"If I were ever in a pheasant hunting
contest with real wild birds in real wild places," Larry
always said, "Babe would be the dog I'd takeNo offense to
your German shorthairs," he added. And, "no offense
taken," I told him, "because I agree there were times
and places she did out-perform the pointers" a fact often
so and one I hated to hear admitted.
If Babe had any faults, they were not her own, but instead the
consequence of fate and circumstances. Born without much beauty,
despite her breeding, and incapable of developing much high style
in hunting, despite the opportunity, she was forever a homely,
plodding, graceless workhorse of a dog. Dependable and tough
as an old tractor, she would plow through any cover in hot pursuit
of rooster pheasants, all day, every day no matter what the weather.
In the meantime, the "sports car" dogs would zip on
by, heads high and often clueless, looking for easy ringnecks
dumbly hanging out in obvious places.
We once calculated that in a typical year Babe found, flushed,
and retrieved well over 200 ringneck pheasants on the average
per season. And, in 10 years that, of course, comes to 2000 pheasants
she helped to put into the game bags of several dozen hunters.
A significant accomplishment for any gun dog much less one that
was pretty much self taught and left to her own devices.
I never got Babe's picture, well at least not a good one, because
she was so homely. And "who wants a picture of an ugly dog?"
was the question I used to ask as my reason not to take a snapshot.
In a way, I sort of regret not having her photo. And, in another
way, I'm glad I never got it, because it's easier for her to
become a legend if no one ever sees how |
her appearance would fail to much support a legendary
status.
Babe was not lovely - or very lovable for that matter. But, she
was a pheasant hunting dog to be admired and respected. And to
be greatly missed this autumn by the hunters who knew her.
Jerry Thoms hails from Brookings, SD
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