Mexican beaches, great food, and DUCKS! The Perfect Couples Getaway!!

For my 20th anniversary to my wonderful wife, I wanted to do something special. We wanted to do something a little different for us, and something we would both enjoy. Long story short, Ramsey Russell with getducks.com hooked us up with a great trip to the Mexican Pacific coast, which just happened to also offer great duck hunting! We invited two other couples to share in this little piece of heaven.

The resort was beautiful, and we were greeted to our view of the Pacific from our balcony...



We spent the late afternoon and evening enjoying the sites and a walk down the beach



Did see some birds but we were looking for something bigger



For the next 4 mornings, we were treated to some of the best duck hunting I could imagine, within 1.75 hours of the resort. Limits for all of us every day, and generally within 1.5 hours. We were often back to the resort before our ladies had finished breakfast!

A few select pics....












Regarding birds, we were able to shoot quite a mixed bag.  We shot lots of shovelers, teal (all species), wigeon, pintails, bluebills and even some black-bellied tree ducks.  



The rest of the day was spent either sightseeing, shopping with the ladies, or just doing NOTHING at the pool. I NEVER get to do NOTHING, so this was a special treat! 



Evenings were for enjoying the UNBELIEVABLE sunsets and eating amazing seafood.....





Not sure which sight is more beautiful, but then again, I'm biased...



We returned home reluctantly, for sure. It was an unbelievable trip on so many levels. Certainly it wont be the last time...

A quick word on security/safety in Mexico. The American media and the Dept of State would have you believe you cant safely poke your nose off the plane anywhere in Mexico. At least where we were in Mazatlan no one even looked at us sideways. We encountered plenty of other Americans and Canadians who wouldnt go anywhere else... The shops, resorts, restaurants were very friendly and safe.

If you are looking for the perfect couples trip (and to get in a little duck hunting too), look no farther!!

Why I hunt with a dog...

This makes my third season hunting with my own dog.  I know many of you have far more seasons than that with your dog(s) under your belts, and could probably do a better job of writing this than me, but here goes nothing...

Having a dog has given me a way to enjoy this sport year-round.  With a dog the season never really ends. You can justify all kinds of excuses to get out of the house because of a dog. Training days with friends in the spring and summer, trips to a local lake to swim, hunt tests, and many other activities start to crop up on your personal calendar that you might not have otherwise considered.  Don't forget the opportunity to rationalize all kinds of new gear, in the name of your four-legged companion either!  Dog blinds, stands, ladders, collars, vests, training gear.....ahh, the life of a gear-junkie!

Having a good dog helps secure invitations.  Word of a good dog spreads quickly (be careful, the inverse is also true!), and often you may get calls to hunt and it may not be that important to the inviter that you go or not.  "What time can Roux be ready?" is frequently asked of me...I try not to get offended.

Dogs provide endless photo opportunities.  Some dramatic, some comical, but there is always a dog picture to be taken.  Im certain I have missed some shooting chances at birds because I was shooting photos of the dog instead.  He just takes it in stride...much like my kids do when my wife breaks out her camera.

Roux even graciously allows me to have my photo taken with him every now and then

Dogs recover game that would likely be lost otherwise.  This is REALLY why they are there, isn't it?  While we all strive for birds feet-up and dead in the decoys, we all know sometimes this just doesn't happen.  This is where a well-trained dog earns his keep.  I have seen my dog, and many others, pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat time and again, finding birds humans would have never come close to.  This also becomes a great source of pride for the owner as well.  The last weekend of our first split provided two such instances for me:

First, my partners and I lightly knocked down a drake mallard that sailed l-o-n-g into thick weeds in a flooded crop field.  We had a decent mark on the bird, but knew our chances of chasing a lively duck down in that stuff were slim.  I looked at Roux and he had a line on the bird, but I knew his line of sight was hampered by the brush in the field.  I sent him out, and he stopped, looking back for direction, after about 175 yards.  I kept casting him back, until he was just a small brown speck to my old eyes.  One more cast and I saw him whip his head around, staring into a patch of smartweed about 30 yards wide.  He dove in, and the weeds shook for a minute, and he emerged with a fat and very much alive drake in his mouth.  We all stood and applauded!

