1976 United States Open Brittany Championship
By Sam Clements
We gathered on a sparkling Oklahoma morning to run a couple of national events. We saw some mightly sights.
We saw a horse ride a handler, and there was a dog that handled a handler to a national Derby win.
We saw an Oklahoma spring bom and what a borning is was. When the first brace of dogs broke away on Monday, the buds on the trees were swelled to popping, but there was not a leaf in sight. The leaves commenced to come out, just as the dogs went away, and then as we made the rounds each day, the green upon the trees was an eighth of an inch longer. At the end of the three days of running, (March 22-24), spring was in full bloom.
And there was this matter of a scout kissing a handler-right out in front of the gallery, the dogs and horses and the good Lord. The fact that the scout is young, extremely pretty, and is married to this dude, probably detracted from the degree of the crime.
The people were there.
Elmer E. Pillars, one of the judges, is a great, tall Texan-gone-wrong-Okie, with shoulders about three ax handles wide, and he rides hard and ably. Elmer sees every jump of every brace and knows what it is he is about. The privilege of the “press” riding in his hip pocket for three days was rewarding and educational. Eugene Brown of Pontiac, 111., the other judge, is a delightful gentleman. He has judged bird dogs from the swamps of southern Georgia to the northernmost reaches of Canada, and knows his business. A year ago, Gene was stove in and couldn’t walk. He actually had to crawl around his house. Today, through the miracle of medical science, a lot of guts and most surely the workings of the good Lord, he is back in the saddle.
Had the Championship Association awarded a “Mr. Nice Guy” trophy, certainly Frank Roach, a kindly gentleman and a pro out of Texas, would have won it going away. Frank, among many other nice things, spent three days bumming a horse to handle from, so that he could use his own horses to see that the “press” was splendidly mounted. From the Championship Association and from the writer, thanks.
On the Sunday night preceding the Championship, we had the unveiling of the John Doak revolving trophy for the Victoire Nationale Brittany Derby. It is a gorgeous thing and a fine tribute to the genial president of the United States Brittany Championship Association, the grandest gentleman in the business. Nobody works harder for the breed and for the people who run the dogs than does John. And his beloved stablemate, Mama Anne, is a doll.
And we saw a field trial! From the breakaway of the first brace when we sent the dogs away with a firm bird-dog breeze in their faces, until the pickup of the final brace, we saw the great ones go. It is most likely that Loyd Budd said it best, as he hit his horse with his spurs, went thundering across the meadow to pick up the last dog of the last brace and said to the mount, “One more time, Charlie, one more time.”
May we all. For it is this kind of a field trial that cements the bond of wind and sun and sky, of people, horses and dogs and birds which makes a unity of all.
And so may we—indeed. “One more time.”
One Hour Qualifying Series
Pistol’s Son Shane— Hi Spirit Shenandoah.— The dogs broke at precisely 7:30 into a bright, clean breeze and 40° temperature. Shenandoah had the better of it from the standpoint of speed and range. At sixteen Shane was found standing; handler called point and a rabbit was produced. At forty birds were seen to go and Shen was observed standing nicely at the point of departure. Maybe a find, not likely a bump, more probably a good, solid stop to flush. Shen was birdy at 45, Shane joined him, stopped, the handler called a point and produced nothing, Shen backing nicely. Shane had a covey at 47 and handled it perfectly. Shen slowed a trifle at fifty, then turned it on and finished strong. Shane never really got anything going by way of a race, and the covey find just could not carry him.
C Killiam’s Sergeant Mike— Doc Holliday IV.— Mike went bird hunting. While sometimes the dog ran in two or three directions at the same time, he most certainly smoked up the countryside and always showed to the front on time. He had a perfect single at sixteen, an unproductive at 36, and finished extremely strong. Doc started a bit slowly, turned it on following unproductive at twenty and for forty minutes showed us a great, strong, long, wide, fast-hustling and well organized dog race.
Freck’s Boy Pete— Big Prairie Frosted Cinder.— Pete ran boldly and honestly for the entire hour but went birdless. At about thirty the dog’s handler ended up in a wallow, upside down, under his horse. Though he was battered and bruised, the handler escaped serious injury. A few moments later, the same handler scraped off on a tree limb and ended up under the horse again, with the same medical results. The angels hovered nigh. Cinder ran the course to absolute perfection; point was called after a covey had departed. Her style and manners were perfect and she was shot over, probably a stop to flush.
