[James Clarke]

About a year ago now, I looked over at my wife, Lauren, after leaving Texas visiting with family and told her I wanted to get my own bird dog finally. I was 22 years old, just finished my first four years in the Marine Corps, and had re-enlisted for another four with a package put in to become a recruiter.

I bargained with her that I’d request her hometown of Holland, Michigan, if I could buy a gun dog in the process (I wanted to put in for this area anyways for family reasons but also the hunting opportunities). She reluctantly agreed to it, and I was stuck on the idea of an English setter.

I’ve lost touch with setters since I was about 8 when the last of my father’s gun dogs, Fancy, passed away from cancer. Since then, my father had gotten into Boykin spaniels as family pets but not gun dogs. I have never known a setter like you’re supposed to. I never saw Fancy point; she never retrieved a bird to me, but she was my protector. Always found at night in between my brother and me’s twin trundle beds.

My father, however, disagreed to my surprise with a setter. He believed my tight schedule would lead to a setter not getting out enough. I reluctantly agreed with him as I also had started duck hunting recently and figured a retrieving breed would help me out with these endeavors.

I turned to what I’m used to: the Boykin spaniel.
These dogs are so special to me; they absolutely will put everything in the field for you and hold up to the name of, “little brown dog that didn’t rock the boat.”

But there were complications with this. Boykins had risen in price substantially since we had last bought one, and I could not justify the $1,500 price tag for one. So I looked around and came across a woman who mix-bred Boykins with springers. (I understand the dog purists are cringing by now, but just hold on.)

Here is where we would pick out our pup. My wife wanted a male dog as she hadn’t had females before. She came up with his name 15 minutes into our 5-hour drive from Camp Lejeune, NC, to South Carolina, where his kennel was. To call this place a kennel would be a little misleading, though.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by pigs, goats, ducks, geese, chickens, a mule, and guinea fowl. The older woman and her daughter walked up to greet us with a little brown ball of fur in their arms. Off to my left, I glanced at the enclosure the dogs were being kept in directly beside the pig pen. It was choked full of little GSP puppies and old, worn-out Springer Spaniels. When I turned back around, the little spaniel looked up at me and stared right through my soul like puppies do.
I gave her the $ 500 for this little dropper, and she handed me a goody bag plus assurance that he had been started on dewormer. (He was about half worms, half dog, but started is better than not.)

He sat in my lap in the truck the whole way home and didn’t make a sound.

Silas and I have become best friends since then. I’ve bought every training gizmo and piece of equipment you could think of. I devoted many hours to getting him ready for season. And this year, he absolutely surpassed my expectations.

Silas’s season started this year in Hereford, Texas, on my family’s annual September dove hunt. His first time introduced to hunting real birds was a bit too loud. Lots of shots in rapid succession combined with the grain elevator behind us reflecting much of the sound made him uncomfortable, so we let him sit out the dove hunting.

It was in Texas that I informed my father of Lauren and my good news on a second grandson coming soon. This information moved him enough that he decided to give me the DHE reproduction 28-ga Parker he had bought as an incentive for me to go to college early.

Back in North Carolina, I took Silas to some “managed dove fields,” which had clumps of planted corn throughout grass fields that doves sit in. We would run through the corn clumps and flush up several birds; this was Silas’s first retrieve for me. This spot made great opportunities for me to get him comfortable with the gun, and I did.

Next, we were off to the upper peninsula of Michigan to chase ruffed grouse, sharp-tailed grouse, and woodcock. Something that neither myself nor my father and hunting buddy, Allen, had ever done before. With only the scouting I had done online and knowledge from “An Affair with Grouse” to guide me, I compiled several areas of GEM land and national forest areas for us to hit for birds.

Throughout the 3-day trip, Silas pushed 12 ruffed grouse, 6 woodcock, and 1 sharp-tailed grouse, although the only bird we connected on was the sharp-tailed grouse, and yet again, he retrieved the bird to me after flush and shot. I was very impressed with this, especially given the nature of this trip; we were there to see if we could find some birds, and we absolutely did.

I’m still surprised of all the birds we could have bagged; when I managed a sharp-tailed grouse in Chippewa County, those birds had been super pressured all day, and Silas found the sharp-tailed grouse in a solitary piece of tall cover on a huge field last minute. We had only walked there to try jumping a duck off the pond.

I’m now positive that Silas is the best pooch to ever leave this lady’s horse trailer. He is leggy at about 25 inches tall to his shoulders and weighs about 43 lbs. He has more drive than any spaniel I’ve ever seen. He’s colored like a Boykin but acts like a Springer. His tail was docked but to the kind of awkward length where it’s almost a half tail. After this season, I’m convinced I won the kennel lottery! And I’m absolutely positive no dogs from her kennel have ever flushed and retrieved a sharp-tailed grouse before, haha.

Silas finished out his season in Michigan once again, only this time on public land with pheasants in the lower peninsula. It had just snowed the night before, about 6 inches, and was about 20 degrees outside with a light north wind. I picked out a section of tall grass that looked right, and we headed through it. This place is a wetland wonder that the DNR plants and pumps full of water for 4,000 acres of corn. It’s a rooster incubator, but it gets lots of pressure.

We got to the spot, Silas quartered in front of me about ten yards, huffing in the smells of the rabbits and roosters taking cover in the field. I started to see tracks in the fresh snow, and Silas was on them. He trailed sharply behind me, and as I turned to watch him, a rooster erupted from beneath his feet, launching ice and snow into the air. It cleared the top of the grass and chuckled once before my reproduction rang out. The rooster crashed in the snow for a split second before Silas grabbed him up and brought it to me, wagging his tail enthusiastically.

To top it off the bird was leucistic, something I’d never seen before, just making it even more special.

Something about scouting public land online, putting lots of miles on your boots, and figuring birds out with a dog who’s only received training from yourself. It’s like the whole thing came together all at once.

Silas has so much more left to give. I’m sure he will make a fantastic flusher to accompany a setter in the near future…

The DHE and the dropper filled my season this year with smiles and my game bag with feathers!