Index for December 2002 issue

When Irish Eyes are Smiling:  by Greg Williams Peoria, Il

The American’s attend the 21st anniversary show and trial in Ireland.

  What the Heck am I Doing Here:  by Alexa James Pennsylvania USA

She’s in backwoods Kentucky for quail hunt 

  Henk’s Comments: by Henk ten Klooster The Neitherlands

He has addition information about Anne’s Setters in Art The Earl Family

  Setters in Art:  by Anne Bailey Thatcham, England          George Moreland

  Photo Album - The Red and Whites of Ireland:  by Josie Lanier - Irish Bread Pudding with Carmel Whiskey Sauce - Irish Red & White Setter Club of Ireland Championship Field and Show results

  Kentucky Bird Dog Festival Report

  Puppies

  To Breed or not to Breed:  by Crystal Lewis, Kentucky, USA 

Crystal is a Veterinary Technician and owner/competitor of IRW’s

How well do we know our breed? What’s your perfect puppy? 

Events, Activities and Goings On

 

 

Text Box: What the heck am I doing here? It's Friday night, and I'm sitting in the cab of a Ford monster truck, wedged between two young men from Dunbar, Kentucky who I just met. To my right is 19-year-old Donovan "Buck" Burson, son of Jean Plummer, the events coordinator of this weekend's Upland Bird Dog Festival. When my dad and I arrived on the festival grounds just hours ago, I wasn’t expecting this. While I've spent most of my life in rural northeast Pennsylvania, for the past six months I've hopped from Baltimore to Philadelphia in pursuit of a journalism career. I've been tagging along to dog shows since the fourth grade—my mom shows Belgian Sheepdogs in AKC conformation events—but this was my first field trial. I knew there would be differences, but I did not expect to find myself mudding through the bottoms of Kentucky farmland, whooping and hollering as "Big Foot's" 38-inch tires plow soggy canyons through the wet fields. "Watch the beans!" shouts Burson, one of the festival's judges. "Don't hit the combine!" ________________________________ From the cups of steaming coffee before Saturday morning's training session, to the last shots fired at dusk Sunday evening, this fall's Upland Bird Dog Festival served heaping portions of fresh air. It was refreshing to hear my dad's Irish Red and White Setter draw praise when he returned from an early morning run, shampooed in mud and adorned with stick-tights. At this festival, owners and handlers don't linger at their parking spaces to dust white chalk into their dog's coats. I've seen groomers at AKC events apply eyeliner to dogs' faces to highlight the animals' expressions, or darken noses with black marker before they appear in the ring. But in this neck of the woods, an Irish Red and White's rich mahogany markings and warm eyes are valued for both their aesthetic appeal and practical application. The setters that glide around AKC show rings have evolved into tall, long dogs with skinny, pointed snouts and scissored coats that nearly brush the ground. These blue ribbon show dogs could not function in brushy terrain. Fortunately, the breed standard for the Irish Red and White still allows dogs to perform both in and outside the ring. At the festival, award-winning bird dogs sported lean, square bodies with natural coats. Their solid, chiseled heads tested the wind for quail, or at least a hot dog, and the conversations between breeders focused on preserving instinct while promoting physical uniformity. But the festival's uniformity was reserved only for the dogs. I was expecting to feel like Elmer Fudd, surrounded by expert outdoorsmen from the pages of Gray's Sporting Journal (I read the latest issue cover to cover on the drive south.) But I never met those melodramatic huntsmen I'm accustomed to seeing on the Outdoor Channel. Instead, I shook hands with a florist, an engineer, a member of the Akron University staff and even an authentic dude who flew in for the trial from his cattle ranch out West. A balanced congregation of men, women and families from Texas to Missouri arrived in pickup trucks, minivans, glossy new Lincolns and vintage station wagons. We ate bratwurst and gumbo and gabbed about problem puppies and problem children (which are extremely similar.) I heard the heather and lager in Ireland are also alike—so thick it's easy to fall in over your head. All this, and the group still bagged plenty of quail. Except my dad. Tucker found them. Dad missed them. "Let me see that gun," said field judge Burson at the end of dad's 20 minutes. Shouldering a gun four decades his senior, Burson flushed a quail himself and downed it with one shot. No matter. First prize in the hunters' stake was just frosting on the field. The Irish Red and White enthusiasts at the Upland Bird Dog Festival were gathered to enjoy good dogs and good company. Every fall, sometime between the harvest and deer season, they gather for one weekend, Kentucky-style. They come for training tips and puppies and club news. They come for the juicy steaks and fried catfish at Restaurant 27, behind the BP gas station, on Saturday night. Above all, they come for the adrenaline rush of a dog working a field. They come to see an Irish Red and White, which the rest of the household diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, abandon his passion for underwear and table legs to focus completely on the scent of a bird. They come to take pride in a breed standard that still believes a dog's appearance serves a purpose. ________________________________ Where's "Big Foot" when you really need it? I'm idling in first gear on the interstate just outside Philly in a little Chevy Prism with a shattered window (last week someone decided they needed a CD player and three bucks in change more than I did.) The city of brotherly love? Please. Every Philadelphian drives with a chip on his shoulder. Behind every wheel is a man or woman convinced that today is the day rush hour won't apply to them. So as I gnaw my bottom lip, watching cars incessantly switch lanes, I think to myself, "What the heck am I doing here?" Alexa James  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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