It’s always fascinated me how family history is so often the origin to the things we love doing. My family has told the story about Great Grandma Moore sharing a berry patch with a black bear many times over the years. Before bird dogs, I didn’t pay much attention to what the woods had to offer in the months of July and August. Like a jungle, they are hot, humid, and full of bugs. Blackberries change from green to red and then finally match the color of a ripe choke cherry. Blueberries are gone and ambitious foragers collect hazel nuts. That’s how I knew we were getting close and that’s when Ben McKean made the trip from Minnesota to visit me. We took his dog to the woods in preparation for another season and that’s when it started getting serious. It’s where I learned about both of them and what it took to make up a champion.

I knew about Ben’s dog, but mostly on paper. He’s the sire to my own and in part where my interest first surfaced to write this column. If you study pedigrees, you might recognize some names behind him, like CH Ridge Creek Cody, Houston, and CH Houston’s Belle. I’ve heard him called several names, but formally in the Field Dog Stud Book, he’s “Northwoods Sir Gordon.” Some know him as “Gordo,” others dub him “Gordie.” I’ve always found it interesting and likely true that those with multiple nicknames are usually the ones whose personalities are big enough to support it. Call him what you like, he’s a sight to behold. Built long, tall, and rugged, weighing 54 lbs. throughout the months of autumn. His strapping white body is freckled with black ticks, and he has an evenly masked blocky, black head with warm, dark hazel eyes. A powerhouse of a dog, with magnificent carriage on point. I witnessed him competing in the woods this past spring and was left like most others who watched: wide eyed and smiling.

Ben McKean was a name I’d heard often in conversations surrounding grouse dog clubs and field trials, and I’ve found that his list of contacts in that relatively small, tight knit community is deep. A native Michigander, he’s the son of Don “Doc” McKean, a lifelong veterinarian and bird dog enthusiast. Between “Doc,” Ben, and their friends, they’ve seen enough to recognize a good setter. Ardent grouse hunters and devotees to the breed, Ben’s best and most influential memories were made chasing partridge behind dogs in the woods. Most of those early days, now 40 some years ago, he spent in the far northeast corner of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula on Drummond Island, alongside his father and close friend, Gordon Steffey, whose first name is no coincidence. Later in life, “Doc” introduced his son to the sport of field trialing, and Ben has spent the last 25 years committed to taking part in and supporting bird dog field trials. The first time I met him in person, he was judging, the second time he was chairman of the event, and the third time he was competing.

Competing in Bird Dog Field Trials

At the age of 53, Ben is what I would call the middle ground between old school and the new, maybe better described as a “bridge” who binds them. The way I would describe Ben is not as a dog “trainer” first, but instead as a “handler,” and he’s not likely to argue that statement. Though he and all dog owners are trainers by default, the type of dogs Ben seeks out and produces emphasize natural, inherent talent. The stuff you can’t train. He’s after a definitive type of the English setter, more specifically a field setter and even more so, a field trial setter. He wants a dog that has “it” in them, not one that you have to put “it” in. He has that in Gordo, and it became clear to me after spending time with them that he’s committed to giving him every opportunity to succeed. Ben understands and has an innate way of explaining how to allow the dog to show themselves.

Since they jumped the Atlantic in 1874, field trials have and always will be a game, subjectively judged in combination with how the dog applies themselves and the way in which the handler effectively “shows” that to the judges. Ben has a knack for bringing out the dog’s best side when competing. Something that’s taken years of both participation and observation to master. I’ve learned more watching Ben than anyone I’ve talked with yet about the importance of just that, but more importantly, how to do it. He told me, “You’ll learn a lot walking and watching braces run, but it wasn’t until I started judging that I really understood what needed to be there in order for dogs to win consistently.”

