I’m writing to you tonight from a Cracker Barrel in Omaha, Nebraska. I left home yesterday and have been driving out to South Dakota to meet my dad, brother, and a bunch of relatives for our pheasant hunt!

Yes, I’m drinking a beer in a Cracker Barrel. That’s just how I roll.

Anyhow, it’s about time I introduced y’all to Jack. Jack is 11 years old, brother to Emma Jane (RIP), and the most recent addition to the household. Jack came back to live with us in May of 2020, and he came with me when it came time to divvy up the dogs earlier this year.

Let’s just say that Jack is an interesting dog. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to death. He’s a sweet boy and a helluva bird dog. He can be clingy one day and then aloof the next. He’s got some anxiety issues which I’ve learned to deal with. He’s a pretty cool dog overall.

And man, is he whipsmart, but not always in the best of ways. It makes for interesting stories, though, so there’s the plus.

Example: I was helping his previous owner compete him in AKC field trials several years ago, and in one instance, I was getting ready to take him up north to run him in our walking championship. He navigated the breaking process fairly well and fairly quickly, but he was young and I hadn’t handled him a great deal to that point, so I went out with his owner to train and kinda get used to him a little bit.

We put two birds out, get him out of the box, and let him run and find them. He goes on point on the first one. I kick the bird up, shoot the blank gun. Jack stands there like a million bucks. Easy peasy, right? Well, I release him to move on and he was really determined to find the bird that just flew away – which is a big no-no in the game we play. I get on him pretty good verbally and convince him that he can’t go after that bird and has to move forward with me.

So you’d think that conversation was settled, right?

Wrong.

We get around to the next bird – and mind you, I know exactly where it was as I had planted it myself – and Jack doesn’t point it. He looks at the bush, turns around, looks me dead in the eye, and cocks his leg and pisses on it. In no uncertain terms, Jack made it clear that he didn’t appreciate me raising my voice at him and basically told me to piss off. No other explanation makes sense – and it isn’t the only time he’s done something similar, so I’m not crazy!

He really is a helluva bird dog. I swear.

He did well competing and hunting wild birds with his owner before he took a break for a few years. When he was returned to us, I quickly got him back in training and finished his amateur field championship in just a few trials.

It was special for me to finish that championship of his. We’d lost Emma Jane very suddenly several months before, and it had hit us pretty hard. She was way too young. Life just sucks sometimes. When we lost her, she had been just 2 points shy of her amateur championship.

When Jack came back to live with us months later, he also happened to be 2 points shy of the same championship.

SO – the goal was to finish his championship in honor of his little sis. He done me proud.

Stay tuned for pictures and updates from the trip this week! It should be a good time and I’m betting Jack is gonna leave me with a couple good stories; some involving good retrieves, and more likely others where he lost his everloving mind and I have to go chase him down to get him to stop acting like a 10 month old puppy chasing birds.

I swear – he really is a helluva bird dog. He just loses his mind sometimes, and those times make for better stories.

Always entertaining, this one.

Until next time…