Billy Culp had tried the circuit and failed. In his third year his principal customer, for whom he had two all-age and two derby dogs, declared bankruptcy, leaving Billy unpaid three months’ fees plus more than a thousand in entry fees advanced. Billy had been forced to return to their owners the rest of his string and to surrender his truck and trailer to the lien-holding finance companies. Deeply humiliated, he hired on as assistant dog trainer on Bubbling Branch Plantation east of Thomasville, recently purchased by a newborn billionaire of the technology world who had just sold his unicorn to Amazon, Jake Barnes.
Barnes had been introduced to the shooting plantation world by a banker eager for his company’s business. Immediately enchanted by the rituals of horseback quail hunting in the piney woods, and dawn duck shoots on the impoundments, he vowed that when he cashed in big he would own a plantation. Luck shined on him like double rainbows when the sale of his enterprise and the offering for sale of Bubbling Branch by a dozen descendants of a Gilded Age double of Jake who had in 1880 assembled the ten thousand acres from cotton farmers and turpentiners coincided.
Billy had been hired by Red Johnson, Jake’s manager-dog trainer, an old friend of Billy’s father, a farrier who served the plantation trade. Red had for three decades held the same job on Bubbling Branch for the first tycoon’s family.
The first tycoon’s family had no interest in field trials. They liked to shoot, period, as had their entrepreneurial forbear. Still, they liked dogs that could find birds and do it with style and manners, and so inevitably their kennel held dogs close up to field trial champions. Red didn’t talk much about where those dogs came from but he knew his job security depended on having good wagon dogs, and so he bought or developed them from pups, about 50-50. He kept no inferior dogs for he knew they were a sure and fast route to unemployment.
Red made an annual trip to South Dakota to train dogs for Bubbling Branch ostensibly, but in truth largely to escape the unbearable South Georgia heat and humidity and to fish. That’s why he was delighted to hire Billy, who really enjoyed training dogs and could polish them. So July through mid-September became an idyllic time for Billy and Red and a couple of teen-age sons of plantation employees, their helpers.
Billy adjusted to the demands of assistant dog trainer on a shooting plantation, from training dogs to conducting hunts to preparing lunch in the field. Most demanding were the supervisory and safety duties, keeping members of the shooting parties, four to six guns (as the shooters were called) on horseback or the shooting wagon, a mule-drawn vehicle that also held six or eight pointing dogs and a retriever (Lab, cocker or spaniel) whose job was to catch and retrieve downed quail (I say downed not dead advisedly for the high toned folk who shoot on a plantation most often do not cleanly kill their birds) The retriever rode on the seat with the wagon driver, whose job also included watching for downed birds and taking them from the mouth of the retriever, plus entertaining the wagon passengers between points.
Every day’s hunt began with a deadly serious safety lecture delivered by Red or Billy to the guns from the steps of the Big House. It was then Billy’s job to enforce the rules announced in the lecture: Don’t swing your gun across man or beast, don’t shoot low birds or swing into your fellow gun’s shooting zone or toward a dog, human, horse or wagon, etc. The job required constant alertness and attention to detail. Billy proved good at it though he would have preferred to be handling trial dogs where only blanks would be fired.
After two seasons Billy had come to know and like Jake Barnes, who appreciated Billy’s devotion to safe but fun hunts and good dog work. Billy saw that Mr. Jake appreciated the best dogs and took hope he might be able to interest the billionaire in trials.
As Jake came to know plantation-country society, Billy saw the Georgia-Florida Field Trial Club and its annual Owner’s Trial (the “Yankee Trial” to locals) as a way to get Jake into trialing. He asked a pal who worked on a neighboring plantation that belonged to the Club to urge its owner to invite Jake to attend an Owners Trial . As Billy predicted, Jake was charmed by the pageantry and beautiful dog work and applied for membership.
Billy picked Bubbly Branch’s best wagon dog and began to polish her for entry in the Owner’s Trial. Jake made a healthy donation to Tall Timbers and moved to place Bubbly Brook under a conservation easement, letting it be known that following through would depend on his admission to the Club. It worked: Jake was voted in, the easement was placed, and Billy doubled his efforts to ready Bubbly Bertha for the Owners’ Trial.
The next hurdle was to get past the lottery that selected the twenty four member plantations awarded an entry each year; the number applying for a slot was much higher. Then word came Bertha had drawn a slot. Jake was excited, Billy elated. But it would be almost a year until the next Presidents’ Day.
Billy worked puppies in preparation for his and Red’s summer training (and Red’s fishing) trip to South Dakota. Among the young dogs Billy yard worked was a coming derby he got from a breeder in Kentucky in exchange for a brood bitch he had owned during his circuit years. He named it Mr. Jake’s Jake, but its call name was Lucky, and Billy prayed it was apt.
Billy’s secret goal was to infect Mr. Jake, as all the employees on Bubbly Branch Plantation now called Jake Barnes, with the Field Trial Bug. Over the years just a few plantation owners had contracted the Bug, but those and others who just loved their dog men contributed mightily to the sport by making their properties available for trials.
