| stuck into his front legs. I quickly pulled them out, and felt for the small golden spines that usually accompany the larger bone colored spines. When I found a clump, I would carefully pull them out with the hemostats. Billy thought this was much ado about nothing, but I didn't want him to develop an infection because of something as silly as cactus spines. By this time, it was close to noon, and getting pretty hot. We worked down to the stock tank at the end of the arroyo, where Billy plunged in for an enthusiastic swim. Nothing cools a hard working bird dog down quicker than a good swim. As he swam and frolicked I found a shady Live Oak tree overlooking the tank and sat down. After a few minutes, my thoroughly wet shorthair decided to come up and join me, and deciding I was way too dry, shook off about a gallon of tank water on me. Fortunately, I carry an all purpose bandana for these types of emergencies, and was able to clean off my bespattered glasses. Billy lay down in the shade beside me, and we listened to the wind in the trees and watched the clouds race across the sky for another fifteen minutes. Then we headed out for the small ridge where I saw the covey that we flushed set down. |
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| The ridge was one of a number of rust red fingers cut out by the washes that drained into the main arroyo. It was probably only a quarter mile long, and a hundred yards wide, but it had plenty of grass and cover. The wind was blowing across the ridge, which was ideal for us. By starting at the bottom and working the crest of the ridge across the wind we were in a situation where the wind would bring the scent of quail in the draw and up the slope of the ridge right to Billy's nose. Sure enough, we hadn't gone more than thirty yards when Billy got birdy and headed down into an area thick |
| with bunchgrass and prickly pear. Then at the base of a clump of bunchgrass he froze into a classic point, left paw raised daintily while his whole tense body pointed toward the BIRD!! Two Gambel's Quail rocketed out of the clump when I kicked it, and I managed to drop both. Billy found both birds, and brought them back to hand with hardly a feather ruffled. This set the pattern for the next hour or so. That ridge was covered with single birds holding tight in the heavy grass. Billy handled them like he'd been doing it all his life. In the next hour or so he made ten fine points, and I dropped seven birds. Each of these he unerringly found and brought back. I was overjoyed at his performance. Last season this perfect dog had been a perfect devil - chasing pheasants and chukars like a crazy fool. Now, he had made the transformation from hooligan to gentleman almost by magic. In thanks, I cut the day short, and we headed back to the vehicle a few birds shy of our limit. |
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| I have to admit I wasn't really surprised at the transformation because I had seen it before in other dogs. In fact, I had brought him out alone hoping that this would happen. There is some special magic between bird and bird dogs, predator and prey, that is beyond our comprehension. They are yin and yang, linked together in the cycle of nature. Anyone who has ever seen a dog on point knows that the bird and dog are linked by a force so strong it is almost physical. Though we flatter ourselves about the effectiveness of our training methods, in the final analysis I believe that birds are what really make a bird dog. Birds teach a dog how to point and hunt, and wild Gambel's Quail are the best teachers of all. Dogs instinctively treat them with respect. Over the years, Gambel's Quail had done me the favor of teaching more than one of my bird dogs proper manners. However, I was particularly thankful to them this day for teaching Billy his manners because I love him so dearly. He is a big, beautiful, sweet tempered dog that has all of the elements - conformation, nose, desire, temperament, intelligence, and toughness. All he lacked was manners. That was the gift those coveys gave him that day. I came in the morning with a bird bumping bonehead of a teenage Shorthair - I left that evening with a Gambel's dog. He's been a good one ever since. The End |