Category: Flyfishing dogs

Fish Hound

June 8, 2026 / stflyfisher / 0 Comments

“If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago.“

Zane Grey

He sat upright in the back of the pick-up truck, like a tall, dome-headed, and very dignified old man. Adam, owner of FishHound Expeditions, opened the back door of his truck and there he was, “Hatch”, a blue-tick coonhound of massive scale and the namesake for Adam’s growing guiding business. I let Hatch sniff my open hand, then pet him. He lightly pawed at me when I stopped. He had those droopy eyes, lazy ears, and goofy charm only a hound-lover could appreciate. I was smitten…

“Rado”, left, along with the original FishHound, “Hatch”… (picture courtesy of FishHound Expeditions)

Hatch would not be accommodating my wife and I on our fly fishing float, unfortunately, but there was another “guide dog” in the offing. Adam asked if I was OK fishing with “Little Bear”. After meeting the Malamute/Australian Shepherd mix, I was all aboard.

Little Bear checks out one of many rainbow trout netted by Jay, our guide.

Before launching our raft, our guide, Jay, told me he needed to take his truck and trailer down to the takeout. My wife followed him in our rental car and Adam drove his truck, already occupied by FishHound Expedition’s two official canines, the honorable Hatch and his sidekick, Rado. Before leaving, Jay set me up with a nymphing rig to fish the beautiful riffle and run at the access while he was gone. One of the many nice offerings FishHound Expeditions provides to customers is tackle and waders. In this case I fished a Redington 9 foot 6 weight rod with WF floating line. The rig was a classic indicator set-up. On the business end Jay had an Alaskan favorite – the bead. I fished the indicator rig at the head of the run and worked it from the top to the tail-out. After just a few casts, I landed a 14″ rainbow that spent more time airborne than in the water. A little later I hooked a 18’ish+ rainbow – another acrobat – but this one threw the hook after a few fantastic sky-borne jumps. Then just in time for the return of Jay, Adam, and my wife to the access, I was into my third rainbow.

20180906_101805 — Early success! This third rainbow really made my day and we hadn’t even started the float!

Jay netted my fish and Adam high-five’d me. Shortly after, as we readied the raft for our float, Jay commented that he could see I didn’t need “Fly Fishing 101”, a before-float class he gives to newbie and beginning anglers. It’s always nice to get a compliment from a guide!

Willow Creek is full of wild rainbows. These fish feast on an abundance of salmon eggs in late summer along with the flesh of dead spawned-out salmon. As we began the float, Jay explained that despite the presence of October caddis, midges, and a few mayflies, the rainbows key in on both salmon eggs and salmon flesh as these food sources provide “more bang for the buck” in terms of nutritional value.

Jay at the oars with Little Bear, ever-present at my side, on lookout…

We launched onto Willow Creek with me in the bow, Jay at the oars, and my wife in the stern seat. My wife was not fishing, but it was a first for me to; 1) have her on a float trip, and 2) have her floating IN waders!

My wife in waders, and not any low-budget waders, but top-of-the-line Patagonia…

From the access we drifted the clear, cold waters of Willow Creek, a tributary to the Susitna River. We were fishing the lower half of the river. FishHound Expeditions guides the upper and lower Willow, and considers this gem of a tributary to be their home water, and for good reason. The Willow turns out to be one of the most popular fisheries in South Central Alaska, although on the day we fished it, with the salmon run essentially over, it was as if we had the Willow all to ourselves. Located about 60 miles north of Anchorage on the Parks Highway, Willow Creek offers excellent fishing for four of the major salmon species: kings, silvers, chums and pinks. In addition to big rainbows (up to 30 inches), the Willow also holds Dolly Varden, Arctic Grayling, and even small numbers of burbot and whitefish.

Willow Creek gets a strong run of salmon each year because of the excellent spawning habitat it holds. The creek’s bottom is a majority composition of pebbles, cobble, and small rocks. And it is full of snags, the result of downfalls of the white spruce that dominate the land. The creek is named for the presence of of the ubiquitous Alaska willow – not the willow of the Eastern US that Southern Tier fly fishers may be so familiar with – but a shrub-like willow that is the preferred forage for the abundant moose. Indeed, during a bio-break to the bush I saw numerous moose tracks and dung.

Since we were nymphing with an indicator, the key to “bead” success was a true dead-drift presentation. Fishing from a drift boat – in this case a spacious raft – made a dead drift that much easier, but I had no problem hooking up when we stopped and waded a bit as well.

