By Ken Bailey
It’s funny how preconceptions can influence your opinion and impressions. Take dogs, for instance. Over several big-game safaris across three decades I discovered that a lot of PHs own a Jack Russell terrier. Of those that didn’t, many had a Rhodesian Ridgeback. As I came to understand, and to witness firsthand, the Jack Russells were equal part companion dog, tracking dog and varmint control dog; I’ve watched with interest as a young Jack Russell thrashed a snake that came a little too close to a lodge in Natal one afternoon, and was the recipient of another’s largesse as it led us over and around some nasty, thick cover to a kudu that we couldn’t have found without a little canine assistance. The ridgebacks I’ve met, meanwhile, were largely companion dogs, although they also played a role as personal and property defenders.
It seemed few safari camps in South Africa or Namibia were without one breed or the other (in some cases both) and I came to expect one of them to come trotting up, tail wagging, whenever I arrived at a lodge. Over the week or two I’d spend in camp, these dog would become a constant and meaningful part of the experience that I enjoyed immensely.
What I didn’t see, however, were any dedicated bird dogs, and my impression was that African safari lodges and PHs just weren’t dedicated “hunting dog” people. As it turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Over time I began to make wingshooting an increasingly greater part of my safari experience. At first it was just a day or two of bird shooting as a break from big-game hunting. Eventually, however, I began to seek dedicated wingshooting operators, and it was then that I discovered there’s a history and culture of bird hunting in southern Africa that rivals that of North America and Europe. And wherever you find hardcore wingshooters, inevitably you’ll find keen, competent, game-to-the-core gundogs.
I have many great memories of a week I spent with Mark Haldane, Dylan Holmes, Robbie Stretton and the crew from Bird Hunters Africa (https://birdhuntersafrica.com) a few years back, not the least of which was my first experience hunting revered grey-winged partridge. Behind Robbie’s wonderful English pointers, we hunted in the high rolling hills of the Eastern Cape where the coveys of partridge were widely dispersed. But Robbie’s pointers were more than up to the task, covering the vast grasslands with easy strides before locking-up, rock-steady, on one covey after another, confidently holding the birds until we caught up. At the shots they marked the downed birds precisely—is there anything more perfectly designed than a fine pointing dog?
Later that week we hunted Swainson’s francolin near Polokwane in Limpopo Province. A local gentleman, who I knew only as “Willie,” guided our hunts, led by an English pointer and a German Shorthaired Pointer named Anna. Anna proved to be as fine a hunting dog as you could hope to find, ranging far without being too far, and never missing a bird along the way. I don’t recall exactly how many Swainson’s we shot, along with a couple crested francolin, but it was a remarkable day afield.
That evening we sat around the campfire recalling the shots made, and those missed—the latter, I learned, a humbling tradition that extends to bird camps beyond my home in Canada. It was an evening of laughs and enchantment, and we were all ears-forward as Mark captivated us with tales of leopard hunts gone wrong, charging buffalo, and too-close elephants from his many years hunting and PH-ing in Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Tanzania. As captivated by his stories as we were, it was clear he enjoyed telling them just as much. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed an après-hunt as fully. The next day we repeated our efforts, with Willie and his pointers leading us to almost 40 flushes.
Fine wingshooting dogs I’ve met in Africa are by no means restricted to pointers, however. I’ve also been privileged to hunt waterfowl over several superb Labrador retrievers. Two in particular come to mind.
I’ve had the great fortune to hunt on a couple of occasions with Mike Currie, owner of Wild Wing Shooting Africa. And while his pointing dogs (one English, three GSP) have provided superb shooting on francolin, including grey-winged partridge, being a Lab man myself, I particularly appreciated watching his retrievers work.
The two that stand out to me were Jess, a yellow Lab, and Shadow, a solidly-built black Lab. Over several duck and goose hunts I’ve marveled as they marked and retrieved one bird after another.
Just last year we hunted waterfowl together, positioned along a tree line between a large wetland where untold numbers of ducks and more than a few Egyptian geese were staging, and a small pond where the birds wanted to feed. Pass shooting was the order of the today, with the birds flying high over the trees we were backed up against. Pass shooting can be challenging for the gunners, as the birds fly high and fast and the shots are longer than when decoying them into a pond. It can also be challenging for retrievers, as invariably birds that aren’t killed outright have a tendency to sail a long way before tumbling from the sky. It requires that dogs be able to mark multiple birds accurately.
We took 40 birds that afternoon, a mix of yellow-billed ducks, red-billed teal, southern pochards, Cape shovelers and Egyptian geese, calling it quits long before dusk so that we could just sit back and enjoy the spectacle of flight after flight of birds winging overhead. Jess performed as beautifully as any Lab could. The few birds that she didn’t mark on her own, Mike skillfully handled her to; if we lost a bird that afternoon, I don’t recall it. Jess handled every retrieve with enthusiasm, including water retrieves from the pond behind us, retrieves that required her to use her nose to find birds hidden in the long grass, and birds that sailed into the adjacent crop field, requiring her to “go long.” Watching Jess at work reminded me why you miss out on one of the great pleasures of waterfowling if you don’t have a capable retriever as part of your team.
My favorite memory of Shadow, meanwhile, is of an evening duck shoot on a little dam. Six of us were nestled in blinds along the water’s edge, while a vapor trail of yellow-billed ducks and red-billed teal piled in. The shooting was fast and furious; we would barely have time to reload before the next flight was on our doorstep. As duck after duck splashed into the water or crashed into the adjacent uplands, Shadow adopted a workman-like approach to his job. He retrieved non-stop while we continued shooting, never hesitating nor tiring. The soft-bottomed wetland did not make for easy retrieves. When it was all said and done though, Shadow sat upright, staring at us eagerly, like he could have performed all night.
I’d barely moved through the hunt, yet was bagged when I finally hit the hay. I can’t begin to imagine how tired Shadow must have been, but if he felt anything like I did, he slept the sleep of angels that night, all the while dreaming of similar hunts to come.
