Gundog handler and trainer, Jordan Horak, is known as the “dog whisperer” of cocker spaniels, beginning as a young up-and-comer to becoming a national pro.

A few years ago— late-October 2015, to be precise—I had the pleasure of hunting woodcock in central Wisconsin with Jordan Horak and Breeze (Juggernaut Cool Breeze), Jordan’s electrifying English cocker spaniel. Actually, I tagged along and took pictures while Jordan handled Breeze and a couple of other guys banged away at the woodcock she put up; the point is I was there.

At the time Jordan, who’d been described to me as a “dog whisperer,” was a young up-and-comer on the cocker spaniel scene. Despite competing in field trials only since the previous fall—and despite being largely self-taught and having minimal training “infrastructure” (grounds, birds, etc.)—he’d already titled one dog, Rocky (Juggernaut Rockin’ the Field), and was within a point or two of finishing Breeze. Forty-eight hours after our hunt, in fact, he was leaving for Michigan to compete in his first-ever National Cocker Championship.

If any of this sounds vaguely familiar, it could be because I wrote about Jordan, Breeze and that Wisconsin woodcock hunt in the March/April 2016 installment of the Sporting Classics Gundogs column. Speaking as someone increasingly afflicted with CRAFT syndrome—as in Can’t Remember A Freaking (sic) Thing— it also means that your memory is a hell of a lot better than mine.

One thing I remember as if it happened five minutes ago, however, is the statement Jordan made while enjoying a post-hunt beer. I’d asked him about his expectations for the National, and he said, almost as if the question surprised him, “I plan on winning. That’s my approach whenever I enter a field trial. My expectation isn’t just to ‘make a good showing’ or ‘gain valuable experience.’ It’s to win.”

For the record, Jordan didn’t win. But he didn’t exactly lose, either. Out of a field of 87 dogs—many of them Field Champions, and most of them handled by professional trainers—Breeze placed third. She also earned the Guns Award, a prestigious honor given by the gun team to the dog they’d most like to hunt with. And while Rocky didn’t place, he did make it through to the fifth and final series, one of only 15 dogs to do so. Jordan, for his part, received the Best Amateur Handler Award.

All things considered, it was an incredibly impressive showing. “It was pretty amazing,” Jordan acknowledged when I called to congratulate him. “But I still haven’t won it.”

Cut to June of 2019 and to the Laclede Room in the posh Four Seasons Hotel, just a hoot and a holler from the Gateway Arch on the St. Louis riverfront. The good folks at Purina, led by Director of Sporting Dog Programs Karl Gunzer and Senior Communications Specialist Kayla Miller, had invited a select group of “dog people”—trainers, equipment manufacturers, writers, editors, publishers and photographers—to participate in an event called the Purina Pro Plan Outdoor Wire VIP Tour.

A mouthful, I know, but what it boiled down to was a fascinating glimpse into the inner workings of Purina and the stunningly complex process of manufacturing the dozens of dog foods sold under its name; a primer on the company’s history and the culture of excellence established by its founder, William H. Danforth; and a grad-school-worthy cram course on the cutting-edge science that goes into everything that bears the Purina label and helps Purina-fed dogs lead longer, healthier, higher-quality lives.

There was also a discussion of dog food myths and misconceptions led by Purina’s Chief Veterinary Officer, Dr. Kurt Venator, as well as a presentation on feeding strategies for optimum performance by Dr. Arleigh Reynolds, whose groundbreaking research has revolutionized our understanding of the nutritional needs of canine athletes.

Just as a point of information, both Venator and Reynolds are not only DVMs, but PhDs as well. For this clambake, Purina trotted out the Big Dogs.

We were treated to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium, too, which was great fun, though a rain delay made the start so late that by the end of the 3rd inning most of us old-timers, feeling the effects of the hour and possibly an adult beverage or two, opted to take the early bus back to the hotel.

The very first item on the agenda, though, was a cocktails-and-dinner reception…which brings me back to the Laclede Room at the Four Seasons Hotel. I knew that Jordan would be attending—he was slated to give a training demonstration at Purina Farms on the final morning of the tour—and I was looking forward to catching up with him. Among other things, I wanted to find out how his quest to win the National Championship was coming along.

It took me a few minutes to work my way across the room—there were some old friends I needed to say hello to, in particular the ageless Bob West, Purina’s long-time ambassador to the sporting dog community—but eventually I reached Jordan and stuck out my hand.

“Hey Jordan,” I said, “Good to see you. Have you won the National yet?”

He smiled at me the way a patient teacher might smile at a student who’s a little slow and said, “Yeah—two of them. The National Amateur last spring and the National Open last fall.”

This information quite literally stunned me.

“Wow,” I stammered, feeling (and sounding) like a complete dunce. “Congratulations. I had no idea.”

“That’s okay,” he said, still smiling beatifically. “I won the Amateur Championship in Wisconsin with Breeze—the dog you saw—and the Open Championship in New York with a dog named Cato (Warrener’s Sky Lark) who’s a little over three years old. I just turned pro, so from now on I’ll only be competing in open stakes.”

Following that evening’s festivities, the highlight of which was an inspiring presentation by Arleigh Reynolds (who lives in Fairbanks) on the Frank Attla Youth Sled Dog Program—an initiative that’s helping young people in Alaska’s indigenous villages reconnect with their cultural traditions, develop self-esteem and a sense of purpose, and break the cycles of addiction and suicide so heartbreakingly prevalent among the state’s native communities—I retired to my room. Before I turned in, though, I sent a snarky text to my friend Tom Ness, the famously cranky pro from North Dakota who’s been one of the top cocker guys in the country since the early days of the breed’s renaissance here: Ness, why didn’t you tell me that young Jordan Horak kicked your ass at last year’s National?

His reply was waiting when I turned on my phone the next morning—and it was pretty much exactly what I expected: You’d think that the @#$% gundogs editor of a major #$@*$ outdoor magazine would know what the %$#! is going on in the cocker world.

I was about to reply to the effect that I seemed to have a touched a nerve when I got another text from Tom: All kidding aside, Jordan’s a hell of a dog man—and a lot of us “old guard” types who’ve gotten a little set in our ways have had to raise our games to keep up with him.

I saw for myself how high Jordan has set the bar when he gave his training demonstration at Purina Farms, the sprawling event center and outdoor classroom recreation complex located in the rolling countryside west of St. Louis. Now, we all understand that when a flushing spaniel makes a “normal” cast from left-to-right or right-to-left, it travels in more-or-less a straight line. There may be a bit of an outward bow but not a lot.

Well, get this: Jordan teaches his dogs to make a cast, on a specific whistle signal, that scallops inward—that is, towards the handler. He demonstrated this move with Cato, his most recent National Champion, and while not everyone in the audience fully grasped its ramifications, those of who did were slack-jawed. Gundog people sometimes speak of dogs handling “as if they’re on the end of a string,” but Jordan Horak’s dogs handle as if they’re remote-controlled.

A dog whisperer, indeed.