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The Great Debate: Pointing or Flushing Dogs for Quail
My wife said I winced when we pulled up to the only game in town. It was an old motel of a vintage that reminded me of the Golden Era of travel by car. Over the years families probably over-nighted here while on their way to any one of a number of the nearby wild quail Valhallas. No visible capital improvements had been done for a long time, at least I couldn't see any renovation. The 30-some-odd rooms looked sad while the adjoining restaurant and tavern was booming.
My Rule Number One: Dont Bird Hunt For Business by Tom Word
Soon after I became a bird hunter I adopted a rule: Don't take anyone bird hunting in search of law business. I had figured out you only wanted to bird hunt with a few folk who shared your love of the dogs and the sport, folks who were safe and not game hogs. .
Cadillac Farm by Tom Word
My great friend Joe Prince, farmer and every-day-in-season quail hunter of Stony Creek, Virginia, died from a tractor accident I predicted in 1997. His brother, Dr. John S. Prince of Emporia, died of old age at 97 last month, having practiced as an Internist to age 90. They were alike as two peas in a pod, smart, hard working, opinionated. Both had served in WWII, Joe as an enlisted radar operator aboard troop transports to Europe, John as a Navy officer aboard a cruiser.
You Cant Just Have One
I love the saying 'anything done in moderation shows a lack of interest' because it's true. My gun cabinet, my rod rack, my decoy rack and my kennels are all full. I'm immoderate, just like you.
Joe and Denny and Me -- and Lucky - by Tom Word
In the summer of 1973, when I was thirty-five and a striving Richmond lawyer, I got an amazing gift from a more striving life insurance salesman hoping for referrals from me, an introduction to his brother, Joe Prince, perhaps Virginia's most striving grain farmer, and after his crops of wheat, peanuts, soybeans and corn were up, most striving quail hunter.
Running Spring Woodcock - By Tom Keer
A pro trainer recently asked me about my training bird bill.
Whatever you do, dont panic if you accidentally shoot the dog
My liver and white pointer Gep stood staunchly on point on a covey of scaled quail on the Colorado prairie. I hadn't seen my 6 month old coverdog-setter Gretchen for almost an hour since I turned her loose on the shortgrass prairie. My last check on the GPS showed her 700-plus yards out to the west. As I approached Gep, a large covey of scalies erupted in a whirr from the cholla as I raised my Parker GH 16 bore to pick an escaping bird. The first bird folded and I swung to pick another bird out of the covey. I pulled the back trigger just as I detected motion from the corner of my right eye...Gretchen appeared out of nowhere and it was too late. I had already fired the second barrel on a late riser just as she arrived on the scene. I was pretty sure she got peppered by the tail end of my pattern.
Whatever you do, dont shoot the dog - By Tom Keer
I've never seen a bird dog get shot, but I hear of at least one instance per year. When the stories roll in I get sick to my stomach. They unfold in pretty much the same way. A group of folks review the pre-hunt safety talk. All have heard it before, all are in agreement. The dogs are cut loose, the hunt is underway, and spirits are high. Jokes fly around, conversation is light, and everyone agrees they are more happy in the field than at work.
Shadow Oak Bo Remembered by Tom Word
I treasure many memories of Shadow Oak Bo, the first and clearest (I can watch it like a movie in mind's eye today) at Coney Lake in the Lee County All-Age when Bo was a first year. I was riding with Luke Weaver in his pickup, following in the course path. Bo had a pretty find just ahead and we both said, "Wow, that's a handsome setter." A couple minutes later he had another and got too close, bumping the bird. Luke stopped where we could watch Robin after judges and gallery moved on. Robin administered a stern correction with a rein to Bo's chest, and an instant after, Bo, undaunted, was licking Robin's hands, with tail wagging, happy as could be.
Skin Laceration Repair in the Field by Shawn Wayment DVM
There is nothing finer than being afield in autumn's country with bird dogs. The whir of wings as a covey of scaled quail erupts from the sand sage can stir the cholesterol from the morning's greasy-spoon-country-dinner breakfast. Gun smoke clears the air as the setter climbs through the taut five-stranded barbed wire fence retrieving the first bird of the day. This is the Wild West, and ranchers want assurance that their livestock are protected. As you reach down to take the bird your well trained setter delivers gently to hand, you notice fresh blood on the dorsal surface of her back. A nimrod's classic morning has now turned into a trip to the local vet ... which in this case is 150 nautical miles from where the event occurred and it is Sunday.
Beware the Twins - By Tom Word
They were twins, and identical, at least every one said they were. Of course white folks would have said identical anyhow, they couldn't have distinguished between them if they were just cousins, let alone twin brothers. They could each ride like the wind, and scout a bird dog, which Ron did for a living, working for the all-age handler, Sparrow Bates.
The Nose Knows: Reading your Birddogs Signs by Tom Keer
If you own a bird dog, let alone a string of 'em, then the odds are high that you know what their every movement and noise means. But if you're hunting over a buddy's dog then you might not be as keyed in to their tells. Here are two common situations that bird dogs encounter and some different ways in which they react.
Two Heroes - by Tom Word
They are two heroes , both Pennsylvanians, both Vietnam combat veterans. Both are pointing dog professionals. One is a Marine, one is Army. They both saw much combat, and that has had its inevitable consequences, physical and mental.
Gundog Central Announcement
I can't tell you how excited I am to be able to bring you some brand new content from two super talented and respected individuals of the bird dog community. I really admire their work and I think you will too. Later today I'll be uploading a short story written by legendary Bird Dog and Field Trial author Tom Word, accompanied by art work contributed by bird dog and wildlife artist, Leah Brigham.
The $10 Million Bird Dog - by Tom Word
Ben Reach had for five decades followed his father's admonition, " Do not get involved in a divorce case....unless a lot of money is involved and you can be assured of being paid." Ben had long since ceased involvement in divorce cases, even lucrative ones, except occasionally as mediator. His involvement in this one would be uncompensated, except non-financially, as an act of friendship toward a man he admired and respected, or perhaps as an act of revenge on a woman he didn't much like.
