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Up here, a saved step or two is worth thinking about.

“Walk This Way” is more than an iconic rock tune (the original version by Aerosmith, whose lead singer Steven Tyler, by the way, has been a bird hunter in the past.) Ambulating with some care husbands your precious energy and maybe save a trip to the emergency room. Where I hunt, in the darkest spot in the lower 48, both of those are good enough reasons to think before I step.

It starts with minimizing the strain on your thigh and calf muscles by stepping over, not on top of, obstacles such as logs and rocks. Each upward stride is like climbing stairs, taxing some of the largest muscles in your body and lifting virtually your entire body’s weight each time you summit a downed tree.

If you must negotiate a boulder field or rocky slope, you’re safer stepping to the low spots. You have less chance of twisting an ankle or breaking a femur because you’re carefully, deliberately putting your feet where they’d go the hard way in a mishap. And by not “topping” rocks, whether they’re securely anchored or loose as bowling balls is immaterial to your delicate bones and joints.

On steep uphills, say in chukar country, conserve energy with the slight rest your muscles get as you lock your knee at the apex of each step. Your legs’ skeletal structure supports your body weight for a microsecond, giving oxygen-rich blood a chance to flow back into relaxed muscle tissue. And for some reason I tend to stomp on each uphill step, adding injury to the insult of taunting chukars mere yards uphill from me. If you do too, step lightly instead.

A long day weaving among the trees and shrubs will seem shorter if you weave less. Even if it seems a bit out of the way, walking in longer straight shots with fewer twists and turns, alleviates stress on hip and knee joints and the muscles that activate them. Over the course of a 10-mile hunt, you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the absence of pain.

Finally, the U.S. Army has convinced me that shortening your stride just a few inches is wise.  Among recruits, it protects against hip and pelvic injuries. For we hunting civilians, too. Here’s a bonus: on crusted snow, you may find yourself “postholing” less.

At 11:42 p.m. on March 31, Dani Duniho cast the final vote in the Wingshooting USA TV “TruckVault Cares … for conservation, canines & kids” initiative. For her vote supporting the AKC-Canine Health Foundation, she will receive a merchandise prize package from lead sponsor TruckVault. Dozens more will receive prizes in the next few weeks as randomly-selected voters are contacted.

Thanks everyone. Stand by for news about our second-annual effort.

“I am often the last of something here or there, but I think this is the first time I have earned a reward for that status,” Duniho added in her thank-you note.

Created by Wingshooting USA executive producer-host Scott Linden, “TruckVault Cares” raises funds and awareness for six different groups. Voters are eligible for prizes ranging from a TruckVault secure vehicle storage system, Fausti shotgun, Tri-Tronics electronic dog training collars, Linden’s own Real Bird Bumper, Kent Cartridge ammunition and Filson apparel.

The conclusion of the voting signals distribution of the $10,000 funding pool, to be parceled out proportionally by vote totals to all beneficiary groups. The leading vote-getter was the AKC-Canine Health Foundation with 36,576 votes, with other groups and their votes listed below:

Scholastic Clay Target Program, 15,087; International Hunter Education Association, 8,012; Ruffed Grouse Society, 7,898; Gun Dog Rescue Clubs, 4,851; and North American Grouse Partnership, 2,464.

Besides sharing in the funds raised, Linden says all groups benefitted from heightened public awareness of their work, with each group seeing over 50 million gross media impressions over the course of the initiative, which began in August, 2011. Together, the groups claim over a million member-supporters.

Wingshooting USA is the official TV series of the National Shooting Sports Foundation. It airs on Pursuit Channel and four other television networks, year-round.

How it all finally played out ...

Good boy ... now "leave it" for later on the retrieve. Much later.

Manny backslid on the one part of retrieving on which we weren’t solid: a real bird, brought to hand without um, “tenderizing.” Yesterday, his retrieves were energetic and enthusiastic. Using my Real Bird Bumper, he was scooping, making a U-turn, and racing back. When a pigeon was substituted, the wheels came off.

Thankfully, I figured out why, in record time.

Immediately before, we’d been working on steadiness, close-in birds flapping and flying in front of a dog that had been too long in the kennel while was in New York making shows. The adrenaline was gushing in torrents in Manny’s little doggy body. When the retrieving practice commenced a couple minutes later, and CRUNCH.

It only took one night to sleep on it before it hit me (at about 4:30 a.m. to be exact): Divorce flushing, flying live birds from retrieving … completely … for a while. Most of us have had a corollary drummed into our thick skulls for years: training a dog to expect a retrieve upon every flush (or shot, for that matter) is verboten. The worse you shoot (like me), the deeper you sink into that mire. Manny is showing me that the less mature a dog, the farther apart flushes and retrieves should be, literally. So for now, we will put time – and distance – between the two skills.

Today, it worked. I’m still playing it safe, leaving my pigeons in the loft after they clock out on their flushing job. Our retrieving work will be limited to Real Bird Bumpers with chukar wings taped on. Not real, but real enough.

