The Dogs' Wall of Fame

The Dogs’ Wall of Fame
By Mike Faulk

“Children and dogs are as necessary to the welfare of the country as Wall Street and the railroads.” – Harry Truman

Our friend, Chuck Alexander, has a farm in North Dakota. There’s a Quonset hut for storage of equipment. Trees and bushes on the north and west sides are meant to mitigate the wind. An old windmill bears witness to the ever-present wind. And there’s a traditional high plains farmhouse in the center of the curtilage.

The farmhouse is cozy, comfortable and convenient to the nearest town of Parshall. Decorating the walls are prints of ducks, geese, and, most significantly, pheasant. The amenities are hunter-friendly. It’s a fine place to relax after plowing through six to eight sections a day of heavy cover, coulees, or recently-harvested grain fields.

Couches and recliners often hold members of the happy hunting party napping after a hard day’s hunt. Significantly, dogs are welcome on Chuck’s furniture. A good dog covers probably ten times the ground traversed by his master during a pheasant hunt. Such dogs are no less tired or entitled to a comfortable place of rest.

That good dogs are revered at Alexander’s farm is beyond debate. Most striking about this farmhouse is the kitchen. A wallpaper border rings the top of the walls just above the tops of the cabinets. And on that border are the names of all the dogs which have proved themselves to be man’s best hunting friend in the grain fields and impenetrable cover where pheasants hide.


Much like a parent whose child is about to play his or her first ball game, I was nervous about my dog’s first pheasant hunting trip. We would be hunting with some fine bird dogs and accomplished upland game hunters. And, he hadn’t shown much promise last fall.

Rueben is a rescue – a shelter dog. Rueben and I became a team in September, 2010. I got him from A Place to Bark in Portland, Tennessee. He was literally an hour from extinction when Bernie Berlin, who runs A Place to Bark, picked him up for me from the municipal shelter. Mostly chocolate lab, Rueben has some Weimaraner in him. He’s taller than most labs, has a longer snoot, thinner fur, and bigger ears. At just 22 months, he’s had no formal training at bird hunting.

He was scared to death of all the shooting during his first dove hunt in mid-September last year. In October a year ago, he accompanied Art Swann and me on a brief woodcock hunt on Strum Island. On that hunt he encountered his first scent of game birds and actually pointed one. Mostly that day he was just a puppy annoying Art’s seasoned bird dog, Suzy.

Later in 2010 Rueben went with me to Reelfoot Lake for a weekend duck hunt. He resented having to stay in the dog box wanting instead to be in the blind with me – and all the other hunters – and their loaded guns. That would not be safe and was not allowed. He shivered, whined, and wanted no part of the cold water.

If Rueben is to be just my big old pet, it would be fine with me. But I’ve truly hoped he’d also become my faithful hunting companion. This past summer we worked regularly on his retrieving skills with some success. The fruits of that training became apparent during an opening day dove hunt this year when he retrieved 16 of the 17 doves Art or I shot.

During our 25 hour drive to the Alexander farm, Rueben, Suzy and Callie each had separate crates for transportation but acclimated to one another with little difficulty. Some adjustment to the five other dogs participating on this hunt was necessary on day one. Chuck’s dog, Max, seemed to think a neutered Rueben was a girl dog and behaved toward him accordingly. Rueben did not care for that type of attention!

Reuben and I hunted by ourselves the first afternoon. The plan was to get him in a field with lots of bird scent so he’d take to the task of chasing birds instead of chasing after the other dogs. He behaved like a kid on Halloween with far too many sweet choices. Fortunately, he didn’t get too far ahead of me staying within shotgun range and he checked back to see where I was on a regular basis.

Nothing does more for a child trying a new sport than a little success. So it was with Rueben. He watched the other dogs work our first couple of fields on Day Two. By the third field, Rueben went on point, flushed the bird as I approached, and retrieved the downed bird – all like a seasoned professional. He had his first pheasant and I showed my excitement and appreciation showering him with ‘good dog” and praise.

While he spent too much time behind me or beside me and not enough time ahead of me in his job as the “advance scout”, his first pheasant trip exceeded expectations.

Rueben spent his share of time on the couches and in the recliners as our days ended. He earned every bit of comfort they afforded. On our last morning, he pointed, flushed, ran down through the brush and retrieved the last bird I shot. For that work, he earned Art’s shout of affirmation: “That dog’s a champion.” My chest bowed up with father-like pride.

Postscript: Chuck tells me I’ll find Rueben’s name on the Alexander kitchen Wall of Fame when I next come to the high plains of North Dakota!