A Howling Hello…

A Howling Hello to my fellow EB’s and EB enthusiasts,

I’m Tux and this is the first edition of my “Tux Tails” column which will

appear monthly in the Whoa Post.

Daddy Ric inspired me to write this column to share thoughts,

opinions, and sentiments about my life and the lives of other EB’s and

those close to them. I might even venture into other areas, but my musings

and those of others will always relate to the canine world in some way. I

hope my Tails will provoke a smile, laugh, tear and yes, even a growl or

snarl, but above all, they will lead to reflection and positive change for dogs

and humans alike. I won’t always understand what I'm saying because I’m,

after all, just a dog, but a smart one, I am told. I don’t know how any of

what I will say relates to my tail, after all, we EB’s hardly have a tail, but

hopefully someday I will figure out the connection.

Daddy Ric (I will refer to him as Daddy from now on) suggested I talk

about my experiences at my first ever field trial, the Rocky Mountain Cup

Wild UKC Field Trial, so here it goes!

This trial was my first ever (actually our whole family’s first ever). I

couldn’t believe my root beer eyes- EB’s everywhere! I saw orange/whites,

black/whites, tri-colors. Got to sniff around with Ty, who has quite the

reputation as a champion trialing dog and supermodel (Daddy says that

means he gets photographed a lot. I like that- maybe Uncle Jeff, a

cinematographer, can do pics of me someday, hint, hint). I also watched

with admiration Blue, the Rocky Mountain Cup winner. I also met for the

first time new people like Bob Yoerin who gave Daddy some good advice

that helped me win Saturday’s Gun Dog competition. His little girl, Lacee,

was kinda cute and I wanted to hang out with her but Daddy said stay away

from girls because they have cooties. I don’t know what cooties are but it

sounds serious so I will take his word for it. I also met this pretty lady

named Sherry- I really liked her (even if she has cooties) because she let

me give her lick-kisses on the face (Daddy doesn’t let me do that to him but

I wish he did.) So many of my fellow EB’s were there running, hunting,

pointing birds- I never knew the world had so many dogs like me. I wasreally impressed with my fellow EB’s but some were really worth howling

about. For instance, Steve Clark’s Rocky is quite the dude. He’s

statuesque (I think that’s Daddy’s word for tall and important looking). All I

know is Rocky is the biggest EB I have ever seen and with a little more

work, he could be a “Rock Star.” (pun intended). Also, Jay Hudrik’s Kaina

had a really special day on Sunday. She not only placed first in that

grueling 15 minute Gun Dog battery when it was tongue-hanging hot, but

she had to compete in two barrages thereafter- what a great showing she

gave! As sure as a treat is tasty, the trials were great fun, and I have

decided I want to do this Trialing thing again. But, before I do, I have lots

to learn and understand how this stuff works.

This judging thing sometimes made me cock my head and ears in

consternation (I don’t know what that last word means but Daddy told me to

say it). All I know is that the judging stuff is a might confounding.

Anyway, just like Butch and Daddy molded me when I was no more

than canine clay, I hunted happily and pointedly (yep that’s a pun)

However, when I thought I did the best on Sunday, I didn't place higher,

even though I, like most of the other EB’s in my battery, trialed in hot

temperatures for the full 15 minutes. I was exhausted and won a ribbon

and that’s almost as swell as stealing Daddy’s sandwich and scarfing it

down before he knows it, but I couldn’t understand how I fell short. I mean,

immediately upon finishing, the judge made all these wonder dog

comments about me and said he had no growls about my performance, so

I figured I did super doggone good. But I guess that wasn’t the case.

When I won on Saturday, my first try ever, I scented some birds but it

took me a few minutes to reel one in. I charged through the tree line,

leaped through the barb wire fence, and stuck a point about 7 feet from the

bird. I locked up there for what seemed a long time (You have to

understand, Daddy’s an old guy so it takes him a while to get places on

foot). Anyway, I heard the judge say to Daddy, “I’m not going through that

barbed wire fence, but you can!” I heard Daddy tell someone later that if he

didn’t go through the fence for me, I would have thought him a “Weenie.” (I

thought weenies were treats, not people, but I would NOT have wanted him

to pet me for awhile). Anyway, he made it through the fence without a

mishap, lifted his cap to signal a “point” to the judge, and walked in front

and flushed the bird. I studied the flush, heard the “pop,” and gazed at thepheasant flying away. Yep, true to form, Daddy had missed again! One of

these days, he will knock it down so he can tell me to retrieve my feathered

prize. Well, the judge didn’t say too much, except that we were done. I

was disappointed because the fun had just started, but she said she had

seen enough and I was in contention so far.

