Hiking or Hunting

Can the dogs tell the difference?

Colby helping Val
pick blueberries.

We love our dogs and treat them like family members. That means they go almost everywhere with us and enjoy outdoor activities that can be shared with them. A great way to keep bird dogs in shape during the summer is to take them hiking. We are fortunate to live where upland birds are abundant and hiking trails abound. Can our dogs tell the difference between a day of hunting and a day of hiking? Of course they can.

Whenever we work the dogs on birds, whether hunting or training, they wear collars with bells attached. Hearing those bells brings on a level of excitement that exceeds anything else. The dogs love to go on a hike during the off season, but it isn’t the same as putting on those belled collars.

Val and our old girl Chara
on a summer time hike.

In April and May, when ruffed grouse and woodcock are nesting and have young broods, we hike less and pick our walks carefully so not disrupt the birds. April up here can be muddy and is a great time to work on the next year’s firewood supply. May is a great time to do a little trout fishing.

During normal summer hikes, the dogs run ahead and make swings back through the woods, just hunting for fun, but generally don’t go too far. The exercise keeps them and us in shape. There are frequented trails that they remember and longer trips to explore new country, sometimes miles in the woods. It's a great way to find new bird country and sometimes a beaver pond to fish.

Slip on those collars with bells and they kick into high gear, hunt hard, and point solidly on birds. The transition is like flipping a switch.

Maggie on another summertime hike.

    

Bear?

     It happened a couple of years ago, we were about twelve miles in the woods, two or three from where we had parked the truck, trying to find our way to a particular lake using old logging roads and snowmobile trails. The three dogs were with us, Chara, the oldest German wirehaired pointer trotting not far ahead, Colby, our youngster GWP staying maybe a hundred yards ahead, and Bella, our crazy Vizsla bouncing around somewhere between the two.        

     The dogs knew we weren’t hunting but hiking, so mostly they stayed on the trail and only made occasional short forays into the trees.

     After walking almost an hour over a ridge on hot sunny logging roads, we had dropped down into a valley, where a narrow snowmobile trail took off to the east through thick hardwoods. The dense understory on both sides and abundant foliage overhead made it feel like a tunnel.

     Near a stream, Chara trotted off to the left and stopped twenty feet from the path. I stopped too, thinking grouse.

  

      Bella noticed Chara standing still and galloped in. Her usual routine was to bolt toward Chara but then to circle around to pin the bird between the two of them. Instead, she stopped almost beside Chara.

     The two of them stared into the woods, not in what I would call a bird dog’s point, but with heads held high as if trying to see.

     And then about thirty feet beyond the dogs the bushes shook and something large moved. My first thought was “deer”, because that is what it would have been back home. But I didn’t see a deer and the critter only moved a few feet. What I did catch was a glimpse of something dark, and then I lost sight of it among the moving undergrowth.

     We could hear something not far away moan like an infant. And then toenails scratched on bark. The two dogs never moved. Our third dog, Colby, came trotting back and I stopped her with a “whoa”. 

     I said, “This way girls,” and the dogs agreeably turned so we could hurry on our way.

     My best guess is a bear with a young one.

Bear?

     We were about twelve miles in the woods, two from where we parked the truck, trying to find our way to a particular lake using old logging roads and snowmobile trails. The three dogs were with us, Chara, the oldest German wirehaired pointer not far ahead, Colby, our youngster GWP maybe a hundred yards ahead, and Bella, our crazy Vizsla somewhere between the two. The dogs knew we weren’t hunting but hiking, so mostly they stayed on the trail and only made short forays into the trees.

     After walking almost an hour over a ridge on hot sunny logging roads, we had dropped down into a valley, following a narrow trail through thick hardwoods with a lot of dense understory. Near a stream, Chara trotted off to the left and stopped twenty feet from the path, so I stopped too, thinking grouse.

     Bella noticed Chara stopped, and her usual routine is to bolt toward Chara but then to circle around to pin the bird between the two of them. But instead she stopped almost beside Chara, with the two of them staring into the woods, not in what I would call a bird dog’s point, but with heads held high as if trying to see.

     And then about thirty feet beyond the dogs the bushes shook and something large moved. My first thought was “deer”, because that is what it would have been back home. But I didn’t see a deer and the critter only moved a few feet, what I did catch a glimpse of was something dark, and then I lost sight of it among the leaves. Whatever it was, it had stopped only fifty feet from our dogs.

     Both Sally and I could hear something like an infant moaning not far away. The two dogs never moved. Colby came trotting back and I stopped her with a “whoa”. 

Calling the dogs to come with us, we hurried on our way. 

     My best guess is a bear with a young one.