It was fall when she came to us on a plane from New Mexico, all legs and ears and sharp puppy teeth.
She pointed from the womb — butterflies, song birds, turtles, tufts of grass stirred by a breeze — nothing was safe from her glare.
As our first setter, I was unsure of the training required to make her a bird dog. When spring arrived we got a dozen quail for an introduction to flushing birds and gunfire. This was the one and only training session she ever had. It was clear that if she scented bird, she wouldn’t budge. When fall arrived she joined our pack and chased nothing but wild birds from then on.
We’ve been on so many adventures together. Rio pinned birds in 28 different states, spent hundreds of hours on those roadtrips, and ran free across thousands of miles of wild places.
Her final hunt was epic. I’ve been working to tell that story, but with recent added context it’s recast how special she is. (I plan to share when the words feel adequate.)
On her first Himalayan Snowcock hunt, we climbed for a couple of hours to get above tree line in the Ruby Mountains of Nevada. Most people don’t hunt these birds with dogs — it’s extremely dangerous terrain. I picked this route up the mountain because the previous day I glassed some birds trading around the area.
After hiking uphill for so long, there’s always a bit of euphoria when you finally get a glimpse of the summit. Rio was ahead of us, standing at the top. As we got closer that elation became alarm. I realized the reason Rio stopped running; her front toenails were curled over the rim of a thousand foot sheer drop. She was staring into the abyss.
I can’t be sure what she was thinking, but I was amazed she had no fear. I was scared getting within 10’ of that ledge.
I softly coaxed her back to my side and we tucked in behind a big boulder to glass for birds. But that image of her, standing on that cliff, head high and nostrils flaring into the wind whipping over the peak has been seared into my brain. It’s how I will always picture her.
For the last 13 years we’ve followed her to amazing places.
And now, we are lost.
Note: We give our dogs their first name, but their surname develops over time. I’m not sure how Flufferbunny came to be, but it stuck.
