“It’s the little dog’s first day out…”

It’s arrived. Your first day out in the field with your dog. Nervous? Excited? A sense of overwhelming panic? Don’t worry, it’s all very normal. One thing’s for sure, you’ll create memories to last a life time…

Pre-Match Nerves...

The alarm went off bright and early, around 6.30am to be precise. My clothes were laid out in readiness, to avoid minimal stress on what felt like a very important morning. The little dog, of course, lay somewhat oblivious in her bed downstairs, if not slightly perturbed by the unusually early alarm for a Saturday morning. It’s hard to explain how I was feeling to be honest, but I can only really compare it to the morning of an important rugby match or even the first day of a new school - fear of the unknown, I suppose.

After the usual morning routine, I headed downstairs to get Mocha ready. Sat up in her crate, tail wagging, looking at me as if to say...

“Okay, so two things… firstly, why are you up so early, and secondly, what on earth are you wearing?”.

Out for her morning wee, a light breakfast, jar of kibble and water packed in the car along with a first aid kit (I had recently completed a canine first aid course, which I hoped very much not to ever need, but better to be safe than sorry…) and off we went.  It was about an hours drive to the shoot, and the whole way there I was playing out different scenarios in my head. It was very much the plan to simply stand well back behind the gun line and do nothing more than observe, but that didn’t stop my mind from imagining all sorts…

What if a runner ran right past us and none of the pickers up were in sight? What if people are unwilling to show this total novice the ropes, or judgemental about Mocha’s un-docked tail? What if she runs away and gets lost in the woods? I appreciate that all of this sounds ridiculous, but they were very real thoughts occupying my mind.

Time For The Off...

Many an anxious thought later, we arrived at our destination and drove down the long track to the meeting point. I was confident I was at the right place, as I’d never seen so many 4x4’s and dogs in my life. The gentleman who had invited us couldn’t make it that day, so had put me in touch with the Keeper beforehand. I spotted him as I got out of the car, went over to say hello, asked if he was excited to get going, and reiterated the fact that this was Mocha’s first day out.

I had mentioned by text that we may only stay for the first half of the day as I didn’t want to overwhelm her. I reiterated this, which he was absolutely fine with, and I was then introduced to some of the other pickers up. We shared information on our dogs like proud parents (which I suppose we all are), spoke of our excitement for the new season and readied ourselves for the day ahead. 

“She’s just over a year old now…”

“No she’s a Sprocker, actually, though seems to have got all of the Springer markings!”

“Yes, it’s the little dog’s first day out today. We’ll take it very slowly, but it’s all good experience for her… and me!”

I was slightly embarrassed, however, by the fact that I was driving my fiancee’s car which whilst an SUV, was not four-wheel drive. I had decided to do what all brave men do at least once in their relationship, and ask for forgiveness not permission in the summer, buying myself a sports car. This was of course even less suitable for the task at hand. I’ll admit, this was a decision which I now regretted, and I could hear Erin’s voice in my head saying…

“See, what did I say. Completely impractical!”

It was bloody good fun, though… Anyway, in the absence of space for Mocha and I in other vehicles, I would spend the day between trailers, alternating dependent on which team was shooting that particular drive as it was a walk one, stand one format. With everybody loaded up, off we went to the first drive. Mocha was excited, if not a little apprehensive, primarily after being crammed into a trailer with ten or so people, and as many dogs. As we set off, there was a palpable buzz in the air. Excitement for the first day of the season, tales of the summer period, laughter and banter. Mocha and I were just taking it all in. 

The First Drive...

We arrived at the first drive, and I was buddied up with a nice lady who I hadn’t met upon arrival as she was deep in conversation. She had an impressive team of Labs, who based on what I had overheard, she field trialled. A far cry from retrieving dummies in the field by our house, hey, Mocha… She told me where to stand, and said not to worry if there was anything we couldn’t pick as she would sweep up at the end. I didn’t correct her, nor stress that we didn’t really want to pick anything on our first day out. I did what us Brits do, smile, nod, and shit myself at the ramifications of my politeness. It was a woodland drive, with lots of cover and trees. We were positioned behind guns 1 and 2, so less likely to be in the thick of the action, and one of the guns had two dogs sat on peg with him. Phew, I thought, maybe we will be able to just watch this one after all. 

The drive started, nice and slowly, with the sound of beaters chirps and dog whistles (along with the odd raised voice to try and regain control of an overexubernt spaniel…) making their way through the trees. Then, all of a sudden, the unmistakeable sound of a pheasant. It rose high above the trees, flying down towards the middle of the gun line. Three shots, no success. This pheasant would live to fight another day, but I was sure that the guns who missed would be reminded of their efforts throughout the remainder of the day…

Mocha sat solid as a rock, taking it all in, alert to each noise and gunshot, and I couldn’t have been any prouder. I was so concerned that she would get too excited, whine, and ruin everyone’s day, but there wasn’t so much as a little squeak. There were several dogs on peg who were squeaking a bit, but writing this almost a year to the day, I can empathise enormously. Fortunately, no birds had dropped anywhere near us, and the two birds that landed to the left of peg one were picked by the aforementioned peg dogs. Result. 

