Lucky was born on May 30, 2004 from a mating of Ally and Pal. I had driven to Spokane Washington and brought Ally, her sister Jackie and a male pup that I don’t remember his name. Of the three I kept Ally and bred her to Pal a couple of times. Pal was out of Lady and a male that was a son of Hick’s Rising Sun.
Luke on point and Lucky, on the left, honoring.
Lucky with a quail.
Lucky
Ally almost always had large litters and I think there were 8 pups in Lucky’s litter. I sold all of the pups except two, Lucky and a female named Katie. I always start working the pups on pigeons when they are still puppies. Katie did real well but Lucky felt like he needed to do something else after he pointed.
I had the pigeon hidden in the grass and when Lucky smelled the pigeon he pointed with a lot of style. When I walked in he would circle the pigeon then go back on point. I would pick him up and set him back. Over and over and over again. I worked him on whoa and when he pointed I would whoa him. When I got close he would circle the bird.
When they were about 4 months old I sold Katie to Vince Dye. She was pointing her birds and holding them just fine for a puppy but Lucky was still circling his birds. I had been working with release traps that had a string to pull to release the pigeon. I got some release traps that worked off of a transmitter.
They worked great. When Lucky pointed I would start to him and when he moved I released the bird. After just a couple of sessions I could walk all around the bird, in the release trap and he wouldn’t move.
Vince and I had been talking on the phone since he had bought Katie from me, comparing training and decided to hunt the puppies together. Vince had some private land to hunt and we got into a lot of quail. Back in those days we even found singles after getting the covey up.
Lucky and Katie both pointed wild quail the first day we hunted them together. We had 5 dogs down at one time and Roxie, Vince’s short hair, went on point along the edge of a gravel road. Pal, Lucky, Katie and Lady honored her. The dogs were across the road from where Vince and I were. As we walked to them a truck came down the road and passed the dogs. Not a dog moved. By the time we got there the single had run into the timber and flushed when we got close. We never got a shot.
Lucky pointing a pigeon.
Vince had a chance to hunt some private land in Oklahoma that was loaded with birds and I talked him into taking Lucky with him. I had hunted him quite a few times, and he was doing great, but I wanted him to have a chance at a lot of quail.
Vince took him and said he did a good job. As crazy about birds as he was I thought he would just go hunting but Vince said he looked for me. He hunted fine but not like when I was there.
He did a good job his first year and got better as he got older. He ran where ever he thought there would be birds and the GPS let me keep track of him. When he went on point he would point until I got there or the birds flushed.
He was about 8 years old when I started guiding at Bird Fever Hunting Preserve. He did a great job especially when he was paired with Dolly. He would honor any dog as far as he could see them on point. He even retrieved when he wanted to but sometimes acted like that was a chore for the other dogs.
When we got to the area we had birds in I would put Lucky and Dolly on whoa then give the hunters a safety talk. Both dogs would stay all the time I was talking until I said, “alright”. Usually someone would ask if they were already on point.
The last time I guided with him he hunted as hard as ever for about 3 hours then just quit. He pointed some quail and the guys killed a couple. He came to me and laid down. I watered him but he still wouldn’t move. I tied him to a small bush so he wouldn’t wander off. We only had about 30 minutes left in the hunt.
I thought with a thirty minute rest he would walk out. When I went back to him I watered him again but he wouldn’t even stand. I started carrying him out of the field. I was about 200 yards from the truck when Roy Branson, who was guiding on another field, saw me and carried him for me.
I knew he was getting old but he had always been ready to hunt as long as I wanted him to. I quit guiding but I still hunted him. I did pick the times, I usually hunted him during the coolest part of the day, but I still hunted him for a couple of hours. This year as he approached his 14th year I didn’t hunt him much.
He had been a 45 pound dog in his prime but he was melting away. I fed him more and he still lost weight. I hunted him for an hour near Greensburg, Kansas. We were almost back to the truck when the GPS showed Luke on point about 75 yards from me. Before I got to him Lucky saw him and honored. He had come around a plum thicket and was almost beside Luke. When I got there the quail had run. Luke moved and when he did Lucky got a few feet ahead of Luke and pointed. I went to Lucky, with Luke honoring his dad, and the covey flushed way ahead of them. That was his last point.
After Kansas, Iowa and Missouri seasons had closed I went to Oklahoma for a few days. I turned Lucky out the first day and he still made some good casts. They weren’t as large or as fast as the days of old but you could tell he was a bird dog.
I rested him the second day but I turned him out for a few minutes the second evening. As Jim Smith and I talked he went hunting. I had no clue which direction he had gone. I took a chance and blew a whistle and he came right back. Although he couldn’t hear me he could hear a whistle.
The next morning while it was cool I ran him for a couple of hours. He did fine but when I got back to the truck he was going the wrong way. I blew the whistle and watched the GPS. He came right in. I loaded him into the truck.
I had taken him to the vet when he first started losing weight and they checked him over and could find nothing wrong. Two or three times in the last month I thought I should have him put down but when I would go to the kennel to get him, I couldn’t do it.
Finally, I knew it was time. He was a 45 pound dog in his prime and now he was less than 20 pounds. Wherever I touched him was just skin and bones. He didn’t act like he was in pain but bird dogs are tough. They may not show the pain.
When I carried him into the vet’s office I wondered if I had waited too long. I hope not. He didn’t deserve to suffer. He was a great dog and I already miss him.
Lucky with a frozen quail
Lucky
Lucky