That Dog Will Hunt!
Story and photo by Stephen Stainkamp
“I
believe that a man’s life is never com-
plete without the companionship of
a dog, purebred or cur, large or
small…”—Ed Fletcher, Flower Mound,
Texas; Friend and long-time
Hunter/Hunting Dog Owner
Certain canine breeds—setters, labs,
pointers, etc.—have been bred for cen-
turies to flush and retrieve hunters’
game birds—but I have had scant
experience with, and never owned,
such a breed…until Bubba. I first laid
eyes on the tiny tyke at an east Texas
puppy mill eight years ago last
September. That early-morning day in
2008, dozens of puppies crowded into
the filthy enclosure, the proprietor’s
backyard, romping and playing and
seeking food and shelter where they
might—food and covered space being
next to impossible to find in those
deplorable conditions. When I first
spotted him, my heart went out to that
tiny pup. Like all the others, he was
muddy and covered in feces—but
available for purchase—adoption!
Dirty as he was, he stood out from all
the rest, and when he hesitantly
approached me, wagging his tail some-
what suspiciously, I knew he was The
One. This was the dog for me!
My ex, Sally, and I took that just-
weaned puppy home with us in a box.
She was driving, and I was speaking
softly to him as he perched on my lap.
Before he stepped paw in our suburban
Plano home, I had washed and
scrubbed the filth from him gently with
a soft brush and puppy shampoo three
times, depositing him in our backyard.
Initially overwhelmed, yet immense-
ly pleased to be free of that puppy mill,
he camped out in the yard: exploring,
running free in the grass, lounging
beneath tall shady hackberry trees,
sprawling out, hovering protectively
over his food bowl and devouring dry
puppy food like there was no tomor-
row!
I named him Bubba, and the rest is
history. Our years of daily contact have
forged an unequaled and rare bond of
22
love and trust the likes of which I’ve
never known. We are best friends; we
are a pack. If you own or have owned a
blue heeler, you’ll know what I mean!
Or ask George Strait and his singing
dog, Buster. Unfortunately, some years
back, the songster had Buster stolen
from his truck. I can only imagine how
heartbroken Mr. Strait must have
been. Another famous blue heeler was
the ranch dog Skidboot, whom I once
saw on The Tonight Show performing
Cenizo
Fourth Quarter 2016
amazing tricks. I like to think Bubba is
as bright, although perhaps not as
famous.
As a Texas outdoor writer, I have
visited exclusive wing-shooting conces-
sions from Kansas to the Texas
Hill Country, where I have hunted
“over” very expensive bird dogs—the
pedigreed kind, about which guests are
warned, “If you shoot a dog, you own
it!” Such warnings have made me nerv-
ous, especially since such well-heeled
dogs can be priced in the tens of thou-
sands of dollars and my shotgun skills
aren’t great.
Sally and I rescued Bubba from that
east Texas puppy mill, but I have never
been disappointed with his pedigree.
Blue heelers are considered “blue-col-
lar” working dogs, associated with
ranch operations, the herding of live-
stock: cattle, horses and sheep. Few
would classify the breed—a descendant
of the Australian wild dog, or dingo—
as a “bird” dog.
Generalizations, however, applied
to man or beast, are usually shortsight-
ed if not inaccurate. Bubba is a bird
dog—and much more! To be sure, he’s
a little heavy, or so many have
observed. But why have a dog unless
you intend to spoil it? A ranch feller I
spoke with recently, a fellow blue heel-
er owner, commented, “I can’t keep
the weight on my heeler.” To which I
replied, “Try feeding him a little Blue
Bell (ice cream) and letting him sit on
the couch watching TV—your dog
won’t have a problem keeping the
weight on!” Seriously, I want a healthy
dog, yet I still indulge Bubba.
I’ve learned Bubba is a more enthu-
siastic hunter than I am. He is, to use
the title of a magazine I’ve written for,
a Huntin’ Fool. On the farm Bubba
has eagerly retrieved squirrels and rab-
bits I shot. Sure, it took a little coaxing
at first, but he surrendered the animals,
a little slimy but no worse for the wear.
And I always reward him for his efforts
and obedience. Come dove season,
Bubba accompanies me on the West
Texas ranch dove hunts. He quickly
developed a knack for locating and
retrieving downed birds in cover. I put
special boots on his paws because of the
grass burs and mesquite thorns and he
couldn’t have been a happier camper. I
field dress and like to reward Bubba
with the heart and liver of a white-
winged dove. He also swims out and
retrieves ducks I knock down over the
stock tank.
Bubba has been no less eager to
locate and retrieve towering, three-