There are some hunts where the number of birds matters.

Then there are hunts where you barely remember your own shooting because you spent the entire morning watching your dog.

This weekend was the second kind.

Fifteen Canada geese killed. Eleven times sent. Eleven Canada geese retrieved. Eleven. Successful. Retrieves. Not a single hiccup.

For some dogs, maybe that number wouldn’t mean much. For Ember, it meant everything. Because I can still picture the little 50-pound golden retriever standing over her first Canada goose last season looking at it like, Dad… I understand the assignment. I’m just not entirely sure how you expect me to carry this thing.

Fast forward to this weekend and there was no hesitation. No confusion. No standing over a bird waiting for help.

Bird down. Send Ember. Pick it up. Bring it back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Eleven times.

Watching her work this weekend made me realize that Ember’s story deserves its own blog. Not just because I’m ridiculously proud of her, but because her journey over the last two and a half years is a pretty good example of why I’ve fallen in love with Golden Retrievers as hunting dogs.

They’re intelligent. They’re athletic. They’re incredibly birdy when you get the right one. They can possess a tremendous desire to retrieve. But maybe the trait that stands out most to me is how badly they want to make their people happy.

Ember has that in her in a big way.

And apparently, she also has a thing for Canada geese now.

It Started With a Little Yellow Duck

Ember is a two-and-a-half-year-old purebred female Golden Retriever, and looking back, there were hints from the beginning that we might have something special.

From day one, she had a little yellow duck toy.

Nothing sophisticated. Nothing involving scent or wings or some elaborate retriever-training program. It was just her duck.

She figured out fetch incredibly quickly. More importantly, she loved it. There was something about bringing something back to us that seemed to click naturally with her.

That’s one of the qualities that has made Golden Retrievers such successful sporting dogs for generations. The breed was developed specifically as a gundog capable of retrieving shot game, particularly waterfowl. That history still shows up in modern Goldens through their soft mouths, willingness to retrieve, swimming ability, trainability and desire to work closely with people.

Of course, owning a Golden Retriever doesn’t automatically mean you’ve purchased a finished duck dog.

I wish it worked that way.

But with Ember, I had an inkling early.

She was always with me. She’d come to work. She’d be around activity, equipment and occasionally some pretty loud noises. Obviously, random loud sounds aren’t the same thing as properly introducing a dog to gunfire, and gun conditioning is something that should be handled carefully and progressively. But Ember never seemed particularly rattled by the world around her.

She was curious.

Confident.

And constantly watching me.

I had a feeling that combination might translate pretty well into a hunting dog.

Wings and Whistles Showed Us What Was Actually in There

We eventually sent Ember to Wings and Whistles for her early obedience work and introduction to birds and gunfire.

That ended up being a huge step.

When we picked her up, the obedience was immediately noticeable. That’s obviously valuable in the field, but it also transitioned directly into our home life. A hunting dog spends a relatively small percentage of its life actually hunting. The rest of the time, Ember is our dog. She’s in the house. She’s with the family. She’s going places with us.

That dual purpose is one of the things I love most about Goldens.

You can have a serious hunting companion in the morning and an absolute cuddle monster that evening.

Sometimes both personalities exist approximately six seconds apart.

The thing that really caught my attention after Ember’s training wasn’t even the obedience, though.

It was watching her learn to use her nose.

During our walkthrough with the trainers, we did some live-bird work with a chukar. Ember started working, caught scent, tracked the bird down and flushed it.

Then, before the trainer could even shoulder the gun, Ember apparently decided everyone was making this exercise unnecessarily complicated.

She snatched the chukar out of the air.

No shot required.

I remember thinking something along the lines of:

Well… she’s definitely birdy.

You can train obedience. You can refine handling. You can teach a dog how to work through different situations.

That raw desire is harder to manufacture.

Ember had it.

Then Canada Threw Her a Curveball

Her next big surprise came in Canada.

Ember had never been exposed to grouse before. We weren’t exactly sure what she would think when she encountered one.

Apparently, we didn’t need to worry.

She jumped right into grouse hunting.

That’s another thing I’ve come to appreciate about her. Once she understands that we’re hunting, she starts trying to solve the problem.

That doesn’t mean she always knows the answer.

Sometimes she definitely doesn’t.

But she’s willing to work.

And that willingness matters.

Goldens are often described as eager to please, but living and hunting with one makes that phrase feel a little less generic. Ember pays attention to us constantly. She wants interaction. She wants praise. She wants a job.

More than anything, she wants to know that she did the right thing.

