, and it was not easy. It’s HARD watching another dog getting all the birds. He wasn’t perfectly quiet, but he wasn’t barking and he wasn’t wildly jumping around, either, so that’s good.

When the Springer was done, Carlin and I advanced a few yards up the field, and I sent him off upwind with a “Hunt It Up!” Carlin did fine. I am the one who is still learning how to read my dog and remember what to do about it. Carlin, like Cooper and Tooey both, tends to range out too far. He’s busy looking for birds, which is good, but out of gun range, which is not good. So my task has been to whistle Carlin back into gun range and indicate the direction I want him to go. During our week in Montana, I’ve really improved at this.

What I’m slowly getting better at is noticing the changes in Carlin’s body posture when he’s found a bird. Like I said in an earlier post, it’s like first learning to drive a car and trying to remember to both notice the other cars and steer, shift, and brake all at the same time. If he’s found a bird, even if it’s a little out of range, I don’t want to whistle him off it — better for me to move up quickly to where he is. So noticing when he’s “getting birdy” is key.

Richard and Russ both have told me that when Carlin first gets a whiff of a bird, he raises his nose, head, and neck high up into the air. Then when he’s located his target, his head goes forward again, his tail extends back, and after a bit, he dives his head into the bird. I have to notice when his head first goes up in the air and be ready to decide if a) there really is a bird there and be ready to move up to him, or b) there really isn’t a bird there, and whistle him back toward me. Today, finally, I did that part well, decided there really was a bird, and moved up.

So, Carlin found his bird, I moved up to him smartly, the bird flushed, and what did I do? I told him to “Take It”. Argh!!! Absolutely the totally wrong thing for me to say. I should have whistled or commanded him to “Sit”. Fortunately, Carlin ignored my command and sat, as he’s been taught to do when a bird flies. Good, good dog.

So, the bird flew, Russ brought it down, I sent Carlin with the “Take It” command, and he retrieved it and delivered it to hand. Good boy, Carlin.

Then we repeated the whole thing on field “2”. We switched fields and directions to give Carlin a different picture and experience working downwind. This time, both Carlin and I did everything right. I whistled at the right times and stayed quiet at the right times. I moved at a slow enough pace to enable Carlin to quarter the whole field. He found his bird, I noticed it and moved up, he flushed it, sat to shot until I sent him, and then retrieved it smartly to hand. What a wonderful success to end field work on for the day.

My next post will be about today’s water work. Stay tuned.


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The two hunters, one who knows and one who is learning:


Tooey and Carlin next to the stand of Russian Olive trees

Today was not so much an official training. It was more of a hike with the dogs through a variety of terrains: stands of Russian Olive trees, hillsides covered with grasses and sweet blooming flowers, and ponds surrounded by bogs and cattails.


Carlin in the pond


Tooey at the edge of the cattails

The point today was not to retrieve birds, but to get Carlin excited about real-life hunting by watching Tooey and by finding and flushing birds.

Tooey knew exactly what we were out there for. Once we sent the dogs off, she was scenting the wind, following bird trails, and searching likely spots where birds would hide. She was, as usual, methodical and thorough, not leaving a spot until she was satisfied there were no birds there. Carlin started out looking like he was just having a romp.

If Tooey has any fault, it’s working a bit too far away from the hunters. But that gave me an excellent opportunity to call Carlin back to me when he followed Tooey too far out, so that he would learn the useful distance is from dog to gunner.

As the morning wore on, the two dogs together flushed 9 pheasants and a covey of Hungarian partridges, and the more we got into the day, the more focused Carlin became.


Flushed pheasant over the cattails


Flushed pheasant flies off

A couple of those pheasants flew up right in front of Carlin’s nose. And one, Tooey had cornered up against the base of a tree, and when Carlin crashed in behind her, the bird flew up and out right in their faces. And after rustling around in 5-foot high cattails, the two of them flushed a hen pheasant, a rooster, and a young bird from the second hatch, all in one great flutter of wings. The others were flushed as the dogs traversed the fields and the ridges surrounding the ponds.

