A Field Test of "Soul Glo"

I’ll admit it right off, when the bright yellow can of Field Soul Glo showed up in the mail, I set it down on the counter and gave it the same skeptical look I reserve for off-brand bourbon and anything that promises to “revolutionize” hunting. After all, I’ve tried just about everything on Traveller’s coat to fight the endless burs, seeds, and woodland velcro that comes back from the cover with him. For years, I’ve fought that endless battle with a variety of household products, wives’ suggestions, and a fair amount of profanity. I’ve used Pam, don’t ask me why, but an old-timer swore by it. The result was a dog who smelled like a discount diner and still looked like a walking Christmas wreath. I tried that old standby, “Horse ’n Mane,” which promised to tame tangles and slick up coats. It did, but it also gave Traveller the look of a Tennessee Walking Horse that belonged in the parade ring. Handsome, yes, but entirely unfit for a duck marsh.

Still, one evening, with Traveller laying at my feet sprouting burs like a porcupine, I figured “what the hell?”, it couldn’t make things worse. So I gave him a few spritzes of Field Soul Glo. The first thing I noticed was the smell: a heady blend of marsh mud, Aqua Net, and something that made me think of Lionel Richie on vinyl. Traveller didn’t seem to mind, though he did strut around the living room like he was waiting for a slow-motion camera pan.

The second thing I noticed was the shine. By God, the dog glowed. Not the subtle sheen of a healthy coat, but the kind of shine you’d expect on a bowling ball in a tournament. It was like someone had dipped him in mahogany lacquer. When he walked past the window, I had to shade my eyes.

The real test came the next morning. Traveller and I hit the marsh, the dog gleaming in the early sunrise like a freshly waxed truck. I worried the other hunters might see the reflection and think I was running a spotlight. Ducks circled, and I half expected them to flare from the glare he was putting off.

Sure enough, after a retrieve through a patch of cattails, he came back with a dozen burs clinging to his curls. Normally, this is where the battle begins, the long process of pinching, pulling, and swearing. But this time? They fell away with a flick of my hand, sliding off like marbles on linoleum. Traveller stood there proudly, his curls bouncing like he’d just stepped off a Soul Train stage. Seeds that usually took an act of Congress and a pair of scissors to extract just slipped off with a flick. Traveller stood there grinning while I worked through his coat faster than I’d ever managed in my life.

I must confess, it was the first time in years I didn’t dread the grooming part of the hunt. In fact, it almost felt enjoyable. (Not that I’d admit that to anyone else in the blind.)

By the time I was done, he looked less like a swamp-soaked retriever and more like a showpiece for the Westminster stage. If Westminster ever decided to add a category for “Disco Hunting Dog.” He strutted out to the truck with his little nub wagging like he knew he was turning heads.

So yes, I was hesitant. But now? Now I can’t imagine life without Field Soul Glo. The burs are easier to pull, Traveller looks like a lounge singer from the ’80s, and I swear some of my hunting partners watch him with envy. Traveller loves it. My wife tolerates it. And me? I’m a convert. I may look ridiculous carrying a can of disco-era dog spray in my blind bag, but I’ll tell you this: the days of pulling burs for hours on end are gone.

Would most hunters approve? Hard to say. But I’d wager even they would chuckle at a Boykin Spaniel glowing like a Vegas marquee and still eager to charge into the cattails.

And if you’ve got one of those long-haired sporting dogs: be it a shaggy spaniel, a feathered setter, or a retriever that seems to gather more weeds than ducks, do yourself a favor and give Field Soul Glo a whirl. It won’t make your dog hunt harder or your shooting any straighter, but it just might save your sanity after a day in the cover. Your dog will thank you, your fingers will thank you, and who knows, you might even discover that a little extra shine is just what your hunt was missing.