Now Daddy had mixed emotions about what happened over the two

days. He seemed pleased with Saturday’s run, saying I did “fine.”

However, the pretty lady who likes lick kisses in the face scolded him,

saying I did better than just “fine.” I liked her even more after that! But

Daddy liked my Sunday performance more, noting how hard I raced, how

wide I hunted from side to side, and my diving through a tall shrub line to

find a bird at the base of the hill. I held that point a long time until he

caught up with me and like the day before, I held steady through the flush,

gun and fly away (yep, he missed again).

I heard Daddy later say that these judges needed to adopt a

performance rubric or benchmark that they share with handlers prior to the

trial, so they know what is exactly expected to achieve the highest score.

He said, that way if the dog and handler fall short, they will know what went

wrong or what wasn’t good enough. Thereby, owners and handlers won’t

be sniping (I think a snipe is a bird, isn’t it?) about the judging and

comparing it to “The War of Northern Aggression” (I don’t know what that is

exactly but it has something to do with the Civil War. I don’t get the idea of

people fighting wars either.) Anyway, he said he heard a lot from the

judges about wanting the dogs/handlers to be successful, but he said how

could have his students and athletes ever been successful (he taught and

coached at a high level for 35 years), unless they knew exactly what was

required from them. He said he knew teachers who were vague with

expectations and indulged in a game of “gotcha,” meaning they liked to

point out their students shortcomings after the test or essay, rather than

telling the students what to include and what errors to avoid beforehand.

These teachers and coaches liked the power of subjectivity, not the power

of objectifying their subjectivity to allow every student or athlete to achieve

his/her optimum potential. He said the rubric would provide a score in each

category being judged, a final score, and indications what areas of

improvement were needed, and a copy would be given to the handler/

owner. Anyway, I don’t know what any of this means, but he told me to say

it so I have. He hopes it will not fall on “deaf ears” and I DO know what thatmeans, as sometimes I ignore Daddy’s commands when I want to do

something other than what he knows is best for me!

I also had the honor of competing against Ty in a barrage (Barrage? I

thought it sounded like something good to eat) for the Rocky Mountain

Cup, but that didn’t go so well for me. Ty and Jackie asserted themselves

and took up position right and Daddy and I took what remained, position

left. Normally, that should not have mattered, but on this occasion, it did.

You see, by the time barrage started, the wind shifted big time from coming

at us to blowing right to left. Now, I was confused because my EB nose

was telling my EB brain to run to the right into the wind because that’s what

I always do when I hunt. But when the judge said “Go” or whatever he

said, Daddy started instructing me to go left with the wind. I looked at him

like “What in the doggone hell is wrong with you? I am supposed to go into

the wind.” He insisted so I decided I’d just mosey over to the left and go

pee. Everybody up on the hill started laughing about it, so figured I did

good cuz they were all smiling and happy, all except Daddy and the judge

who stopped the barrage right then and declared Ty the winner. Well,

when I looked at Daddy, his back was to me, his ball cap turned sideways,

and with his arms thrown up in the air, he said, “What the F!” (He said I

can’t say the real word). So, I ran over to Ty to see if I he wanted to hang

out and play, but Jackie picked him up and carried him off the field. I didn’t

know why Jackie did that but later Mommy told Daddy that Jimmy, Ty’s

daddy, told her that Jackie picked up Ty to conserve his energy for the

Finals. All I know is I wouldn’t mind being carried off the field like that

sometime too.

Anyway, that wind situation cost Ty the title too, I’m told, because in

the final barrage, he again took position right and darted into the wind like I

wanted to, but this time went too far right, allowing Blue to be crowned the

winner, having darted straight ahead, neither right nor left! Daddy said next

time, he will alert the judges to such a situation before the barrage starts so

both dogs are facing into the wind.

For sure, this experience was worth it for us all. All the EB’s were

well behaved, as were their handlers, owners, and families. Daddy said the

world would be a much better place if people behaved like all of us did at

the Field Trial. Well, that’s it until December when the next edition of Tux’s

Tails comes your way.Steady Points and Sharp Shots to you all!

Tux