Willow’s wild rainbows are beautiful, strong, and egg-crazy…

The snags made fishing a little more challenging. The Willow is definitely a “woody” creek and anglers would be advised to have a lot of flies, shot, and rigging materials on hand to do well here. As much as I tried to pull my rig out of potential snags, I still lost flies with some regularity. The saying goes, if you’re not hanging up, you’re not fishing effectively, but I started feeling bad with the number of times Jay had to re-rig me. Nonetheless, Jay always had an alternate rod rigged for the inevitable quick change-out. That alternate rod was rigged the same way but instead of a bead, had a flesh fly on the business end.

As with the bead, I’d never fished a flesh fly. Jay instructed me to fish it dead drift like the bead, but to give it some time to tail out before picking up and casting again. There were dead salmon hung up here and there in the snags, and Jay was able to demonstrate, “in the flesh” (pun intended) what the real thing looks like in the water by nudging a dead salmon. Sure enough, a chunk the size of my fly came loose with Jay’s prod of the oar and it drifted seductively downstream. The flesh fly I was using was tied by Jay, and looked just like the real thing in the water. My first “flesh” drift proved just so as I hooked up with another nice rainbow.

flesh_fly_tan_large — A flesh fly similar to the one Jay tied and had me use.

Partway through our float Jay decided to change things up. At four different times, smaller rainbows rose to the pink indicator I was using. They were beautiful with their plentiful spots, emerging from the clear green of the creek, pausing a millisecond to study the indicator and then trying to take it with a swirl. I laughed at their vigor and Jay added, “can you imagine what they’re thinking?” “That’s gotta be the biggest salmon egg I’ve ever seen…” But that display gave Jay an idea. He tied on a slightly larger bead with a stronger pink color to it. After our shore lunch he showed me a real salmon egg he had found among the pebbles of the creek’s bottom. The bead egg was pretty close to the size and color (very pale white/orange) of the actual egg, but he wanted to see if the size and color change might further improve our results. First cast with the new bead and I was immediately into a rainbow, followed by many more. We continued to use that new color bead along with the flesh fly.

This rainbow had a faint lime color to its lower sides…

Midway through the float, Jay pulled us over to a long gravel bar. There he set up shore lunch – a small portable grill and cooler – reindeer brats, chips, apples, beer, water. We stood and talked as Jay cooked the brats. Little Bear laid on the gravel, very content. And the Willow washed by.

iPhone Pics 203 — Guide-turned-chef, Jay, sets up a nice shore lunch…

After shore lunch, we continued our float down the Willow. The Willow often appeared as creek, stream, and river. Wide sweeping stretches with deep holes made me think more of the West Branch of the Delaware, mid-sized riffles – the Beaverkill, and then narrow choke points had a bit of lower Owego Creek flavor.

As we worked farther downstream, we began to see a few silver salmon in the deeper holes. At one nice run Jay pulled ashore and rigged an 8 weight rod with a streamer. He said it might be possible to rouse one of the silvers if they were holding in the deeper holes and backwaters.

We gave it a shot, casting the Dolly Llama, a favorite streamer for salmon in Alaska…

Dolly_Llama_Tandem_Gold_Cone_Pink_White_large — The Dolly Llama

With no one apparently home in the salmon hole, we continued our float, slipping easily down the Willow.

IMG_E2280 — Jay deftly maneuvers our raft through a choke point and downfall…

I’ll never tire of indicator fishing. And on the Willow, it was all the more exciting, casting to its deep snaggy holes and imagining what egg-crazy rainbow might be laying in wait. This was new water, truly wild, and a frontier farther west than I’d ever fished.

We hauled out where the Willow met the Susitna River – a big brawling glacial river, slate-grey in color, braided like a pretzel across a wide river valley. Born of Denali, the Susitna flowed to Anchorage and emptied into the Pacific.

Before hauling out, Jay paused long enough to let me get a few more drifts in. I fished the seam where the Willow’s clear flows met the silty flows of the Susitna, and quickly caught three more rainbows – a wonderful send-off to a trip that went way too fast.

For those who have never fished Alaska, my experience with FishHound Expeditions had me immediately planning a return trip. I cannot recommend them enough! There are a lot of choices of quality outfitters in Alaska, and on top of that, myriad fishing possibilities from fly fishing small creeks for grayling to fishing the big salmon runs. Locations are another choice with overwhelming possibilities, given the size of the state. But I would definitely consider a trip or trips with FishHound Expeditions, particularly if you are in the Anchorage area. In addition to floats of their homewater, FishHound offers trips to the back country via plane or helicopter. These trips expand opportunities in fly fishing to big fish days and luxury back-country glamping.

