Robert J Samples Loc: Round Rock, Texas

In addition to his regular job as a pumper for the Kewanee Oil Company, my father also trained bird dogs. This was partially because he had the spare time and he loved to work with animals, horses, cattle, and dogs. It wasn’t much extra income, but it did provide some over time.

The main two dogs we had when I was in high school were Joe and Sid. Joe was a lemon spotted bird dog and Sid was a German short hair. I honestly don’t remember how or when exactly that we acquire these dogs because dad was always trading, and they just showed up one day.

Dad regularly hunted almost every afternoon during quail season. When I got to be about 16 and older, we had a deal. If when I came home from school I would check his game bag in the smokie house for birds, clean them and put them in the refrigerator, I could take the dogs and Dad’s shotgun and hunt when he was busy. I thought it was an excellent deal, free shells, a Winchester Model 12 pump shotgun, two bird dogs that knew what they were doing, all for just cleaning the quail that Dad had killed.

Now these dog’s personalities were different as daylight and dark. Joe was hard headed and thought he knew everything about where the coveys were likely to be since he had hunted all the area for several years. We really had a hard time keeping him under control and going the way we wanted to hunt. Now Sid was completely different. He was obedient and responded well to hand signals or a whistle. However, with Joe ranging afar afield, or even out of sight, if Sid found a covey closer, Joe would come back and try to take over command of the main dog on point so he would get credit.

When Dad sold Joe to an oil man in Wichita Falls, he got $150 but did not know what the real market was for such an experienced dog. Joe was probably worth nearer $500 at the time. Much later when he sold Sid he got $350, which was closer to the real time market value.

Later, I was in high school, perhaps a junior or senior, on lunchtime I had to go uptown to buy something, the purchase now forgotten. As I got uptown, near the square, I noticed a big black Cadillac with a dog in the back seat and the window was down. As I got closer I could tell it was Joe dog. I went over and greeting him and patted him. I talked to him for maybe five minutes, and we were both quite happy to see each other. I must admit I cried a little, I couldn’t help it because he had been such a member of the family.

You see, Joe dog had been the one to introduce me to quail hunting. One fall we had Uncle Joe and Aunt Gertie come to visit. This was dad’s oldest brother and from whom I had inherited my middle name. Dad was going to work that morning and said, “Bob why don’t you and Uncle Joe take the dogs and see if you can’t find some birds?” So, we loaded up Joe and Sid and took them over about a mile, behind the Coker Cemetery and began hunting in a pipeline right of way. We almost immediately came upon a covey of quail. However, these birds were smart. As soon as the covey flushed they did a quick 90 degree turn into the woods and were too quick for us to get a clear shot. After a while, Uncle Joe said, “Bob, I am old and tired, why don’t you take me back to the house and you take the dogs and go hunting?”

I tried to talk him out of that idea, but since he was well up in his seventies, I did what he suggested and took him back to the house. But since we hadn’t been out more than even a whole hour, or so, I took the dogs and began hunting on the north side of the Coker Cemetery and almost immediately found another covey of quail. Upon the covey rise, I shot a couple of times and did knock down one quail. Joe dog rushed out, picked up the bird, and as he came back you could tell he was excited. He was showing he was tickled and wanted to show me that he was happy. This was his boy who had killed his first quail. I have never seen another dog to be more expressive of his feelings as Joe did that morning at my first success. His boy had killed his first quail!

I had grown up with Joe and he was part of the family for a number of those years. I admit that I did shed some tears over his being sold. He was hard headed, but he was one fine birddog! Just Sayin….RJS

Fredfish Loc: Prospect CT.

Great story RJ, Thanks for sharing some of your childhood with us.

basshawg48 Loc: Louisiana

my grandpa ran birddogs i hear stories but i was to young to hunt with him thanks for sharing

Smokypig Loc: Cheyenne, wyoming

I know exactly how you felt. A tiny spark of joy and a not so tiny lump of hurt.

Robert J Samples Loc: Round Rock, Texas

I was very glad to see him, but it also hurt pretty bad. Just Sayin...RJS

Mauwehu Loc: Norwalk Ct

Great story RJ! Well told, I was transported there with you. I’ve had several dogs. Your story makes me want another. My grandfather never went a day without a dog. When his dog died he would have the next within a day. He used to say....”I’ve never been a day without owning a dog.”