Happy birthday Manny

Welcome to our pack, Manny.

Coat so dark it is black on our late workouts, smooth as some shorthairs … I had my doubts from the start, Manny. But your striking conformation has become more handsome by the day. You are a beautiful wirehair, with more potential than I deserve.

Now that you are getting along with your great-uncle again, I’m again able to appreciate the magic of two dogs hunting in concert, unlocking the mysteries of birds as I watch, spellbound. Thank you for becoming a member of our pack, finally accepting Buddy as the lead dog. He is a gracious alpha, isn’t he? Some day soon, his gait will slow and you will inherit his job; just wait your turn. Until then, learn, learn, learn because Uncle Buddy has a lot to teach you.

Like being patient with me. And pacing yourself in the field and the crate – you know we’ll always let you hunt … just not first. That’s Uncle’s job. And his place is on the couch, while yours is at our feet. But that’s not so bad, is it?

You learn so fast, sometimes I have a hard time challenging you. As we prepare for your Utility Test, I promise to amp up the mental – and physical – challenges. I am sure you can handle them with skill and your own version of grace.

I love that you and your uncle are polar opposites in the field. Buddy, graceful as an impala, skimming the ground. You are the linebacker on our team: solid and steady, workmanlike. I hear you approach from great distances: crashing, tumbling, thumping.

You may share DNA and striking good looks with your uncle, but you make me to think differently every time I open the gate, challenging my own ideas of dogs and hunting. What I learned from your uncle, you re-teach me. As Uncle Buddy trots more and dashes less, you are coming into your own physically. When you streak north, disappear, then materialize in the south, did you circumnavigate the globe to rumble back from behind us? Manny, you are why they invented GPS collars.

I spy on you two when I’m inside. When I see you in the yard, nose-to-nose or snuggled in a single doggy lump with your uncle, all is well in the world and in my mind. That you’ve found your place in our pack is a miracle and I’m ever grateful.

Happy second birthday.

Sorry if you’ve received this once or a million times in your email in-box. But it was just forwarded to me again by a good friend and I took it as a sign. Sure it’s sappy. You gotta problem with that? Feel free to forward again.

An old cowboy was riding his trusty horse followed by his faithful dog along an unfamiliar road. The man was enjoying the new scenery, when he suddenly remembered dying, and realized that the dog beside him had been dead for years, as had his horse. Confused, he wondered what was happening, and where the trail was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall that looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch topped by a golden letter “H” that glowed in the sunlight.

See you there some day. All of ya.

Standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like gold.

He rode toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. Parched and tired out by his journey, he called out, ‘Excuse me, where are we?’

‘This is Heaven, sir,’ the man answered.

‘Wow! Would you happen to have some water?’ the man asked.

‘Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.’

As the gate began to open, the cowboy asked, ‘Can I bring my partners, too?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.’

The cowboy thought for a moment, then turned back to the road and continued riding, his dog trotting by his side.

After another long ride, at the top of another hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a ranch gate that looked as if it had never been closed. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

‘Excuse me,’ he called to the man. ‘Do you have any water?’

‘Sure, there’s a pump right over there. Help yourself.’

‘How about my friends here?’ the traveler gestured to the dog and his horse.

‘Of course! They look thirsty, too,’ said the man.

The trio went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with buckets beside it. The traveler filled a cup and the buckets with wonderfully cool water and took a long drink, as did his horse and dog.

When they were full, he walked back to the man who was still standing by the tree. ‘What do you call this place?’ the traveler asked.

‘This is Heaven,’ he answered.

‘That’s confusing,’ the traveler said. ‘The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.’

‘Oh, you mean the place with the glitzy, gold street and fake pearly gates? That’s hell.’

‘Doesn’t it make you angry when they use your name like that?’

‘Not at all. Actually, we’re happy they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.’

What’s your suggestion?

Got a phone call from a viewer and wanted to share it and then get your ideas – this is a new one on me!

John asked about a young dog that runs away from flushing pheasants. I’m trying to get more information, but for the purpose of this post – and your suggestions – maybe less information is better. Open your minds and let me know what you would do!

My response: First, I would wonder about how the dog was introduced to birds – did he get spurred, for example? Or whacked by a launcher? Gunshots too close and too early in the bird introduction?

Next, what happens with dead birds? Is the dog excited to be around them? Pick them up and carry? How about smaller live birds – pigeons, for example? Have any of these been flushed in front of the dog with no ill effect?

Where has an e-collar figured in this situation? Did the dog get “hit” accidentally when a bird flushed? Has too much voltage been applied at some point?

Well, what do you all think?

The guys hard at work. Tad Newberry in center, Lynn Berland at right.

So many times the dogs (rightfully) and the creator/host (not-so-rightfully) get all the glory. Tad and Lynn share the spotlight in this article by Nancy Anisfield from Versatile Hunting Dog magazine.

VHD TV article

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