On a lovely but cold November morning, Dad and I sat taking a break on the truck's tailgate. It was just after ten o'clock, and the cooler contained two pheasants we had taken. In the distance, a hunter stood in a field hollering at his dog. We sipped our coffee and watched the show.

The man alternately ordered his dog to "Get in here!" then switched to descriptions of what he was going to do when he got hold of Sparky. Profanity seemed to be the man's strong suit.

On the receiving end was a typical Saturday morning dog--a big running setter with a merry tail and lots of energy. And, like most other Saturday morning dogs, Sparky seemed completely unimpressed by his master's orders and threats. As he bounded, I'm certain his thoughts were along the lines of, "This guy of mine is obviously no philosopher; everybody knows birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, and dogs gotta run."

Ultimately, when he had investigated everything that had kept him running, Sparky went in to see what his master was yelling about. Only then did the man beat the tar out of the him.

Now think about it. As long as Sparky was ignoring his handler, nothing bad happened to him. But as soon as he obeyed his master's command ("Get in here!") he got beat up. As Dad pointed out, one needn't be a Sesame Street graduate to answer this one: What did man teach dog?

Dogs are born with potential, but good dogs are made. Ol' Sparky might have been the pick of the litter out of a well-bred line of quality setters, but let's face it, he was not going to teach himself to be obedient.

Unfortunately, neither was his owner.

Instead, that chowderhead seemed intent on embodying all the mistakes that might be made in training a dog--sort of a find-the-10-things-wrong-with-this-picture exercise come to life.

There are no mistakes--only lessons. When I read that in a fortune cookie 20 years ago, it hit me just right. The idea, of course, is founded in the truism that we must all learn from our mistakes. After half a lifetime of working with bird dogs, I can tell you that (by fortune cookie definition) I've personally received a lot of lessons. In my compulsion to quantify everything, I made up a list of the top 10 most common lessons my dogs have taught me. See how many you recognize.

1. So waddya want from me?

By far, the most common mistake made by first-time bird dog owners is not knowing what they want the dog to do. They have unknown expectations. Oh, they might say, "I want him to find birds," or, "I want him to hunt."

Sure. Me too.

But let's get specific. How far away do you want him to be when he finds those birds? And what do you want him to do once he's found them? Do you want him to point? Retrieve? What sort of manners must he have? Will he do these things by himself, or are you going to have to teach him? And how are you, the trainer, going to go about turning him into the dog you want him to become?

The key question has to be: How much dog do you want? For most of us, the right answer lies somewhere between the perfection of the U.S. National Amateur Shooting Dog champion and the opposite extreme--those untrained bird dogs that can been seen running amuck at public shooting areas.

As a dog man, my father had very low expectations--he was always happy if his dog stayed within gun range and would find pheasants that were trying hard not to be found. Anything else was gravy. I might add that he was almost always happy with his dogs.

Perhaps your standards are higher. You might want a dog that points and retrieves and knows enough to do his business outside, but maybe things like being rock-steady to the gun and backing another dog on sight are things that don't mean a great deal to you. Understand, too, that there is a world of difference (read: "a huge amount of training") between a dog that points most of the birds he finds and one that points them all. The currency in dog training is time, and you can find out just how good you want Sparky to be by figuring out how much of that currency you're willing to spend on him.

What should you do?

Join a bird dog club. Go to a few field trials. Ask questions of people who have the sort of dog you'd like to own. Establish a list of things that are and are not important to you. A family meeting in which everyone can agree on what and what not to do in training the dog is a good start, especially if the dog is to be a family pet as well as your hunting partner. What's our plan for housebreaking the dog? If he's allowed in the house, where is he permitted and not permitted to go? What do we do when he barks?

So make your list. If you have a good idea of what you want your dog to become and a plan for getting him there, you've avoided the most common mistake of amateur bird dog owners. The actual nuts and bolts of training are something else, but with a plan and a goal, you're on your way.