As I write this, I am at once missing the good country, great fishing, and the hardy people that make Alaska. This wonderful day on Willow Creek offered a fine taste of a place that beckons me back. One day I’ll return, and maybe, just maybe, spend an extended trip in the backcountry with fishhounds…

Finn – Never Grow Up

May 31, 2026 / stflyfisher / 0 Comments

Don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up, just stay this little…

Taylor Swift – Never Grow Up

I am sitting in the quiet of pre-dawn, drinking strong black coffee, and simply enjoying the feeling of having arrived after a driving journey of some 20 hours. Finn is curled up beside me, a tired little boy. In the words of fly-fishing guide and friend, Daniel Scheda, “a tired dog is a good dog.”

And indeed, Finn is turning out to be a very good dog. He added a lot of firsts to his resume’ on the trip south through seven states to our place in Destin, Florida: first hotel stays, first elevator trips, first stairs (we live in a ranch), a very long truck ride over 3 days (4+ hour stretches at a time), and numerous people and dogs along the way.

Until we made the drive south, Finn had not felt outdoor warmth in his early months as a puppy.

We brought him home on December 23rd – and outdoor treks were somewhat weather-limited due to a severe winter in Rochester, but in Destin, he finally got in a lot of outdoor time, and he loved it. We walked a lot – around the Beachwalk Villas, along the shores of Horseshoe Lake – and we took golf cart trips to Jolee Island on Choctawhatchee Bay for his first introduction to water.

Finn took to the golf cart like a lab to water…

Finn’s “baptism” to water, saltwater in this case, was another testament to his puppy goofiness, first approaching it with curiosity. pawing at it repeatedly, and then after a toss of his bumper for inspiration, repeated airborne leaps and bounds into the water. Side note, a freshwater “baptism” was out of the question, given the presence of alligators in many area ponds and lakes. During my son’s golf pro career in Destin, there was an eight-footer that was prone to sunning itself on the greens, much to the astonishment of Yankee golfers.

Another first for Finn was his introduction to doggie daycare, something I wanted to do for more dog socialization and to introduce him to boarding. I found a wonderful daycare & boarding facility named Goochie Poochie just minutes from our place. I’d initially inquired with them before we left on our trip hoping to find a place, and it definitely seemed to fit the bill. Finn passed his 4-hour in-facility assessment with flying colors – comments from the staff gushed with praise for his temperament and affable disposition. He got to be quite the celebrity there. Finn ran with the big dogs, including Beckett (a labradoodle), Finley (a big lab mix), Scoobie-Doo (a German shepherd mix), and Maddie (a Bassett hound). Between the staff and some new friends, Goochie Poochie was a great experience for Finn, and it showed as we neared for drop-off with barking and whining, followed by Finn nearly busting down the front door upon arrival. He never looked back when I left him…

His first boarding experience – really just an overnight trial – did not go as well. The staff felt he had a bit of separation anxiety and given the newness of everything that was a part of our trip, and that he was just 5 months old, it was not surprising. So that goal is still on the docket as Finn matures.

I no doubt am boasting here like a proud parent but even walking Finn about Destin made me feel like I was walking beside a movie star. His “puppiness” was naturally a part of the charm, but his glossy dark chocolate coat, highlighted with a unique “braid” along his back, and his constant deep tail-wagging that wiggled down to his butt got a lot of glowing comments from the humans he met on our walks.

While most of my goals for Finn on my trip were achieved, I did not get him out fishing with me, nor did I introduce him to my boat – a small sit-in fishing kayak – so that will come now at our home on the shores of Lake Ontario.

Finn’s growing like a weed, now nudging 60 pounds at 6 months old. His paws still look too big for his body, his legs still gangly. ChatGPT informs me he’s on the “big athletic male growth curve” and when fully mature at 18 – 24 months, will weigh 80 – 85 pounds.

Athletic, indeed…

What’s next for Finn includes a lot of obedience training for good manners, easy handling, and most of all, bullet-proof recall. Recall is especially important if I want to get him out fishing the local creeks and tributaries, including some jaunts on the big rivers of the Southern Tier, where his predecessor, Maddie, once accompanied me a-stream.

I have plans for a boat big enough for two and once acquired, want to get him used to floating with me while fishing nearshore Lake Ontario and the connected ponds and estuaries. And there’ll be plenty of water time right in front of our house as well as hikes on the miles of trails in the surrounding DEC wildlife preserves.