Nice job, Roux-ster!!

The following day,  two friends and I hunted a lake from a boat blind tucked way back in the reeds.  Roux's view in front of the blind was severely hampered by the vegetation, but we made the best of it.  Midmorning, one of my friends knocked down a goose, which splashed down about 60 yards from the blind, off the left front corner.  The goose's wing was broken, but his legs sure weren't!  Another partner was able to smack him on the water pretty hard, but the goose was still cutting a wake for the main body of the lake to our hard left.  I lined Roux as best I could and sent him, figuring he would either run the goose down, or we would pick him up in the boat if not.  He hit the water, looking for the bird, and once he got to the edge of the decoys, picked him up about 50 yards or so farther out.  What ensued was a great race.  Roux managed to slowly close the gap on the bird, eventually getting within 6-8 feet well over 100 yards or more from the blind.  The goose attempted to dive, but was caught by the wing tip by a very determined brown dog.  Roux slowly began spinning the goose back toward the boat, bettering his hold by a few inches every chance he could.  He pushed the big bird all the way back to the blind, proud as a peacock, saving us a long chase on a lake with electric motor use only.  With the headstart the bird had, we might never have caught up.  To say I was proud doesn't come close...

Goose thought he could out swim the Brown Dog.  Silly Goose.

A dog has taught me that there is so much more to this than just shooting ducks and geese.  There is the pride you have when your dog does something spectacular.  There is the humor and embarrassment when your dog does something not so spectacular (a certain NY skunk comes to mind).  There is the look on his face when you drop a bird, and he is bursting to be sent and retrieve the prize.  There is also that look on his face when you totally muff the shot and he glares at you like, "seriously??".  There is the smell of wet dog, that is usually not desirable, but becomes a welcome part of every hunt.  I could go on and on and on, as I am sure any dedicated dog guy could.

Bottom line, I hunted many years without a dog of my own, but I am not sure how or why.  I also worry about my waterfowling brethren that prefer to hunt without a dog.  I am to the point now, that if my dog is not hunting, I have to think twice about if I even want to go.  To quote my buddy Ramsey, "waterfowling without a dog is like honeymooning without the bride."  I couldn't agree more.

To be sure,  Brown (or whatever color you have) is Beautiful!

Happy Birthday to Me

The longer I live, the less important my birthday becomes to me.  Don't get me wrong, I would far prefer to keep having birthdays than the alternative.  In my head, I am still 20 years old, with endless energy and enthusiasm, but all to often my body reminds me that this just isn't the case.  Birthday gifts and parties only seem to remind me of the painfully obvious fact that I am just getting older.  I would just prefer the company of those friends and family that mean so much, no need to draw more attention to the day than necessary.   Well, I say that, but some presents are REALLY cool...

Roux and I were invited to accompany a good friend and his son on an early season goose hunt in New York (I have found having a good hunting dog all but guarantees hunt invites).  We would be hunting with another good friend, Craig Southard of Southern Tier Outfitters.  When I checked the dates, I found the second day fell on my birthday.  When it was made clear that I would be home in time for birthday dinner with the family, my permission to go was issued.  I couldn't wait, as I always enjoy my trips to the Empire State.

We arrived on Friday night, and quickly got our gear arranged and ready for a early wake-up call.  Saturday morning, we made a hour long trip to a cow pasture and pond which sat high on a hill overlooking a deep valley.  I can say without hesitation that this was the most beautiful place I have ever goose hunted, and that says something.  We busied ourselves setting and grassing our blinds and placing our decoys.  The farmer's cows provided some amusement and frustration, but we were able to finally move them out of harm's way.

