21. le Field Trial
When you stop to think about it, much of life resembles a field trial. Entering fields that are strange and confusing, though bright with promise. Mistakes are made. Learning follows. My favorite French expression is c’est en forgeant, on devient forgeron. It is in blacksmithing that one becomes a blacksmith. The too-hot fire, the busted knuckle, the misshapen ax head.
Learning French is its own field trial. One forgets that this is how life begins, how our maternal language is acquired. We listen to mom, we offer our sounds back to her, we slowly develop the ability to communicate orally. Oddly enough, then we go to school and take a course in “English.” Why do we do that? To learn that the language we are already using has vast range, rules for proper speaking and writing, and the learning will go on for the rest of our lives.
When it comes to learning another language, as an adult, well, now we are not children but have learned to read and see in our minds eye how words are spelled. Funnily enough, this makes learning another language challenging. I teach French now, and you can sense which learners rely on seeing more than hearing, the latter group much more willing to try to become children again. But we all lie on a spectrum, and another language is learned as we shuttle between our adult and our child selves.
As we banter along at the table, people curious what we are doing in the Berry in a remote part of France, in a barn in a field, I shuttle between my adult and my child. You learn by persistence, by being willing to make mistakes, through listening to French and becoming comfortable with confusion, 15% becoming 30% comprehension, taking what can be taken and patiently waiting for more understanding. The same with speaking.
And guess what? I get to draft behind the language skills of my beautiful wife. If I am wearying—a three-hour lunch with conversation taxes one—there she is, carrying on without obvious struggle. I can take a break, smile and nod, and rest for a moment.
We meet a lovely woman who lives in the Champagne region. She sees obvious talent in Marcel and asks if she can be of assistance? She could work the field with him next time. Or we could come to her and she could put me through the paces and acquaint me with how to work Marcel in the field. I am motivated to be more adept at this and also want to relax and enjoy the ride next time. I think she also wonders whether he’d be good in the show ring. She shows dogs professionally.
Back in Courances and our first field trial behind us, we contact her. The plan is to come to her house in the Champagne region north-east of Paris. That’s not too far from us. It is an area of France I do not know. “Doing research” – the all-purpose excuse.
We go up for the day. Meet her at her modest house. The house of someone who shows dogs, trains dogs, loves dogs. A sort of Dog House with adults living there too. She has a special field nearby. She teaches me how to leave Marcel alone, trusting his innate aptitude naturelle. When and how to signal him that he’s ranged enough in one direction and it’s time to reverse course. How to watch for his picking up scent and then encouraging him. She suggests when I go home to continue to work with him by getting some live birds. The chateau grounds will be perfect for this.
Of course, like everything with a dog, you are not training him, so much as him training you. I buy a couple of quail in the neighboring village of Dannemois from a man who raises them, and off we go to the park. The little birds chirping away in the make-shift container he’s given to me for transporting in the car. Home, I get Marcel, the gate key, and off we go.
He’s revved up just at the noise and smell of them. I tie him up at some distance, out of sight, as I prepare. I know about placing quail from hunting them in Texas. You take a small sack and gently swing them in it. It makes them dizzy and “calms” them so you can find a place to nest them. In low brush, their habitat in the wild.
OK, good. Let’s see how Marcel does. He needs to associate what we are doing together with what we are going to do in a field trial. Chris is with me. Quail are part of the deal. This means we are doing something out-of-the-ordinary. I’m not just romping around in the park.
I’ve learned he doesn’t need much help. No whistle. Voice commands so he looks at me and sees me pointing right or left. That does it. Our trial is a success. He ranges, points, holds, and I then let him catch the live bird in his mouth and bring it to me. With a lot of dogs, that is a challenge. They don’t want to give the prey up. Marcel has a “soft mouth” and hands him over. I break their neck—sorry—and back home we go. I clean the birds for a nice quail popper: quail stuffed with cream cheese and wrapped in bacon and then baked until golden brown.
The point of this preparation is to make me feel familiar with what is going on. Bird, terrain, Marcel, his movements and manner of scenting. We find a field trial number 2. Another new area of France to explore.
The short story here is that Marcel is a big success. I am proud. Elizabeth and I enjoy the same test d’aptitude naturelle fellowship and fun. Marcel passes his field trial. I think the word has gotten around that I have a great dog and a new person has come to see him work.
This lunch is more relaxed, or I am, and so enjoy it more. The new man and some experienced Braque owners come to congratulate me and Elizabeth. They want Marcel to enter the “best under threes in France” competition, to be held toward the end of summer in Cognac. In the Charente, about 4 hours by car from Courances.
I’ll check my calendar, I say, but know we will make this happen. On se tient au courant. We’ll stay in touch.
We drive back so happy and proud. Our dog has passed his field trial and more than that, he has been invited to compete with the best in France. Perhaps his brother Marquis will be there.
Marcel sleeps in his little ‘cabin’ the station wagon. This is the France we came to enjoy.