Finn’s future is bright and sure to be chock full of adventures, but it’s hard not to wish he’d stay a puppy if only for a little longer – something gold to stay…

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost

A Memorial to Maddie…

February 23, 2026 / stflyfisher

AKC Miss Maddie of Darlington – “Maddie”

September 2013 – November 2, 2024

I am here tonight, in a still house. Putting a dog down is never easy – coming home to the quiet of a dog’s absence, is even harder. I walk in and there is no longer a greeting. Our Maddie had a bit of separation anxiety and was often found just inside the door waiting any time her people left her. I am eating pizza – comfort food for an uncomfortable day – and as I work toward the crust, I am reminded how much she loved a piece of crust. Her toys lay about – her brush is still full of her hair. Her water and food bowls are not empty – she had no hunger amidst the pain of the osteoarthritis that ravaged her body on that last day. I turn to shut off the outside lights and am reminded that I would normally walk her beforehand.

Other triggers await as if in ambush – dogs being walked with wagging tails, a young grandson wondering where she went, neighbors asking afterwards, and the vet bill, her remains in a box, and paw prints.

A dog cannot communicate like us humans, but I think she knew. Osteoarthritis plagued her in later years – she could not sit up straight on her hind legs; with time she needed help just getting up to a couch or bed.

But life goes on and you take these things in stride, still wondering whether she should have been appreciated all the more.

Maddie on her “gotcha” day, at 5 months old.

In her last 2 years of life, she was my constant companion as I transitioned from work to retirement to getting our Vestal house ready to sell and finally selling it. My wife was up at our house in Rochester – wherever I went Maddie would go.

Now it is a quiet time. My wife is in bed after the long emotional day. It is just me and the fire on this cold November evening and a glance toward her corner reminds me. Dogs are, as my son reminded me on our drive home on that final day, one of the great human experiments. That experiment began with a wolf that hung at a distance in the din of a fire, and gradually accepted scraps. And it still evolves with hundreds of distinct breeds, designed to help man in all ways, from detecting bombs to therapy for dying humans, to companionship.

In my mourning, I somehow stumbled on an account of a little boy, who witnessed his own dog being put down in the company of his family. The family was very attached to their dog, an Irish Wolfhound called Belker, but nobody was more attached to this dog than 6-year-old Shane, the little boy. The family had taken their dog to the vet, only to find that the 10-year-old dog had cancer and that nothing could be done for him. The vet offered to euthanize Belker in their home, and after much discussion, Shane’s parents agreed that it would be good for Shane to be there so that he might learn something from the experience, given how attached he was to Belker.

The time came yet Shane seemed very calm. He was stroking his dog in a way that suggested acceptance, and it was as if both him and the dog understood that this was goodbye. Belker slipped away peacefully within a matter of minutes. Shane didn’t cry nor did he show any signs of distress. He knew it needed to happen and he knew Belker was in a better place. Afterwards, the family asked, in discussion, ‘why are animal’s lives so much shorter than our own?’ Shane sat quietly before saying “I know why” and went on to explain that people are born so they can live a good life. They need to love everyone all the time and be nice. Dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t need to spend their entire lives learning how to do it. That’s why they don’t stay as long

I am writing this as my own therapy, for a dog who loved unconditionally and gave her life for my good and the good of our family. Stack the monumental progress of humans against that, and I assure you, there’s no comparison. We will miss you Maddie…

More on Maddie – no better friend…

February 21, 2026 / stflyfisher

The following blog post was originally published on 12/5/2014, as an update on our adoption of Maddie. Her official “gotcha” day was February 23, 2013. We believe she was born in September 2013.

Those who follow this blog know a little about Maddie. I posted a piece on our adoption of her, or perhaps I should say her adoption of my family. She was a “return”. Previous owners had adopted her as a young puppy, but we believe may have found her too much to handle. So, she was lovingly taken back by her foster shelter, Every Dog’s Dream, in Greene, NY, and after we saw her photo, it was, as they say, love at first sight…

Most people know that Labs love the water. But Hound / Lab mixes like Maddie – well, I wasn’t so sure. Maddie is a Treeing Walker Coonhound and Labrador Retriever cross. She has the ears of a Lab, the head of a coonhound, the coat of a Lab and the tail and deeper chest of a coonhound.

She’ll bay like a coonhound, even stand up to a tree if she’s chased a squirrel, yet she also has a deep bark that warns with authority. She’s goofy, playful, wicked fast, retrieves, and loves her toys…

A dog's gotta have toys... — A dog’s gotta have toys…

Maddie first met water not long after we adopted her in February of 2013. And beautiful Jones Park in Vestal was the site of our first forays in field and stream. Maddie loved the snow and the woods, but ice and water took some getting used to. The first time I crossed the brook there, she paced back and forth on the other side, whining aloud before finally being coaxed across the frozen surface of the brook. From there on though, she started liking water, and these days that little brook is a favorite of hers.