Not a common problem

Soon the geese were flying, some coming over the hill behind us and dropping into the decoys, but most came from the valley.  This may have been one of the neatest things I have ever seen, watching geese flying down the valley, well below our set-up, and turn coming up the hill below us.  It is not often you get to look DOWN on geese flying into your spread!  Only at the very last minute would we sit up and fire, raining geese into the pasture.  Roux did a great job hauling back some of the biggest geese I have seen in quite some time.  In short order, we had 24 geese on the ground, a lot to be sure, but well short of New York's new 15 bird/man/day early season limit.  Still, it was plenty for us, and the birds appeared to be done flying anyway.  We made our way back to the hotel and after a great dinner and some adult refreshments, we were ready to hit the sack.

Roux knows how important it is to be well hidden!

Sunday morning (my birthday) rolled around much quicker than my aging body would have liked, but thankfully we were hunting only minutes from where we were staying.  We made the short drive to the field, pleasantly surprised to see the blinds already placed and hidden and the decoys sitting in the heavy fog shrouding a cut oat field.  The blinds were practically invisible in some standing alfalfa just off the oats...a perfect set up.  The fog was so thick that sunrise was barely detectable.  However, it did not deter the geese one bit.  They came generally in small flocks, heard long before they were seen.  They seemed to materialize out of the fog, only 60-70 yards out when finally visible.  They coasted right into the decoys, and were met with withering fire from the blinds.  VERY few birds actually made it out of the field unscathed, and our pile of birds quickly grew.

New York Geese are BIG!

A flock of four came in low off the right side of the decoys, and we fired, dropping all four.  Roux charged out to start cleaning up, and the first bird back to the blinds sported a leg band!  Normally, this would be when some game would be devised to allow claiming the prize, but my good friends all smiled and wished me "Happy Birthday!"  I was humbled by the generosity of the gesture.

A Little Birthday Bling!

We ended the day with 21 geese, making a total of 45 for my birthday weekend.  I reported the band, and found my bird was banded in 2010 along the St Lawrence River in southern Ontario.  What a great trip, a perfect birthday for sure.  Without a doubt, great friends and great dogs are what make this sport we call waterfowling what it is!

Until next time, remember,

Brown is Beautiful

Flying solo

I used to be a diehard deer hunter.  Sitting hours on end high up in a tree, all by myself, waiting for the buck of my dreams to sneak by, was how I spent just about any time I could get away.  I still like to deer hunt, but it is now more of a way to pass the time when waterfowl season isn't open, as well as to insure the stockpile of tasty venison doesnt get too low.  As I tell my friends, I used to think I really loved to hunt, but what I have learned is that I really like to get up early on cold mornings to drink coffee, smoke cigars, watch dogs work and maybe shoot a duck or a goose every now and then.  Some of my favorite moments not spent with family have been with good friends in less than exotic locations doing just that.  Early season is generally a very festive time with my hunting friends.  Often we enjoy hunts for resident geese, in standing corn, where we can hide sometimes 10 or more guys.  How we manage to shoot anything is a mystery, as we are generally too busy laughing and trying to keep our cigars lit than actually looking for birds.  The same could be said for dove shoots in big cut silage fields, taunting each other and critiquing shooting performance.  It is a social event beyond compare.  So I guess that is what made this hunt very different, but still very enjoyable.

After a nice goose hunt with a close friend on Friday, I made plans to hunt with him and another partner on Saturday, the opening day for teal.  However, one guy "never got the message" (or so he says), and partner number one remembered at the last minute a family commitment that would preclude him from hunting.  With these developments, I had two choices: sleep in or go by myself.  While tempting, the choice was easy.  I have a hard time NOT hunting when season is open, the days of sleeping in are over until February.  Roux and I headed out and set up on a small farm pond in a cow pasture.  We made short work of getting set up and enjoyed a beautiful sunrise all to ourselves.  Soon after sunrise, a large flock of geese gave us a look, but circled and headed out, safely out of range.  I was troubled by this development, and was looking around to see what the problem was, when a small flock of geese came from over my right shoulder.  I sat up and shot twice, dumping 2 geese into the pond, swung on a third but my gun wouldn't fire...seems I was enjoying the sunrise so much that I only put 2 shells in.  I must be slipping...  Roux made 2 fine retrieves to hand.

