In Admiration of Bird Dogs

Tamara Trail, former TWA staffer, draws down on a covey rise in Shackelford County.

Article and photos by DALE ROLLINS, Ph.D.

Whether you grew up with Lassie, Rin-Tin-Tin, Ol’ Yeller, or Scooby Doo, I trust you have some fondness for a special canine in your life. Dogs have always been a big part of my life. And while my subject today is on pointing dogs and their exploits, I first pay my respects to Trey, a Dalmatian of my youth, Peppie, a black poodle of my adolescence, and a trio of Yorkies, Wolf, Josie, and Baxter that warmed my adult life for the past 25 years. Collectively, what were these mutts good for, you ask? They were good for me.

IN AWE OF GOOD DOGS

When it comes to bird dogs, I am a blessed man. No brag, just fact. My “Betters,” an intentional cross between English setter and Brittany spaniel, almost always put on a show. I rarely have to holler or use an e-collar to correct them— they are consummate professionals. They make me smile often. When a brace of them is "seining a hillside" in tandem for quail spoor, I cannot help but start singing Johnny Tillotson’s “Poetry in Motion.” Hence my exhortation to “always hunt with good dogs!”

If your mind is wandering to a frosty morning with a good friend by your side, and a 28-gauge in the port position, we are indeed birds of the same feather. If you cannot relate, might as well save your time and skip over this article.

INNATE POTENTIAL

Sometimes I’m asked by my less experienced quail hunting comrades, “Did you train your dogs yourself?”

I’m quick to point out that I’m not a dog trainer. My only two secrets for success are to (1) give them plenty of opportunities afield to express their innate genetic potential, and (2) run them alongside an experienced dog, preferably their mother, during their formative years. This simple recipe has worked well for me for more than 30 years.

“So how long does it take a dog to be as good as your dogs?”

“About 100 coveys,” I quip. “And if you get them in a 30-day period, that’s all the better!”

Over my career, I sometimes refer to my graduate students as bird dogs in training. They have potential but often lack opportunities to realize that indeed “practice makes... improvement!” Sometimes one has to be chided a bit or honed on discipline, but for the most part they make you look good. About all you need to do is sit back and smile.

TRY THIS, USAIN!

A good bird dog is an Olympic athlete. But their ability to locate a quail by olfaction is only one of their marvels. Their ability to run all out, and then whirl around, point on a dime, stand motionless, AND breathe through their nose is even more incredible.

I challenge Usain Bolt to run 200 yards and breathe through his nose while standing perfectly still. Seems like a physiological impossibility to me. How can bird dogs throttle down their respiration in such short order and remain motionless until you arrive?

Sometimes you’ll see your dog on point and it’s as if she’s in a hypnotic trance. In bird dog parlance she is “smoking the pipe.” I don’t know if it’s nirvana for the dog, but it is to the owner.

When a bird dog is “smoking the pipe,” she is almost trance-like in her point. Notice how there’s a bit of a grimace on her face, a characteristic of pipe-smoking. Here, Tracer illustrates the behavior.

DALE ROLLINS, Ph.D.

DISCRIMINATING TASTES

How do bird dogs discern between quail and dickie birds? A dog’s sense of smell is so acute it can distinguish among individual humans, with the exception of identical twins who supposedly cannot be distinguished.

An inexperienced bird dog may point a meadowlark, sparrows, a mouse or other “trash” (from the perspective of a dog handler). An experienced dog can discriminate among various species that it encounters in the field and dismiss those that are not quail. Talk about a spam filter! Oddly, even an experienced dog may point a box turtle or a bobcat . . . or at least mine will.

I’ve hunted Bobwhite, Scaled, Gambel’s and Montezuma Quail, and my dogs treat them all equally. For the most part, a quail is a quail.

My dogs have proven especially effective on Montezuma Quail. I wonder if their diet of wild onion bulbs makes them more scent-able (think garlic-breath here)?

Similarly, if I’m in Montana, my dogs treat the Sharp-tailed Grouse and Hungarian Partridges as if we were back in Texas hunting bobwhites.

INDELIBLE POINTS

I’d be remiss if I didn’t brag on some incredible points I’ve witnessed over the years—and both instances have credible witnesses.

In 1997, I took three Bobwhite Brigaders on a hunt in Haskell County. We pointed 17 coveys that day, but it’s the final point of the day that stood out.

As soon as I released Doc and Suzie, Doc took off lickety-split upwind in a birdy fashion. Some 400 yards later, she froze.

