Jay Lowry is a successful dentist who owns his practice in small town Illinois. In some ways, he reminds me a little of Hermey—the elf that left Santa’s workshop in the 1964 classic movie Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Hermey was a dentist stuck in the body of an elf and Jay, a dog man in the body of a dentist. The obvious in common is dental, but Jay hasn’t run away from fixing teeth in pursuit of his affections. Instead, he’s used them to finance and fuel his passion for what has come to be Ryglen Gundogs.

We met twenty plus years ago, just two guys from the Midwest, down in Mississippi at a dog training workshop. Both of us had our first British Labradors on the end of our lead, both of us eager to learn. We were there by ourselves with northern accents in what could be described as a foreign land. I’ve liked him from the beginning and consider him to be a close friend, though we may have only one or two conversations a year and might see each other only a few times a decade. When we do, it’s like we left off yesterday. Twenty some years later, we were still learning together, this time in the woods near my camp in northern Wisconsin.
We agreed on dates to hunt together. A trip of firsts for Jay and company. His first-time hunting in Wisconsin, first hunt for woodcock (the namesake bird to his spaniel pack), and his first pursuit of King Bonasa.

I squirreled away some of my best spots for that week. Keep in mind, the “best” does not always mean the easiest and it proved challenging at times to green infantry from the flatlands of Illinois. For three days, we followed in the wake of braced Labradors and petite spaniels through conditions he described as “what I think of when I hear about the jungles of Vietnam.” Our company moved through a sea of pool cue sized aspen, ticked with lonely veneer maple, and mixed amongst scrubby oak of the next generation. Over a sandy gravel ridge, we slunk deep into a pothole-like bottom, left round as a kettle by the Laurentide glacier. I heard, and even felt, the sensation that all grouse hunters know well and lust for, followed by a single report from Jay’s direction.

A newcomer will find those Norse partridge a far cry from the Dakotan cock pheasant. We took a fair amount of time to examine, admire and pay homage to that bird.

A History of Spaniels

As Jay is to Hermey the dentist elf, a man named Ian Openshaw is to Yukon Cornelius, the prospector who helped lead Hermey along in the expedition. Ian, arguably the most successful field trialer in the spaniel world today, is where both Jay’s influence and breeding stock comes from. It was a rabbit hunt in the UK with Openshaw back in 2012, behind his Rytex line of cocker spaniels, that started it all for Jay. It was our grouse hunt behind them, ten years later, that started me down a rabbit hole filled with questions and led me to seek out answers. Like so many things, the deeper one digs the more complex it can get. I’ll spare you the frivolous and focus on the more imperative, interesting, and pertinent as to my observation of Jay Lowry and his dogs.

In an attempt to oversimplify, they are of the spaniel affix. As the name implies, likely from Spanish origin, later developed in Britain, and arguably one of the oldest breeds known. Around the year 1600, spaniels were separated into two groups, Water and Land. From that they were determined to be either setting spaniels or “springing” (flushing) spaniels. It was the springer spaniel that laid the foundation for all modern-day flushing spaniels, but “springing” spaniels were additionally categorized based on size. From largest to smallest, the English springer spaniel, the Sussex spaniel, and the English cocker spaniel. If you’re still following along, get this: Early on, the same litter could produce all three variations amongst litter mates depending on how big or small the pups were. And so, I kept digging.

He pulled into camp in a pickup truck with a two-hole dog box in back that rivaled any clown car circus act. When doors opened, the spaniels kept coming out in a variety of shapes and colors. From buckskin and blonde to coal black, there were multicolor, monolithic, and some with regal white crests. There was George, Billy, Gus, Faith, Wendy, Betty, and more. They did all have one thing in common: They didn’t take their eyes off of Jay and their warm expressions were filled with “what do you want me to do?” Jay defines his breeding goals as producing dogs that develop cooperatively, naturally, and over time, rather than just a need for speed.

Cockers are Like a Box of Chocolates

It was the first sight of these dogs where my questions really started. Consistency is important to me, particularly in breeding and genetics. What was one of the easiest to visualize, and in this case was one of the most difficult for me to understand, is the aesthetics of the breed. I knew I was looking at cockers, but I also realized how little I actually knew about them. I thought I saw a little of the Gordon setter, Boykin spaniel, golden retriever, water spaniel, springer spaniel, Munsterlander, flat coat retriever, maybe even at touch of an English setter? Jay told me at one point of his interrogation, “It’s like opening a bag of M&M’s when we have a litter. You just don’t know what color you’re going to get next.”

After seeing them move afield, to me they seemed split three ways evenly: One-part Tasmanian devil, one-part red squirrel, and the balance, fisher cat. It was jaw dropping to watch these things orbit Jay like he was the Queen Bee in a hive. Jay stays cool, calm, and confident while their buzz at a feverish pitch had me on pins and needles. They worked together, under control, and displaying a symphonic combination of genetics and training. I’m still embarrassed to have said it out loud: “How can you tell when they are birdy?” I must have sounded like someone who asks, “How can you tell them apart?” about our three black Labradors. The kind of question only asked by the untrained eye and absurd to anyone who’s spent any time around them.

I don’t think I’m too far out on a limb here saying that the English cocker spaniel has become, or is becoming, one of, if not the most, popular trends in American sporting dogs. In contrast to their American cousins, they’ve become the pragmatic accessory to all things upland and more. As this movement and the demand for Ryglen dogs grows, challenges present themselves for Jay accordingly.

“I got into dogs because I love to hunt with them, but the business side of this limits my ability to go on those hunts. I’m ok with it because I’ve personally had such incredible experiences being a first-time hunting dog owner and trainer. Now, I get to give that to others.”

Perhaps selfishly, to give time up in the field is something I would struggle with. After spending any amount of time with Jay, you’ll see how he operates and understand that providing the best experience for those who have their dogs is his priority.

I have a devotion to the Labrador and likely always will, but that week I found reverence in witnessing how those little cockers, whose hearts much greater in size relative to their bodies, went through patches of hazel and hawthorn, the kind that will force grown men to stop and ask themselves, “Is this really worth it?” When I looked back in my journal; we flushed 54 grouse and 42 woodcock over three days. We bagged just four grouse and six woodcock in total.

This type of hunt can be like aged Gruyère, an acquired taste. By Jay’s own admission, his hearing these days is less than proper, and the grouse woods are not made to be observation friendly.

“I do love the wide-open prairies, where I can see the dogs and the birds,” Jay told me. “If I can’t watch dogs work, it’s just not as much fun. But this hunt was not just about birds, it’s been the people that made the experience. But my dogs...they absolutely are made for it.”