Confession is supposed to be good for the soul. Here's mine: I was a young man, and had just started working with my second Brittany. At a dog club meeting I took to heart a statement by an experienced dog trainer. What he said was something along the lines of, "I wouldn't have a dog in my kennel that wouldn't back on sight."

I knew that it's a smart man who believes only half of what he hears, and it's a wise man who knows which half to believe. I knew that, but I wasn't wise. Instead, I was just unsure of myself enough to take him at his word. After all, this guy had been at the game for years, and he should know what he's talking about. I temporarily abandoned my attempts to get my new Brittany to quarter, and instead worked on something that, in truth, is a very minor form of manners, something that only becomes important in specific situations.

The happy part of this story is that only a few weeks passed before I happened to be at a club field trial and had an opportunity to observe the expert's dogs. Not only were they runaways, but they didn't back, either.

In your own training, I hope you will be wise and realize that the only things your dog should do are those things that are important to you, not to someone else.

2. Why do you have to treat me like a dog?

Whenever I talk obedience, someone always says, "I would make him do that, but it would mean coming down hard on the dog, and I don't want to break his spirit."

Now, I'll admit that "not breaking the dog's spirit" sounds like the sort of thing you can hang your hat on. But if a dog's spirit was such a delicate thing that discipline would break it, then being imprisoned in a kennel for days at a time would absolutely destroy it.

It isn't, and it doesn't.

The truly good bird dogs I've known have been obedient, but were hardly dispirited. If a man enjoys seeing a dog run free with no regard for his master, then there are several breeds to be recommended to him, none of which are bird dogs. There is a non-mysterious combination of discipline and love that will turn any puppy into an obedient--but not spiritless--bird dog.

In a greatly simplified definition lifted from the guidebook of the Mulak Institute of Corrective Dog Behavior, dog training amounts to a demonstration phase in which the dog is shown what you want of him; followed by an enforcement phase consisting of repetition in a controlled situation with rewards for performance and reprimands for improper behavior. This is true of all dog training, no matter what is being taught.

The enforcement part involves reward when the dog does right. Every puppy has his own "handle"--the one thing that he best responds to. Some will do anything for a treat, some love to fetch things. With others, praise is everything they'll ever want. Dog trainers will tell you to find your pup's handle, then use it and use it and use it.

No problem there.

But the other half of the equation calls for reprimand when the dog does wrong. In my part of the country, humane people have done a wonderful job in many areas that needed their good attentions. Some, however, have taken the idea of "humane treatment" too far and have produced an almost McCarthyish fear among folks. People act as though there isn't much you can do to a dog this side of raising your voice, and they're not too sure about that.

Like Frank Roach, who I quoted in the opening epigram, I wish I could just leave the dog a note. I really do. But that won't work. You need to be physical. Get mad, jump up and down, or swat him with your hat if you have to--but physically let him know that what he has done is the direct cause of your displeasure. If the dog wants to please you--and most dogs do--sometimes that's all it takes.

Grabbing dogs by their collars in this situation is something I don't like to do for several reasons, but mostly because the dogs I've owned have usually been smaller than me, and there seems to be a leverage effect that can damage their necks. Another reason has to do with the number of times I must collar them when I'm not reprimanding them.

Instead, when it becomes necessary to get physical, I grab a handful of ear and face and lead them to the scene of the crime. They don't like it, and tend to remember what it is I'm angry about. (In regard to using ears as handles, I should say that if you yank hard enough you can injure your dog--but I think you realize that. Lyndon Johnson got himself into a heap of trouble when he lifted his basset hound by the ears a few years back, so I'd advise against doing this sort of thing on national TV if you're the president of a large country.)

A rhetorical question: Why is it that just about every dog will sit on command, but there isn't one in a dozen that will stop when his owner hollers "Whoa!"? The "whoa" command is certainly the more useful and important of the two. The difference, of course, is in the enforcement.

