I had two English pointers.
One was a huge lemon and brown, big running female, out of the Elhew line. Absolutely impossible to keep up with her on foot. She would run across a 300 yard wide muddy plowed field, and point a bird on the other side. She would hold point like a statue, but by the time that you slogged across that field on foot, the bird would be gone, and you would be shaking and drenched in sweat.
The other was a small, scrawny male, liver spotted named Dough, who ambled along slowly and sniffed absolutely everything. Would not run even medium distances. But, he pointed every bird he ever got within distance of, and held locked solid.
Three years of those two dogs were enough. I gave them away for free to someone I trusted, rather than selling them to a stranger.
By the time I left Memphis 10 years ago, it was impossible to find decent land to hunt (there was plenty of land, plowed right up to the road pavement, with no birds), and the field trial crowd was rich and very snotty.
Wish I had been around in the 50s when the hunting was really great.