Bringing one back!

We barely had time to congratulate ourselves and get back in the blinds when a small duck buzzed the decoys and banked back around, showing his big blue shoulder patches.  When he passed me again, I fired as he crossed the pond levee.  I could see he was hit, and I watched as he crash landed 150 yards out in the pasture.   I stood up to line Roux up for a blind retrieve, but a honk over my shoulder made me hit the deck.  Another small flock of geese was making a bee line for the pond, and I let them get out in front with feet down before I sat up.  An honest triple followed, and my limit of geese was done. Roux looked at me and waited for the call to go.  I sent him and he made three beautiful retrieves, ferreting one goose out of thick weeds on the opposite side of the pond.  Next we walked to the pond levee and I lined him up on the last place I saw the teal.  I sent him and 2 whistles later I saw his head whip around and his tail go crazy.  He lunged into some tall weeds, and trotted back with a perfect blue wing teal in his mouth.  I looked at my watch,  7:40 AM.  Not a bad morning, for sure.  We hastily took some pictures and picked up, hoping to leave any other birds wanting in undisturbed.

Roux was very proud of himself.  I was proud of him, too.

I dont hunt waterfowl very often by myself, far preferring the raucous company of the best friends a guy could ask for.  However, this hunt was very special to me.  Just Brown Dog and me, doing what we both love so much.  Not sure I would change it, even if I could.  My only regret was that my only witness to shooting 6 birds with 6 shots was Roux...and he ain't talking.  Oh well.

Not bad for 40 minutes of hunt time!

Until next time, remember,

Brown is Beautiful

Why I hate August

Most people love summertime.  I suppose somewhere in me, I do too, but I generally view it as something to be endured until we can get back to what is really important in the fall and winter.  June is nice, the kids are newly out of school, and the weather is warm without usually being oppressively hot.  It's good to be back outside and backyard grilling and family time is refreshing.  July is okay, Fourth of July cookouts and fireworks are wonderful, but I am already growing weary of cranking the lawn mower and it seems I am on a never-ending battle with an impending crabgrass takeover.  Duck season seems forever away, and the biggest hurdle is my nemesis, the month of August.  By the time August 1 gets here, I am done with summer.  I have once again lost the crabgrass war, and have generally enlisted some enterprising high schooler to mow the yard.  It is generally hotter than I care to think about, and my interest in participating in much more than a skeet shoot after dark is at a minimum.  The REALLY cruel thing, however, is that TIME STANDS STILL!

I have long felt that August was, at a minimum, 300 days long.  My commutes back and forth to work show me the geese are starting to fly again and large numbers of them congregate around loafing ponds, mocking me, no doubt preparing their disappearing act for the early season opener on September 1. Doves perch on every power line, and the teal scouts start arriving in the marsh, all knowing I am helpless to do anything about it.  In order to be able to take time off when I really NEED it off during season, I have to hunker down at work,
and that is exhausting in its own right.  The pages of the day-to-day calendar don't get torn off quickly, and I feel like September will never arrive.   To confirm my suspicions, my technical staff actually made me an August calendar that proves just what I thought, 318 days!!

I KNEW IT!!!

Roux and I battle with how to make the time pass.  We walk and run together in the mornings before it gets hot.  We train in the evenings when it begins to cool down.  On weekends we have done some hunt tests, which are a bunch of fun and they allow us to pretend we are hunting.  However, we both know it is just a game.  This past weekend, he just looked at me as I stood with a popper-loaded shotgun and a flock of geese flew over the hunt test pond, with an expression that said "let 'em have it, Dad!".  I was powerless to make it happen.