That can make training incredibly rewarding because the retrieve itself becomes part of the reward, and praise from us becomes another part.

It can also create a dog who gets very, very excited when she finally realizes what we’re doing.

More on that later.

Our First Waterfowl Season Didn’t Go How I Imagined

After the training, the bird work and everything we’d done at home, I had this picture in my head of Ember’s first waterfowl season.

Reality was considerably less cinematic.

Honestly, our 2025 season was underwhelming.

Some of that was my fault.

I didn’t want to bore her with hunts I thought were going to be difficult or slow. Naturally, because waterfowl hunting enjoys humbling people, some of the hunts I left her home for ended up being our better hunts.

Then we’d bring her on hunts I thought would be perfect for a young dog…

…and nothing would happen.

That’s an important lesson I’ve taken from the experience.

You can’t develop a hunting dog without giving it opportunities to hunt.

Training is critical, but eventually they need live reps. They need the randomness. They need to sit through slow mornings. They need to experience birds doing things you never could have recreated with a bumper.

Just take her.

Ember finally got her first real introduction to Canada geese in a cut cornfield.

She did everything right.

She marked the bird.

She went to it.

Then she reached a full-grown Canada goose as a roughly 50-pound female Golden Retriever and encountered a slight logistical problem.

She knew what she was supposed to do.

She just didn’t know how the heck she was supposed to do it.

She’d work around it. Bump it. Try to figure it out.

But picking up that giant bird and bringing it all the way back?

Nope.

Not yet.

Then Came a Snowy November Morning

Later that November, I took Ember on a solo hunt in the snow.

Early in the hunt, I shot two hooded mergansers.

And somehow, in a coincidence I couldn’t have scripted any better, Ember’s first duck retrieve was a banded hooded merganser.

Her first duck.

Banded.

That’s one of those memories I’m going to have forever.

More duck retrieves followed, and I could see the pieces starting to connect.

Later that same hunt I shot two honkers.

Now I was excited.

She had successfully retrieved ducks. She was fired up. We were hunting water rather than dealing with a goose lying in a field.

Surely this is when she figures it out.

She swam out.

Got to the geese.

And…

Nope. 😂

Same basic outcome.

She bumped them around a little. Tried to figure them out. She clearly understood that Dad wanted those birds back.

She just hadn’t solved the physics problem yet.

A few more duck retrieves followed during the season, but that was basically the story of Ember’s 2025 waterfowl season.

There were flashes.

There were successful retrieves.

There was obvious potential.

But the dog I could see in my head hadn’t completely arrived yet.

Somewhere Along the Way, Ember Became a Big Sister

At the same time all of this was happening, life outside hunting was changing pretty dramatically too.

We found out we were expecting our first little man in June.

And I swear Ember knew before we did.

Something changed in her.

She was still the same ridiculous Golden Retriever. Still energetic. Still goofy. Still capable of going from sleeping peacefully to acting like an absolute maniac.

But she became an even bigger lover.

Goldens have earned their reputation as exceptional family dogs for good reason. Their affectionate temperament, social nature and willingness to bond closely with people are a huge part of why the breed has remained so popular.

With Ember, though, it wasn’t something I needed a breed description to tell me.

We watched it happen.

She became softer around us in a way that’s difficult to explain. More attached. More affectionate. More aware.

Now we get to watch her balance these two completely different roles.

At home, she’s the goofy Golden who loves her family and is becoming the best big sister to our little guy.

In the field, something else switches on.

There are birds to retrieve, and Dad needs them back.

The Offseason Became About Solving the Goose Problem

We knew exactly what we wanted to improve going into 2026.

Geese.

So we went to work.

I ordered Dokken goose bumpers. They’re still not the same size or weight as a mature Canada goose, but they were a much better approximation than the smaller bumpers we’d been using.

Then we kept adding complexity.

We worked singles.

Then doubles.

Then triples.

We played hide-and-seek games that forced her to use her nose instead of relying entirely on marks.

We continued reinforcing obedience and steadiness.

Most importantly, we kept retrieving fun.

That’s something I never want to lose with her.

There are a thousand ways to make dog training complicated, but at the core of everything Ember does is a very simple motivation:

She absolutely loves bringing things back to us.

So instead of fighting that drive, the goal became shaping it.

Retrieve when I send you.

Bring it all the way back.

Then we’ll do it again.

All of that work eventually brought us to September 2026.

Eleven Geese Changed Everything

Early season arrived, and suddenly all those artificial situations became real again.

Only this time, Ember was different.

She had another year of maturity.

Another offseason of training.

More confidence.

More understanding.

