Buster, The Best Bird Dog

Growing up we had what we really needed, but not too much else.
I can't think of anything which my dad prized more highly than Buster,
and his Model 12 Winchester.

Buster and I were both young pups about the same time. I can't remember much about his first years. The first time I went hunting with Dad and Buster; I think I was eight.

Dad was six foot tall, and seemed to walk slowly, but he had a really long stride. Even when I was older it was hard to keep up with him. When I was little, I'd have to run to catch back up.

Dad thought quail hunting and bird dogs were "hard to beat".

Although I am now a whitetail hunter, part of that is circumstances. If I had more opportunities for good quail hunting, I'd be torn between which I love more.

I only saw Buster "do his best bird dog thing" a few times. I was too young to be very impressed at the time. I do remember the dog acted strange.

We lived and hunted in North East Texas. There was a fairly good quail population in those days, but lots of cover, and the hunting was tough. The area had open patches surrounded by wooded areas. Some small farms, hills, streams... If a bird dog ranged out very far ahead, he was quickly out of sight.

Buster was good at finding birds, but his resumé included other things, and a very high intelligence. A squirrel he treed was the first game I ever shot.

Dad said he didn't worry when Buster chased a squirrel or a rabbit because he was smarter than most dogs. Buster wouldn't forget that we were quail hunting.

Buster must have done numerous things because dad thought he was smarter than a lot of people. He was always talking about the things old Buster did. Now I wish I'd listened more.

One thing Buster did was to find birds, then come back and get Dad. He would disappear for a while and then come back, as if to say, "Are you coming?" He would run a short distance, then stop, and look back to see if Dad was coming. Then Buster would ease back in and point the birds again.

Dad said he wasn't sure of it, until one day saw Buster back-off a point, come back, and then lead Dad to that very same spot. There may be other dogs who do this, but I've never heard of it.

Dad took a "friend" hunting who "had a little money". This friend wanted to buy Buster, and eventually offered $500. That was really a lot of money in the 1950s to a truck driver. I'm sure we needed it, but dad wouldn't sell.

Buster disappeared only days later. Dad believed the guy took him. The guy lived about fifty miles away, and Buster came home in about two weeks. Dad never had any use for that guy again.

Buster disappeared again many years later, but this time he never came back. I can understand today how dad must have felt.

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