Due to Molly's injury she and I spent a lot of time together as I gave her time to adjust. There exists between my crew a pecking order that determines who rides where in the jeep among other things. So when we started to run solo more I recall having to let Molly know it was OK to ride shotgun in the front seat with me as this is always Mick's spot. These were great times spending hours alone with her in the field and I couldn't help thinking about how she reminded me of my Brittany Spaniel "Ginger" who I acquired at the age of 13.
Ginger came to us from Durwood Stevens an executive at the Oscar Mayer plant where both my father and mother had worked. Durwood had been involved in field trialing with his dog's and had a litter which he had one female left from. Having talked with my mother about how I wanted a bird dog he said we should consider the Brittany. Well that was all it took and I had just enough money saved from working at summer jobs to afford my pup which for 75 dollars in 1966 was a lot of money. Durwood really went out of his way to coach me on the care and development of my pup writing me an 8 page handwritten letter outlining how to's with my dog. I still have this letter today and keep it in a suitcase with the rest of my special memento's. He also gave me a copy of a book on the Brittany in America. I remember him stopping out at our house as well if he was travelling in the area with his dog's just to check up on how we were doing. He had a 57 Chevy he used to travel around in with his dog's keeping them in the trunk. My Ginger was a shy girl to begin with and I remember him coaching me on just going for walks with her letting her build her confidence slowly and allowing her to gradually discover the cover around us. So I'd spend many hour's walking down the rail road tracks a mile out of town giving my pup the time to adjust and discover her new world.
That first season Ginger was almost a year old when my Dad and I found ourselves walking behind her as we made our way through an uncut hay field that first October. There was a slight drizzle of rain in the late afternoon under cloudy skies on this day. Ginger had been working between us when I noticed her in front of me. She was frozen like a statue just looking straight ahead. I was puzzled as I walked up to her not just being a novice to hunting but hunting with a real pointing dog! My experience was mostly centered around the stories I read in the Sports Afield magazines at the local barbershop waiting for a haircut or what I'd watch on TV when the American Sportsman was on. Even though Durwood did his best to prepare me for what I would experience with my pup as a boy of 13 I had one thing on my mind and that was of course when I'd get to shoot at a bird! So when I walked up to my dog who appeared to be paralyzed I called over to my Dad to my left 100 feet. "Hey Dad somethings wrong with Ginger!" He said "What's the matter?"My reply was "She's not movin! She's just froze over here!. She won't move!" Well my Dad came over and explained that she was pointing and directed me to flush the bird a Hen Pheasant sitting tight in the grass. What a revelation that was. As we made our way through the field Ginger pointed a total of 9 Hen's that first run. By the time we got home we knew we had a real bird dog on our hands!
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| Ginger and I after a run down the tracks 1967. Just a mile out of town and we were in another world. We spent a lot of time walking those fields and cover's along the creek. |
In 1969 I was making a "magic hour" run with Ginger down the same rail road tracks. It was after school on a Friday. The last hour of daylight before the sun goes down. I was alone hunting Ginger along the creek that ran behind our house and out into the country. We had hunted the usual cover and Ginger had picked up scent and was tracking a bird towards a small lake fed by the creek. I was able to cross the creek to follow her as this was late November and the water had just iced over in spots enough to allow us to make our way. The sun had just set and was fading fast as I approached Ginger on point right at the edge of the frozen lake. I was carrying Dad's 20 gauge as I walked up to flush hoping for a Rooster. My wish was granted as a mature bird rose above us straight away and high over the lake. I fired and the bird tumbled down but then gathered itself and started running for the opposite bank! Before I knew it Ginger was running across the small lake after the Rooster. As she got to the center of the lake 100 feet from the opposite bank I heard the ice cracking! I got a lump in my throat as I realized if she fell through I couldn't save her. She seemed to slow up as she walked across and disappeared up the bank on the trail of the bird. I patiently stood there helpless as I watched her appear again a minute later with the Rooster in her mouth. She looked at me briefly before descending down the bank and once again made her way across the "Thin Ice". By this time the sun was gone and the moon had risen illuminating the scene as she made her way across the frozen water safely returning to where I stood waiting with Dad's 20 gauge in hand. It was a moment that makes you think someone was watching over you as it could have turned out very different. But as it was it became one of the most memorable moments Ginger and I had together. Someday I'll have a watercolor painted of that moment as it's one that will live on forever in my mind.
These flash backs of days and dogs gone by were easy to recall as I walked with Molly on our runs. Life's just a collection of moments some which are significant enough to never be forgotten or erased from our minds. I'm glad to have them and also glad someone was watching over us at times as well.
Great post! I love the part about seeing Ginger point for the first time. Classic.
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