It was an exciting morning, and all of us thoroughly enjoyed the day and the hike, the cool cloudy weather, and the opportunity to watch the older dog do what she knows how to do so well and the younger dog begin to see what can be found with a good nose and a steady pace.

We did one quartering exercise with Carlin. He quartered nicely within gun range and found his pigeon. When the bird flew, Carlin stayed steady in place (yay!), and waited until the bird fell and I sent him for it. And then he finished it off with a lovely delivery to hand.

Then Tooey practiced her hunt dead. Russ sent her out in a line to the bird, but she had her own ideas about how to find it. She hunted around in her own methodical style, found it within a few minutes, and delivered that to hand.

We debated briefly about continuing on with the training, but both dogs had worked pretty hard in the morning, and they had just done some very successful birdwork practice. So we decided to stop for the day. That was obviously the right choice, as the skies chose just a few moments later to open up in a thunder-and-lightening downpour so hard that we couldn’t see as we drove away. So we pulled off the road and waited happily for the weather to clear.

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It would be nice to think that practice makes perfect, but that’s just not true. Good practice, however, especially if it’s regular and frequent, can make much, much better.

The lack of regular and frequent has been my biggest handicap in training Carlin for fieldwork — I work a Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 job, so my daylight time is very limited. And I don’t live anywhere close to training grounds with varied cover and ponds, where I can train my dog on birds. And I don’t have anyone to work with regularly, to help set up scenarios, tell me when I’m doing well or poorly, throw bumpers, and all the other parts of putting together a training session.

I do have pieces of what I need, though. Russ takes the dogs out in the morning to a large, closely mown field. He can work with them on their marking short retrieves using bumpers. I work them on heeling at home and on waiting for things they want, like meals and going out doors. When we have time, Russ and I will drive out on a weekend morning to a local training field, where lately the ponds have been all dried up. And on some Saturdays over the last several months (not during hunting season), I’ve been able to go up to Washington state and work with Richard.

This week I am enormously fortunate. Russ and I have been able to work three days in a row on some fabulous training grounds in Montana with Richard of Tuxedo Kennels. Tuxedo Kennels has facilities in both Washington (not during hunting season) and Montana (during hunting season), and through good fortune and my regular and frequent asking, we were invited to come train this week. (Actually, I think Richard just likes Carlin and wants him to do well, and I come along as part of that package.) Every day so far, Richard has set up hunting scenarios, provided birds, and most of all, provided timely, pertinent training for this newbie dog-handler team.

Today, things came together. Carlin heeled nicely out to the field. He quartered the field beautifully, and my handling flowed along with him. When he got too far or too wide, I noticed it in good time and called him back in. I actually saw when Carlin scented the bird, and sped up my pace to catch up with him. Carlin trapped all his birds this morning, so Richard threw the birds for him to retrieve. Carlin was steady until sent, retrieved the birds, and then brought them to hand in really close to heel position. It was a thing of beauty.


Richard pointing out the course while Carlin waits


Carlin bringing back the bird


Carlin delivering the bird to hand from heel position

And Carlin’s water work was equally as beautiful. He had a 65-yard swim across the pond to retrieve a duck that had landed into some tall grass on the shore. I think that’s the longest water retrieve he’s attempted, and about half way across, he popped (turned around and looked at me). I repeated his “Take it” command, and he turned back toward the duck, got to shore, hunted around a bit, found it, and got a nice firm grip on the body of the duck. He swam almost straight back to me, got into near-heel position, and delivered the duck.

With all the challenges of this scenario, everyone watching was amazed. Carlin has a hard time being steady at the water, but this time he was mostly steady, just lifting his butt about an inch off the ground. He had a long swim back and forth through milfoil weeds in the water. The duck’s location in the grass on the shore was not immediately obvious, but Carlin was persistent in his hunt. When he found it, he brought it directly back and delivered it beautifully at my side.

