Trust Your Dog! – a lesson relearned.

Over 30 years ago, I learned a valuable hunting lesson – trust your dog. Back then, I had a young springer spaniel named Kate, with whom I spent countless hours training (before kids and my first gun dog). I devoured every book and attended every seminar I could on dog training. I even visited professional trainers, not to train Kate but to train myself. Through diligent daily work, Kate was becoming well-trained: she came perfectly to the whistle (tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet on my ACME 210 ½), located birds enthusiastically, and flushed them with passion. Though, still a puppy, she hadn't yet learned to quarter nicely (turning with a double tweet on the whistle) or hup on every flushed bird (or a long whistle blast). She knew pigeons and quail, but it was time for her first real hunt on the ring-necked pheasant – the bird she was born to pursue.

I took Kate to a game farm, purchasing two roosters to be released in hunting cover. The owner showed me two marked fields on a map, and I set off to find birds with my trusty companion. The first field was dense, waist-high grass – perfect pheasant habitat. Knowing I'd never see Kate in that thick cover (this was before GPS trackers), I put a bell on her.

It was a crisp Minnesota fall morning as Kate attacked the tall grass, her bell tinkling away. After a considerable time of hunting, suddenly, the cadence changed to an intense TINKLE, TINKLE, TINKLE – she was working a bird. Moments later, a powerful rooster flushed. Despite being ready, that explosion of wings still startled me. Even after countless bird flushes (even the ones pointed by my Brittanys), the explosive launch of a rooster pheasant into the air still manages to jolt me with a surge of surprise and exhilaration. I collected myself and dropped the bird cleanly with one shot, carefully marking its fall in the brown sea of grass. This was perfect – the first rooster Kate ever flushed, and I killed it for her to retrieve. But Kate couldn't find the downed bird, running back and forth passionately. Disappointment washed over me – not the desired outcome for her first pheasant hunt.

Little did I know at that early stage of our journey together that a few years later in Iowa, Kate would relentlessly trail a downed rooster for over half a mile through fields before it turned and ran south along a ditch line. Unwavering, she shadowed that winged bird another half-mile down the ditch. When the rooster reached a crossroads, instead of continuing west along the next stretch of ditch, it made a fatal mistake - bolting across the gravel road into open ground. With the bird now in her sights, Kate seized the opportunity, pouncing on the rooster as it attempted its desperate escape across the exposed road.

I almost called her off to direct her to where the dead rooster had fallen. Just as the whistle neared my lips to call her back, the winged rooster flushed again from the grass. In a blink, Kate sprang into the air and caught it! Relief and elation replaced my frustration as she trotted back, bird in mouth, having tracked down and retrieved her first pheasant. I happily praised the good girl and learned a critical lesson – trust your dog to work until she gives up, not impatiently calling her off a potentially dead or wounded bird.

Over 30 years later, I had to relearn that lesson. This time, my daughter watched as I trained my second Brittany, Piper, on planted quail. Piper pointed a bird perfectly, and after an unfortunate complete miss on my part, the quail landed 60-70 yards away. Being a puppy, I allowed Piper to relocate and re-point the unscathed quail.

Soon, she locked up on another solid point. My daughter and I admired her lovely pose but couldn't produce the quail. After shaking the brush, stomping on the grass, and kicking a log, I assumed it must have escaped unseen and prepared to move on. But my daughter insisted Piper was pointing directly at a hollow log, noticing something I'd missed. She reached inside and, incredibly, pulled out the very quail I thought was long gone! We tossed it up for Piper to make a nice retrieve, her look saying, "I told you so, Dad!" The lesson, once again – trust your dog's nose and point. If they say there's a bird there, believe them.