Beautiful Jones Park - this little brook was Maddie's intro to the wonderful world of woods and water... — Beautiful Jones Park – Maddie’s intro to the wonderful world of woods and water…

But that was generally shallow wading with the exception of a few plunge pools. It took most of the following summer before the Susquehanna River dropped low enough for easy wading and the perfect opportunity to introduce Maddie to real swimming and maybe even some river fishing. My first trial would be a “no pressure” jaunt to an area above the Campville fishing access where there was a lot of water with a gradual transition and areas shielded from river current. We took a ride there one Sunday summer afternoon. While I had my fly rod, the goal was to wet wade and fish casually, inviting Maddie to join the water and “fish” with me.

It’s never an issue getting Maddie to take a ride in the car. Open any door and she’s eager to climb in and take up position in the back seat. She’ll then plant both front feet on the center console and look forward, or roam across the back bench seat, poking her head out either open window, ears flapping in the wind. It’s a sight to see in a little Subaru Outback and reminds me that one day I really do need to get a pick-up truck…

Cruising and scoping out the countryside, Maddie style... — Cruising and scoping out the countryside, Maddie style…

So after we arrived at the large DEC access, I took a few minutes to rig up, and then set off up-river, through the woods. Maddie was all over the place in her usual land rover style; sniffing, marking, chasing chipmunks and squirrels – all good doggie stuff. We walked out to a large rocky bar on the river and there we did a little wading as I cast my line. Maddie never strays afar – possibly an attachment issue from her past. She was right by me the whole time. I waded into the river until she almost moon-walked the bottom – and that was good enough for our first adventure. I didn’t want to push it.

Maddie wades the Susquehanna shallows... — An intro – Maddie wades the Susquehanna shallows…

The following week we repeated the same exercise. Maddie was a lot friskier, chasing plovers, wading in where I fished while watching the fly line where it entered the water. We waded deeper this time but I wasn’t having much luck with the bass. Eventually we headed to a feeder creek with a very deep hole. I spied a bass in the hole and cast my olive soft hackle bugger across the pool. It was like ringing a dinner bell as 4 bass quickly emerged from the green depths. These fish had most likely been trapped in this hole all summer – the feeder creek tailed out to a slight trickle before entering the river – and as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers in a spot like that. The biggest of the bass struck my fly aggressively, not wanting to let such a meal get by, and a good tussle began. The fish darted towards the security of a downfall and root ball. I put the brakes on while hollering for Maddie. I lipped the bass, removed the hook, gave Maddie a chance to say hello, and then released the bass. Maddie literally dove right into the hole in pursuit and soon experienced water without bottom. She came dog-paddling back, no worse for wear, and a certified swimmer!

Scoping out the faster water.... — Surveying the faster water and making Dad a little nervous from afar…

I was thrilled, but never doubted she could do it. So we returned to the river the following week with a plan to explore a little more. I wondered, would she travel down to the honey hole – the one where the bass could be big – the one I loved to fish?

We got to the access and this time took a wooded path downriver. The path paralleled the river for a bit and then veered off along a river braid. As we hiked, Maddie would dash down to the river braid and then charge back up to find me, flying up 6 foot banks like they were nothing. Soon we came out where the river braid re-entered the river at a beautiful bay that I love to fish…

This is sweet water for fly fishing and fishing this spot gave Maddie the opportunity to explore the river-side and take a swim.

Soon after arriving, I cast and swung my olive soft hackle bugger through a chute of water from the river braid and that proved to be a little too much for one nice bass. The fish took the fly solidly and went airborne with the hook-set. Maddie rushed in deep where the bass zigged and zagged, trying to intercept it. At one point it darted between her legs!

A nice smallmouth landed with aid of a water dog - note the paw in the upper left... — A nice smallmouth landed with aid of a water dog – note the paw in the upper left…

Soon enough I had the bass lipped, then removed the fly and put it down for a picture – Maddie’s paw included. Maddie began pawing the bass as I put my camera away and that was enough to send it off in a big swag of its tail.

Soon after hook removal, an errant "pat on the back" sent this bass fleeing... — Soon after hook removal, an errant “pat on the back” sent this bass fleeing…

But as the saying goes, all good things must end. So it was for our river sojourns. Not long after enjoying these visits to the Susquehanna, the rains came, the river rose, and then the cold swept in. Summer faded to fall and then to “see you next year”. No matter, it was great to have a fishing buddy on the river with me…

Relaxing on the deck with a glass of wine after a good day on the river... — Relaxing on the deck with a glass of wine after a good day on the river…

And borrowing a prophecy picture from my original post on Maddie, I’d say she’s turned out to be quite a friend for a fly fisher…

Oh the places we'll go... — Oh the places we’ll go…

Say Hello to Maddie

February 20, 2026 / stflyfisher

The following blog post was originally published soon after my family adopted our wonderful dog, Maddie. Her official “gotcha” day was February 23, 2013. We believe she was born in September, 2013.