I had my part, too, which I did pretty well, if I do say so myself. When he popped, I stepped forward, raised my arm, and repeated his “take it” command. When he was coming back, it appeared that he might come back a little off the straight line back, so I stepped sideways to redirect his gaze to the right spot. And I reminded him to hold his bird just before he got to the spot where he was most likely to drop it.


Carlin at the line; Laura playing judge


Carlin swimming through the milfoil weeds


Carlin searching for the duck


Re-entering the water for the swim back


Swimming back with the duck


Holding the duck

We were a team today, and it was beautiful.

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From Tooey:

I read Carlin’s post from yesterday, and it was pretty good, but he forgot one very important fact. We are in Montana now. And I have now gotten birds in Montana.

That means that I have gotten birds in eight states: Oregon, Washington, California, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, and now Montana. Plus, don’t forget British Columbia. Carlin has only gotten birds in Oregon, Washington, and Montana. He has some catching up to do.

Now from Patrice:

Both dogs did a pretty good job today. Not perfect, but OK. Both had to be reminded to hold their birds. On her second and third tries, Tooey was finally steady at the water, waiting until sent to retrieve the birds. Both dogs found birds, but sometimes they had to be reminded to follow instructions while doing so. And Carlin ended the day by breaking, leaving my side for the retrieve before being sent. That ended our session and we marched Carlin back to the car — he has to learn that breaking ends all the fun right then and there.

But mostly I’m the one who needs to practice. I am still not quite seeing when Carlin’s body language changes. Richard and Russ both see when Carlin’s head goes up, indicating that he’s scented a bird, or when his nose is going down, indicating that he’s about to drop the bird he’s just picked up. But I’m not there yet.

For me it’s like learning to driving a car: there are so many little behaviors and observations that have to practiced over and over until one doesn’t have to think about it anymore. For example, here I am noticing that Carlin is almost too far out of gun range and trying to remember which whistle sound to use to call him back in, that I don’t quite notice Carlin’s sudden double-take, indicating that he’s scented a bird.

Watching Russ and other handlers over the years at spaniel hunt tests has made this whole field dance look much easier than it is.

But in this lovely place, it’s not all work and no play. After doing land and water work with both dogs, Richard and Laura generously lent us their kayak so that we can “kayak the dogs” in a nearby reservoir. Great exercise for all of us, especially those with “Water” as their middle name.



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We took another car ride today. We take lots of car rides. Today we drove out to a new place, and… Hey! I know those guys! That’s Richard and Laura! I’ve gone to their house lots of times. When I’m with those guys, I usually get to flush and retrieve birds!

Wild Horse

Carlin, Richard, Russ, Logan, and Laura

But I haven’t seen Richard in a month, and I haven’t gotten to practice out in a real field for a couple of weeks. I kind of forgot what I’m supposed to do when we’re out in a field. I did remember how to go back and forth across a field. When we got down to a grassy field down in a swale, I did that back and forth part really well. But it was so windy! I didn’t smell any birds down in that swale. But then Russ found a bird up above the swale, so Trice and I went to look at it, and oh boy! I wagged my tail and then pushed my nose onto that bird, and it flew away. Russ brought the bird down, and it landed back down in the swale.

I ran down, and I found it, and oh boy! look! I found it! Trice is saying something about “take it”, but I kind of forgot what that means. Everybody seems to be disappointed, but I am not sure why. So then, Richard threw a pigeon, and Russ shot it, but it fell down over a cliff. Am I supposed to go all the way down there?

So then Tooey came out. She is so smart. She’s done this lots of times, and she hasn’t forgotten what she’s supposed to do. So Russ took Tooey down into the same swale, and she found LOTS of birds. They must have gotten there after I left. But she found them, and flushed them, and mostly retrieved them. Hey! Maybe she’s not so smart. She forgot that she’s supposed to hold onto the bird all the way until she gets to Russ and then GIVE THE BIRD TO HIM. She wanted to keep the birds.