This is where the gladiators are separated from the gladiolas. To enforce "sit" the trainer gently pushes on the dog's rear end until he sits. It's easy, and it gets results. Enforcement of "whoa," however, does not involve gently doing anything. Instead, you must chase after the dog and physically pick him up and return him to the spot where he was supposed to stop, and do it all in a way that lets Sparky know you are unhappy with his performance. It has to be done that way. Asking him to stop won't work. Neither will chewing him out, arguing with him, or telling him what you're going to do if he doesn't get with the program. There are times when nothing short of smacking the dog will suffice. At such times, don't fool around--smack him. It has nothing to do with your being a nice guy or an SOB. It has a great deal to do with your being an effective trainer.

Universally, the people who have success training dogs realize that dogs are animals, and that they are animal trainers. Human kindness is fine, but only when applied to humans. Each day, you should have a chitchat with your dog. It should begin with, "You, Sparky, are a dog. That means you are an animal, not a person. Do you understand that?" Then (and this is the most important part of the whole chitchat) "Do I?"

3. I can't hear you over the static.

Whoa..I said whoa. Now stop...Hey, I said hold it!...You, whoa! Right now!...Did you hear me? I said whoa, dammit...WHOA!...Don't take another step or I'm gonna swatcha one...Now stay right there...Hey, who told you to move? Did I say go ahead?...Hold it!...You stop when I say whoa...Dammit, come back here. Whoa!

Don't blame Sparky--hell, you'd run away too. Unfortunately, that tirade is not an exaggeration. Both you and I have heard far worse.

Dog handlers are supposed to put out information, and bird dogs are supposed to pick it up. But, let's face it, even a smart dog is not highly conversant in the English language.

Anything the dog cannot understand is static and, in essence, bad information. By their actions, dogs have been trying to teach us that for a long time. A certain amount of muttering is forgivable, but dog handlers--the good ones--are careful to use clear, consistent commands that the dog is capable of picking up. The best check is to just listen to yourself once in a while--use a pocket tape recorder if you have one, but listen. How many times do you repeat a command? How much static do you put out? How many words? How many syllables?

After 20 years in the engine room of a ship, my hearing is not what it once was. I seem to hear my wife better when she prefaces her conversations with my name, as in "Steven, the TV is too loud." It works with dogs, too. Whenever I use the dog's name first, the chances that he will hear my command and do what I'm asking are improved considerably.

My brother once had a dog that he named Dusty, and when we hunted together with my dog Duffy, it proved to be a most graphic illustration of the canine version of the old "sounds-like" game. I resolved to be careful of that sort of thing whenever I could. And it doesn't just involve names, either. "Whoa" always sounded like "No" to me. When George Bird Evans made an issue out of substituting the nonconfusing word "Hold" in place of "Whoa," I jumped to it. I've been shouting "Hut!" to five generations of dogs since.

I have walked behind men at field trials who only spoke to their dogs when they were doing wrong. When you listen to yourself talking to your dog, be sure that each rebuke for a wrong is balanced with praise for something done right. Both represent useful information. And while there is much to be conveyed by the tone of your voice, there is seldom any positive information in that.

Be aware that your dog is hungry for information. It can take the form of the spoken word, a whistle, a hand signal, or even the signs you give him through body language. Be sure the signals you send him are in a form he can understand.

4. Your lips tell me no, but it's yes in your heart.

Dogs are not robots with an on/off switch. The dog is learning whenever he is with you--not just during actual training sessions. Since you can't stop Sparky from learning, it follows that whatever you permit the dog to do (that is, whatever goes uncorrected), you are teaching the dog to do. If you are permitting him to sit on the car seat, then you are teaching him to sit on the car seat. If you let him chew on the birds he's retrieving, then you are teaching him to chew on birds. Piddling in the cellar, jumping on people's laps, barking--anything you might want to name: If you're there, you're teaching him to do it.

Based on that, one might argue--and people like me often do--that a puppy should not be allowed to do anything that he will later have to be taught not to do. That goes for domestic things as well as chasing birds and running amuck in the field. Believe me, compared to untraining, not permitting bad habits to take hold is a piece of cake.

This is a terrible thing to say--the sort that a sensible man would deny if he were quoted--but training a dog can be a good way to find out if you've got the temperament to raise kids. It takes commitment. Your dog will be as good as you want him to be. Again: The currency in dog training is time, and you can find out just how good you want him to be by figuring out how much of that currency you're willing to spend on him.