Shardee’s Radar Rusty— Wheels De Brit.— For the first 26, Rusty showed an adequate, punchy, but not spectacular dog race. Then, following a point on a rabbit, the dog came alive and had the strongest 36 minutes of dog running of the entire trial. Wheels never got untracked, and for some reason zigged and zagged, looped and never got out there and going.
Dr. Scott’s Tough Enough— Tyoga’s Mac.— The good Dr., apart from the lack of a bird, gave us the greatest thrill of the series. Here was a dog that ran all over the world— hit every objective within nine miles, took it all the way to the end, went to the next one, handled gorgeously, needed no scouting, and with a bird—???? Lord, with a bird! Mac, a good bird dog, did an honest job, but was outbraced today and went birdless.
Perry’s Rustic Prince— Pacolet Cheyenne Chip.— Rusty went bird hunting with, save for a slight— and only a slight— difference in speed, the same dash and abandon as did Tough Enough in the preceding brace. Point was called at fifty and though the dog was a bit “looseylookey” as he supervised the putting of the birds into the air by the handler (which took about sixty seconds), the fact that he had been standing for a spell and the birds had leaked sixty feet from him, was no doubt accountable for this. The find was perfectly acceptable. Chip had a superb race; handled a bit roughly in spots, but a very nice dog.
Dotty West— Senator T J— Dotty ran for forty minutes with a great deal of hustle, dash and style, softened up a bit and was picked up. Senator came off some of his casts in the middle, and an unproductive at 55 and a minor brawl with an armadillo, which he pointed at 57.
Sandhills Ginger Snap— Ringo De Britt.— Ginger had a very fine race for fifty minutes, produced no birds, softened somewhat and was lost at pickup. Ringo, the defending champ, had points at 27 and thirty, each of which proved to be fruitless. He ran like blazes for 45 minutes and then ran out of gas.
Goldtone’s Doc— Paul’s Whiskers.— The dogs went hunting with great energy and desire. At forty point was called for Doc in a jungle away out on the tip of the fickle finger of the No. 1 course. The dog stood perfectly as handler got down on his belly and crawled through the junk to put the bird— a woodcock— into the air. Whiskers either didn’t see Doc, or refused a back and responded unkindly to a whoa from his handler. At 58 the lid blew off. With both dogs away out racing forward through the woods, both scouts went out to assist. A mighty roar of “Deer, deer!” erupted from somewhere in the boondocks and the handlers roared away to assist the scouts. The judges ran a stout “third” to assist the handlers. Then, all was quiet.
Brandy’s Ranger— Jocolet’s Wandering Star.— Ranger got himself in something of a trap and stayed in more or less the same position throughout the brace. Star had an unproductive at fifty, but a beautiful race, always to the right place at the right time.
Championship Finals
Perry’s Rustic Prince— C Killam’s Sergeant Mike.— Rusty, as is his style, quickly established himself as the dog to beat. Both dogs literally blew out of the gate and took the country apart; then at nine Rusty smashed into a point on the side of a hill. The dog stood with loftiness and as handler walked in front, a great covey of bobwhites lifted fifty feet away from the dog and history was made. The dog pounded it out with a great searching race for an additional 48 minutes. The end was gorgeous. At 58 handler called on Rusty for a sweeping final cast and along treeline, he took the objective to the outermost limits, hit the end of it with blazing speed and rolled away yonder on the prairie, in plain sight, for the pickup. Beautiful. Mike had a deer problem or two; never really got himself organized to his usual excellent standards.
Dr. Scott’s Tough Enough— Hi Spirit Shenandoah.— Tough Enough started with the same splendid manner which he had shown in the qualifying series, but was lost on a deer at 22 and never returned. Shen gave us a fairly close and businesslike race, but went birdless.
Jacolet’s Wandering Star— Big Prairie Frosted Cinder.— This was the “heart-break” brace of the Championship. Cinder, after beginning with a race that may have been every bit as good as that of the winner— and maintaining it for the entire hour— pointed at nine. Five birds were ridden up by the marshal forty yards in front of her and a single legged it out underneath a judge’s horse and into the lake. The dog was shot over. Star, at the request of her handler, was brought around to back, bulled a bit, needed a whoa or two and moved in tight on the pointing dog. Cinder was perfect. Star pointed a rabbit at 25 and Cinder had a beautiful back. At fifty both were found standing shoulder to shoulder, twenty yards apart. Both handlers walked in front of their dogs and birds were flown directly in front of each point. Obviously a clean, perfectly handled divided find. At 59 minutes and 53 seconds, Star pointed a single out on an open slope with Cinder a hundred yards beyond her and going away. Her handler chose to swing her around for a back, rather than run out the clock, and did so. Rick Smith, Star’s handler, flushed the bird and the blasted thing flew straight into the dog’s ear. She lunged, missed and chased the bird to southern Illinois. Cinder went with her! Whether or not Cinder had the Championship won, we’ll never know, but I’ll assure you that the chances were at least 50X in her favor. In any case, this bit of action saved the necessity of a monumental decision on the part of the judges. As Loyd Budd, Cinder’s able handler, trudged wearily back to the dog wagon, he was heard to mutter, “The grand old madam of the chase smiles kindly not upon me.” And so it was.
