The scene was the National Bird Dog Championship, in February 2025.
The trial dated from 1896. It was known as the World Series of Field Trials. A three-hour stake, the last of these, all-age handler reputations were judged on whether a handler had ever won it. A few had, most had not.
It took a special dog to win, one with great endurance, dead broke and responsive to handler’s calls, his horse’s direction, with good eyesight, good hearing in both ears, good style. A dog that understood what its handler wanted of it, would consistently pattern forward, find birds, and handle them impeccably.
The trial had run most years since 1901 on the Ames Plantation, the 25,000-acre shooting estate and winter refuge of Hobart Ames of the Massachusetts Ames family. The Ames were prominent in American politics and industry since the days before the Trans Continental Railroad, when Oakes Ames, Congressman of Massachusetts and Hobart’s grandfather, was named president of Credit Mobilier, the construction company organized by the Union Pacific to build the segment of the railroad east of the Rockies. Oakes sold its stock to himself and others in Congress scandalously cheap, resulting in Oakes’ censure but not conviction of crime.
Oakes and the Ames fortune was a prime example of the saying attributed in several versions to the French author Balzac, “Behind every great fortune lies a great crime.”
Hobart was also an heir to the Ames Shovel Works, a simple family business fabulously profitable for many decades to this day, maker of shovels, used to dig California gold by the 49ers and trenches (and graves) for the Union Army in the Civil War (plus cannons and other armaments in that tragic conflict).
Hobart served as president of the sponsoring club and one of three judges of the trial until his death in 1945, when his wife, Julia Colony Ames, fell heir to the Plantation and continued sponsoring the National Bird Dog Championship. When she died in 1950, she left the Plantation to the Hobart Ames Foundation, a testamentary trust for the benefit of the University of Tennessee School of Agriculture. She said in her will that the Trustees could permit the sponsoring club of the National to run its trial there but at its own expense, which it had done ever since.
Something was different in 2025. The old guard leadership of the Club was gone. New leadership was pressing for change. Three new judges were a welcome start, including a universally respected and popular retired professional handler.
In the old days, the Ames Plantation had plenty of wild quail for a quality stake. But as in all the country, wild quail were scarce on the Ames Plantation and the Club’s bird release program had failed. New leadership was determined to fix it and had engaged Tall Timbers to manage the effort. There was a new feeling of hope at the drawing, held as always at Bryan Hall on the Saturday evening before the Monday morning start.
Among the thirty entries were Alabama Andy and Kansas Kate, littermate pointers bred in west Kentucky and acquired by their owners, both technology-investing venture capitalists from Silicon Valley and new to the Field Trial sport, as weanling pups from a legendary breeder of winners.
Andy had been developed and was handled by Hal Hale, Kate by Ron Roop. No one knew it, but the handlers had a long parallel history. They had played high school sports for west Texas rival teams and in the Friday Night Lights tradition met in a district championship game their junior and senior years. Hal’s team won their junior year, Ron’s their senior year.
Neither had the grades (or money) for college, and both became Marines on graduation. After tours in Iraq and Afghanistan in the same outfit, they worked a year for truck-hunting south Texas quail hunting guides, and fell in love with the dogs, though neither cared for the shooting aspect — they had seen too much of that as Marines.
They each became an apprentice to an all-age field trial handler (two different ones), then took over their strings when a billionaire dog owner took each private to manage a shooting estate he bought when he sold his Unicorn AI startup.
This would be their first year with an entry in the National Championship, achieved only because of more generous entry qualifications adopted by the new regime for 2025.
They trained together in North Dakota in summer and scouted for one another on the circuit in the “helpin’ each other” tradition.
As luck would have it, Andy and Kate were drawn in the same brace, the last one. Hal and Ron each had to find someone to scout for him. Whoever was chosen would be a stranger to the dog, a distinct disadvantage.
When the end of their brace neared, it was clear to the judges that Kansas Kate would be named 2025 National Champion, and that if a Runner-Up were called for, it would be Alabama Andy. (No Runner-Up was named in the National Championship).
When the three hours ended, Andy and Kate were both out of site and had been from near the same place on the course at the same time.
“Time’s up, boys. You have thirty minutes to show them to us,” the judge, who was a retired handler, said.
Both dogs had been biddable throughout its race, so no one suspected showing either dog in time would be an issue. Handlers and scouts spurred their mounts and disappeared into woods adjoining the course. The judges rode quietly out of site and dismounted to relieve themselves, then remounted and rode to a nearby cleared high spot to wait and listen for three whistle blasts or to see a handler or scout ride out of woods with a dog on a rope.
Time began to tick away….
Twenty five minutes passed. Alabama Andy’s scout rode out of woods with Andy on the end of his check cord. Thirty minutes passed…still no sign of Kansas Kate.
“Five more minutes” said the judge who had been a handler.
Three whistle blasts sounded in the distance, and the judges, assuming this was a signal Kate was found, rode at a canter for the sound’s location. But Kate was not there. Instead they found the two handlers dismounted. Hal Hale was on his back, apparently just gaining consciousness. Ron Roop was on his knees, holding Hal Hale in his arms.
A marshal called by cell phone for an EMS truck to come for Hal, and it arrived in five minutes. Hal was checked by an EMS tech. Ron whispered something to him and he nodded. Then Hal was loaded on a stretcher and hauled away in the EMS truck to the nearest hospital.
“Hal will be OK,” Ron said, loud enough for all to hear.
Just then Kansas Kate appeared on her own, tail wagging.
Had she been gone too long?
The judges mounted and rode for the dually truck and trailer that would carry them and their mounts back to the Ames Manor House and the nearby brick stable.
When the judges had showered and dressed in ties and sport coats for the traditional announcement of the winner on the front porch, Alabama Andy’s owner was waiting in the parlor to talk with them.
“Gentlemen, I am here to ask you not to declare Kansas Kate gone too long. Ron Roop just saved Hal Hale’s life with Narcon which he had in his saddle bag. He saw Hal fall off his horse, recognized what the problem was—Fentanyl. Hal is going into rehab. He has PTSD problems from Afghanistan, and Ron knew it.
The judges looked at one another, said nothing but retreated to Mr. Ames’s gun room. Fifteen minutes later they emerged and from the front porch of the manor house gave the new secretary a slip of paper. From it the secretary read, “The National Champion of 2025 is Kansas Kate.”