We discussed my dilemma. He agreed that a steady upland dog--no matter the breed--wasn't a necessity. "But Dave," he told me, "once you've hunted over a finished gun dog, it's hard to go back."

That clinched it for me.

I didn't think getting my dogs on the bandwagon would be that difficult. After all, I'd steadied them on planted pigeons the year before, when, as I mentioned earlier, I'd dropped the ball. And now, thanks to coaching from George Hickox, I'd reformulated my game plan. First, I'd steady them to shot by commanding "whoa" immediately after firing a starting pistol. Then I'd steady them to flush by running them through a field and releasing pigeons (from a bird bag) at random. The moment the dog spied the bird, I'd command "whoa," then reinforce it if necessary with a tap on the collar. In the final stage, I'd bring the dog in on a planted bird, command "whoa" and, upon the flush and shot, correct it if it broke. It worked.

Of course, nothing about dogs ever goes as planned for long. Scarlet and Powder, little opportunists that they are, would break every fourth or fifth bird, evidently to see if I was paying attention. Because I was paying attention, they finally got the message, and it wasn't long before I could trust them to hold for five or six minutes at a stretch. Later, we went to a preserve and shot a couple dozen pheasants over each, and after some minor glitches on the retrieving end, they did just fine.

But in the canine view of the world, preserve birds and wild birds are mutually exclusive concepts. In my innocence, I expected my dogs to behave on a real hunt like they'd been behaving all summer.

I'm convinced dogs know when your attention is elsewhere and invariably choose those moments to blow up in your face. On our first couple hunts of last season, Powder and Scarlet both broke on about every bird the two of them pointed. It didn't matter which one made the find; as soon as the lead dog broke, the backing dog went over the hill with her. This turn of events was not included in my rosy scenario, but the dogs could not have cared less about my expectations. It finally dawned on me that I could continue in the same vein and waste yet another summer's worth of training, or I could temporarily forego shooting and work with the dogs until they got it right.

Once you've hunted over a steady dog, you'll never go back.

Putting down my gun was the best decision I ever made. Within two or three weeks I had both of them back on track, where, with periodic reminders, they remain to this day.

But the periodic reminders are a fact of life. When my Brit stuck a grouse just off a logging road last week, I moved in, my buddy's young setter tiptoeing in behind me. I spied the bird perched on a rock 10 feet from Powder's nose. So of course I missed bigger than Dallas when it flushed. Powder broke, chased it a few feet and then stopped when I whoaed her. Some dogs break themselves of chasing birds and some chase them forever. I wasn't going to take the chance. I laid down my gun, picked her up and carried her back where she belonged.

An hour passed before she found another single. I glanced up just as she slammed to a stop from a dead run, and a second later the bird flushed. I wing-tipped it 30 yards out, and as it fluttered to earth, I could see Powder's eyes bulge, but she stayed rooted to the spot. When I released her she was on the bird in an instant, and she brought it to her beaming master a moment later, a proud little dog.