There are no secrets to dog training, but if there were, one of them would be that anyone can have a good dog just so long as he or she adheres to the "steady strain" approach to dog training; 5 or 10 minutes per day every day is a steady strain, and gets far better results than an hour once a week on a Saturday. Good dogs require an investment in long-term training.

And remember that you're training him even when you don't think you are.

5. I don't have to obey you unless...

This lesson should be news to nobody. It says that inconsistency of enforcement--that is, allowing Sparky to decide which commands he wants to obey--is a mistake.

Effective training is a matter of controlling the situation. Circumstances where you do not have some measure of control should be avoided. When you're starting out, it's a good idea to keep a check cord on your puppy--that's control. Conduct your first few lessons in a fenced in yard where distractions are at a minimum. That's control, too.

Ultimately you have to do some training afield, and "controlling the situation" amounts to your own physical enforcement of your commands. So it follows that if you holler "whoa" but Sparky decides to keep running, you should be in a position to so something about it. It might mean tugging on a check cord or pushing the zap button for a shock collar, but most of the time it means running after him and demonstrating your displeasure in an emphatic manner. Now, here's the rub: if you are not prepared to do that, then don't tell him to stop!

Sparky may be a dog, but he's no dummy. Every moment that he's with you he's learning and absorbing his training, both the positive and the negative. It doesn't take him long to figure out what he can get away with. And what he tries to teach you about your inconsistency is that "I don't have to obey the guy unless...":

1. He is within grabbing distance of me.

2. He tells me three times.

3. We are in the back yard.

4. He yells.

5. He puts a check cord on me.

Don't give him the chance to arrive at those conclusions. Be consistent.

If you're going to minimize frustration and enjoy your dog all through his lifetime, the most important lesson you can ever teach him (and I do mean the single most important lesson) is that he will receive immediate retribution whenever he does not do something that you tell him to do. Don't think that you'll be constantly smacking your dog; once he learns The Big One you may never have to smack him again. You will have a trained dog. It's all a matter of consistency.

6. Look, Ma! No brakes!

I mentioned earlier that there wasn't one dog in a dozen that would stop on his owner's command. I was being charitable. Maybe its more like 1 in 50. "Whoa" (or a substitute such as "hold") is the most important command for any hunting dog, and the lack of that command is the primary reason there are so few good hunting dogs.

I could start Monday and end Sunday listing reasons why a bird dog must be 100 percent reliable on the "whoa" command. I could, but I won't. It's enough to say that without it you have no control over the dog in the field, and without control you can teach nothing.

Here's a list of what I consider to be the five most important commands that you can teach a bird dog:

1. "Whoa"

2. "Whoa"

3. "Whoa"

4. "Whoa"

5. "Whoa"

I don't mean to diminish any other aspect of dog training. Obedience training is certainly important. By the time he's three years old, a well-trained bird dogs will know 30 words and at least as many physical signals of one sort or another. Although there are enough books on obedience training to occupy several shelves at the local library, whenever I'm asked, I recommend Richard A. Wolters' Gun Dog.

But, again, if you can teach "whoa" to your hunting dog, you don't have much else to worry about.

7. How far is too far?

"The trouble with most bird dogs is a matter of range. Funny, though, I've never met a man whose dog was halfway obedient who had a problem with range." My friend Tom Lamica strung those two sentences together years ago. Tommy made a small living out of turning untrained dogs into hunters. He did it mostly with obedience, which says a lot about problem solving as it applies to bird dogs.

Chief among his bag of tricks was the command, "Out Front!" Accompanied by a hand signal, it required the dog to get in front of the handler. Once Tom had the dog trying to stay in front of him, he could teach the dog to cast back and forth by shifting directions as he walked, calling the dog to the front at each reverse of direction.

Using the same method, he was also able to control the dog's range. When the dog started to get too far out, Tom would turn around and yell "Out front!" I've used it on my dogs, and the dogs that I train, and all of them have learned very quickly what "Out Front!" means. It keeps the dogs where they belong, and teaches them the habit of checking in, which isn't such a bad idea either.