If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.

Will Rogers

Will Rogers said it best: dogs are good. They live their short lives on this earth looking up to whomever walks into their lives and this goes back to early man who was looking for a guardian, hunting companion, and beast of burden.

Dogs have come a long way, all in service to man... — Dogs have come a long way, all in service to man…

Dogs don’t judge; they are the very essence of unconditional love. Come home from after a bad day, depressed, tired, even angry, and though they’ve been home all alone, they come to you, tail wagging, as if Jesus Christ had just come back to earth.

Long are the tales of a dog’s absolute devotion and loyalty. Hidesamuro Ueno brought his dog, an Akita named Hachiko, to Tokyo in 1924 and every day when he left for his teaching job, Hachiko would stand by the door and watch him go. The Akita would then arrive at the local train station at 4 p.m. to meet his owner when he returned from work. Ueno later died of a stroke at work, but Hachiko continued to return to the train station every single day for the next 10 years until his death in 1935. A bronze statue stands at Shibuya Station in honor of Hachiko.

Hachiko: loyal to the end... — Hachiko: loyal to the end…

Then there’s Hawkeye, the Labrador retriever, that showed dogs too suffer from heartbreak. During Navy SEAL John Tumilson’s funeral, Hawkeye was seen ambling up to his owner’s coffin and then dropping to the ground with a heaving sigh.

Hawkeye, a chocolate lab, grieves for his fallen owner... — Hawkeye grieves for his fallen owner. No greater love…

Indeed, I remember my grandmother once saying she never trusted any person who didn’t like dogs…

Up until very recently, I’d been dog-less for too long. I grew up with dogs, after all, starting with Cocker Spaniels, thanks to my grandparents who bred and showed them. Blue Bay was their kennel – home to many champions of conformation and obedience. Years later my wife and I owned Basenjis, a unique hound breed out of Africa, known to many as the ‘barkless dog’. We showed Kephas (our male) and Yodie (our female), and after finishing them as AKC Champions, they had a litter of 5 puppies. The litter pick, Blue Bay’s Violet Memory, was named in honor of my grandmother and was my way of thanking her for bringing dogs into my life. ‘Violet’ produced many champions. One of her descendents was the first black and white Basenji to win the breed at Westminster.

Kephas and Yodie passed on, as all dogs do, and we took a break from dogs. It was nice at first not having to walk a dog in the pouring rain or frigid cold, shouting under one’s breath every expletive known to man in front of ‘just go…!’, and yes, the house seemed a lot cleaner, dirty laundry left undisturbed, cherry cheesecakes not yanked off tables, etc., etc., but after a few years without panting and yodeling and all those dog antics – comic and touching – well, something was missing. My wife stood fast for a while, claiming she wanted to enjoy the house ‘chew-free’, until out of the blue, she noticed this picture in the news…

The rest, as they say, is history. A week after noticing this Lab / Hound mix, we all went to see her. The bond was immediate and magical. It wasn’t another week before she was brought to us, courtesy of Every Dog’s Dream, a pet shelter in Greene, NY. Maddie wagged her way into our lives and where my wife saw a good walking companion, I immediately dreamed of a fly-fishing friend.

It turns out that Maddy was one of a litter of 4 puppies born somewhere in South Carolina. The litter had been left to a high-kill shelter, where dogs are put down if not adopted in 90 days. Fortunately, Maddie and her littermates were sent north. Audrey at Every Dog’s Dream referred to Maddie as an adorable, big-hearted girl who had good manners and liked being close to her humans. Our adoption proved she was more than right.

While pure-bred dogs have their place in life and certainly serve a purpose, the sheer number of homeless dogs continues to sky-rocket. Many of these dogs are real gems, such as we have found in Maddie, and all they’re looking for is a chance to warm a heart.

My plans for Maddie include lots of love and play, obedience training, and ultimately, a seat beside me on the way to flowing waters.

I know the Lab part of her breeding will win her over to water and I’ll promise her this…

“Oh the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all.”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

Say hello to Finn!

January 16, 2026 / stflyfisher

Your dog is part of your world, but to a dog, you are their whole world…

As I write this on Christmas day, there’s warmth at my feet radiating from an 8-week-old male chocolate lab out of Peak Performance Labradors, snoozing the morning away. “Finn” came into this world on October 29th, one of 10 labrador retriever puppies, a mix of 5 black males, 3 chocolate females, and 2 chocolate males. We had the pick of the two chocolate males and chose “green (collar)” over “brown (collar).” “Green” was second biggest of the litter; his paws show it and at 8 weeks old he is weighing in at over 12 pounds. It’s likely he will be a big boy. His name is a play on his future.