Goldtone’s Doc— Shardee’s Radar Rusty.— Both dogs were buried in the woods. Doc was eventually lost, and Rusty showed just barely often enough to keep himself in the ball park and went birdless.
Freck’s Boy Pete— Sandhills Ginger Snap.— This brace of standby dogs went away after we thought the thing was over. Pete, after a pretty forty minutes, was lost and eventually recovered out of judgment. Ginger had a wide and pretty 25 minutes, was hacked in and pointed a covey of birds at thirty. As the birds flushed and flew back over her head, she turned to mark the flight, bounced a couple of times, but made it— good enough for the runner-up spot.
Ardmore, Okla., March 22
Judges: Eugene Brown and Elmer E. Fillers
UNITED STATES OPEN BRITTANY CHAMPIONSHIP
[One-Hour Qualifying Heats; One-Hour Finals]—20 Brittany Spaniels
Winner —PERRY'S RUSTIC PRINCE. 895608. male. by TuWay's Kaymore Jack— Barb De Wit. L. May, owner; Rick Smith, handler.
Runner-Up — SANDHILLS GINGER SNAP. unreg. female, by Snapper de Bretagne—Sandhills Sandy. Dr. L. C. Kelley, owner; Loyd Budd, handler.
VICTOIRE NATIONALE DERBY CLASSIC
B G’s Gigolo Trooper—Bandelero. Trooper, a fine pup, went away in a dead calm and a temperature of near 80°. For a full hour, he showed some mighty casts that reached to the rim. With a bird, he might have made it. Bandelero was picked up at thirty with badly torn pads on both front feet.
Jack Flash—Big Red of Texas. Jack went wide, fast and true to the course for the full hour and finished strong but without birds. Red, a mite short in range and speed, barely a year old, will come on in time. I do believe Red has as much bird sense as any dog in either stake. Though this brace was run on the “Tail-End Charlie” course that runs out of country and requires that the dogs be hacked for a quarter of a mile up the pavement and started all over, this little dog hung in there and tried to the very end to produce a bird.
Red River Lady—The Real Thing. This was the dream brace and produced the winner. These two went away like Buffalo Bill going over the hill— all gay and bouncy and sparkling and bright and possessed of all the qualities which great bird dogs must have. They hooked up (not on) in the fiercest dog race I have ever seen, both reaching to the rim and beyond, with Lady having maybe just a little edge. The Real Thing tore up two acres of hard ground at thirty, getting stopped on a high, hard and magnificent point. As handler fought his way through a tangle on a creek to get to the dog, birds flushed from ten feet, directly in front. The dog jumped about ten feet at the flush and stacked up again. In spite of a bunch of, "Birds, birds— shoot, shoot!” well-intended yells from the gallery, the handler, not having seen the birds go, held his fire. While handler and dog were getting organized for what appeared to be a relocation, we flew a few hundred birds, or something like that, over them. The shot was fired. Lady had an unproductive at 35 and a something that started out to be something else at fifty. Her handler called point, apparently didn’t like it, wig-wagged it off and the dog moved on, to fly a bird from directly in front of her. The Real Thing, in winning this classic, added to the luster of a tremendous string of wins for this year. The dog had earlier won the Eastern Futurity at Pigeon River, the Central Futurity at Green River and the Derby Invitational at Rend Lake, Ill. In addition, he has won four out of five Open Derbies during the spring field trial season.
Darringer—Hoppers Robber. Both dogs looked fine, but in view of what they had just seen, both handlers elected to pick up at 47.
El Bandito—Brandy’s Lone Star. For reasons just mentioned, the handlers elected again to pick up at 33 and 20, respectively.
VICTOIRE NATIONALE DERBY CLASSIC
[One-Hour Heats]—10 Brittany Spaniels
Winner—THE REAL THING, unreg., male, by Ban Dee—Princess De Sandra. Wayne Oliver, owner; Loyd Budd, handler.
