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February, 2005
Dear Trina and Wayne,
I hope all is well in Big Sky country. It is soon approaching the one year mark since I had the pleasure of meeting you in person. I cannot believe how quickly that year has gone by. Based on the "time flies when..." theory, I blame you for how fast hunting season came and went! I cannot thank you enough for the amount of fun I have had following around that little brown blur of fur.
I'm not going to lie, there were times when I wondered early on what was I doing with a hard headed chew monger that seemed to take initial training commands to the opposite Nth degree. Turns out, I had never trained a dog this smart. Eventually we came to a mutual understanding and things began to steamroll. By the time we made it to gun training on live birds, the amount of progress we made each time out amazed me.
Even with all this progress, however, I was not ready for a nine month old pup to handle wild birds the way he did in September. To say Mac blew away my expectations is an understatement. It was hot, dry, and extremely thick cover. It was public land grouse that don't allow themselves to be bumped, and woodcock that some dogs do and some dogs despise. In each case it took him one bird to get a grip on the situation. My training first mindset of "easing him in" didn't take long to transform into "lets see what this baby can do!" He worked close and made several (of what would turn out to be many) retrieves I have seen much more experienced dogs flub.
This progression just flowed into duck season. His first greenhead was a long shot that hit the water with plenty of life. It dove before Mac got to him and didn't come up. That little bullhead circled and circled for several minutes. About when I was about to lose hope, he turned a tight loop and shoved his snout into the muddy ooze. The mallard shot out almost as surprised as I was. Mac sat on the bank wide eyed and quivering with that bird in his mouth for quite awhile after the retrieve. Again, my concern for hunting a pup was quickly put to rest. Soon I was almost hoping for the tougher retrieves just to see him do his thing. My old lab was a good retriever, but by the end of his first month, Mac was well on his way to surpassing him.
October also brought us into roosters, sharpies, and huns. The birds we hunt in North Dakota see their share of pressure and do a pretty good job of giving guys the run around. It has always been a pet peeve of mine to chase a fast moving mob of dogs and birds across a field only to see an old longspur bust out from behind after we are too far past. That has now been solved. We worked deliberately and I refused to even walk fast. Plenty of birds bailed ahead of us out the ends, but more than enough tried to hunker down and let us blow by. Several of these old longspurs Mac almost caught on the flush because they were buried so deep. Instead of scurrying across the fields, all I had to do is watch the little tail meter, ear perk, and coyote bounce. And you weren't kidding about "little meat dogs." As long as I slowed them up, he brought them back.
The rest of October, November, December, and early January went on that way. Each new hurdle was another chance to shine. Our second Dakota trip in December was as cold as I'd care to hunt in and the birds had gotten another seven weeks of education. Despite this, the limits almost came too easy. My biggest regret was the one time I left Mac bundled up in the truck to rest on one cover. After backtracking an extra half mile to get him, it took him all of thirty seconds to fetch the cattail bird I couldn't find for over twenty minutes by myself.
Now we are down to retrieving drills in the snow and watching bird hunting on TV together (although that has proven to be a little tough on the screen!) As I look forward to next season, I'm already scheming ways to extend the backend of our shooting by heading south. Next season will hopefully bring new firsts, including Mac hauling in my daughter's first birds.
As you can probably geuss, I could gush a whole books worth about this little boykin. He has become not only an invaluable hunting partner, but also a big part of the family. To wrap this up I just have to say thank you again for producing such a great little meat dog.
Best Regards, Eric
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February 19, 2005
If you have never been exposed to Boykin Spaniels, you are missing out on one of life's great delights. These little brown dogs are sweet as sugar and fit in we ll with any family household. Their beautiful semi-flat coats always turn heads; people always ask, "what kind of spaniel is that?" There is no doubt what they are put on this planet to do, as you will quickly discover when they are turned loose in a hunting field.
It is always amazing to watch as their drive and enthusiasm for finding birds is complemented by sheer style, grace and seemingly endless energy. Handling has never been easier as they can be cast through a vast CRP field like a magic wand with their heads held high, searching for the scent of coveys of partridge and grouse with their ultra keen nose. Alternatively, nose down, they scramble through dense cover sliding under what larger breeds exhaust themselves driving through. Pheasants simply do not stand a chance of escaping these little predators. The retrieves are aggressive and they never give up the chase. Originally bred for waterfowl, Boykin Spaniels are also excellent swimmers and excel when the seasons change from upland birds to waterfowl, with equal enthusiasm.
Wayne and Trina Frederickson have perfected a western line of Boykin Spaniel. They are a little larger and leggier than the average standard, which I believe allows them greater stamina in the vast open landscape of Big Sky Country. Additionally, their coats are typically flat and feathery, much like a Springer Spaniel, which adds to their striking looks and is more manageable to maintain. All of the dogs that come from this line are fully capable of not only completing in any form of dog trial, but willing, and the Frederickson's have proven this many times over. They are, without a doubt, one of the finest breeds in existence. If you are looking for the best there is, own a Big Sky Boykin.