The Brown Dog with some August Bling!

I just have to keep re-assuring him (and myself) that September will get here, eventually, and all these geese, doves, and teal will be fair game again, despite the fact it seems we have both had three birthdays since August started.  Does anyone else have this problem, or is it just me?  I know Ramsey always says, "it's duck season somewhere", and I am going to have to take him up on one of these south-of -the-equator hunts soon.  You can rest assured, it won't be in June or July, it will be in August, because I want my 5 day hunt to last at least 3 weeks!!!

We figured out how to make it through this August day in style, at least.

Until September, remember,
Brown is Beautiful!

You EAT geese?

I always laugh when somebody asks me this one, and I am still amazed by the number of them that are actually fellow waterfowlers.  I hear it all the time, about how Canadas don't make good table fare, and I have no doubt this, more often than not, has been the result of a "bad experience" with a knife and fork.  I just smile and say, "Yes, I manage to choke them down", all the while seeing if they will offer to give me their geese as well...

My hunting pals and I are fortunate enough to shoot quite a few geese each season, and the Brown Dog loves to carry these 747s around.  We have also been fortunate enough to stumble across some very good recipes that make these big birds more than "just edible".  One of my very favorites is this recipe for making pastrami from goose breasts, and it never ceases to please!  I have converted many of the "geese taste nasty" crowd with this one (including quite a few at the OWA Waterfowlers Bootcamp this weekend), and it is SOOOO easy, you just gotta have some time and a smoker...

Meat Preparation
First, you need geese!  To make this effort worthwhile, I usually will do 6-8 breast filets at a time, and I have done as many as a dozen.  Start by removing all the "silver skin", muscle fascia, blood vessels, etc that you can with a sharp filet knife. Remove any shot pellets you can find as well as any feathers that may be in the meat.  This really seems to get rid of a lot of the "gamey" flavor many complain about with geese.

Removing fascia and silver skin

Brine Preparation
Make a brine for the breasts to soak in.  My brine recipe of choice is:
1 pint water
3 tablespoons of Morton Tender Quick
2 tablespoons of garlic powder
3 tablespoons of brown sugar
2 tablespoons pickling spice
(This is generally enough for 4-6 breasts, can easily be doubled if more volume is needed)
*Bring all ingredients to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, stirring to dissolve sugar and Tender Quick

Marinade Time!
Place the brine and the breasts in a sealable container.  If you need to, add additional water to make sure all meat is covered.  Seal container and place in the refrigerator for 7-10 days.  Shake the container daily or every other day to mix the contents.  (For really large batches, especially when it is really cold out, I have used 5 gallon buckets and put them in the garage!)

Into the brine!

Ready for the Fridge!

Time to Cook!
Drain the brine from the container.  Often the fat that is still with the meat will get somewhat "snotty" after a long sit in the fridge, but it rinses off.  Rinse the meat and allow to sit in cold fresh water for 1-2 hours.  Dry the breasts off and apply your favorite meat rub to both sides, liberally coating the surface and grinding it into the meat.  I like BBQ rubs, like Rendezvous Dry Rub, but ground peppercorns, Cajun seasonings, even coarse ground black pepper all work...just depends on your tastes.

Rub(s) added, ready for the smoker!

Get your smoker up to 220-225 F, and smoke the meat until the internal temperature is 150-160F (a remote meat thermometer is a wonderful thing).  I like to use apple cider in the water pan, but experiment to see what you like the best.  Smoking time is generally 4-6 hours.

See you in about 4 hours!

When the meat reaches temperature, remove from the smoker, and allow to cool.  Slice the meat thin with a meat slicer or filet knife and enjoy!  Large batches can be easily divided up and vacuum sealed, for freezing and serving later.  I usually throw a small bag in with my hunting gear to share with friends (and Roux) in the blind.  It's good stuff!  Enjoy!!