Finn is the product of a fine pedigree – both his father, “Tommy” (Grampian’s Pin Ball Wizard, S H) and his mother, “Jade” (Peak’s Stone in Love, JH), have hunting titles, and excellent health credentials, the most important for a lab being their OFA Hip rating, in their case, both being rated excellent.

The breed has a history of hip dysplasia which responsible breeders try to breed out by identifying dogs that have poor hip ratings and not breeding them.

Bringing Finn into the family comes on the heels of losing our Maddie last November, who we had to put down at 12 years of age due to bad arthritis. Maddie’s beginnings were worlds apart from Finn’s. We adopted Maddie from Every Dog’s Dream in Greene, NY, where she was fostered after arriving from a high-kill shelter in Darlington, SC. The shelter reached out to Every Dog’s Dream trying to place Maddie and her three brothers, and Every Dog’s Dream responded by taking all 4 puppies.

Maddie’s breeding was a unique majority blend of a treeing walker coonhound and lab, with a bunch of other minor “contributors” including Beagle, German shepherd, pit bull, and Dalmatian according to genetic testing we had done. We suspect Maddie and her 3 brothers may have been culled out of a litter destined for some sort of hunting, though she had very high prey drive in my opinion, so I’ll never be sure what disqualified her. She loved to chase squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits.

Maddie sniffing out a red squirrel. Note her hound-like profile yet the presence of many lab features…

Maddie was a true joy to own – extremely friendly to her humans, loyal, protective, and never an accident in our home. Having spent most of my life with dogs made it very hard not to fill the void left after Maddie’s passing. Now that void’s been filled with a beautiful lab puppy, bubbling with love and boundless energy.

Finn will love it here on the shores of Lake Ontario. Just 30 feet out the back of our house is that Great Lake, while in front, across the street, is the outlet from Long Pond into the lake.

Long Pond, looking south from Edgemere Drive. The pond is over 440 acres in area.

In addition to Long Pond, just up and down the road along the lake shore are Buck Pond, Cranberry Pond, Round Pond and Braddock Bay.

The Braddock Bay Wildlife Management Area (WMA) – vast marshland, woods, and ponds. A watery world built for a labrador retriever…

The Braddock Bay WMA is over 2,000 acres of rich and diverse marshland, ponds and shoreline habitat and is on the Atlantic Flyway and therefore the home of year-round avian residents as well as a resting spot for migrating birds, waterfowl in particular.

Ducks of every kind abound here, including:

Dabblers (shallow-water feeders): Mallards, Black Ducks, Gadwalls, Northern Pintail, American Wigeon, Blue-winged Teal, Green-winged Teal, Northern Shoveler, and Wood Duck.
Diving ducks (open water and deeper bays): Greater and Lesser Scaup. Goldeneye, Bufflehead, Redhead, Canvasback, Ring-necked Duck, Ruddy Duck, Hooded, Common, and Red-breasted Merganser.
Sea ducks (Lake Ontario proper): Long-tailed Duck (Old Squaw), White-winged Scoter, Surf Scoter and Black Scoter.

The parks in the area are ringed with miles of trails that skirt the vast marshland. These will be well worn by Finn and me in the coming years.

As his name implies, Finn will be a future fly-fishing companion, wading local inland streams, rivers, and Great Lakes tributaries, as well as accompanying me in a boat fishing the ponds and lake shoreline. And that role is fitting, given the origins of the Labrador Retriever.

Labrador retrievers are descendants of the St John’s Water Dog, an extinct landrace of domestic dog from Newfoundland. Little is known of the types that went into its genetic makeup, although it was probably a random-bred mix of old English, Irish and Portuguese working dogs. These were favorite dogs of fishermen due to their good temperament, cold weather ruggedness, and high work drive.

The St. John’s breed was called “water dog” because of their love for water. They were medium-sized, strong, and stocky, with a highly water-resistant coat and more closely resembled modern Show Labradors (English) than Field Labradors (American).

A pictorial comparison of the English (show) labrador versus the American (field) labrador. Both can actually be shown under the AKC Breed Conformance Standard, and both can do field work. The English type is said to be a little more laid back and less energetic while the American type is more athletic and has higher field drive.

Our Finn is an American or field labrador as are all the dogs out of Peak Performance Labrador’s line.

Writings as early as the 17th century mention hardy medium-sized black dogs (the original color) that accompanied Newfoundland fishermen in their boats, and retrieved distant lines, nets of fish and even escaped fish, hauling them back to the boat.

