"Old Drake"
By Tommy Haase, Drake Field Expert

I have heard several hunters over the years make the comment, "Man I have the best dog." Some of those dogs were great dogs and others not so great. But lets be honest everyone's idea of a "good dog" are different. I for one think its great so many hunters are proud of their retrieving friends. After all these dogs give everything they have for us day in and day out. This is a story of such a dog and while he may have not been the "Best Dog" he was truly special.

Little over fifteen years ago I got tired of retrieving my own birds and trying to chase down the numerous cripples that were shot each year (Especially by my Father, I swear he enjoyed watching me splash around) and began to look for a Black lab pup. I learned of a breeder who had several litters of puppies available. I called the breeder, sent a deposit and made an appointment to see the dogs.

Once at the kennel I was informed I had first pick of the entire kennel. With pigeon wing in hand I began to look over the puppies and noticed one dog that was noticeably smaller than the rest. However instead of romping with his siblings he was more content wondering off on his own and exploring his surroundings. I tossed the wing about six feet in front of him. He bolted after the wing snatched it up and immediately returned it to me. Without even looking at any other dogs I told the breeder, "I want him!" I have never been known for making the best choices but I nailed this one.

Over the nest six months I began to train this little pup I named Drake but most people referred to as "the runt" I have not trained many dogs but I can't imagine a dog being easier to train. Drake never seemed to get tired of retrieving and was always eager to learn. By the time he was 8 months old he was already doing hand signals and doing them well. Some people have said I was a good trainer. That could not have been the farthest from the truth, Drake was just a good student!

Fortunately for me I was in college at the time and was able to set up my schedule so I only had to attend class on Tuesdays and Thursdays freeing up four days a week to pursue waterfowl (Who says college kids don't have their priorities in order). And pursue waterfowl Drake and I did.

For the next fifteen seasons Drake and I shared numerous days afield and I watched him make some incredible retrieves. It didn't matter if we were hunting in a flooded rice field, from a boat or knee deep in water at a public refuge, Drake always did his job and did it well. I can honestly say I can't remember losing too many birds in the last fourteen years. Drake never became a very big dog weighing in at a lean 65 pounds but I swear 25 pounds of that must have been his heart. There was no quit in that dog.

A perfect example of Drake's desire was a retrieve he made last year which was his 14th season, which by most standards is probably too old for a dog to be hunting. We were hunting Tule Lake in the famed Klamath Basin with my good friend Corbin Wadlow, who also was fortunate to spend many trips with Drake. We were in the second day of a three day hunt when we shot a big "Greenie" that crippled up and sailed off about 200 yards into the pond. For those who have never shot this marsh it can be brutal on a dog. The water level varies from two inches to eight feet with a couple feet of some of the nastiest mud you have ever seen. It looks like a combination of a chocolate shake and wet cement and it is just as sticky.

Drake bailed off the front of the boat and Corbin looked at me and said, "Are you going to let him go?" I replied, "Yup." As Drake turned into a small blakc dot I could see the bird begin to swim to the Tules. Corbin said, "Oh no." I replied, "If that duck heads into the tules Drake will get him." Sure enough the bird disappeared into the tules with Drake right on his tail feathers. A minute or so went by and out came Drake with that big greenie nestled in his gray muzzle. Corbin looked at me, smiled and said, "You have got to be kidding me. That dog is going to be hard to replace." I replied with a big smile on my face, "I know." The rest of the day Corbin and I spent shooting a few birds and sharing stories of countless hunts we shared with Drake.

As the year passed I shared many more days in the blind with Drake. But with his hearing all but gone and having a harder and harder time getting around I new the 2005/2006 season would be his last. The second to the last day of the season I took Drake out for an evening shoot in a rice blind. He took his seat right next to me and did as he always has making one retrieve after the next. As the sun set I felt myself begin to tear up. The day I dreaded had finally arrived.

We picked up our gear and made our way to the quad. I picked up my tired buddy and placed him in his basket on my quad. He sat and looked up at me with his now completely gray face. I looked at Drake and he looked sad as if he knew it was his last day. I wrapped my arms around him as tears began to streak down my cheeks. Trying to hold back tears I thanked him for all the memories and as I did he began to lick my face. Drake's field hunting days were over.

The next couple of weeks I began my search for a breeder that could provide me a puppy to replace my old buddy. My search led me to a breeder/trainer who said they had the perfect litter. I purchased a new pup and due to not having the time I used to I opted to return the dog for force fetching. Too make a long story short it was a disaster. The breeder did not properly force fetch the dog and laid the blame on me and took no responsibility. As you can imagine this made the first part of this season a total disaster and I had to find another trainer to finish the force fetching leaving me without a dog for three weeks.

About the time I dropped off my new pup with the new trainer the weather began to change. We were experiencing cold clear days with plenty of bright sun, which is perfect for the California Delta. I called my buddy "Lap" and told him I knew of a spot and we made plans to hunt it the next morning. Lap asked, "Did you get your dog back?" I said, "No" He replied, "What about a dog." I said, "The heck with it lets take Drake. It will be has last trip." Drake was now 15 years of age, considerably slower and completely deaf. Lap had shared many days in the marsh with Drake and said, "I would be honored to go wiht Drake one last time."

The next morning was clear and cold. I walked to the kennel and tapped Drake who looked up at me. He looked at the dog vest I was holding in my hand and his tail began to sway back and forth and I swear his eyes began to sparkle.

I loaded him up and we hit the delta and got set up. The day was not a smoker but we managed to shoot a few ducks and a couple of geese. I am proud to say that old dog picked up every one. As Drake headed out after the last bird on about a 70 yard retrieve Lap looked over at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Man I love that dog. There is never going to be another Drake."

As Drake brought that last big greenhead into the boat Lap and I took turns petting him and thanking him for all of the hard work over the last 15 years. We spent the next hour or so sitting there talking and sharing stories about "Old Drake." We shared some laughs and of course some tears. As we got ready to drag up I looked down and Drake was proudly holding that big old "Greenie." It was as if he new this was definitely going to be the last bird he would ever pick up. It was truly a magical morning spent with great friends.

Like all good trips they must end and we pulled up the decoys and headed back to the ramp. Like I said at the beginning of this story I know Drake was not the "Best Dog" but he was special and I hope I didn't offend anyone with this story. But I just felt I owed it to Drake.

I once heard it said, "Every duck hunter should be blessed with at least one great dog." I can honestly say I have been truly blessed over the last 15 years. When that day finally comes and Drake passes, I know he will sit right next to my grandpa and continue to retrieve birds in that great marsh in the sky.