Just out of the smoker!

Sliced and ready to pack

Ready for the Blind Bag!

Until next time, remember...

Brown is Beautiful!

Daddy was right...

As I sit here, the heat index is over 100F, and the Brown Dog and I are vying for position as close to the AC vent as we can get.  I admit it, I grew up in the South, but I don't miss Mississippi much in the heat of summer, and I really despise it when Southern-quality heat and humidity follows me to the North Coast.  Sometimes, all I can really do is sit and think of times when I would have given anything for "just a pinch" of the heat that comes in July and August.

Cold and waterfowling go together like peanut butter and jelly.  I will never forget the words of my dear old Dad, when I asked him about going duck hunting one day.  He was not a duck hunter, and I soon figured out it was largely due to his cold intolerance.  He gave a stunned look, and said, "Son, don't EVER get into that.  Duck hunters are crazy...just take the coldest you have ever been and add water."  I still laugh when I think about that, and I have had more than a few opportunities to learn he was largely correct.

My first layout hunt on Lake Erie was a good example.  It was late December, and Sandusky Bay was already frozen tight.  We set a 2 boat rig out in Lake Erie in chip ice with winds over 20 mph.  Ice water splashed over the cowlings of the layout boat and ran down the back of my neck.  Larger chunks of ice ran through the decoys, making maintaining our spread a challenge at the very least.  Sitting in the tender was brutal as well and my hand shook violently as I tried to drink coffee.  But, we were in the ducks, and all that cold was forgotten every time I sat up to shoot bluebills and the occasional mallard.  All I could do was laugh out loud, I was totally hooked.

Several years ago, our public land blind had been frozen out for a week or better toward the end of the season.  A brief "warm-up" occurred, and a couple of our group discovered several acres of open water in front of our blind, but not the rest of the lake.  Even better, the open water was lousy with ducks!  These adventurous friends broke ice from the ramp, down the channel, and across the lake to open water.  They shot some ducks but were not very well hidden, preventing a real shoot-out.  Another friend and I took advantage the next morning, as a cold rain started to fall, with the promise of snow and falling temperatures, motoring a small marsh boat camo'd to the hilt to the open water.  We backed against the shoreline and when legal time arrived we started shooting, limiting out on mallards, blacks, and even several bluebills in a little over an hour.  The rain never let up and we were soaked to the skin as we had no cover on our little boat.  Snowflakes the size of silver dollars began falling on a hard west wind as we made our way back to the ramp.  The rest of the lake and the channel re-froze by later that day, not opening back up until well after the season was closed.  That little lake was surrounded by houses, and all I could think about was some yuppie couple coming down on Sunday morning to enjoy the fire in the fireplace and a hot cup of coffee, looking across the lake and seeing a couple of frozen waterlogged idiots across the lake, shooting ducks, laughing, and trying to keep their cigars lit.  Ahh, good times...

Probably one of the most surprising examples of cold weather duck hunting was this past season in Ontario in early December.  Two partners and I huddled in a more or less open boat against the reeds while the wind blew like a gale over our heads.  The temperature was in the 20s and I don't even want to know what the wind chill was.  Roux sat on the bench seat in front of me, periodically looking at me, like "seriously"??? Snow and sleet squalls rolled through, hitting us in the face like pellets from an air rifle.  I noticed a small amount of snow had piled on the gunwales of the boat, meanwhile, a lone mallard swung into the decoys in front of me.  I raised and fired, and the drake splashed down.  Roux dutifully bailed out into the freezing water, and it immediately balled up into ice on his coat when he climbed back into the boat.  I looked to my left and found my shotgun hull had hit the gunwale brass-first, and was now frozen in place, with the rest just hovering in open space....now THAT is cold!

Never saw this before...

