My Thanks to Field Trials

With age we worry we have not expressed thanks to all those we owe thanks. So here I say thanks to all involved with pointing dog field trials for their countless gifts to my joy. Yes, joy, pure and simple, for field trials have meant pure fun for me.

I claim no special knowledge or skill about field trials beyond appreciation of their entertainment value. I simply enjoy them, watching them and writing about them. And writing about them has magically produced for me invitations to do more writing about them from exotic (well, mostly) places. What fun it has been. And the side benefits bountiful.

In 1995 I was age fifty-six. That’s when I received my first invitation to report a field trial. It came from Ted Baker whom I’d met on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure in Scotland shooting driven grouse as the guest of a client. I wrote an account of that week and sent copies to each of the other eight “guns”. That gave Ted the idea to invite me to report the Florida Open All-Age Championship.

I accepted the invitation with trepidation, for although I had been on the periphery of trials for many years I had never reported one. I tried hard to do a good job, copying as all authors do techniques I had admired in the reports of others including John Criswell, Joe Walker and Mr. Brown.

My biggest help came from the judges I rode with, including that first time Joe Walker and Nathan Cottrell. I confessed to them my ignorance of what an all-age dog should be doing in the endless wire grass among the scattered pines. They told me what they liked and didn’t about each performance. Other judges would do the same through the years, including at the Florida Captain Freddie Epp, Jimmy White, Jim Crouse, Pat MacInteer, Luke Weaver, and many others.

That first year and the next Fred Dileo and Double Rebel Buck won the Florida title and I met Fred and owner Mike Furcalow and other handlers and owners. Ted invited me back and has done so each year since. So my first thanks are to Ted and the judges everywhere who have so generously shared their observations of the strong and weak traits of the dogs, and to the handlers and dog owners.

Soon came an invitation from John Russell to report the Invitational at Paducah. Thus began a second regular annual assignment on Thanksgiving weekends. Like most I loved the format and three days is an ideal length for a trial. (Remember Ben Franklin’s observation about house guests and fish after three days).

Seeing the twelve top dogs three days in a row exposes their strengths and weaknesses. Moreover, the people sponsoring the trial were devoted bird dog folk, including unforgettables J. D. Boss and Arthur Curtis, Classic chairman and Invitational marshal Jim Crouse, marshals Gary Jones, always on a beautiful horse, and Gary Lester, also well mounted, and Chairman John Russell and his courageous wife Kayleen. What fun we had, despite rain, wind, snow and COLD. I have never been so cold as at Paducah. The weather there at Thanksgiving can be anything from blizzard to heat wave.

Speaking of horses at Paducah, for many years Gary Lester supplied his daughter’s horse for me, a splendid mount. Then on occasion John Russell supplied his inimitable Scooter, a Cadillac ride. I won’t mention some mounts I encountered save to say there is a sign on an oak tree there marking the scene of a dishonorable dismount suffered while trying to regain the front after a long unproductive when the mount’s speed and determination exceeded my jockey skill. After that Ferrell Miller brought me his Trigger to ride, a grandchild-sitter which knew more about bird dogs than I ever will. Thank you all, Kentuckians.

The judges I met at Paducah were great teachers. Judge Lee West was that plus a born entertainer, and we became devoted friends. I remembered him from his days field trialing in Virginia when he managed (and shut down) the CAB in Washington. Marshall Loftin was a font of wisdom as was Buzz Marshall. But Cecil Rester gave me my most memorable lesson in the proper conduct of a reporter.

I kept asking Cecil his opinion of performances as we rode. Cecil was silent as a stone. Finally at the end of Saturday’s running, Cecil said, “ I do not talk to anyone during a trial but my fellow judges. When it’s over I will tell you what I think of the performances.” House’s Rain Cloud was named champion and Cecil spent more than an hour analyzing the performances for me. In the process he taught me much about what to admire in a dog and about proper manners of a reporter. After that I mostly saved my questions to judges until after a stake ended.

The year I turned sixty I undertook to report the Florida Championship with a record entry and seven-brace days ending Sunday followed immediately on Monday by the Continental Derby Championship and the Continental Open All-Age Championship, both with near-record entries. After twenty-eight straight days in the saddle I limped home, tired but forever immune to saddle soreness. Nights I soaked myself in Epsom Salts and days I wore panty hose to fight chafing, an old cowboy trick. Hunter Gates, it was his first year scouting, saw me removing panty hose from a washing machine in the motel laundry room and asked his dad, “Is there something funny about Mr. Tom?”

In less than a week I was off to report the National Derby Championship and the Free-for-All at Sedgefields West, an unforgettable experience to be repeated the year Jack and Fred Robinson’s Solid Reward won the Free-For-All after winning the Florida two weeks earlier. Those three hours at a field trial pace were the truest test of all-age stamina. The last half-hour coming up the Valley of Death at Sedgefields is the toughest test in trials.

I rode with judges Ferrel Miller and Johnny Caps at Sedgefields the year Solid Reward won, a great lesson for me. Thanks to all from the Free-for-All and at Sedgefields including three generations of Mortons and Mr. Jimmy Hinton, gone now. Sad that trials are no longer run at that Sedgefields, but great that the other Sedgefields has been rejuvenated by the Harbens with all sorts of improvements including a new barn.

