LIBRARY

In Memory of Talbot Radcliffe
by Jess Sekey, Bodedern, Isle of Anglesey, Wales

The shooting seasons of 1984-85 spent with Talbot at his estate home rank among the highlights of my life. The clays trudging through the woods and fields flew by as if blown by the Anglesey winds. Pheasants littered the estate. The Kennel was brimming with Saighton dogs, bitches and puppies. Gran, Talbot's nickname for his beloved wife, quietly moved about as unobtrusively as a wisp of fine hair on a gentle breeze. On shooting days, it was a pleasure to warm lunch for her. "Talbot's house pressed up against his lake. He loved to watch the water, welch weather, plants and wildlile from his living room. He liked to sit with his feet on his foot stool and a fire crackling in the metal stove on crisp days. The pleasure that he took from nature´s serenity antithetically blended with his worldly cleverness. People from numerous countries came to his estate to shoot, watch the spaniels, relax and enjoy. He easily chatted with the most affluent, successful and even powerful as he deftly carved a leg of lamb and a roast thick. He offered a regal host's flair while nestled in the Anglesey forest.

Talbot liked to tell about walking home from a neighbor's estate on the other side of Bodedern as a young man and shooting 24 woodcock with one box of 25 shells. He was a tireless walker and a robust man. He was proud of his youth, his ability to bat in cricket, and his shot gun shooting ability. He told about shooting in the big driven shoots with a gun bearer loading one of a matched set of Purdy's while he stopped two high flyers with the other gun. He told about going from estate to estate and shooting all day in this fashion. He quit shooting because the recoil hurt his neck terribly later in life. One day on a shoot when he was instructing a guest that was having trouble making good hits. the frustrated guest challenged his ability. Borrowing the man's gun, Talbot cheekily asked, "which wing of the next bird shall I break for you sir?" "Well done," said the guest when the bird hit the ground with the proper wing broken. When he would talk about his shooting, it was in conjunction with his remembrances about the spaniels. He admired Greatorex and the O'Vara line. He talked about establishing his line by obtaining an O'Vara bitch and by keeping a couple of O'Vara bitches alive during "The War" when all dogs were to be put down because they ate food needed for "The War" effort.

He had a wonderful eye for a dog; his acumen has greatly impacted the springer breed. He could point out a dogs strengths and weaknesses in a few clip words. He knew a superior dog at a glance. He gave advice only when asked. When he spoke about dogs, it was accurate and concise. He disdained discussing dogs bred by someone else. He did not hold mediocrity in low esteem; rather he scanned for the special specimen. He was expert at matching a dog with a handler. He taught that certain dog's personality profiles flourish only when matched with the proper handler style and ability. He was the master of the driven shoot. He anticipated where every beater should be with their dog. He listened deftly for the beaters as they pushed the birds forward. He predicted when the birds would fly. He positioned gunners expertly. The English springer spaniel world has lost its patriarch. lie has established a high standard for field bred spaniels. His legacy is our inheritance to cherish and enhance.