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Memories of the Invitational

Tomorrow begins the Quail Championship Invitational, the three-day contest for the twelve top all-age pointing dogs measured by their Purina points collected over the preceding twelve months. It’s unique format — races of an hour, an hour, then two hours, all judged as one performance — measures the consistency of contestants and reduces the luck of the draw. The trial celebrates the true all-age contender, a dog with range, drive, Read more

The Fix

Ames Plantation Manor House (©Ames Plantation) He farmed, but the center of his life was judging. Judging bird dog field trials. He had judged for years. Judged all over the U. S. and in three Canadian provinces. He got more invitations than he could accept. And for the last ten years he had judged the National. Those two weeks, sometimes longer, were the highlight of his year. He was now Read more

Looking Forward

November’s half gone December’s just ahead January looms not long beyond So my excitement builds For come January’s second week I'll be at Chinquapin for my annual retreat To heaven on earth Where wiregrass grows on ridges of sand And quail whistle at dawn from all around And a bird dog can search wide and yet be seen Way off yonder Where a handler’s gut tightens before Let ’em go Read more

The People We Meet

What shapes our lives? To a remarkable degree, it’s people we meet, largely by coincidence, not by anyone’s plan. Reflect on that. Think back on the people who came into your life purely by coincidence, and how they changed your life, for better or worse. Which changed you most? I’ll tell you of one from my life, now seven decades long. I met him in the late 1980s, on a Read more

A Desperate Handler

The look of despair on the face of Vick Fell told Ben Reach the young handler had real troubles. Joanne had put Vick in the library-conference room with a cup of coffee to wait for Ben who was tied up in a judge-ordered settlement conference at the courthouse when Vick arrived for his appointment. She too had recognized the anxiety in Vick and wanted to spare him having to be seen by others who might stop by the office unannounced, as all sorts of friends of the curmudgeon were likely to do now that bream fishing time was arriving. Ben shook Vick’s big leathery hand, “Sorry to make you wait, son. How can I help you?” Read more