Ady Breeds Eating with Ady www.sunlive.co.nz

We were looking for adventure and whatever came our way. So the Jeep was loaded, lock, stock, and soon-to-be smoking barrels, and pointed south for a change.
The transportation was so full up I had to spend the entire trip sitting on the boss man's knee. I know for a fact the boss likes me, but this was taking things a little too far. Both were pretty happy that the trip was only an hour in duration.

I don't remember reading about this in ‘Diesel's Guide to Hunting Dog Travel' and I doubt any lap would have lasted long with the big boy on it anyway.
On arrival, the door was opened, and mmmm I smelt chooks – so the trip was immediately forgotten as I switched into hunting mode.

Luckily, our hosts had been warned about my obsession with free range chooks and they had the sense to lock them up. Like the teenage footie team arriving in town, where all mothers are warned to lock up their daughters.
My two-legger masters tossed the luggage into their dwellings, the case of wine was put by the fire for the females of the species to while away the afternoon, and the boys and I heeded the call of the wild reverberating through the bush.'Let's go hunting.”
In a flash, they were changed into all that funny gear and clambering aboard the water transport. Into it! No rest, no food and no sleeping in front of the fire.

Wild goose chase

Now as the farming world has finally had enough of those Canada Geese and they have been deemed pests, we were invited onto a spot our gracious host Keith had been keeping an eye on for us. Around a peninsula in the lake we cruised, closer we got, still couldn't see a thing, when all of a sudden a grassy pasture unfolded. Well the grass was pretty much hidden by geese. The boss was so excited I swear he almost bounced overboard.
Me? Well you want me to retrieve those things? I don't think so. I have a weight rule. Anything larger than a fat chook is getting near my limit.
As always though, the boys were hatching a plan, so cunning it did not work. As the boss clambered onto a jetty and signalled to uncle about what was about to happen, well me thinks the boss's heart rate was beating at about 200, and he got all his hand waving back to front.

So that was another plot that failed. Well not entirely; they did get a couple and now we know the ‘lay of the land' we will be back for more.
Now onwards to the next possie, where the boss got out of the boat before it hit the beach, only to realise too late that the water was a little deeper than he thought. Wet socks again, when is he going to learn?
After skulking around in the undergrowth pretending to be a tree and making ridiculous ducky sounds that fooled no-one, a couple of disorientated mallards blundered overhead and succumbed quickly to some high speed steel. Falling in the water, they seemed well within my self-appointed limits of range, weight and ease of retrieval. So off I went, carefully swimming back to the beach with the feathery floater, much to the delight of the boss. Now I finally see the point of fetching all those sticks during summer.

It was slowly dawning in the recesses of my canine mind that this, indeed, is my calling.

The boss, clearly chuffed, mumbled something about good breeding and his excellent training. Gee, and I thought it was in my genes. I just wanted another one to fall out of the sky so I could go again.
As it was getting a little bleak and dark we decided to head to the fire and wine, but not before stopping and giving the boss a birthday sideshow, sorry I cannot divulge what it was, but I can say that somewhere on the Central Plateau, there is a lake with a few less black swans in residence.

Back on shore, the two-leggers showered, washed and dried me, and the team were firmly ensconced in front of the fire. The ladies were about to serve dinner – I for one do not know how judging by the empty bottles scattered around. I would have thought they would only be sharing my dog biscuits, but no, a sumptuous meal appeared. The boss was so chuffed with me finally doing the pointer-retriever thing he wanted to set a place at the table with him. It's alright boss, I know you love me, but I will stay in front of the fire thanks – clever as I am, I cannot remember which paw to hold the knife with.
There followed much discussion on the various recipes that would be tried on our selection of game meats. Me, I just pondered on which of my retrieving photos showed my best side.
Many, many thanks to Chris and Keith for being just the best hosts and we will be back to scare a few more geese and check up on the chooks. Meanwhile below is something to keep you going while the duck is marinating and the geese breasts brining.