Humble Pie

Posted on January 26, 2005 by J. Paul Jackson 

Humble pie. Everyone has to eat a piece of it once in a while, and if you are a dog trainer you often are forced to have a second helping. I've sure had my share of it. I'm not saying I like it, but as someone once said, if it doesn't kill you it can only make you stronger. Of course if that were completely true I'd be Mr. Universe.

I had my latest large helping earlier this duck season. I had been invited to hunt with my good friend and client John Evans at the Button Willow Club. I was really excited about this hunt for two reasons. First, we were going to be taking his one year old flat-coated retriever Jambo on his maiden duck hunt.

Second, we were going to be accompanied by his son Sid, who just happens to be the editor-in-chief of a little magazine called "Field and Stream." Was I ever excited!

As a kid, I grew up reading "Field and Stream." It was the first magazine that I ever had my own subscription to. I would eagerly await the new issue each month and read it cover to cover.

To get to hunt with the editor himself was something that I had only dreamed of. Now I was getting the chance to not only hunt with the man, but to show off my skill as a dog trainer in his presence.

The morning of our hunt dawned less than perfect. The skies were overcast and a light rain was falling. I should have recognized the omen. However, I had worked Jambo relentlessly for the month prior to the opening of the Arkansas duck season, and I new the hunt would be a success. Which goes to show that I should keep my day job as a dog trainer and leave prognostication to the experts.

Nonetheless, I left for the duck blind that morning with high spirits. Jambo demonstrated excellent obedience in the boat on the way to the blind, and upon our arrival he took his position on the dog porch like a seasoned veteran. As he scanned the skies while we pleaded on our duck calls my head began to swell with pride. In short order our calling was rewarded as a lone greenhead sailed toward our decoys. We rose and fired our guns in unison and the duck folded.

Jambo stood alert and steady as the bird splashed just beyond the dekes. I proudly called his name, and my well trained student plunged into the frigid water and perfectly retrieved... a decoy!

John nearly fell over laughing. Sid merrily chuckled as he captured the moment on film for posterity. I started looking for a place to hide. And Jambo? He delivered that decoy to hand as though it were a banded Mallard, and he had just made the retrieve of his life.

Fortunately, my serving of humility was a small one that day. To my great relief by the end of the morning Jambo (who had seen many decoys prior to the hunt) was swimming out after ducks like an old pro. Some of my dignity was restored, and as I look back on that hunt I think that it turned out pretty good.

That said, I have to admit that a certain sense of dread overcomes me each month as I pull my copy of a certain outdoor magazine out of the mailbox. I can see it now, a photo of a beautiful flat-coated retriever with a deke in his mouth underscored by the caption "GOLD MEDAL WINNER TRAINS DOG TO FETCH DECOYS". Oh well. We all need to eat a little humble pie once in a while.

See you at the line.