Tim Murphy, Bozeman, Montana (owner of Midge, photo by Gordon Gregory)
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May, 2005
I have hunted for many years with a game bird biologist from Washington state. He has raised mountain lion hounds for decades and has shipped dogs from Alberta to Arizona. This consummate houndsman gave me a broader view of working dogs than I would otherwise possess. One of his primary tenets is that a dog needs to weigh about 45 pounds to be able to effectively break through heavy woody cover and brush. If a dog is much over 50 pounds, he may tend to overheat in hot weather early in the season and break down in the hips after the age of nine years. If the dog is going to "run big" for a living, he needs to have approximately the proportion of leg and torso that the proven breeds, such as the German Shorthair, English Pointer, English Setter and the various treeing hounds all possess. My Montana Boykins fit neatly into this category. The two Boykins I am now blessed to call my own have what I consider to be the ideal combination of personality and conformation. Each weighs between 45 and 50 pounds and has the leg to ramble the CRP (Conservation Resource Pool) grasslands, as well as the more thinly grassed native short-grass prairie. My Montana Boykins cover the square miles of bird habitat with an easy lope.
I have often watched my long-legged Boykin, Sparky (my thicket specialist), as he negotiates his way through the heavy, woody cover in a Montana coulee. If he thinks he smells birds lounging in the shade of chokecherry bushes during the heat of the day, he uses a form of locomotion which would be quite impossible for s short-legged dog. Since he knows he cannot overpower the thorn, he brings into play a curious, stiff-legged rocking horse motion, hardly flexing his legs at all, keeping his underbelly above the wild rose bushes as much as possible. He rises high on his hind legs, pausing to test the delicate air currents which wash the coulee, then leaps forward, onto utterly stiff front legs, landing nearly up to his face in thorns. He then slowly brings his equally stiff hind legs forward in a great, slow-motion rabbit hop. He repeats this plunging maneuver several times, and then pauses to test the air. If the scent proves to be just a tease, he reverses directions, and slowly plunges his way back out of the wild rose thorns. However, if he persists, with his gargantuan rabbit hops, to more deeper and deeper into the hears of the woody cover of the coulee, then you can bet that he's locked onto a breeze which has betrayed a covey of Hungarian Partridge.
The Boykin Spaniel is wonderfully easy to train. At about six weeks of age, I begin to teach my puppies their first commands of "sit", "heel", "go around", and "back". As soon as the dog has the maturity to comprehend what I'm asking, I work it on blind retrieves, sending them off with the command of "back". Later on, I train the dog to sit, even if they're a hundred yards away, with a long whistle blast. Next I work the dog to the left of the right with hand signals. This training will come in handy once you get in the field. If I see a bird fly into a piece of cover, or if I hear a rooster pheasant crow at the head of a coulee, I often heel the dog at my side until I'm in position. I then release the dog into the wind, and wait with a pounding heart, to see what will happen. When working heavy, woody cover, where a pointing dog will have a hard time getting a rooster to stop running, a flushing dog will often put up a bird on the other side of the thicket from the gun. The dog will hear the explosion of wings, and the pop of the gun, yet he will have no idea where the bird has fallen. This is when the blind retrieve is used. The dog is summoned with a short whistle tap, then given a line and sent off with "back". A big part of the pleasure of hunting a dog you have trained yourself is putting the commands to use, and seeing them work perfectly, and then giving the dog so much praise that he becomes embarrassed.
My Montana Boykins handle the open prairie grasslands and the miles of wheat stubble with a relaxed, rambling gait. With Sparky, the taller dog, his relaxed canter re-tells the story of the ugly duckling, grown finally into the beautiful, long-necked swan. I can still remember him as a half-grown pup with legs lo long he reminded me of a colt. I'm always bringing on a new puppy, so it will imprint on my finished dogs and be much like them.
I believe the South Carolina Boykin breeders developed a remarkable dog, which was perfect for turkeys and ducks in the low country, a place I dearly love myself. This smallish dog, so wanting to do your bidding, was perfect for lowering over the side of a narrow, tippy boat with one hand. Now Boykins with larger torsos and longer legs are winning the hearts of wing-shooters across the northern plains and are winning the trophies at the biggest and richest tournament hunts in Missouri, Iowa and Minnesota. Yet the spirit of the Boykin is the same, for that could not be improved upon.
© John Rucker, hunting partner of Buster, Sparky and Jake
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(Have a look at our Turtle Dogs page for more information about Buster, Sparky and Jake)
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