FIRST DAYS IN THE FIELD 5 
and I believe it will be so. My dictionary 
classifies quail as “a game bird”; but the 
statesmen of Ohio have decreed that he is but 
an idle singer of songs. Be that as it may, I 
broke my bird dog on quail—and they didn't 
smell like song birds to her. 
I shall never quite forget just how I felt 
returning from the fields with Byrd after that 
memorable first day of her “training.” It 
seemed as though little or nothing at all had 
been accomplished. She had not sensed even 
remotely just what the idea seemed to be. I 
was the personification of discouragement 
and despair. I may as well say right here 
that it was only after a great number of trips 
afield that I was given the right even to hope 
for eventually successful results. Of course, 
I'm putting this pretty strong—but the point 
is, I want all amateurs who read this book to 
guard against being too easily discouraged in 
the early stages. One of the chief reasons for 
this was that, although of the bluest blood 
lines, neither Byrd's father nor mother were 
ever hunted. Thus there was a dead genera¬ 
tion behind her which I had to combat. It 
was a very noticeable contrast to Byrd's own 