A Memory To Last A Lifetime...

Drive two saw much of the same. A slow, steady stream of birds over the gun line as the gun line’s rust began to wear off. Again, nothing to pick. Whilst this might sound frustrating, I couldn’t have been happier. This is exactly what I wanted from our first day. You hear horror stories of people rushing their dogs, and ‘blowing their brains’ - something I was incredibly keen to avoid. What happened next, however, is something that will stay with me forever…

At the end of drive two, we all congregated in the woods to allow time for the party to regroup, allowing time for the guns to share tales of birds shot and more importantly, those missed. I got chatting to one of the ladies I had met earlier in the day, who asked how we were getting on.

“Very well thank you. It’s been great so far, she’s sat good as gold, taking it all in and watching everything that’s happening. Nothing to pick yet, but I don’t mind that at all!”

“That’s great! I’m glad it’s going well. Would you like me to throw a bird for her to pick? Get her used to picking a warm one?”

“Yes, okay, that’s very kind. Thank you.”

The lady took a freshly shot bird, lying on the game cart and walked to the end of the ride in the woodland. I sat Mocha at heel next to me and waited, heart racing ten to the dozen.

“Brrrrrrrrrr, MARK!”

The bird went up into the air, and landed in the grassy verge, some thirty metres or so away from us. The lead came off, I lined her up, and sent her…

“Mocha, go back!”

She set off keenly, arriving quickly at her destination, sniffing around and then, there it was. She was understandably slightly cautious, had a bit of a sniff, and then, after some thought, carefully took the bird in her mouth. The pickers up, guns and beaters who had made their way out of the woodland were all gathered behind me, watching on. After three toots on the whistle, she came running back.

Suddenly, the watching shooting party began to cheer, clap and all seemed genuinely delighted that Mocha had picked her first bird. I don’t mind admitting, it was rather emotional, but I was so touched by the generosity and kindness shown by all present. Mocha then proceeded to get a case of the zoomies, performing some sort of erratic victory lap around the onlookers. She was clearly delighted with herself and the attention she was getting, which led to further applause and laughter… Back on the lead she went…

Our First 'Proper' Retrieve...

The day continued after a brief pause for elevenses, where various syndicate members shared sausage rolls, brownies, flapjacks and various other home-made baked goods which did the rounds. If this was what shooting was like, it was certainly something I could get used to…

On the third drive, we took our place behind the gun line in the trees behind the ride, and waited for the action to commence. Not long into the drive, a bird fell twenty or so yards away from us. The bird wasn’t yet dead, but had been hit hard and lay flapping slightly on the ground. Of the utmost importance on a shoot day is the ability to dispatch any injured bird as quickly and humanely as possible, and so we had to retrieve the bird. Right, Mocha, this will be a test… not only is it warm, it’s not dead…

I sent her, heart in mouth, but hopeful. She ran out keenly, arrived at the bird, noticed it was still flapping and began to panic slightly. This combined with further gun shots, beating noises and adrenaline all meant for a rather overwhelming situation. With a bit of reassurance and encouragement, she picked it and came charging back to me. We’d done it! Her first proper retrieve on a shoot day!

After the drive had ended, we loaded back into the trailer ready to make our way back to the meeting point for lunch, and a count up of the bag thus far. Mocha rested her head on my knee, and irrespective of the excitement and noise in the trailer, I realised that she was completely and utterly shattered.

And With That, It Was Time For Home...

After a delicious bowl of game stew courtesy of one of the shooting party, I went to speak to the day’s shoot captain and the keeper.

“Gents, I hope you don’t mind, but Mocha is completely and utterly exhausted. I know there’s likely to be another couple of drives, but as I said beforehand I did think we may only do half a day as it’s her first ever day out today. Would you mind if we headed off slightly early?”

“No of course not! Have you enjoyed it? I’m so pleased she’s picked her first bird! Please do come back any time you’d like to.”

I thanked them, smiling from ear to ear, and set off home, with a VERY tired dog already dozing in her travel crate.

“Well there we go, Mocha… you’re officially a working dog now…”

A loose definition, perhaps, but to me, she was. It might sound a bit ridiculous, but I can honestly say that it was one of the proudest days of my life thus far.

Reflection A Year To The Day...

Almost a year to the day, we joined the picking up team on the same shoot this past weekend on their first day of the new season, but this time, on a new estate. It was great to see how far we’ve come in twelve months, with Mocha working ‘properly’, listening to instructions, handling well, picking runners and sweeping up confidently and independently of other dogs at the end of each drive.

She’s not a dog with fancy breeding, she isn’t even KC registered, but she’s turning into a great little dog and I couldn’t be prouder of her. Whilst undoubtedly there were some stark differences between our first time on this shoot, and the weekend just gone, some things remained the same…

I left smiling from ear to ear after enjoying another memorable day in the field with my best friend, everyone was as welcoming, supportive and generous as I remembered, and the little dog was once again, well and truly shattered!