Chuck:
Lady was just a "natural" I suppose; certainly wasn't because I was a great trainer (had in fact never "trained" a dog in my life). She was a reluctantly received gift from a neighbor when she was 9 weeks old (had so many lab pups he didn't know what to do); and she came home with me in April, 1984. When I explained to my neighbor that I knew nothing about dog training, he handed me a book entitled "Water Dog" by Richard Woolters, and said "you don't have to know anything about dog training; just read this book and do what the man says"!
That's what I did, I spent time with her every day. Instinctively she already knew all there was to know about retrieving; I just had to teach her what I wanted her to retrieve and to bring her prize to me. In September of that same year, I took her on our first dove shoot; folks on that shoot had no idea she was a just rookie. I will never forget the first dove she ever retrieved; the bird completely disappeared in her mouth and I was convinced it had been converted to dog food; instead I learned she loved the "taste" of the bird so much she was just rolling it around inside her mouth. It was an absolute ball of slobber when she placed it in my hand; but you can bet I was more proud of that bird that she was! But that first experience didn't just happen; prior the actual hunt I had spent hours and hours preparing Lady for that special day. Because kids in the neighborhood celebrated Independance Day with a little too much spirit that year, Lady became terribly afraid of loud noises (was actually gun shy); so I took her to the local skeet range on Sunday afternoon and sat with her on the tailgate of the truck, stroking and talking to her while guys shot the course. Amazingly, in less than an hour she paid shooting noises absolutely no attention! Initially I worked her with rubber dummies she could see, went from those to rubber dummies with pigeon wings (tied on with monofiliment fishing line) in an effort to get her used to the smell and feel of birds and feathers; then progressed to hiding those same winged dummies in the thickest, nastiest places I could find to teach her that she would not always be able to see her "prize". As hunting season approached, I purchased a dummy launcher; put the pigeon wings on those dummies and taught her to associate a "bang" with a bird (on the down side, she would be terribly upset with me later on during those lousy days when there was no bird as the result of my bang banging!). To this day I have no idea if anything I did would be considered orthodox by a real trainer; but down here dove shooting is mostly a social affair, and those with whom I hunted were always amazed at the things she could do. Prior to Lady, none of us had ever used a retreiver; and her great work inspired several of my buds to get a lab of their own; but none ever measured up to the standards Lady set.
My last dove hunt with Lady took place on a cold windy day just as the late season was ending in January; a rare day for us in GA as there were patches of ice on the ground that afternoon. Lady was two months shy of being 15 years old; could no longer hear, and had developed arthritis in her hips so that I had to lift her in and out of the truck, but even at that age she somehow managed to get that excited spring in her step whenever she saw me with a shotgun and that day was no exception. My shooting choice that special day was the Charles Linnneman Optimus Grade Lefever, just returned by Buck Hamlin after a stock restoration; Lady and I were taking this opportunity to "field test" this great old gun. Together we went to a nearby farm that had about 60 head of cattle; the property had no grain fields, but there were always a few doves buzzing the feed lot for spilled grain. The area is void of cover, so we hunkered down by a fence post and waited. Over the course of the afternoon, I shot the old LeFever 22 times and Lady placed 9 doves in my hand. Certainly not great shooting; but not bad for the first time with a "new" gun, very tight chokes, a srong wind, and being forced to take 50-55 yards shots. I still remember every retrieve Lady made that day, but there was much sadness in my heart as I knew every bird could be her, and our last shared prize. I remember my wife and I talking about that fact later that evening, and also what a special gift Lady had been to our family. Lady died in June of that year; and even though I considered myself a tough, crusty and unemotional old guy, I must confess I was powerless to hold back the tears. Lady is buried by the little creek that flows by my house; the same creek she always loved to splash around in when we had our afternoon walks. (I apologize for getting carried away)
