Dunkins That Have Nothing To Do With Donuts

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234 – September, 2025

By Chris Robinson

My Chesapeake Bay Retrievers, many of which have been conformation champions and some that were highly successful in the show ring–including group winners and one with a BIS–have, with one exception, all been really good waterfowl hunters and some have also been fine upland hunting dogs. But all have had a great propensity, over the years we’ve hunted together, for putting me in the most gawdawful water you can possibly imagine. Their skills in this regard are not just enormous but border on the phenomenal. I can’t count the number of times (in truth, I’d rather not count the number of times) when one of my dogs displayed their talent in this endeavor. Part of the problem is that I am a waterfowl hunter and this sort of water is frequently where ducks and geese, my primary migratory bird targets, like to hang out.

It began with Rowdy. More years ago than I care to remember, in a steadiness lapse on the Republican River in southern Nebraska, he hit me with his shoulder–the leading edge of his 105 pounds of pure power–shoving me headfirst out of a duck blind and face down in the water. The water surrounding this U.S. Army Corps of Engineers-built blind in this little bay-like backwater of the river, incidentally, was such that you’d be foolish not to wear the type of gloves used when handling pesticides if you intended to dip anything in it. The dog then proceeded to run down my back and use my shoulders as a springboard to launch his pursuit of a downed, but not yet dead, bluebill.

Click here to read the complete article
234 – September, 2025

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