"So... erm... do you work your dogs?"

Once your gundog journey is underway, you will, inevitably, find yourself becoming a bit of a dog snob…

I appreciate this is incredibly ironic, given my lack of dog know how pre-Mocha, but I’m sure some of you can also relate. I don’t know what it is, but the sight of a dog in a harness, pulling like a freight train, or indeed fucking off around a field whist a frantic owner chases it screaming “Benji! Benji! Oh bless him, he just loves playing with other dogs…”, will be sure to sky rocket your blood pressure.

A dog on a slip lead, is a friend indeed...

There are, however, a few tell tale signs that elude to the fact that some of your local neighbourhood dogs, and owners, may also enjoy the delights of country sports. Below is a checklist of things that I began to notice as my gundog radar honed in:

• Slip Lead - Gundog 101… and as Sam said to me initially, it’s unlikely for a working dog to ever be seen sporting a harness.
• Whistle - another training staple, and a major part of the pre-walk essentials along with poo bags and dummies.
• Fleeced Gilet - the famed Chelsea life jacket. Engrained into the fabric of the countryside as much as a wax jacket. Worn by 99.9% of those who enjoy shooting, or working their dogs, on an almost daily basis... irrespective of climate. 
• Heel - a dog walking to heel, be it on or off the lead, may very well be a gundog, or a gundog in training. 
• Discipline - if whilst on a walk another dog runs towards you, followed by frantic cries from a distressed and embarrassed owner, chances are, they won’t be a gundog… a gundog's owner won't let them tear about or enjoy too much freedom during walks, and for good reason.

Target located... engage! 

Thus, on each walk around the village, I was looking for someone who may share in my passion for dog training and who more importantly, may hold the ticket to our first outing on a shoot day…

Then, one day, I struck gold.

As I walked into the first of three fields on our usual walk, two men approached with three chocolate labradors. Whilst chocolate Labs aren't deemed as suitable for the field as the black or yellow variety, there were a few promising signs... Dogs at heel, check. Schoffels, check. Slip lead(s), check. A strong start…

As we approached, I was trying to demonstrate that Mocha was too a well trained specimen despite only being 6 months old or so at this point. First impressions count, after all...
I was rehearsing in my head what I could say to broker a conversation. It was my first encounter with anybody in the village who may share in my passion. 

“Good Evening…”

“Evening…”

“They’re lovely dogs. How old are they?”

“Well, this ones getting on a bit now… he’ll be finishing up after this season for a quieter life. This ones five, and this ones three”

Season, you say? Had this just confirmed my suspicions? 

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take...

It turns out the man, and I had now established, his son, used to live in the house that Erin and I had bought. In fact, the son had been born in what was now our bedroom! Small world, or small village, perhaps. Talk soon returned to our dogs, though...

“Mocha is only six months old, but we’re working hard on her training…”

“Oh good, yes I saw her walking to heel. She looks a lovely little dog.”

“Thank you. Yeah she's doing alright so far! So… erm... do you work your dogs?”

Well, there's no going back now…

What if he says no? What if I have misjudged this entirely and he is in fact a passionate, Packham supporting ‘anti’? My internal monologue and anxiety was kicking into overdrive…

“It’s entirely possible for someone to have a well trained dog without being an avid game shot or gundog enthusiast… you dick!” 

I needn’t have worried, because as it happens, my gundog owner checklist turned out to be accurate. Yes, he did work them, and it was clearly a passion of both he and his son. We were stood there for about fifteen minutes discussing all things training, engaging in the Labs vs Spaniels debate, his son's career in the army and general chit-chat about life in the village.

We went our separate ways, and that was that. Some time went by, and I actually never crossed paths with the gentleman on any of our subsequent evening walks. I had, however, added him on Facebook after our walk (well, I wasn’t going to ask for his number… I hadn’t even bought him a drink…).

As the shoot season approached, and with more than twelve months of training under our belt and my excitement and desire for a proper day on a shoot growing with each passing minute, I decided to drop the man a message to see if he knew of any shoots that would be open to Mocha and I coming along for a day…

A few hours later, my phone dinged, and I hoped for good news...

It’s a very daunting thing being new to a world that is often regarded as very elitist, insular, and home to one of the more controversial subject matters in the modern day, certainly considered taboo to a majority of the general public. It’s something that people within the shooting world tend not to discuss with those who don’t share in their passion, for fear of controversy or ill-feeling.

But as someone who hasn’t grown up in the countryside, or world of field sports, I had no choice but to be curious, strike up what were initially quite awkward conversations and put myself out there. I am so glad that I did, and I found everyone that I met in the early part of our journey, and those that I have met since to be incredibly willing to help, share stories, make introductions where possible and share advice (if at times unsolicited, but with the best of intentions)…

And so, that chance encounter and subsequent conversation on an evening dog walk with the random bloke who I assumed, and hoped, worked his dogs, had secured our first ever day in the shooting field.

15th October 2022.

A day that will stay with me forever, and one which marked the true beginning of our journey together.