My First Hunt

“Good day all you Weimie owners out there. My full name is ‘Leopards Lair Wild Cherub’, also known as Countessa (especially when I make a small? mistake) on the carpets of our home. My real good friends just call me Tessa. At the time of this great event I was a mere 14 weeks old.

My story is as follows: My master arrived home from work one day. Excitedly he told my Mistress some thing about a hunt that was to take place somewhere in the country at a place called Koedoeskop. Masters Borris and Derek of the Weimaraner Club organized this. When I heard the word Weimaraner I was all ears. We could not miss this event!

One Tuesday morning my mistress took me outside onto our lawn and sprayed my coat with some liquid.

She said it is called ‘FRONT LINE’. My veterinarian advised that my coat be treated with this not less than 3 days after my last bath and at least 3 days before we go hunting.

One Friday evening, if my memory serves me correct, the 15th  day of September 2000 human time, our entire harmonic household was turned upside down! My human mother and father acted very strangely. They packed baskets and cool boxes with all eatable and drinkable goodies. I even saw my master taking his shotgun from the safe. I thought we were moving to another house or something. At least I saw them packing my food and water bowls and a tin or two of my favorite puppy food. I did not know what was happening here, but at least I knew I would accompany them. That evening we went to sleep earlier than we normally do.

At 03:00 the next morning my master’s dreaded alarm clock went off. I thought, for once in his life he will be in time for work! I clearly forgot about the happenings of the previous evening. I was whisked out of my basket and served breakfast. (The best mid nightly snack I ever had). At about four we were all seated in the Toyota. All packed and ready to go. We were not even out of the driveway, when my master brought the old 4*4 to an abrupt stop, he rushed back to the house. All I could hear was him muttering something about ‘Rabies Certificate’. Apparently this certificate must accompany us whenever we travel across province boundaries. Soon we were on our way again. I had a feeling that this was the beginning of a major experience, one of many that would form and mould me into the type of dog I was supposed to be. A Weimaraner! A HPR gun dog! , A versatile hunting dog!, a dog that does the full house on the hunting scene, but most of all, a companion and best friend to my master and mistress.

We arrived at the venue just after 06:00. I could not wait for the activities to begin! My mistress let me down from the vehicle, and big was my surprise. . .  five huge, I am not exaggerating when I say this, HUGE Weimaraners were all over me! You must remember, the last time I saw a grown Weim, was six weeks ago, and that was my mother!!!! I could not even remember that long ago. (You must also know that I share our household with two grown Fox Terriers – whom I at this age, already dominate). I thought this was it! My life was short but fulfilling. . .  Luckily Mother Nature invented a thing called instinct. The blue print, the subconscious override of our thoughts. I automatically submitted those huge, monstrous creatures. Magically they did not harm me! This submission  trick worked. Since I was the new kid on the block, I immediately realized where I fit in. For us dogs, it does not matter if you are at the bottom of hierarchy, you can fill that position with dignity. It actually builds confidence. After this session the grown dogs even played with me. (Shame, when last did these poor folks see a puppy)  BUT I KNEW WHERE TO STOP. I heard names such as Salvador, Carlos, Bianca, Pacha, Stephanie . . .  I think my mother was called by this name, but interestingly enough, we did not remember each other. All I knew was, had I been a grown Weimaraner, things could have turned out real bad.  My master said something about ‘SOCIALISING’. As puppies we need to be in the company of strange and grown dogs to learn how to behave our selves in this kind of scenario – neutral ground, with a common goal, to hunt and enjoy the day out in the bush at the sides of our masters, weather they hunt or not!