Winning a Field Trial Championship

Field trials can be challenging for a variety of reasons. Mother Nature often delivers the biggest of hurdles and in the upper Midwest states, the 2023 spring cover dog season was brutal. The Region 19 is made up of clubs from multiple states, and the Minnesota Grouse Dog Association (MGDA) was to host its Amateur Walking Shooting Dog Championship. After a long, persistent Minnesota-like winter made home courses unnavigable, it was decided to relocate the event under peculiar arrangement. Technically hosted by the MGDA, it was physically held on the storied grounds of the neighboring Chippewa Valley Grouse Dog Association, a result of the efforts by many volunteers from several clubs. They managed to pull it off together at that eleventh hour, something you don’t see every day in competitive dog trial communities and a testament to what they feel is essential for the future of their sport.

Gordy’s run at the Championship took place in the midst of extreme afternoon heat. From the start and until time was called, both he and his bracemate pushed hard, charging steadily forward. According to the field trial reporter’s notes, it was overheard in the gallery, “Eighty degrees isn’t slowing that dog down!” Gordy searched the likely covers, spending most the time just inside his bell’s range. When it began fading to quiet, Ben sang out in a low toned “Hey Yup” and like magic, the clinking sound of brass returned back to earshot. Followed by a white flash across the course, always to the front, it was as if they were performing long-distance ballet. Although I witnessed it, to justifiably describe the dance with accuracy I haven’t the words.

Final results were ultimately decided after the well-seasoned judges asked for a not so common “call back.” Gordy was on top of the short list of dogs and not long into the additional run, he was found standing tall and true, deep into a young cut of aspen. When Ben flushed, a woodcock sprung and whistled skyward. All things remained calm on the ground and Northwoods Sir Gordon earned both himself and Ben their first Championship title.

The Fulfillment of Running in Field Trials

Whether the intent is hunting and/or field trialing, for most bird dogs and their owners, the dawn of fall begins long before the calendar turns to autumn. Ben’s visit in early August was part of their preparation. We ran our dogs together in the woods for 45 minutes, then sat on a tailgate for three hours talking about why dogs trained by certain people always end up the same, concluding that the human ultimately plays a crucial part in the dog’s development and end results. He and I don’t train the same, and for that reason I think we both enjoyed the conversation as a chance to better understand and learn from each other’s reasonings and explanations. Listening to him explain his ambition to field trial with Gordy, I couldn’t help but be reminded of takeaways from the book, Field Trials, History, Management, and Judging Standards by William F. Brown:

“For the higher development of the setter and pointer in hunting, finding, and pointing game birds, by holding field trials to test the qualities of the dogs competing. Also, to show and convince the sportsmen that to watch the intelligent, energetic, and stylish work of the dog is more pleasant and interesting recreation than the actual killing of birds.”

At seven years old, Gordie arguably runs as well as he has in his career. Maybe better than any dog Ben’s ever owned and competed with before. Their target is on winning field trials, something I struggled to wrap my mind around before that day. I’ve always been a hunter first, with some later interests in cover dogs. But I’m in the beginning of that journey, living hardly past the first few chapters of William F. Brown’s field trial “bible.” After more than four decades of grouse hunting, Ben has killed a lot of birds over his dogs, many more than I have. After two and a half decades of field trialing, he’s been a part of winning and placing in a lot of trials, more than most that competitors ever will. It started to make some sense to me. Ben’s been doing it a lot longer. His approach with his dog is a lot different because their reasoning and purpose is a lot different. He’s living much further into the pages of that book than I am, and those tailgate talks are like him sharing the cliff notes with me.

I watched as Ben McKean received the blue ribbon and Championship plaque at the Region 19 Championship this past spring. They were congratulated by a supportive crowd of competitors, peers, and friends. After a long quiet pause and with tears in his eyes, he shared with the group how much it meant to him. Ben lost his dad just months before the trial and although “Doc” wasn’t there in person to see Sir Gordon run, and hug Ben after their first Championship win, I’m quite certain he was looking down that day, with the greatest view of all. I asked Ben if he could bring the Championship plaque and ribbon along when he came to visit. He responded with, “Sorry, I can’t do that.” A little surprised, I asked him why. “I sent them to my dad’s friend Gordon, he’s watching over them for now.” Gordon’s now 93 years old and I’m sure taking good care. It’s funny how some things just seem to always find their way home.