Thought I might share these 100% true old time bird dog pieces with you guys...

I think I saw the best bird dog in North America last weekend. Fella who owns him has a shack set back in the piney woods up next to the Grand Canyon and hunts lots of Mearns Quail, Blue Grouse, that kind of thing with him. His dog is both smart, and determined. It not only points great, but retrieves well too. And he works HARD. Don't never give up or flake out on ya.


We were out skirmishing along the edge of the canyon in the piney woods, looking for quail. The dog froze on point, and as we walked up, a small covey got up. We both fired at once, and between the two of us got three birds. (I think I got the double, but he thought he did. Didn't matter. It was watching the dog work that was important.)

Anyway, all three of those birds sailed out of the woods about 20 yards in a downward glide, and just cleared the edge of the canyon rim and sailed on down into space where we couldn't see them land into the abyss.

But Barrack (the dog) was sharp as a tack. Kept his eye on them every second as he ran toward the rim in pursuit, then apparently decided they had gone clear across the little feeder fork of the cliff-walled canyon next to us, and had landed somewhere near its bottom. So he went after them. Obviously figured he could leap that little feeder arroyo and get down fairly easily to them from the other side. So he hit the rim at a dead run and gave a mighty leap, eyes wide open glaring down at his prey.


About half way across, he must've decided he'd misjudged the width and wasn't gonnma make it. SO, he turned around and came back. Didn't give up though. Last time I saw him he was on top a mule headed down the Bright Angel trail with the touristas, going to get "his" birds. Talk about a smart and good WORKING dawg...

Also reminds me of the best pointer I ever saw. That little bitch never gave a false point in her life. Belonged to the same old guy, who we all call "Birdshot Pete".

Another time he was showin' off his kennel to me and we took "Ms. Cheney" (that was her name) out for a "Demo". She slowly walked us to several patches of bunch-grass in those piney woods. Every one was so small you couldn't have hid an earwig in it, but she hit a solid point each time. Despite our misgivings, we honoured her points and eased up on the grass. and every single time out came a nice fat bit of Quail, going like thunder. Well, wasn't long before we had enough quail for supper, so we started to ease on back to his cabin. 'Bout half a mile down the trail, we came onto a right fancy looking hunter traipsing along real slow like, looking in the trees, apparently for grouse.

Danged if Ms. Cheney didn't lock to a point on HIM. So, I asked him, "You got any birds in yer game bag?" Nope", he said, "Nary a one."

Well,that made Birdshot start to shake a little, his head kinda wavin' a "No, that cain't be true." And he mumbled under his breath "Ms. Cheney don't never lie, got to be a bird here."

So I asked the guy, "How 'bout bird blood? You been guttin' any this morning or yestidy, and maybe get some on them nice fancy tweeds o' yourn?" "No,", he answered again. "Just started my season when I drove in from the Flag(staff) airport last night, and haven't had a chance to fire a shot yet. "But that danged dog of you'all's sure is pointing at me. She must be a little loco."

Well, that did it for Birdshot. His world kind turned upside-over. Ms. cheney had made a mistake and done did a false point?!

So, anyway, he decided to just be polite, invite the feller to a cup of coffee at the cabin later in the day, and we'd mosey on back and try something stronger to allay the shock.

So, he says to the feller. "Well glad to meet you. Welcome to Northern Arizona. Hope you have a good hunt. Folks round here call me Birdshot. Whut's yer handle?"

And the guy says "Robert", "Robert White".,,,but you can just call me "Bob".