By late last summer, Hanna was doing everything right. She'd progressed through the half dozen stages I put my dogs through during their steadiness drills, and although she'd been a bit hard-headed from time to time--angelic-looking setters will fool you--she'd finally begun to see things my way.

Using a live pigeon to tempt a young dog on a whoa board to break, as pro trainer George Hickox (in red cap) is doing here, is an excellent way to reinforce steadiness.

By August I was shooting pigeons over her, and she was behaving remarkably well, steady as a rock and staying anchored to one spot until I sent her for the retrieve. So I had high hopes when I headed to the mountains on my first blue grouse hunt of the season. You would think, after all these years, I would have learned.

On that day and for several weeks thereafter, Hanna pointed, and I shot, blue grouse under what I would call suspicious conditions. It's impossible to monitor a dog every minute it's hunting, particularly an inexperienced dog. Birds would flush out of thick cover, fly over my head, and a few seconds later, there would be Hanna, hot on their tail.

A correction wasn't merited because I hadn't actually seen her break point. But by the time we switched to the prairies and began hunting Huns, it was clear that my steadiness drills hadn't sunk in.

Hanna was pointing Huns just fine, but at least half the time she was chasing them too--exactly opposite of what she'd been trained to do. That didn't bother her all that much, but it caused me to wail and gnash my teeth. She was still up to her old tricks by the time we drove to Wisconsin three weeks later.

In Wisconsin, though, I vowed things would change. Grouse numbers were up after years of decline, and getting Hanna into a half dozen points in a couple hours wasn't out of the question. I strapped my e-collar around her skinny neck and let her fly.

It took almost a week, but daily corrections finally started to get the point across. By the time my buddy Mike Bartz and his wirehair, Gus, joined our party, Hanna was back to where she'd been two months before--steady to wing and shot, waiting for my command to retrieve, a model citizen. Mike was impressed. What Mike didn't know, and I conveniently neglected to tell him, is just how long it had taken me to get her there.

The difference between yard work and field work, i.e., training that you do while you're actually hunting, is that yard work is easy. I know that sounds like sacrilege to anyone who has spent months trying to get his dog to please come when called, but it's true.

Getting your dog to do all the cool stuff you've trained it to do while you're actually hunting is where the work comes in. That said, though, there's a lot you can do to ease the transition.

I call any drills you add to basic yard work to tempt a dog to disobey--so you can then correct him--"raising the bar." It doesn't really matter if you use my drills or not. Feel free to make up your own. No dog is going to be perfect 100 percent of the time, including mine (which any number of my friends will be happy to verify), but expecting obedience 95 percent of the time in the field isn't asking too much.

If there's one thing I see over and over again among inexperienced trainers, it's that they quit working with their dogs when just a few more weeks of gradually increased distractions would put the dog right where they want him. As a perfect example of what not to do, let's use someone who won't sue me if I libel him in print: me.