By then, it was hot. I was thirsty and just wanted to lie in the shade. So we left that field and went to a pond. Oh good! Swimming!

I did a really nice job at the pond. Birds flew out over the water, and Russ and Logan shot them for me. I leapt out into the water. I do really good leaps. So I leapt out into the water, and grabbed the bird, and brought it back to Trice. Well, almost. I dropped it once, and Richard put it back into my mouth. I forgot that I’m supposed to hold onto the birds. Sometimes the wet ones don’t taste good, so I forget to hold onto them. But after that first one, I did three more. I got a duck and some pigeons. And I did a really good job. Trice reminded me to hold the birds, so I remembered to bring them right to her. I was a good dog.

Tooey got to retrieve some birds out of the pond, too. She was also a good dog. But it was very hard for me to watch her go get the birds. I wanted get all the birds! I even got up out of my sit, and wow, was Richard not happy with that. He came over and put me back in my sit. You gotta watch that Richard. He doesn’t let you get away with anything.

Since I was nice and cool and wet, we went out into the field again, and I retrieved three birds. That first one took me a couple of tries. Trice said “take it”, and I ran out, but then I was confused about what I was supposed to do, so I came back to Trice. But then the next three birds, I did a really good job. Everybody said so. Russ even took pictures.


Carlin and chukar


Carlin comes back with chukar, even though he can’t see

Trice was so happy that we did a Happy Dog dance with that chukar. It was fun!


Trice and Carlin celebrate a good day of training

I hope we get to go do it again soon!

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Mostly I love car rides. You hop in, and just little while later, you hop out and run around and sniff things. Sometimes there are bunnies to chase or birds to retrieve, and there is almost always grass to eat. But I’ve got to say, it was a horribly long drive yesterday, just to end up in some motel. Montana, I think I heard Russ say. Montana. Something like that. Horribly long. And boring. Especially if you’re a a couple of dogs in a crate in the back of the car, like Carlin and me. Nothing to do, no where to go. Not much to sniff, except Russ’s snacks (which, I will admit, he did share. Eventually.) Boring. Even Carlin’s whining to get out got boring after a while. I told him to shut up, but he didn’t.

That whole one long day stuck in the car, we only got out at these crowded rest stops at the side of the road. Lots of cars, lots of people. Not much to sniff except other dogs’ poop. And way way too hot. Russ and Trice kept exclaiming about, “Now it’s 102! Can you believe it? Oh, now it’s plunging down to 99!” Also boring. So then we ended up at this motel. I’ve been to lots of motels going to dog shows. I don’t mind those. You get to jump from bed to bed, sleep on top of special sheets on the bed, and you get to go to new places to sniff and pee. Sometimes you can find the smell of rats near the dumpsters. Not totally boring, but not wonderful, either.

Today was better. Russ and Trice found this river, another one of those “M” words, something like Missouri. Once we got to Great Falls, Russ found a park at the at the quiet southwest end of The River’s Edge Trail, and we got to go swimming. My favorite thing ever!


Tooey and Carlin swimming in the Missouri at Great Falls, Montana

But we got to go swimming only for a little while because the thunder and lightning started up. I hate thunder. I keep telling it to shut up, too, but it never does.

So we got back in the car and drove downstream to Fort Benton, and got out after only a little while to have a picnic. Russ finally shared his snacks (roast pork, yum!), Trice gave us some cabbage (also yum!), and we got to look at the river again. They wouldn’t let us go swimming, but we got to look at it from up on a big rock, next to this dog that was looking at the river, too. Apparently his name was Shep, but he didn’t smell right, and he never did move, so I just ignored him. I told Carlin to ignore him, too. This time Carlin listened. For once.


Tooey, Carlin, and the statue of Shep

Back in the car again. Russ and Trice got some ice cream, which they did not share, and we drove off. We drove down the road for another hour or so. Boring. I took a nap. I think Carlin did, too.

I woke up when we crossed this noisy bridge over another river. I spotted some public access, so before we could get too far away, I sent Russ a mental image to turn around and go back. He listens to me, usually, and so he turned around and parked in this quiet spot along the Marias River. And we got to go swimming again!