Wild bird trials were the beating heart of the game, and each year the number of owners willing to allow trials on plantations shrank. Now it was down to Chickasaw, Abigail, Pineland, Wildfair, Blue Springs, Nonami, Dixie, Chinquapin Farms, Showtime, Twin Ponds and Burnt Branch, plus plantations in the Georgia-Florida Field Trial Club for its events and special closed-entry trials organized by its members’ dog men.
Red Johnson realized what Billy Culp was up to, and he did not like it. He liked Bubbly Branch as a shooting plantation only. He did not like the distraction bird dog competitions brought. He saw that Mr. Jake showed signs of catching the Field Trial Bug, and it made him wary.
When they reached South Dakota, Billy made sure he worked Lucky late in the day after Red had quit, in the morning before he rode out, and on weekends when Red was fishing on the Missouri. So Red was unaware Lucky had rounded into a first class all-age derby prospect and not by any means a wagon dog. When near the end of September it was time to drive back to Georgia they had a nice renewal crop of broke or nearly broke wagon dogs, plus a secret weapon for Billy’s campaign to infect Mr. Jake with The Bug.
As preparations were made for the trek to Georgia Billy had an inspiration. He called Mr. Jake. “Why don’t you fly up here and let us show you your dogs on prairie game, Mr. Jake?”
Mr. Jake was about to embark on a trip to the West Coast to look into investments he’d made with cash from his Unicorn sale. He agreed to stop over in South Dakota on his way West. And so it was that Billy introduced Lucky to Mr. Jake. Red Johnson was furious.
As Billy had hoped, Mr. Jake was fascinated by Lucky’s performance. Billy had invited a friend from the circuit to bring over from his nearby training grounds a suitable brace mate. The two all-age derbies put on a show. In ninety minutes down they pointed nine times (Lucky six, brace mate three), pheasants and sharp tails. No unproductives, mostly broke finds. Mr. Jake’s pleasure was clear to see.
Billy had saved the Lucky show for day’s end; the opening act was four thirty minute braces of young wagon dogs, one handled by Red, one by Billy. They too put on a good show by wagon dog standards and handled ultra-smoothly. Billy wanted Mr. Jake to see the contrast.
For the drive home, Red Johnson chose to ride with a helper in a truck without horse trailer, assigning Billy as sole driver of the trailered rig. He did not speak to Billy on the trip, communicating instead through the helper chauffeuring him. Billy was amused, but a little worried too.
Thanksgiving arrived, and with it family and guests at the Big House. Four days a week of quail hunts followed through December, then the Christmas holidays descended. The Plantation was bustling with hunts and festivities. Red was surprised to see that when Mr. Jake was among the guns Lucky was on the wagon, often braced by Billy with Bertha (Red would handle Bertha, Billy Lucky). Lucky understood his role, thanks to his training collar, hunted at appropriate wagon dog range and found his share of birds. Mr. Jake loved shooting over this brace.
A full hunting schedule continued into January. Guests arrived for three day stays (dinner on arrival followed by two days hunting, then departure, twice a week). Mr. Jake was there for at least one of the parties each week, sometimes both. When the second week of January arrived, Billy drew Mr. Jake aside after a day in the hunting field.
“Mr. Jake, I would like to run Lucky in the Continental Derby at Dixie next week. I think he has a chance to win it. I know we have a full week of hunting scheduled and I’ll understand if you say no. I also hope you can come ride to watch him.”
Mr. Jake had toured Dixie by vehicle as part of his introduction to Tall Timbers (he was now on its board) and was intrigued by the prospect of watching Lucky perform there. He gave Billy permission to enter. Billy prayed Lucky would draw on Wednesday, the day between hunts on Bubbly Brook. Saturday came, and Lucky drew the first Wednesday brace. Billy escaped a major blowup with Red.
Mr. Jake was at the front of the gallery for Lucky’s breakaway. He did not disappoint, scoring three times in his hour and hunting an ideal race. Many members of the seventy-rider gallery congratulated Mr. Jake and Billy. When the stake ended Thursday Lucky was named Runner-Up Champion. Billy felt robbed; Mr. Jake was delighted. Red was unhappy with Billy but tried to hide it from Mr. Jake, unsuccessfully.
Hunting season ended with January. Burning season began and for two weeks Billy, Red and all on Bubbly Brooks’ staff toiled long hours seven days a week. February 22 and the Owner’s Trial began. Bertha had drawn the last brace. Red had Billy handle, he rode front. Mr. Jake, decked out in a 1930’s outfit complete with tweed shooting jacket and knee height gleaming boots, rode proudly behind the judges, his daughter beside him. Four times she shot over Bertha’s points.
At day’s end Bertha was awarded second place. Again Billy was furious, Mr. Jake quite happy. Red showed no emotion to signal his feelings.
Back at Bubbly Brook, Red cornered Billy in the tack room.
“Son, I want to thank you. Mr. Jake has offered me a good retirement package and I’m going to take it. I’ve got just one piece of advice for you. I know you want to go on the circuit as Mr. Jake’s private handler. Don’t do it, managing this plantation is a much better job.”
“Mr. Red, I agree. I do not want to go back on the circuit. I don’t know if Mr. Jake will offer me the Manager job, I hope at least he will let me be dog trainer. I thank you for giving me a chance here.”
Mr. Jake planned to offer Billy the joint positions of manager and dog trainer. He had The Bug, but had not decided just what to do about it.