I was never really a bird dog owner until 1998 when a French Brittany named Mandy came to be a part of our lives. Prior to Mandy I had always just boot hunted for birds without a dog. I had always wanted one and not too long before we got Mandy had made a commitment to buy an American Water Spaniel. I was excited about that but just a week or two prior to their weaning I did battle with a table saw and lost. Ended up loosing a portion of my left middle finger. With only marginal insurance and seasonal work at the time, I was forced to bow out of the AWS purchase.
The following winter I got a call from a friend who had two French Brittanies from the same litter. He had started out with Jasper, Mandy's brother and was doing great things with him. My friend is a bird hunting fanatic and really knows how to train a dog.
Mandy came to him when the kennel that sold Mandy to her original owner, found that owner to be abusive and cruel and the kennel owner gave them the option getting their money back or being reported for animal cruelty. Mandy was under weight, malnourished and would cower any time you reached out to her. She had also been spayed. When the kennel owners realized that they offered her to my friend.
He took her in and got her fed up and past all the cowering and started working her in the field. She was every bit as good as her brother and he was an amazing dog. She had one serious flaw though. She did not like toddlers. We didn't have kids at home and no real prospects of grandkids so he offered her to me. They had a toddler and an infant and while she was an awesome hunter, they didn't want to risk any issues with the kids.
Mandy really taught me to bird hunt. Numerous times she'd retrieve a quail only to stop and lock up on point on another one with the quail still in her mouth. She was a pretty small Brit but fearless and had a lion's heart. She took off down a steep mountain side to retrieve a chukar that glided rather than dropping and ended up 400 yards down the hill. She made the retrieve despite my trying to call her off. I made sure she got a good rest after that retrieve and made sure I was more careful on my shot choices.
She retrieved a head shot pheasant one time that threatened to beat her brains out. She grabbed this bird by the breast and as head shot bird do, it flapped its wings furiously about her head. It never phased her.
On a field hunt for geese, one large gander went down. What I didn't know was he was only stunned. As Mandy approached he came to with a busted wing and a bad attitude. They circled one another like a pair of boxers. The gander struck like a snake and Mandy ducked the blow and dove in like a mongoose and for a few seconds it looked like a miniature tornado of fur, feathers and dust. The tornado subsided and out of the lingering dust came my little champion dragging a gander that, while it didn't outweigh her, definitely matched or exceeded her for size.
I could go on for hours about Mandy but those were some of the highlights. I miss her greatly.
Much like topgun with his wonderful Lady, I sobbed uncontrollably when the day came to let Mandy go. My wife and I always said we didn't know we had a Mandy sized hole in our heart until she came to us. We sure knew it when she was gone.