We hurried to her and claimed the prize, a thundering covey rise. I told my nimrods they’d seen a bird dog point a covey farther than one could shoot a coyote with a .243 rifle.

Fast-forward 18 years to 2005 (Oh, what a year!). My colleagues, Lloyd and Barrett, enjoyed an incredible day of hunting. We pointed covey number 50 at 5:00 p.m.

As we headed back to the house, Tracer, Suzie’s great granddaughter who perhaps is blessed with the most gifted nose of any of my dogs—ever— cut across the road into the cool evening wind. She crossed a dry creek at 150 yards and kept moving laser-like another 250 yards, then locked up solid in a

Dr. Dale Rollins and Doc take a break from a quail hunt in Coke County. The bond between a quail hunter and his dog(s) is an epoxy like no other.

tobosa flat. It took us five minutes to get to her, but the covey was under her nose.

Now, a skeptic might argue that the quail were running the whole time and finally just tired for the point. I beg to differ; those birds were scented from well over 300 yards. Believe it, or not!

TIMMY NEEDS HELP

Remember when Lassie would have to rescue Timmy from some dilemma? She would run back to the house, put her forepaws on June Lockhart’s leg and begin barking. Then Lassie would proceed unfettered to lead a rescue party to Timmy. I have a bird dog equivalent thereof.

In 1994, I only had two bird dogs: Suzie and her first born Doc. This was before GPS locator collars, and when beeper collars were just coming into vogue. Doc was wearing my only beeper. Suzie just had a “tinkerbell” on her collar.

My buddy Steve and I were hunting in Coke County on a property thick with cedar trees that limited visibility. We lost track of Suzie for perhaps 10 minutes.

I reckoned she was on point, but where? Back in those days I could yell “get in” and, if she could hear me, she would break off the point and return to me. I yelled, and she did.

When she made it back, she immediately put her front paws on my leg Lassie-style. When I said “OK,” she took off licketysplit, but this time with Doc and her beeper collar in tow.

A minute later we heard the beeper “paging” us about 200 yards to the west. She had taken us on a beeline back to the covey of bobwhites. She did that at least two other times during her career.

THOSE DOGS ARE HOOVERS!

One of, if not my single most, memorable quail hunts took place in Borden County in 2005. My comrades that day included the ranch owner and Chuck Ribelin. Chuck was a “born again” quail hunter who was in his mid-70s at the time. He was in good shape and could walk me down anytime. It was a cloudy day with temperatures hovering around 40 degrees—perfect weather for pointing dogs.

We enjoyed a mixed bag of bobs and blues in country that was easy to traverse yet adequate cover for the birds. Suzie, Doc and Lil’ Annie, my prototype “Better," put on a show pointing and retrieving.

After one of the covey points late in the day, Chuck proclaimed, “those dogs are Hoovers (vacuum cleaners). They don’t miss a thing!”

I savor that compliment often. Anyone who brags on my dogs cements their position as a good friend.

There’s something about dogs and kids, particularly when the dogs and the kids get to go quail hunting together. Li’l Annie enjoys the bond she shares with these young hunters.

WANTED: MORE FEMALE QUAIL HUNTERS

I’m not a professional guide, but I’ve taken a lot of folks quail hunting over the years. For many, it was their inaugural hunt for wild quail. I especially enjoy taking women afield in orange vests.

Why? Odds are none of them will limit out.

When you take a group of women quail- hunting, you discover your day is NOT driven by testosterone. The ladies enjoy every aspect of the day, not just the covey rise.

You’ll find yourself discussing various plants, bobwhite feathers, and many other topics that will be overlooked by the good ol’ boys. And they love your dogs, a fact not overlooked by the dogs’ owner.

Once, twice, three times a lady. Suzie, Doc and former TWA staffer Tamara Trail pose after a successful hunt.

A QUAIL’S BEST FRIEND?

I often tout that “a rancher with bird dogs is a quail’s best friend.” My rationale? Show me a bird-hunting rancher and I’ll argue his vocation and his avocation are intricately intertwined. If he’s contemplating a change in stocking rate or brush control plans, odds are he’s conscious of what the impacts, positive or negative, will be on the quail that reside there.

I wish more ranchers had bird dogs so we could exploit (educationally speaking) this bond. I propose we’d have more quail-habitable landscapes if that was the case. Perhaps we quail hunters should initiate an “adopt-a-rancher” program!

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