Ultimately, the invisible leash works best at controlling the dog's range. There are always times--usually during the first 20 minutes or so--when Sparky decides he knows more about range than you or I. At such times, there is no substitute for running after your dog and clearly letting him know that you mean business. After that, "Out Front!" is usually all it takes.

8. Attention, please!

I made the point earlier that successful training depends on being able to control the situation. Training with a buddy who's only along to keep you company diminishes that level of control because it distracts both you and Sparky. If your buddy is a professional bird dog trainer--a Frank Roach or a Richard Wolters--then by all means bring him with you. Most likely, he'll know enough not to distract you or the dog. Or if your buddy is willing to actually help--work a check cord or plant pigeons--welcome him as well. The bottom line is that when a dog is on the ground during a training session, he needs--and deserves--all of your attention. Usually, your friend's presence only adds to the dog's confusion.

Training with another dog around is nearly always a mistake. Sparky is not going to learn anything from the dog. Nothing useful, that is. Dogs have a way of reacting to one another that is universally counter-productive to training. Your attention as a trainer is split, even if the other dog is "fully trained." You can't win at that game. So don't play it.

Hunting season, on the other hand, is not training time. It is the time to enjoy the fruits of your labors. If your buddy wants to go with you then, fine. And if he wants to bring his dog, that's okay too.

But training is best done alone.

9. Birds, birds, birds!

After a lecture on dog training, I spoke to a man who was enthusiastic about getting started with his Brittany puppy. "I'm going to begin the first thing tomorrow," he told me. "Me and Sparky are headed up to Swift River."

"Why there?" I asked. Swift River was the local wildlife management area.

"Hell, that's where the pheasants are."

I shouldn't have been disappointed, but I was. My talk had been entitled "The Invisible Leash of Obedience," and if I had mentioned game birds, I wasn't aware of it.

The idea behind this lesson is that birds are not necessary in the early training of a bird dog. Obedience and handling are much more important to the dog's early development. Before Sparky gets into birds, where you'll have very little control of the situation, he should have the invisible leash of obedience on him.

Here's a point I believe in enough to repeat: If a bird dog is nothing more than a life support system for a nose, then we don't teach the nose anything; the dog himself teaches his nose everything it will ever know. All the training we give to the dog is addressed to the life-support system.

And for that, you don't need birds.

10. Was it something I did?

"You know, I paid good money for this dog." The man had just been told by the judge (me) to pick up because his Brittany wouldn't stop on command and had run past another dog's point and flushed a planted pheasant. The man shook his head. "I've worked with him for weeks."

"That's a good start," I told him. "Your dog's got all the desire in the world--keep at it."

But I knew he'd give up. When he wrote out the check for his puppy, he thought he had bought quality. Instead, he had bought potential. Then, walking out of the bird field with his dog on a lead, he didn't see quality as worth the additional cost he suddenly realized he must pay.

It is a sad commentary when a man who can afford thousands of dollars for guns and hunting rigs and the best in boots and clothes cannot seem to afford the time it takes to properly train a dog. People expect instant results, but dog training, like so many other worthwhile things in life, is far more a journey than a destination--a journey that too many dog owners give up on. Of all the bird dog training mistakes, "giving up" is probably the worst.

Like the man who scatters an expensive package of tomato seeds out of his window and then expects to harvest picture-perfect tomatoes, so, too, is the man who buys a well-bred puppy then takes him hunting and wonders why he "ain't like the picture on the package." You have to start them correctly, tend them with care, harden them off, set them in at the right time, nurture them with the things they need, support them as they grow, and be wise enough to enjoy the fruit they produce, regardless of whether or not it looks exactly like the picture on the package.

Those are the top ten "lessons" our dogs have been trying to teach us. The fact that we repeat them so often means we're not learning from our mistakes. You may have recognized a few that you've made. However, it's never too late. You can always turn that mistake into a lesson; recognizing it is a good place to start.