During the 19th and early 20th centuries, St. John’s water dogs were exported from Newfoundland to England where they were crossbred with other dogs to create the modern retrievers, including the Labrador Retriever.

Beyond fishing duty for Finn, there’s always the lure of taking up bird hunting – either upland birds or waterfowl – as Labradors are adept at both types, as well as the possibility of therapy dog work.

But most of all, Finn will surely follow in the pawprints of his predecessor, Maddie, being as good a companion as any human could ask for…

On the road with Finn, heading to his forever home…

Loss, Renewal, and the Salmon River

November 22, 2025 / stflyfisher

“God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.” – Genesis 1:25

It had been a good day on the Salmon River. I had spent it well, casting to steelhead on their fall migration – leaving the dark depths of Lake Ontario to the bright shallows of a swift river. They fought hard when hooked, launching like gleaming chrome missiles into the air, then landing with a crash, fighting and flashing in the clear water. They held in the runs and in the riffles. We sight fished to them, their long dark shadows cast on the river’s bedrock, as old as time.

Jimmy Kirtland, my able guide, led me up the steep trail to the parking area of the private access water we had just fished. The sun was bright on the day, lighting up the fall colors around us. Above us was a canopy of robin’s egg blue with wisps of cloud that foreshadowed the coming rains so needed.

We soon reached our trucks and unloaded our gear. I was good tired – we’d been up at it before sunrise, and I knew I’d need a large coffee for the 2-hour drive home.

Adjacent to the parking area was a lodge, a rustic pine sided house perched atop the crest we had just climbed. It looked out to the river, the long tumbling run, and the riffles and pools of churning water that are the home of the steelhead.

The beautiful run at Whiskey River Lodge in Pulaski, NY. Pic courtesy of Whiskey River Lodge.

I sat on the tailgate of the truck, peeling my waders off. Out the door of the lodge emerged two older women who had been cleaning the place before the next check-in, followed closely by a large red lab. I was immediately struck by the dog’s appearance. It trotted out with waving tail, head held high, sniffing the autumn air. Jimmy greeted it, corralling it in his arms as he knelt down. “Come here, you” he said as he embraced the big tail-wagging dog.

I watched it all and quietly held in the emotion that was building inside me. A year ago, almost to the day, we had put our Maddie down. In her last years she suffered with arthritis. She declined in health rapidly in the month I moved with her to our new home on Lake Ontario. It was as if she was holding out so we were settled before she left us. She had gradually lost the use of her hind legs, her once muscular hind quarters now withered, leaving her unable to stand. When we tried to pick her up, she’d nip in protest. Maddie would never bite any of her humans, so we knew the pain was bad.

I’ve written here previously when we first brought Maddie into our lives. She and her three brothers were rescued from a high kill shelter in Darlington, South Carolina. They were brought north to a rescue in Greene, NY and it was there that we found Maddie. As a family, we had gone without a dog for years. It wasn’t time, my wife said, there was too much going on. And then Ellen saw an ad with Maddie’s puppy picture, and it was all over. Suddenly, we had to have a dog.

The two women were loading their truck with cleaning supplies, while the red fox lab milled about, anxious to jump into the truck. I watched this beautiful dog, all the time thinking of Maddie because there was so much likeness, and then my cell phone buzzed with a text. Dressed down from fishing, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to read the text. Jade, Peak’s Stone in Love (JH), had given birth. In the text below the comments were two pictures – one, a pile of black and chocolate puppies, just hours old – the other of Jade, lying exhausted as her litter of 10 happily nursed.

A pile of puppies. The two chocolate males have a brown and dark green collar. One of those will be our Finn…

In early spring of the year, I had gotten a serious itch to start looking for another dog. The void that Maddie left was just too big. For months I’d come home to an empty house, expecting her greeting. I missed the soft summer evenings when I’d relax with a cigar on our deck while Maddie snoozed on an adjacent deck couch. In the cool evenings of early autumn, Maddie loved the backyard fires we had. She could be a dog of boundless energy with her wild antics, but she was also a champion of chill.

Lady serendipity looked down on me that day. Like the steelhead migrating up the Salmon River, Finn came as Maddie’s parting gift. The river teaches that every return is also a beginning, and so it is with the dogs we love. Maddie’s spirit will live on in Finn, a reminder that love never leaves—it transforms.

Category: Flyfishing dogs

Fish Hound

Finn – Never Grow Up

A Memorial to Maddie…

More on Maddie – no better friend…

Say Hello to Maddie

Say hello to Finn!

Loss, Renewal, and the Salmon River

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Archives

Categories

Meta