Geoff Thomas: Dogs' day out at duck hunt

The English springer spaniel loves water and upland game. Photo / Paul Thomas

COMPANION: The English springer spaniel loves water and upland game. PAUL THOMAS

For man's best friend, next Saturday morning will see dogs and their owners bond in a special way. It is a day when the four-legged friend becomes the loved companion; a day when the companion gets to ride in the front of the car for a change.

Well, maybe on the way out to the swamp but after a day of jumping into the muddy water the friend may be relegated to the back of the ute.

It is the opening of the duck-shooting season and 40,000 hunters will be heading out to ponds, lakes, rivers and swamps all around the country. Many will have their dogs at their side and, for a bird shooter, the ultimate satisfaction is seeing his dog search the bushes and reeds for a fallen duck and emerge triumphant, tail wagging and bird firmly grasped in the mouth. It is the reward for endless hours spent throwing a dummy at the local park, patiently teaching the young dog to heed commands and learn that what started as a game is a serious business.

For the dogs, it will always be a game but, with practice, they will learn how to trail the scent of a wounded bird - how to swing to the left or the right in response to their owner's gestures and to stop when he whistles.

For some dogs, the instinct to hunt is in their genes. It just needs awakening and shaping. Some will never learn.

When it comes to water, the faithful Labrador is hard to beat. It is the ultimate design - a friendly, family dog and natural water animal. Labs love water, just as they love to eat. They will play with young children and have even been known to develop into useful watchdogs, although some family dogs seem to think that lying down and watching is all that is required.

Other breeds, such as the German short-haired pointer, are thin-skinned and highly strung. The cold water can get to them, although jackets made from wet-suit material overcome this problem. But they can be frustrating, particularly when hunting for pheasants in cut-over forest or fence rows. The long-limbed dogs take off like rockets, leaving the hunters far behind and out of range of any bird that is flushed.

One trick that we used to employ was to let the dogs out of the vehicle when still a couple of kilometres away from the hunting spot so they could burn off some of their energy as they raced after the car. But a well-trained pointer will freeze on point when a bird crouches in the grass and will not move until commanded, even though its every muscle is strained and shivering with nervous energy.

Then there are little dogs. Jack russell terriers can retrieve birds and even chase wild pigs, but you are more likely to see members of the spaniel family bursting with excitement as ducks circle the maimai. The English springer spaniel is always popular for it is right at home in the kitchen, on the back seat of the car, pushing through blackberries while on the trail of a pheasant or leaping into a pond after a duck.

Their long hair needs washing after a day in the mud, and combing out the burrs and biddy-bids, which are worn like badges of honour garnered while pushing through long grass and scrub, can be a chore.

But it always seems a loving chore as the tireless little warriors will not stop until totally worn out.

Like humans, a dog's world is becoming more globalised. They come from different countries and sport names such as Vizla and Brittany spaniel.

Nothing can replace time spent in the field with a dog. Sometimes that time is spent on field trials - competitions where handlers pit their own retriever against the best from around the country. But sometimes that experience does not help when it comes to the real thing.

A national champion was helping us look for a duck that had fallen into a patch of reeds. Its owner was throwing a turnip into the middle of the reeds to direct the dog, which repeatedly returned with the turnip in its mouth - much to the embarrassment of the owner.

But when a hunter pulls off a difficult shot and the bird disappears in the scrub 150m away on the far side of the pond, and when his dog leaps over the front of the maimai and swims unerringly to the other bank, shakes itself in a spray of droplets then, nose to the ground, shuffles into the bushes and reappears with the mallard grasped firmly in its mouth, it is the ultimate reward.