Stories About Us!

The veterinarian shut the door behind him, looked at me and said “Shane, you have to do it. You really don’t have a choice…”

I heard Gunner before I met him. The breeder we purchased him from had flown him out to us when he was 8 weeks old. As I stood outside a roll up door at the airport I could hear a puppy growl and then a bark every few minutes. When the warehouse door finally opened, a young man approached carrying a small dog kennel. “You have a feisty one here!” He said with a smile. “Every time someone walked by him he growled.”

 Another growl came from inside the kennel as I kneeled and opened the door. Without hesitation, the cutest dead grass colored Chesapeake Bay Retriever you have ever laid eyes on bounced into my lap.

That day was the beginning of a great friendship. Over the next three years Gunner and I would spend countless hours training, hunting and riding in my truck together.

A cold front was moving through northern California on the morning of Gunners first duck hunt. Wind & rain peppered our faces as my uncle David and I attempted to camouflage ourselves in the bull rushes. We stood in knee deep water and Gunner stayed close to my side. He was a 10-month-old pup at the time and we had spent hour upon hour training together in preparation for this day. I was excited to see how Gunner would perform when it counted. I sensed he was excited too. Uncle David made a nice shot on a blue winged teal that ventured to close and into the water the bird fell. I gave gunner a line and sent him. With a splash, he was off. He attempted to grab one of the decoys as he swam through them. I yelled a quick “NO” and he continued on to the dead bird then returned it to my hand as he sat at heel.

“Good Job Gunner!” I said as I patted him on the head. With that Gunner made the first of many retrieves in his life. Nothing spectacular. Just a simple single bird retrieve.

What happened next was anything but ordinary:

Gunner walked at heel as Uncle David and I made the hike back to the truck. The rain was really coming down and I was ready to dry out. Without warning Gunner stopped dead in his tracks, his nose went into the air and his ears broke over. He turned and sprinted toward the water making an aerial entry as he jumped into the drink. I began blowing on my whistle once, twice, then three times. The whistle command to return went unheeded. Gunner was nowhere in-sight. After a few minutes I was beyond frustrated. “Worthless, no good dog” I muttered as I continued toward the truck.

“Let him find his own way back!” I was still muttering to myself as I walked when, out of nowhere Gunner appeared at my side. I was preparing to drop the hammer on him before I noticed the beautiful teal he had in his mouth.

“You have to be kidding me!” I said out loud.

My dog had caught the scent of a downed bird that another hunter had shot and was not able to retrieve. Gunner had made the retrieve on pure instinct without any direction from me. That isn’t something you can train. A dog has it or he doesn’t. In an instant Gunner went from a ”worthless, no good dog” to the best dog a guy could own.

Over time Gunner proved himself to be that ‘once in a lifetime dog’ that every hunter hopes to own. He was a tremendous athlete with an incredible nose for the birds. But what sat him apart from any other dog that I owned was his courage and his unstoppable drive. He would rather die than give up on a retrieve. He was a one-man dog. He had eyes for me only which was a blessing and a curse. He didn’t have the time of day for anyone or anything but me and hunting. He didn’t care for other people and that would end up being his down fall.

Gunners finest hour came on the last hunt of his short life. My son Caleb and I were hunting near the Salton Sea in California. It had been a slow day hunting and we packed up for the day. As we made our way back to the truck we heard three shot gun blasts. Out of habit, I looked to the sky and saw a single duck fly overhead. ‘Must have missed’ I thought. A few minutes later we came upon a hunter as his dog was coming out of the water without a bird.

“Lose a bird?” I asked.

“Yeah. The bird eventually went down. But its way out there. My dog cant find it.”

“Did you see it drop?” I asked.

“Yes.” Was the reply.

“If you have a good line I can send my dog to get your bird. But you need to be sure that you have a good line. Gunner won’t quit if I send him. Do you have a good line?”

“I do. I saw right where it went down but I’ve never seen a dog make that long of a retrieve.”

With that, I lined Gunner up and with my left hand gave him the line that the hunter had given me.

“Gunner!” I shouted

His name hadn’t finished rolling off my tongue before he broke into a sprint and launched himself into the air. Gunner hit the water with the intense fury of a world class athlete who had trained his whole life for this one moment.

“My Gosh!” The other hunter exclaimed.

Gunner left a wake behind him as he swam. With each stroke of his legs we could hear a grunt as the air was exhaled form his lungs.

“He means business!” Caleb Said.

Further and further away Gunner swam. I could see a spec on the water and then nothing at all. He was gone from sight.

Every second seemed like a minute and every minute seemed like an hour. I started second guessing myself for having sent him. But we had trained for this. We had worked on blind retrieves on land and water that were so long people didn’t believe he could do it, until they saw it with their own eyes.

I knew he could do it. More importantly, I BELIEVED he could do it.

My thoughts were interrupted by Caleb’s voice”

“I think I see him!”

I could see a tiny spec that got larger and larger. It was Gunner!

As he got closer we could hear the grunt of each stroke, still swimming strong, with purpose and as always, he returned with a bird in his mouth.

Gunner exited the water, sprinted to my side and sat at heel.

“Give” I said. As he released the bird into my hand.

“That’s the most amazing retrieve I have ever seen. I almost can’t believe it and I just watched it.” The other hunter said as I handed him his bird.

I nodded my head, and we went on our way. All in a days work for Gunner the Hunter. He was a boss! He knew it and he acted like it. That dog had some serious SWAG!

The veterinarian shut the door behind him, looked at me and said “Shane, you must do it. You really don’t have a choice…”

The doctor’s voice brought me back to reality. Gunners’ eyes met mine, he knew something was wrong and I sensed his anxiety. I sat down next to him and placed his head in my lap until he breathed his last breath… Then, I cried.

A piece of me died with my friend that day. He was a true friend and the best hunter I have ever known.

I have had several retrievers since then, they are all special in their own way. As bird dogs, not one of them can be mentioned in the same sentence as Gunner!

Here’s to you Gunner the Hunter! Miss you buddy!