Contrary to popular belief, the Labrador
retriever did not see the shores of Labrador until modern times;
in fact, his name is a fluke, a misnomer derived from the nineteenth-century
British concept of geography that lumped Labrador and Newfoundland
together in the same land mass. In the same century, the Lab
almost became extinct in England because of complex business
and political situations, and the same thing almost happened
in America during the Great Depression.
In the early 1930s, when the Lab outperformed the Chesapeake
Bay retriever in field trials, the American waterfowler took
him into the marshes and he has been there ever since. In the
field the true test is the field trial, and the record book shows
overwhelmingly that if you want to win consistently, you might
as well start with Labradors. Other breeds sneak in and win once
in a while, but not very often. Hunters call the Lab an "honest"
dog; he lives to work. He'll break the Minnesota ice to retrieve
a downed bird and shake the crystals off his back after he delivers
the bird to hand. Then he's raring to go again when the next
flight drops into the decoys. He'll work in the heat of the Texas
desert all day gathering doves, and his pay is the retrieve and
a pat.
During most of the nineteenth century, the Lab was owned only
by a few aristocratic British sportsmen. Although he was introduced
to England in the beginning of that century, he was not available
to the average British sportsman until the twentieth century.
When he was first brought to the United States in the late 1920s,
he had much the same history-used by only a very few wealthy
sportsmen and then only in the traditional British hunting manner.
Credit must be given to two sources for keeping the Labrador
breed alive: (1) the aristocratic families and their gamekeepers
in both England and America, and (2) the Amer |
ican sportsmen who gradually "adopted,"
developed, and trained the dog for their hunting needs. Though
American waterfowlers had a good hunting dog, the Chesapeake
retriever, the Lab proved to be a better dog for them-and their
families.
The Labrador has proven to be a strong breed, passing down his
attractive qualities through hundreds of years. From his days
in Newfoundland he has passed on his traits as a "workaholic,"
and from his earliest days in England, his wonderful temperament.
The temperament of the Labrador retriever is an enigma. A dog
tends to assume his temperament from the nature of his environment
or the characteristics of his people. For example, the Eskimo
dog is a tough dog in his native habitat and illustrates the
principle of the survival of the fittest: He will kill for food.
His temperament comes from his environment; he is not a house
pet. The Doberman Pinscher, on the other hand, adopted the character
of his masters-Prussian military officers who commanded strong,
one-man loyalty Neither dog could be considered for babysitting
duties.
The Labrador's ancestors were developed in Newfoundland, which
has the harshest environment settled by any Europeans in North
America. The conditions under which they lived made the lives
of the Pilgrims seem rich by comparison. The dog's heritage began
in sub-survival living conditions, which should produce a rough
temperament. The dog's first job in Newfoundland was working
with the fishermen from Devon, England, who were considered the
roughest, toughest men of Britain. The first settlers on the
island were ship-jumpers and deserters from the British fishing
fleet and the navy, a lawless society that defied any authority.
Yet from this raw society the even-tempered St. John's dog, the
direct ancestor of the Labrador, was developed.
To solve the mystery of the Labrador's ancestry, we must thoroughly
investigate not only the history of the |
dog but also the history of his owners and the times
in which they lived. This is no easy task, for there were no
men of letters to record the dog's earliest days in Newfoundland.
In fact, the dog was not mentioned in English sporting literature
until the early nineteenth century
Puzzling history or no, we are lucky. We have the dog today,
almost five hundred years from his modern beginnings. Documenting
his past, loving his presence, and looking toward his future
is an exciting, challenging, intellectual gambit-and a celebration
of the Labrador retriever.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
An Ordinary Morning
By Joe Arnette
Winter fog veiled the shadowed pair snugged down into a toss
of driftwood logs. Vapor hung on the dawn, worn and gauzy in
close, then freshening to a thick cloak out over the water. Moisture
beaded on the shoulders of the hunter's parka, on his oily gun
barrel, on his Labrador's sleek-black coat. The air was cold-near
the raw edge of freezing, where a few degrees would turn the
nebulous mist into tangible crystals. Given the season, it appeared
an ordinary morning.
The blanketed marsh thought so, too. Within the surround of predawn
fog, mallards went about their business, chuckling in whispers
one moment, pouring out raucous guffaws the next. The splashes
of mergansers punctuated the sound of the river lapping its rock-fringed
banks like a dog taking a casual drink.
Invisible wings whistled over the blind, shocking wooden thumps
from the Labrador's heavy tail. He whined lightly, focused on
the opaque curtain out of which the ducks would appear suddenly
and without warning-as they had done so many times. He was a
veteran dog, but still anxious that
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