And finally, more live reps.

Over the last couple weeks, she’s been getting real retrieves under her belt again.

Early teal is not only a great time for us to knock the rust off as shooters, but for her too.

Then came the last two days.

Fifteen Canada geese.E

Eleven times sent.

Eleven successful retrieves.

Not one hiccup.

The same little female Golden who stood over her first goose last year trying to figure out how she was possibly supposed to bring this giant thing back was suddenly handling them like she’d been doing it forever.

There was no debate.

No confusion.

She went.

She grabbed the bird.

She brought it back.

Send her again.

Same thing.

Watching that happen is difficult to describe because you’re not only watching the retrieve in front of you.

You’re seeing the yellow duck.

You’re remembering the chukar she stole out of the air.

You’re remembering Canada.

You’re remembering that first goose she couldn’t quite figure out.

You’re remembering the snow.

You’re remembering the banded hoodie.

You’re remembering every bumper thrown in the yard.

And suddenly all of it is standing in front of you soaking wet with a Canada goose in its mouth.

I was so ridiculously proud of her.

Success Created Our Next Training Problem

There’s another side to all of this, though.

Now Ember knows what we’re doing.

Really knows.

And her excitement level has gone through the roof.

It started to really show through on day three of the early teal season.

We’ve started seeing a little jumpiness when birds appear. I wouldn’t describe it as outright breaking. It’s more like her entire body immediately says:

THERE THEY ARE. DAD NEEDS THOSE. I MUST GET THEM.

It’s actually kind of hilarious.

But it’s also something that needs to be managed.

A retriever can’t decide when the retrieve starts.

That’s our decision.

So I’ve already adjusted how we’re handling her in the field. We moved her into the new Dakota spring-loaded dog blind, and over the last three hunts I’ve already seen a noticeable shift in her composure.

The blind creates a defined place.

Stay here.

Watch.

Wait.

The retrieve is the reward.

But the reward only happens when Dad says it happens.

That distinction is going to be a huge part of our training as this season progresses.

And I actually love that we have this problem.

Last year, I was trying to convince her that a Canada goose was something she could retrieve.

This year, I’m teaching her that she doesn’t get to retrieve every bird the instant she sees it.

That’s progress.

Why I Love Hunting With a Golden

There are plenty of phenomenal retriever breeds, and I’m not interested in turning this into an argument about which one is “best.”

But I understand Golden Retriever people now.

Completely.

There’s something special about having a dog with enough drive to crash through water after a goose and then come home and melt into the family.

They are intelligent enough that sometimes you can almost watch them work through a problem. They’re naturally social. They tend to be incredibly tuned into their people. Many possess exactly the combination of retrieving instinct, soft mouth, swimming ability and trainability that originally made the breed such an effective sporting dog.

But with Ember, the thing I appreciate most isn’t something I can measure.

She wants to make us happy.

You can see it when she brings the bird back.

You can see it during training.

You can see it when she looks at me waiting for the next command.

And you can absolutely see it when she knows she nailed something.

Her entire personality changes.

She’s proud of herself.

And so am I.

We’re Chasing 100

So now we’ve got a goal.

100 successful retrieves this season.

Not because a number determines whether Ember had a good year.

Not because I’m trying to turn hunting with my dog into some kind of scoreboard.

I just think it’ll be fun.

One hundred opportunities to learn.

One hundred chances to reinforce everything we’ve worked on.

One hundred birds brought back that otherwise might have been much harder to recover.

And hopefully a whole bunch of stories along the way.

There will be mistakes.

There will probably be retrieves where I question every training decision I’ve ever made.

There will be days when she surprises me.

There will be days when she reminds me she’s still a Golden Retriever and therefore occasionally operates according to a logic system known only to Golden Retrievers.

But after watching her this weekend?

I have a pretty good feeling she’s going to blow right through 100.

The drive is real.

The brains are there.

The confidence is growing.

And now she knows she can handle the big birds.

At home, she’ll continue being the goofy, affectionate Golden we’ve loved since the day that little yellow duck showed up.

She’ll be the family dog.

She’ll be the big sister.

She’ll probably steal something she’s not supposed to have and parade it around the house like she won the lottery.

Then we’ll load the truck.

She’ll see the hunting gear.T

That Garmin collar will go on.

And that switch will flip.

Because somewhere between a yellow toy duck, a chukar getting snatched out of the air, a banded hooded merganser and eleven Canada geese in one weekend, our little Golden Retriever figured out exactly what she was born to do.

Good girl, Ember.

We’re just getting started.

– Max & Danielle
Burley Outdoors