My dog Indie is bird crazy. She got this way mostly because she was born to be bird crazy.
Indie’s grandpa is a dog named Hank. For six hunting seasons Hank was on a television show that I loved to watch. It was just a guy and his trusty bird dog roaming the uplands in search of nothing in particular. The bond between hunter and dog made the show magical.
When I started looking for a pup of my own I met a breeder who bred their dog with Hank’s son. A few conversations and a small deposit later and I was third pick in line for a planned litter. In a little less than a year Indie and her siblings were born. Seven weeks thereafter we ventured to northeastern Iowa to welcome this little, nine pound black and white ball of teeth and nose into our lives.
At two and a half, Indie resembles her famous grandpa Hank in a lot of ways. Her measured gate in the field, the way she works back and forth through the cover, her stylish, picturesque points, but most of all her intense love of master and bird.
So every Fall, you can find my trusty pup and I roaming the uplands of Kansas, Missouri and South Dakota in search of nothing in particular. Maybe just the occasional rooster pheasant, bobwhite quail, or story worthy of passing along.