The man who had prevented me from swimming out to sea to rescue Lady now had a labrador pup and I helped him to train her. All went very well until she reached the "Kevin" months and began to disobey him. He was "lost" as she was his first ever dog. He had a health problem which meant he was not much good at running and he was also a bit older than me. There was not much use in me telling him to get out there, catch her and then enforce discipline.
She played him up badly, time after time, refusing to stop to whistle . She was an excellent marker and she handled reasonably well but handling is no use if the dog will not stop to look at the handler when he whistles. He'd entered her for his and her's first ever Novice test but by the Wednesday prior to the weekend test she still would not stop and would go off in any direction she fancied if an arm was waved at her while she was running about. He was going to withdraw from the test so I offered to do a bit of training with her in a very large but remote fenced field.
I took her to the field without him being present and let her loose. After allowing her a minute or two to run around I blew stop when she was 40-50 yards away and then I began running. It took me nearly two hours to "run that bitch down" but I kept on after her until she eventually surrendered and lay flat on her side to wait on me . I reached her, had her sit to whistle a couple of times while up close to her then sent her off for another run around . I blew stop and she stopped and looked at me. I followed this up with a stop whistle as she galloped out towards a thrown dummy and began to run after her again. She heard me coming after her and stopped. I repeated that, then was satisfied she'd stop.
I began giving her some fairly difficult blinds to do and she did them well and always answered the whistle. I moved to a pond and repeated the stop whistle training while she was in the water and that went well too. My friend was very pleased but had now decided not to run her in the test after all. As I was to discover, my friend had a flaw. He hated being made to look a fool and there is nothing quite as good as a dog for making anyone look like a fool ! He did not want to get a red face if she played him up in front of other handlers or spectators at the test.
I offered to run her in his place and he agreed . He and his wife turned up to watch how the bitch .....a pup by today's reckoning got on. She won the test after a run -off which she won easily since the other dog got a bit lost during a long distance marked retrieve.
I sent my friend forward to collect his bitch's little rosette and shield and he was pleased with that but only until the other handlers began to come up to me to congratulate me on "my" win while ignoring him ! He had another minor flaw .....he liked the idea of fame and prestige. He told me right away that he'd compete with her himself in the future !
I managed to get him some beating on the same estate that I picked up for when the next shooting season came around. Back then nobody went straight into shoots as a picker up unless they were "connected." It was a bit like serving an apprenticeship during which the keeper kept an eye on you before allowing you to progress to picking up. You learned about driven shoots from the ground up. It is still a good system .
My friend soon discovered that he had a big impediment to ever becoming a picker up, his bitch would not retrieve freshly shot birds....or cold birds either ! He came to me for help after a few weeks. I told him to miss the next day's beating and stay at home while I took her picking-up. She was a bitch that really loved to run and I suspected that while working as a beaters dog she got enough running about to please her without any need to retrieve any birds.
I put her on a lead and did not let her off until the second last drive of the day. She'd seen my dogs having fun, she'd seen the beaters dogs having fun but not even for a second was she allowed to leave my heel. That drove her frantic for something to do so I eventually gave her a memory retrieve on a bird I'd picked during that drive. She considered bogging off and leaving the bird unpicked but just a couple of fast paces towards her from me reminded her that I was the lad that had "ran her down !" She retrieved the bird rather than experience that again.
From there it was all plain sailing and I took a couple of birds home with me to demonstrate to my friend that she would now retrieve cold game. I assured him she would also retrieve fresh shot birds too, I knew she would for I'd sent her for two during the last drive. My friend was absolutely delighted and wanted to pay me for this but I wouldn't take the money. It had been an interesting problem to solve.
He made his own progress from there with occasional advice from me but I never again took his bitch from him to train. Eventually she won a Novice field trial and he got his "fame and prestige." She was to be, though he didn't know it then, the best bitch he ever had. He never won another trial with that bitch or with any of the pups he bought later.
He took another route to fame and prestige, he became a field trial judge instead !
Right! Back to that summer and Tessa competing for Scotland at the "Big Game Fair."
I was one member of the three man retriever team and the three man spaniel team. I travelled down to the game fair with Billy Steele senior and Billy Steele junior who was just a boy then. We shared a hotel room booked for us by the Scottish Team Manager. The other team member for the retrievers was Ian Meldrum the brother of Bill Meldrum , the queens dog trainer and the son of old Geordie Meldrum, a very pleasant old gamekeeper and trial judge.
When Billy and I got to our hotel room it was to find the spaniel lads waiting outside. As soon as we opened the door the boys with the muppets for dogs all rushed into the room ....they had already drank every drop of booze in their own rooms fridges and were now getting stuck into ours ! And why not ? We weren't paying for it ! I helped them out a bit by drinking some too and then , with the fridge now being empty we set off downstairs for some further alchoholic intake down in the hotel's bar.
I can't remember much about that evening except that we all got rather jolly. Billy Steele is a "tidy" sort of bloke and he was wearing a nice suit and a collar and tie. I began with a tie but soon lost it somewhere. One of the spaniel lads was called Gordon Sumfin or Other and he was winding Billy Steele up by pointing out that he was wearing a suit too. He was, he was wearing a scruffy jean jacket to match his scruffy jeans ! He had a mass of bright red hair and not just on his head. It poked out in curly sprouts from the front of the shirt he was wearing .....it too was made of denim.
The following morning we set off for the gamefair and our passes got us in to park not too far from the test arena and it's rows of seats up on the stands. We also had passes with which to have a free breakfast so we handed them over and entered the grub tent. I was almost last in the queue for a plate containing an egg and a sausage and a little bit of bacon.
Gordon was in front of me and he was a big lad. He looked at his plate and just like Oliver Twist he wanted more ! He did his best to ask the lassie behind the counter for more on his plate politely but he did have a rather thick Scottish accent and the lassie was English . He asked her if he could have another egg please . She looked a bit puzzled but tried to oblige this wild looking , hairy Scotsman.
She reached over, took the plate from him, carefully removed the fried egg on it then replaced it with another egg ! The poor lassie ! Gordon looked at his new egg and lifting the digit finger of his massive , red haired fist he said , " Nah, nah, lassie ! That'll no dae ! " He then showed her that one finger and carefully explained as if to a complete idiot ...." Ane plate, (and the finger waggled) twa eggs !" he lifted another finger trying his best not to make this look like a rude salute.
The tent erupted into laughter from the Scottish contingent as the lassie still struggled to comprehend him . I have a vague memory of sliding down the tent pole I was using to support me as I laughed uncontrollably . Also sliding slowly down the pole with tears of laughter was , I think, Bob Yeoman , one of the spaniel lads. Our game fair had begun well and it got better and better.
Our retriever team came in first over the two days and so did our spaniel team. We went home triumphant and ever so slightly inebriated except for Billy Steele who isn't much of a drinker ..... I'm not too sure he's a Scot !
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To be continued
Wullie