As it turns out, my Dad was (as usual) probably right.  However, I honestly wouldn't change anything.  In fact, I wish I had "just a pinch" of that cold right now....

Stay cool and remember,

Brown is Beautiful (even when it's cold)

Introduction

Welcome to my blog. You could/should rightfully ask, "who is THIS guy?"  I'm  a veterinarian in Ohio, and a hopeless duck hunting addict.  I grew up in Mississippi, went to college and veterinary school at Mississippi State University, and went on to pursue advanced training in small animal cancer medicine at both Colorado State University and The Ohio State University.  In this blog I hope to cover a lot of different things....dog training, veterinary issues,  widgame cooking, and, of course duck and goose hunting.  I look forward to (trying to) entertain and hopefully impart some knowledge.  I freely admit I am no "expert" (who really is?), but I am willing to try, willing to learn and willing to teach what I DO know.

With my upbringing, surprisingly,  I never really hunted ducks in Mississippi, although I spent every available minute deer hunting, even structuring my classes around deer season.  It took a couple of chance occurrences and crossing paths with some (now) very good friends in Ohio to put my duck hunting obsession into play, and I have never looked back.  Between layout shooting on Lake Erie's Sandusky Bay and dry cornfield hunting for big Canada geese, (and just a little bit of everything in between) I was squarely hooked.  I didn't think I could enjoy it anymore than I did...but boy, was I WRONG!

Being a veterinarian, and a duck hunting veterinarian at that, the logical next step was, you guessed it, a dedicated duck dog.  I had always been partial to black Labs, and most of my buddies that had dogs hunted with yellow Labs.  I was laying the plans to get a female black Lab when I ended up going in a direction I would never have predicted.  As we all know, sometimes things just happen for a reason...

In the summer of 2010,  I got a call from a good friend and fellow veterinarian about a male chocolate Labrador puppy he was dealing with out of a very promising litter.  Seemed this puppy had issues with regurgitation that was noted as soon as he was switched to solid food...did I have any thoughts??  After discussion of the work done so far, we became concerned about the possibility of a congenital defect that encircles the esophagus, preventing the passage of larger amounts of solid food.  I helped coordinate an appointment for the puppy with one of my associates for confirmation of the diagnosis.  When this beautiful 12 week old puppy came in, I found myself playing with him, and he dutifully delivered tossed items to hand over and over...I was in trouble.  With the diagnosis confirmed, the prescribed treatment was a chest surgery, to correct, if possible, the esophageal constriction.  Unfortunately, this was not in the breeder's budget, and made the puppy unsellable. The breeder made the offer that the puppy was free to anyone who would take him and try to fix him.  I didnt want a brown dog, and I didnt want a male...but this dog was special.  After getting permission from my wife, I made my offer to the breeder, who gladly accepted it, especially from another duck hunter.  Thankfully, the surgery, performed by another of my colleagues, was a complete success, and that Brown Dog, now named Roux, became my newest hunting partner.

Signing pawtographs at Willow Break!

As expected, I took a considerable amount of grief from the "Black and Yellow" crowd when the news spread about my Brown Dog.  However, Roux soon made believers out of them with his calm but goofball demeanor in the blind, truck or home and his absolute desire to retrieve in the field.  Soon, many really started to "get" the Brown Dog thing.  The real kicker came in October of 2011 when good friend Mike Peronek snapped a photo of Roux as we bobbed up and down on Ontario's Lake St Clair.  He forwarded me the photo, and I entered it in Ducks Unlimited's 2013 Calendar Contest.  Before we knew it, Roux was now known as "Mr February".  As a reminder to all his skeptics, Roux signs all his "pawtograph" requests "Brown is Beautiful"...in my eyes, it sure is!

Many thanks to good friend Ramsey Russell for encouraging me to publish this blog.  I look forward to keeping all posted on our exploits throughout the off-season, and September 1 will be here before you know it.  Neither of us can wait!