After a short, but thorough briefing on gun safety and where the ‘Guns’ and ‘Handlers’ should operate, we were off. There were not many humans that did not hunt. What a pity! One does not have to own a gun or be a hunter to enjoy a day out in the company of the greatest, most lovable and committed friends man can get (Ask master Mark about this). There was so much ground to cover! The few adult dogs had to work so much harder to obtain results! As this was my first hunt, I did not have a clue what to do! I thought I was there for the free ride (meal). I thought my master would do the finding, pointing, flushing, shooting and retrieving of what ever he wanted to shoot, so I followed tightly in his foot steps, with my mistress closely behind me for backup! (I could already imagine eating those tasty ‘Guinea Pies’)  I saw the grown dogs running ahead, sniffing the air, then noses to the ground, running across the field. I heard they call it ‘quartering’. So I learned another lesson. I should be in front. I was not very comfortable with this at first, but by the end of the day I got it right. We were not out long when the first shots were fired. Amazingly the other dogs seemed to be undisturbed by the loud ‘bangs’. I must admit, a week before, I was exposed to some shooting, so this did not bother me too much. Seeing the other dogs going about their business with out a problem proofed that I was on the right track. I think they call it  ‘CONFIDENCE’.    

Our first session was in real bushveld. (At lunch time a few thorns had to be removed, but nothing serious).

We then hunted a wheat field. The wheat was about as tall as I. I lost view of my master and decided to accompany master Peter and Carlos (remember the name ?). Here I learned another lesson. I had to trust master Peter. He took good care of me until I was reunited with my family. (Sounds like an American TV show). I guess this is also part of ‘SOCIALISING’. I had to trust another ‘handler’ in the absence of my own master.

After this we went back to the farmhouse for a teatime break and to plan the next session. At these hunts nobody is forced to do anything. Those who were foot sore or tired could stay behind and relax. Remember that the objective of these days is for every one to enjoy it!

Our next hunt started at the Laerskool Koedoeskop. They are the people who make these events possible. They arrange with farmers in the district to allow us on their property. All funds generated by such a hunt are donated to this primary school. Anyway, not far from this school is a river. This is where our next hunting session took place. By this time the temperatures rose considerably. Luckily all the handlers carried water. Some handlers preferred water bowls. Some of the dogs however, learned to drink from a nozzle such as those found on an ‘Energade’ bottle. Remember we need water frequently when we work in the heat! Every thing went well until about halfway through this session. It was now really hot! I tried my best to keep up, but could feel exhaustion setting in. Luckily my master saw that I was tired and he picked me up. I desperately tried to free myself (dignity!), but had to submit after a while. The rest of the pack continued their hunt while he carried me back to the school, to where our vehicle was parked. There was a tap with ice cold water, a green lawn and lots of shade. I am sure doggy heaven will be much the same.

I saw a lot of tired grownup dogs and handlers return from the last part of the morning hunt. Hunting wise:

My master had a couple of chances at some birds, but I would recommend that he go to the clay range more often. I would however never say this when he is present!

We went back to the farmhouse where we started off that morning. It was time for lunch. When we arrived there our hosts, Graham and Ina Engelbrecht, were waiting for us. The fires for the afternoon braai where lit and almost ready. I never in my life saw humans removing shoes and hunting vests so fast. They ‘attacked’ their cool boxes to indulge in what ever they brought along.

 Master Derek took charge of the braai. (I do not think anybody had any objections). If you ever saw a bunch of tired dogs (and handlers mind you), you should have seen this bunch. I then understood the phrase ‘Dog tired’. Of course dogfood was out! Boerewors and chops were much nicer!

After lunch we had to leave to return to Centurion. The others planned on doing an afternoon hunt. In the state I was in, I must admit, I was quite pleased that we had to leave. I fell asleep on the back seat of the bakkie, even before we reached the main road. The next thing I knew was, we were home! What a day, what an experience.  I slept most of what was left of Saturday. Sunday morning I was my old self again and could do what every Weimie pup had to do. (I still had a human family and two Fox terriers to look after!).

I am very sure this kind of informal day out would assist me in some of the ‘have to do’ things ahead. I am talking about the Shooting Ratings (very important for us Weimies) and maybe a Field Trail or two. Come on people (all you Weimaraner owners out there, almost a 100 members belong to this club), get your dogs out there! Remember we started off as hunters (if not mistaken almost 200 years ago) in Germany. To really fulfill part of our being and wellbeing, we need this kind of thing.”   -