When powder's bell went silent, I waited for the beep I knew would follow. Then it came: faint, muffled, and seemingly from deep within the woods. I glanced at the compass on my lanyard–I've got lost going in on points in the grouse woods more times that I can count–and then plunged headlong into the popples. And almost ran over Powder, who had locked up on a bird no more than 20 yards off the trail. That bird, which was strutting around under her nose like an irritated chicken, I missed.

From left: Astro 220 and collar; two of the author's well worn beeper collars (note the lead decoy anchor taped to the receiver of the unit on the left); and the author's favorite bells, a No. 6 Swiss bell and a Lion Country long range bell (both available from Lion Country Supply).

Big surprise, huh?

All of which is beside the point. Had Powder not been wearing a bell, I never would have been able to track her progress; had she not also been wearing a beeper, it would have been vastly more difficult locating her in that aspen- and pine-choked swamp.

I'm old enough to remember hunting in the sixties over my first Brittany, who would vanish into the woods, only to be rediscovered 15 minutes later when we stumbled upon him locked up on a covey of bobwhites. There's no telling how many birds he pointed that we never saw; my father, a casual bird hunter at best, was ignorant of the need for bells and on my skimpy income mowing lawns I couldn't have bought one anyway.

It took a long time for me to get with the program. I've never liked having a lot of racket around my dogs and I still don't use bells on the prairies, as several of my friends are wont to do. But in thick cover, particularly ruffed grouse, Mearns and bobwhite quail habitat, they've become an indispensible part of my canine gear bag.

Last time I checked, I had a half dozen bells in two or three different sizes, another half dozen beepers in various configurations, and a Garmin Astro 220 with four–count 'em–four tracking collars. I may be neurotic about all this, but let me make one thing clear right from the get-go: I'm neurotic about a lot of things. At least I know where my dogs are.

There was a time when nobody used beepers, and there may well have been a time when people didn't use bells. I have no idea how hunters kept track of their dogs in those halcyon days; I know of no way you can "see" your dog in cover that effectively renders him invisible if you can't hear him first.

In the grouse woods, my bell is my direct connection to my dog; my tracking collars and beepers are secondary. I can tell how far away (most of the time) my dog is, which direction she's moving, and often, whether or not she's working a bird, just by the way her bell sounds. In that cover, I'd no more consider hunting without a bell on my dog than I would leave my truck without a compass or a GPS in my vest.

Today, my rusting and battle-scarred cowbells are synonymous with aspen trees, side-by-sides, and pointing dogs. I can pick up one of my dog's bells during a scorching July afternoon, give it a ring, and find myself at once in the cool, damp October woods, its dulcet melody affirmation that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

I have none of these warm, fuzzy feelings about beeper collars. If bells were designed by artists with an eye for symmetry and an ear for music, beeper collars were designed by tone-deaf accountants to solve an engineering problem: how to find your dog after he goes on point.