Educating Harris

Matt Limb OBE looks at the training required in a working gundog and why natural instinct is vital.

Working dogs have been a constant thread through my life. As a young boy I grew up around my father’s sheepdogs, each with its own character, yet every one with a place and a purpose.

On the farm and at sheepdog trials I watched them work, guided by little more than a whistle or a quiet word.

Watching my father work his dogs filled me with pride and left an impression that has stayed with me ever since. I soon realised that the true value of a dog is found not in ownership but in partnership; a bond forged through patience, training and above all trust.

From there it was perhaps inevitable that I would enjoy dog training, though I still feel I will never match my late father. For me it was not sheepdogs but gundogs, which have become one of life’s great pleasures.

People often ask, which has been the best dog I have trained. I usually smile and give the same answer: the next one. Each dog brings fresh challenges and new lessons, the reward lies in that journey of discovery together, remembering there is education at both ends of the dog lead.

Preparation and early training
It is much the same when I am invited for a day with the gun. A sporting day has its moments of course but the greater satisfaction comes from watching a dog work the ground, nose down and tail up, moving with purpose and determination, doing what comes naturally. A polished retrieve gives a pride that, for me, no number of cartridges could ever match.

Now, with Harris approaching his third birthday, I find myself reflecting on what he has taught me and the path we have travelled together.

His story, like those of the dogs before him, is one of learning, patience and moments of quiet triumph. It is a story that continues to unfold. But as I always ask myself: is he good enough, will he let me down, and jointly, will we be an embarrassment?

With any young puppy, the early weeks are about the small things that quietly lay the foundations. As with every dog before him, it began the moment he arrived. Simple lessons such as waiting while his food was put down, then sitting until told he could have it.

These are not just good manners; they are the beginnings of obedience. Just as importantly, they teach a pup that listening and waiting brings reward.

Answering to his name is another of those first stepping stones. It sounds so simple, yet a dog that looks to you when called has already taken the first step towards recall. For me, training has always started with a sit.

First, the pup learns to respond to his name, then to sit on command. After sitting to a vocal command, then by the whistle and finally the silent signal of a raised hand. All are understood once the basics are in place.

Next comes walking on a lead. It is tempting to overlook, but a young dog that learns early to walk steadily without pulling or straining is already halfway to being under control in the field.

Then comes walking to heel. Nothing shows the bond between dog and handler more clearly than a dog trotting at your side, his nose almost glued to your leg, with no lead.

Once mastered, the core of obedience training is well underway. Add to this the classic sit and stay, together with recall, and you have the building blocks of every relationship with a dog – here I am not just referring to working dogs.

These are not grand achievements, but they are the cornerstones upon which everything else is built. Whether the dog is destined for the sheep field, the beating line on a shoot day, or simply to be a well-mannered companion at home, the same rules apply. What matters most is that they become second nature, for both dog and handler. A sit, a stay or a walk to heel should be so natural that neither of you must think about it. That only comes with repetition, consistency and above all patience, for both you and the dog.

Young pups have short attention spans and soon get bored, which is why the current fashion for a single, lengthy training session once a week has never sat well with me.

In truth, that sort of approach is more about training the handler than the dog. With a young pup, little and often works best. I can spend five or 10 minutes, four or five times a day, on the simplest of lessons.

A sit and stay can begin in the living room, where the surroundings are familiar and free from distraction.

What can confuse a young dog is being asked to learn something new in an unfamiliar place.

Natural instinct
Above all, I never begin retrieve training until those foundations of obedience are firmly in place. Without them, the rest of the work risks being built on sand. I also hold to a simple belief: if a dog has the natural ability to hunt, you should not need to teach it to retrieve.

But how do you know if a pup has that natural hunting instinct? For me, it shows itself early. A good young dog will carry a certain curiosity, a boldness in its nature.

By 12 weeks I will roll a tennis ball across the ground to see what happens. The right pup will show interest, give chase and perhaps try to carry it back with a glint of pride. It is that boldness, that spark of determination, which marks out a future gundog. Without it, you may succeed in teaching the basics of obedience – sit, stay, heel, recall – but the fine art of being an accomplished working gundog may never truly be possible.

Instinct cannot be manufactured, it can only be nurtured and with obedience training, controlled and directed.

A gundog’s true trade lies in this natural instinct, the urge to hunt, to track, to retrieve. The handler’s role is not to invent or impose new behaviours, but to guide and control what is already within the dog.

Thankfully I have seen such qualities in Harris, despite his quiet nature.

Two other traits sit at the heart of a true working gundog: a soft mouth and steadiness to the gun. With a hard-mouthed dog, experience tells it is hard to correct. The term describes the gentle bite of a dog when carrying, so as not to damage the bird. No matter how well trained, damaged game with teeth marks is not acceptable on a shoot.

When talking about soft mouths, I remember an old family spaniel that would pick up eggs from the hen’s shed and trot them back to the kitchen, never once breaking the shell. That kind of natural softness is a gift.

Gun-shyness is the other side of that same coin. A young dog with a nervous streak may bolt or cower at the sound of a shot. The careful introduction of noise, at the right stage, can steady a dog with a sensitive ear, but hard gun-shyness is a flaw that is not easy to overcome.

These things matter because they remind us that while training builds skill, it cannot change the raw material. Instinct, temperament and courage must already be there. The handler’s task is simply to shape and guide them into the making of a gundog.

All of this came to the fore when Harris was finally ready, I hoped, for his first day picking up. If I am honest, I may not have had enough time with him. But to our advantage we had a very strong bond, as he only ever wants to please.

Harris’s debut
All too soon the day arrived. The drive on an early morning was a nervous one for me, as Harris faced the ultimate test: could he be trusted on a shoot and would he retrieve game? The gamekeeper, a good friend passionate about gundogs, was aware it was Harris’s first day. As he said with a smile, we all start somewhere.

The first drive offered nothing for us to retrieve, it happens. Still, it was a valuable lesson for Harris, giving him the chance to watch, take in the sounds and atmosphere, and steady himself to the guns.
On the second drive we stood watching the guns. Harris soon showed interest. At the first shot his ears flicked and his head came up. That proved he was not at all gun-shy. In fact, he was looking as if he knew exactly why we were there.

As the drive ended, we had some work to do. We walked forward steadily, no rush. Ahead of us I could see a partridge and I cast him forward. Soon his nose took hold and found the bird. Then it happened. Slowly and cautiously, he picked it up, turned and ran back to me. I dropped to one knee to offer him encouragement, soon he let it fall at my feet. Not perfect, but a good start. Harris had just made his first retrieve on a shoot, a moment I remember in most of the dogs I have had.

As the day unfolded you could see his interest growing along with his confidence. He associated well with the other dogs and mixed amongst the beaters with curiosity. He even went to have a good look at the game cart, all valuable lessons on a young dog’s first day.

By the time we drew stumps he had made a good eight retrieves.

As I drove home that evening I had a quiet grin on my face. He is not yet the finished product and there is work to do, confidence to build, but we did it.

Back at home I reflected on the day, a day when Harris made his first retrieve. All the effort suddenly felt worthwhile, as I looked across the kitchen, it showed in a tired young spaniel.

Did I enjoy the day and the training journey that led to it? Without question.

To spend time with Harris in the countryside, to share it with people who value the same traditions, then watch him make his first retrieve and return home with a brace for the table is what our traditional country sports are all about.

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