Carlin and Tooey leaping into the Marias River

After a long swim on a hot day, we got back into the car and headed north, towards Havre. After a while, since I had drunk so much of the Marias River, I had to pee really bad. So I made them stop, and guess what? We were at another motel. This motel has a pool, which I have not talked Trice into letting me into yet. (She listens to me sometimes, but so far I have not gotten through.)

But even without that, I’m liking this Montana thing. Rivers to swim in, motel beds to sleep on. The only thing better would be if there were birds to find.

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For a dog Carlin’s size, a Coursing Ability Test course is at least 600 yards. The course for today’s test, put on by the Chintimini Kennel Club, was 637 yards.

The course was mostly flat with just a few dips and swales. The cover was quite short — it looked like the grass had been cut recently, and that perhaps a few drops of rain had fallen in the recent past, making the field a carpet of gold with flecks of green. And the morning started out cloudy and relatively cool. Everyone was grateful for this, as it would be more comfortable for the dogs, who were going to be putting out a lot of hot panting effort in a very short period of time.

Carlin ran 13th, so we didn’t have a long time to wait. This club recommended that the dogs run without a collar for safety, so I went along with it, simply looping the leash into a kind of slip lead. Once we got out to the start line, I took of his leash, and held him around the chest like I have in Flyball and Barn Hunt. Carlin was ready to go, but restrained himself, waiting for me to send him. The Hunt Master asked me if I was ready, and when I said I was, she twirled her finger to signal the Lure Operator to start the bags running, and sent us off with a “Tally Ho!”


Another IWS, Baby, takes off from the start line
Judge and Lure Operator under the white tent, Hunt Master standing next to the handler

Carlin finished that first run with dedication and enthusiasm. He is such a beautiful dog to watch run. I wish I could have been both the handler and a photographer so I could get pictures, but if you saw the video of his first run, you know what I mean. Carlin passed that test, finishing the course in 1 minute 3.78 seconds. Then we waited for the rest of the dogs to finish so the group can start the second run.

The running order with 1st run times

The field was relatively small, so they ran the same course again, this time in reverse. That messed with the dogs’ minds a bit, especially if the dog has been running often enough to understand that corners can be cut, thus reducing the distance. (This is legal.) Oddly, Carlin did get a little confused at about 1/3 of the way through of the second run. The plastic bag bunnies ran through a shallow swale, and going that direction, they were briefly hidden from sight. Just for those few moment, Carlin lost them and he slowed way down, looking around. This is where the skill of the Lure Operator comes in. He slowed the lure down and then alternately slowed and sped it up. This jerky movement caught Carlin’s eye, and he was off again.

Surprisingly, even with his slight difficulty, Carlin ran that second run a little faster than the first: 1 minute 3.41 seconds. And he did it with enthusiasm and dedication. So that was his third pass overall, earning his first title. As soon as the AKC records it, he will be Realta’s Carlin O’Whistlestop CA.

Carlin resting in his crate with his qualifying and title ribbon

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Cooper was a reasonably well-known Irish Water Spaniel, mostly because of this blog, but also because I participate in many and various venues dedicated to Irish Water Spaniels and their exploits.

One of these is the Irish Water Spaniel Club of America, which puts out a newsletter every two months. The July/August 2015 issue published an “In Memoriam” article that I wrote about Cooper. If the image below is too small to read, click it to open a PDF that includes this months newsletter cover and my article.


The page does include a few mistakes.

  • One is a typo on my part. (Let’s see if you can find it — it’s in the very first sentence).
  • Another one is my name being misspelled. (“Patricia” is a pretty common mistake for my name.)
  • And the last is in the list of titles in the photo caption. (Although Cooper tried a couple of times to get a WCX, he never did. He did get a WDX, though.)

But all that aside, I am gratified to see that article in print. It doesn’t bring Cooper back, but it does help to see him in print one last time.

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