Then there was the Amateur Free-For-All at Union Springs with Jimmy White and Luke Weaver judging and Mr. Hoyt Henley stake manager, a Vaudevillian week of fun. Jimmy introduced the Kentucky term “grass strang,” meaning bailing twine. The following year Luke and I judged and I also reported, for which Mr. Ed Mack Farrior scolded me.

I stayed that year with Mr. Ed Mack and his lovely wife Floyd, two of my favorite characters from field trials. On Saturday when there was no running he and I drove to his father’s birthplace, Latahochee, then to Selma, Sedgefields West and the churchyards at Marion Junction to view the burial grounds holding the remains of three generations of my maternal ancestors. An unforgettable day.

I won’t forget watching Billy Boy, a dog which knew exactly where to be at all times, run at the Amateur Free-for-All. Union Springs’ restored antebellum homes are magnificent and that trial pure fun.

A few years later Richard Y. Bradley invited me to report the Alabama Shooting Dog Championship on nearby Sehoy Plantation and the adjoining Bickerstaff lands, staying at Enon Plantation as a guest of the Laniers and riding with judges James Page and Tommy Walker, a born entertainer. Beautiful grounds graced by stellar performances. Steve Dixon marshaling looked out for me. An unforgettable week. Thank you all from Alabama.

Soon after first reporting the Florida, Bob Napier invited me to report and judge the Kentucky All-Age Championship at Richmond where I rode with Tim Hammons. He has the best judging eyes on the planet. His pretty bride, veterinarian Dr. Chris Hammons, explained it, “If you run red dogs you had better be able to see a dog.”

Bob put me on his wife’s horse, a Cadillac ride. But it was not feeling well. It was hot, and my mount tired. I diverted it to a pond for a drink and a handler berated me for taking my eyes off his dog which I had not (the dog was warming the handler’s ankles).

In the last brace the same handler was handling the bye dog which was not making him any money. When we passed near headquarters the head marshal rode to the handler and asked if he didn’t want to pick up. He declined the invite. At that moment my sickly mount collapsed beneath me. I slid off unharmed. The handler then picked up.

Barshoe Barkeep won the Kentucky Championship for Fred Dileo but sadly soon died from cancer. The disgruntled handler who refused to pick up got runner-up with another entry and was suddenly disgruntled no more. The horse recovered.

Among my most memorable assignments was reporting the North Dakota Classics, run on Gary Pinalto’s grounds at Columbus, North Dakota, my first prairie experience. No trial enjoys such local support, with Lions Club members providing coffee and donuts after the second brace daily and sponsoring a dance.

Meeting members of the families of the landowners, homesteaders’ descendants, was another treat. Alma “Snus” Dollarhide, approaching 90, was the youngest of nine children of John Kopplesloen, Norwegian homesteader at Prairie View in 1902. She shared priceless snapshots, chronicling the history of her parents and their children on the harsh but beautiful land. Shared too her family’s stories of hardship, sacrifice and dogged determination.

Her niece Jane Hornvelt and husband were delightful, introducing me to many other Kopplesloen descendants, including grandson Jerome who currently farms the family lands where the trials are run. Next July I returned to Columbus for Snus’s 90th birthday celebration and drove around northern North Dakota photographing abandoned churches. Thanks to all who welcomed me to North Dakota.

The following year found me in Oklahoma for the Oklahoma Open All-Age Championship on the McFarland-Ingersoll Ranch at Inola. Texas Trailrider put on a hell of a show, foretelling his similar show at the National. I’ll never forget the rocky steep rides down off the plateau, scary. Allen Vincent told great stories of the Land Rush days.

Pat MacInteer asked me to judge and report the National Amateur Pheasant Championship which I did with Jimmy White. Miller’s White Powder won convincingly. Soon he would be banished by Bernie, a great loss to the breed.

Luke Weaver and Bubba Moreland invited me to report the Lee County Open All-Age, a trip back to the 1950s. Mr. George’s hospitality was like no other. His stories of Bouregard, the purebred possum stud, of Judy Warhoop and Pineland Kate and of “Red,” the stable and kennel attendant, entertained us all, as did John Thompson’s perfectly remembered recollections of Coney Lake Plantation in the old days. The food was delicious and available for all 24-7. Never mind the hygiene or lack thereof.

Shadow Oak Bo ran as a first year and got too close to a bird. Robin picked him up, then after the gallery went on disciplined him. He was wagging his tail seconds after. Luke and I were watching from Luke’s truck behind the gallery. “That setter is tough and he looks great on point. He may have a future,” Luke said. Prophetic.

Aside from my fun reporting, field trials spurred my imagination for bird dog fiction. Stories pop into my head at all hours, and compulsively I type them on my iPad as I am typing this. Great entertainment for me and thanks to POD (Print-On-Demand) publishing, cheap to publish, a project for my grandchildren’s education.

Thank you all in the field trial fraternity for all the fun you give to me.