My Dog Moved on a Bird in 1987
He looked good on point. Everyone that was there in 1987 agrees on that, judges, gallery and, least of all, me. The woodcock curled around back past him, and he turned one way and then snapped around the other way to get a better look, and he moved half a body length I thought, the judges thought less.
I did not poll the gallery at the time, but afterwards, several said that he moved a jump, which was not good but no big deal, really.
Immediately after the announcement of the winners, it became a big deal: two big jumps after the bird, three according to several. By 1990, it was at
least 50 feet that he moved by conservative estimates. By the turn of the century, it was 50 yards with me chasing after him and yelling “WHOA!” By then, by the strange magic of field trials, a lot more people were there and saw my dog move in 1987, than were there and saw my dog move in 1987.
The last I heard, my dog ran half way across the state after the bird, almost running into the neighboring state I figure, when, based on eyewitness testimony, I do the calculations. The way I see things currently is that if he could cover that much ground, to almost hit West Virginia, then come directly back to the trial grounds, crossing three interstates and a river twice, and still have enough time in his allotted hour to find and point a grouse at the 57 minute mark, then he has done something rare and impressive and so is well deserving of the Championship he was awarded in 1987.