The ring of a clanger striking the iron sheet of a bell dances rhythmically with the wind stirring through the cool October air. Then, it falls silent, ears straining to catch the slightest movement. My pace quickens before being interrupted by the electronic report of a GPS transmitter indicating a dog has ceased moving. Fidgeting with the pair of chapstick-shaped shells, I slide both into a pair of horizontally fixed barrels—made closer to the turn of the century than the present moment. My eyes dart down to a Garmin watch adorned with an arrow, indicating my young English setter’s exact location. The dew clinging to the tag alders is thwarted by old tin cloth, but my boots are a different story. The new age technology, touted as the solution for dry comfort, has failed in spectacular fashion.

As the white dog comes into view, stacked up, nose twitching with the buffeting breeze, the feathering on his tail following suit, a big gray grouse shoots out as the gun swings true. A pair of shots follow. There would be a few things out of place if the scene occurred in the mid-1900s, but not many. Why do we as uplanders embrace history in certain areas but shun others? From dogs, shells, guns, electronics, and clothing—why do many of us choose our classic-looking double guns over the more effective autoloader? Why are we still using bells when a GPS collar is just as effective? I don’t feel as if I’m an old curmudgeon in my 30s, and many peers feel the same. Is it the eternal power struggle between new and old? Is it the same reason I prefer country music from before I was born over the new swill filling the airwaves?

Are Hunting Advancements Really Progress?

Throughout history, the goal has been to continually improve one's effectiveness in the field. But why do we hold onto some parts of history, while diving headlong into other pieces of current technology? A quote I heard recently comes to mind, from Alonzo Martinez de Espinar, regarding the changes he saw with dogs from technological advances back in 1644:

“Formerly, when this sport was practiced, the dogs were very clever and the men very scientific about it, and he who prided himself on being a sportsman shot over a dog so well-trained that, as the saying is, he could do everything but speak; and those that kept their dogs in food by the crossbow were always the most eminent, as the skill of the sportsman and his dog had to make up for the deficiencies of the weapon.

Today, when one has no longer to shoot with a crossbow, no one remembers the craft the sportsman formerly possessed.... The partridges are shot with an arquebus flying, and for that reason, they do not exist in such numbers as formerly, nor are there any longer such pointing dogs (perros de muestra) to find them and point them with cleverness so great that great quantities of them could be killed with a crossbow. In those days, the sportsmen were most dexterous, now such are wanting; for, as the game is killed more easily, nobody wishes to waste his time in training dogs, as the man has not to shoot the partridges on the ground; and the only use he has for dogs is to flush the game, and that takes no training, as the dog does it naturally.

He blames the arquebus for destroying the craft a sportsman formerly possessed, and in some ways, there are connections between his weapon comparison in the 1600s and the slight tension steadfast double-gun shooters feel towards those who opt for an automatic. There would be a solid argument for efficiency in the camp of an autoloader, especially on the open prairies. So what if your first, second, or third shot didn’t find its mark, as long as the fourth finds it. Sure, the double gun’s action is almost infallible, and with two chokes, it makes it more versatile in the field. Then again, the recoil-actuated triggers of many popular over/unders often negate that advantage, and I can’t tell you when the last time I walked up to a point and in the moment decided to shoot one choke or another was.

You may disagree, but I don’t shoot double guns to put more birds in my bag. It’s the nostalgia, history, and style that beckon me to pick it off the shelf. Similar to pedigrees of bird dogs of old, double guns can be traced back to their creation by Joseph Manton in the mid-1700s, who was deemed the “father of the modern shotgun.” Even if you can’t appreciate the history, when you see the exceptional figure and color of a fine stock and the ornamental scroll adorning the side plates, it’s easy to marvel at the exceptional craftsmanship. To me, it’s highly personal, as I had the opportunity to build a bespoke over and under, with a bust of my first gundog, Annie, engraved on the underside of the receiver. I was able to pick out the exact piece of wood to be used, and all of the details. For me, it’s about the dogs, and that gun carries a legacy extending far beyond the number of birds shot on a given day.

GPS, Beepers, and Bells

I hope I’ve only begun to ruffle a few feathers, as many bird hunting enthusiasts can get worked into a tizzy about their preferred equipment. We’ll take a step back and hopefully get close to agreeing on something. I would not go back to the days before GPS collars, searching for dogs or simply leaving a coat or crate in the hope of their return.

Now, back to ruffling feathers. Espinar was talking about modern firearms, leading to less refined dogs. “Nor are there any longer such pointing-dogs to find them and point them with cleverness so great that great quantities of them could be killed with a crossbow.” While GPS has certainly made our lives easier, what have we sacrificed for it? Are we using this technology as a crutch, allowing quick progress to good, but making it harder to get to great? Are we putting in even less time with our dogs because we can just hack on them with a collar by knowing their every move?

The argument for or against is easily written off in the name of our canine friends’ safety, as losing a dog is a far less common occurrence. However, since participating in field trials more and more, I’ve realized how momentous a change it is from hunting to trialing, where you are unable to use an electronic collar. If you haven’t tried running a dog without one, give it a try. Connect the transmitter to the collar, and then shut it off and stick it in your pocket. Just listen to the bell and try to judge distance and direction while traipsing through the brush. Stay alert, because when your dog locks up at 100 yards in the dense aspen, you better have been paying attention. If you’re hunting a dog that gets out from under your feet at some point or another, you’ll be jonesing to take a look at that transmitter. It’s difficult, to say the least, and why give up such great visibility to your dog? But at the same time, many of us grouse hunters wouldn’t just as soon give up a bell as an e-collar. Have you ever listened to a bell? I don’t mean to hear a bell, but truly listen and try to interpret, or rather envision, what a dog is doing based on its report. Is it a rhythmic clanging as the dog maintains a steady gait through the pole timber, or the intermittent and erratic sound when the dog works scent? A GPS collar can’t tell you that in real time.

Many would argue that a bell is antiquated and inferior to a modern GPS collar. I would argue they each have their strengths and weaknesses. When a dog stops with a bell, you instantly know, versus the five or so seconds it takes the collar to confirm it’s stopped and the minimum 2.5 seconds it takes to transmit back to the handler. I’m often well on my way to a stopped dog before the telltale beep and vibrate alerts from within my vest. I do draw a hard line in the sand when it comes to choosing my hunting companions, and if I see a beeper collar come out, the line would be equivalent to the Mariana Trench. If a bell is the Vienna Philharmonic, then a beeper collar would be a high school death metal band. Sure, a beeper collar can help kill birds, but so does deforestation.

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Balancing Hunting Traditions and Technological Advancements

At the end of the day, chasing upland birds for me is about the dog. And as I’ve delved into the history of gun dogs, it’s interesting to learn the ebb and flow of popularity in certain breeds. Take, for example, the Bracco Italiano, which many consider to be the ancestor of all pointing dogs. The 1700s marked the golden era for these dogs, as they were favored by Italian nobility. However, by the 1800s, the Bracco had fallen out of fashion for the sportier  setters and pointers from England. As game populations declined, the Bracco couldn’t hold a candle to the speed and range of the English dogs. By the end of the Second World War, the Bracco would have been considered endangered. I had never seen a Bracco until the mid-2000s, and now I see at least a dozen a year. I have no problem with them, but I would never steer someone to them, much less own one myself. I believe a pointer or a setter, which have roots almost as deep, and equally interesting historical accounts, are far superior animals for the way I pursue game in North America. Is the Bracco equivalent to a double gun and the pointer or setter an automatic shotgun?

I would probably reserve the “autoloader of dogs” title for a versatile breed such as the German wirehaired pointer or the Deutsch Drahthaar, which originated in the late 1800s, making them relatively new dog breeds. They don’t excel at any one aspect over another, but they are certainly an effective hunting machine in all arenas.

So, why do we accept some technological advancements, yet tightly grasp onto other traditions of old? For me, it’s the ever-growing respect and passion for bird hunting. It’s hard to understand where we’re currently at when you don’t understand how we’ve arrived. Learning more about the history of shotgunning and bird dogs has created a more detailed tapestry of how I view the sport. I certainly don’t look down at anyone with an autoloader, as I’ve been known to carry one from time to time, but as my appreciation has grown, I find it less appealing. I now pick a dog breed based on performance and run both a bell and GPS collar. It’s an odd amalgamation of tradition and advancement that makes up hunting, and one that’s certainly not going away.