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A view from 30" off the ground

Living a happy & safe off-leash life – part XIV

Dogs being Dogs; prey drive & relationship building

“Prey drive” in domesticated dogs is a term that is thrown around by many pet owners without real understanding of its dynamics. Sad to say, the overwhelming majority of domesticated dogs have dysfunctional prey drive. Prey drive in most family/pet dogs is largely a set of manic behaviors that are only peripherally related to the true prey drive of their ancestors in the wild. What so many domesticated dogs have in abundance is energy but it’s coupled with high levels of frustration and restraint (think “leash”) and unsatisfying releases of their primal energy needs. This is paired with their owners “urbanized” approach to training (think Natural Dog Training-Drive Training and “Focused” Alternate Behaviors) for ways to deal with such behavior. Training that at best manages the dog’s behavior by offering outlets that too often leave the dog unfulfilled.

Unlike domesticated dogs, predators in the wild don’t hyperventilate every time they see a prey item. First they have control of their impulses. Second, they have to be hungry. Third, they have to have a reasonable chance of catching the item or they won’t chase it. This is because predators, dogs among them, are masters at conserving energy. They make all kinds of calculations about distance, cover, terrain etc before launching a chase. Why, because, if they’re not successful they will have to repeat the chase, perhaps soon, as survival depends on it. Fourth, they will only kill a prey item in order to feed themselves or family. They don’t randomly chase and kill prey items just because they can, as domesticated dogs do.

Too many pet dogs are indiscriminant chasers, no matter how hopeless the pursuit is or how often it may occur (in other words they don’t learn from their environment because they are not given the opportunity to do so by their owners) and worse, as often as not if they catch a cat or other small animal they will kill it but not eat it (although there are exceptions), which is a gross aberration in nature. Why do domesticated dogs behave this way? Because, we have not provided the learning environment for them to behave any differently, more importantly we have nurtured this kind of behavior.

Tearing up the neighbor’s cat or hopelessly running at a squirrel that is 50 yards away standing under a tree is only a step or two above tearing up the pillows on the sofa or ripping the stuffing out of a squeaky toy. It’s frustration without outlet or control.

I prefer a much different approach. As an example, when Nick was younger he and I spent time in the woods working on his attitude toward deer – a high level distraction when one is hunting or hiking - and a prime prey item. We searched for them, encountered them often, tracked and chased them through the woods with enthusiasm (him) and lots of praise (me) and over time he learned much about deer. As a predator, equipped as he is, prolonged deer chases are not a winning gambit. Oh sure, the short chase (100 yards or so) for the fun of spooking them back into the forest is a good jaunt now and then (an activity he stills enjoys on occasion). But it is not something that any longer holds great pull or mystery for Nick, and therefore he does not engage in it every time he sees a deer. It has lost a lot of its allure as he has done it enough to know there’s not much chance for success in terms of predation; that makes it far easier to call him off a chase if ever I choose, which brings us to recall.

At its core a dog’s own decision-making based on experience is more powerful than relying simply on a recall cue alone no matter how well it has been trained and proofed. What makes a recall reliably bomb-proof is its use in conjunction with the dog’s own experiences and decision processes, not simply as the result of requesting maximum restraint in the face of a most powerful instinctual lure, which brings us to the dog-human relationship.

As written previously, when Nick was younger we “hunted” deer together as a team. Often due to terrain and conditions I would see them before he would see or smell them. At those times through body language, facial expressions and either hand movements or a whispered cue I would send him off in the right direction knowing that his approach would cause the deer to move and thus show themselves to him. Later, as he got better at it he also learned to take the highest ground and to try to discern deer against the backdrop of the woods. An extraordinarily difficult thing for a dog to do based on its eyesight alone, if the deer is frozen still and upwind thus not showing movement or detectable scent. So in a few important ways he came to count on me – much as he does when I send him on a blind retrieve when he has not seen the fall. Family/pet dogs rarely if ever look to their owners for assistance when they are going after or about to go after a squirrel, cat or other small animal. Usually it’s quite the opposite. At best the dog may look for a release of restraint.

So with a small, occasional assist from me Nick taught himself the lesson of deer and no more powerful a lesson can be learned than one a dog teaches itself. Yes, it was a calculated risk on my part that he would not get injured along the way. But such an important lesson can’t always be learned without risk, just as his career as gundog is not without risk and a certain amount of danger.

Some would say the proper approach would be to teach a focus cue, reward him for not leaving my side and perhaps play a little tug with him to release his “prey drive” energy. While that approach may have its value for some it falls short for me. Results are not as predictable or reliable with a high prey drive dog so that does not fit well for Nick. He has earned far more than that. Moreover, It would require me to be on constant vigil when hiking and for him to have a more limited range of separation from me when we are in the field or woods – both of which undermine mutual confidence and trust and don’t suit our natures or lifestyle.

No it is not possible to recreate this scenario with all prey animals we have the potential to meet, but it's also not necessary. Lately a red fox(es) has taken up roots in our community due in part to the abundant supply of rabbits and moles. Nick has chased it through the woods and across the creek. I don’t suppose there will ever be enough instances to create a full sample of “fox learning” but in important ways he has had so much experience behaving as a predator rather than a frustrated domesticated dog that I can see by the shortness of some of these chases that learning, like skills, is transferable. Invariably he returns back through the woods without any need to recall him. I trust both his decision-making abilities regarding the chase and also our relationship, were I inclined to call him back at any time.

Birds, of course, are a different issue…Nick has been brought up and trained with birds as the ultimate prey item because he has had many, many experiences with live, wounded and dead ones. Layer on his DNA and hours of training and conditioning and you have a bird dog that is at a different level of alert around birds yet always under control.

A final oft repeated refrain. I am the first to admit that the way I live with Nick and some of my dogs that preceded him is not for everyone. Just as many folks know I don’t have any use for collars or leashes. I find they complicate more than they help and too quickly become a substitute for relationship building. They are primarily restraint devices and at best permanent management tools that inadvertently teach dogs lots of wrong lessons about being connected to their owners.

Again, I know my lifestyle with Nick is not for everyone and there are no judgments here, stated or implied. Just one man’s point of view based on his years of personal experience with dogs. I believe in what I do and how I live with my dog(s) as I know others feel the same about the choices they’ve made.

I also don’t have a lot of advice for others, I learned to stop offering it, lol, but I will close this passage with a thought. These days, many people seem preoccupied with how their dog sees and interprets its relationship with them. At times I think people tend to be too quick to try to find a label/definition for specific behaviors so they can find a book, trainer, method or tool to help fix or modify what they think needs changing. At those times, I think it’s best to take a step back and look at your dog in total, the whole is surely greater than the sum of its parts. My own observations of friends, family and strangers with their dogs is if they spent a bit more time engaged in building a relationship that fostered trust, confidence and companionship - which includes an individualized amount of risk – there would be less stress for all.

Live and enjoy life with your dog. The most perfect imperfect creature on the planet.

“He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant.

His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever — in case I need him. And I expect I will — as I always have. He is just my dog.”

Gene Hill (excerpt from “Just my dog” circa 1979)

Living a happy & safe off-leash life – part XIII

Companion

It is 36 degrees, overcast with light rain and gusty winds. For the past two hours my companion and I have hunkered down in these idyllic weather conditions amid pungent mud, wet tree roots and thick weeds at the edge of a small marsh. The sun is just beginning to brighten the horizon. I am trying to stay warm and semi-comfortable without moving. My companion, oblivious to the weather despite being soaking wet, is sitting at my side scanning the sky; sniffing the air with a discerning nose, as the wind swirls rain alternately in our faces and the sides of our head. Neither of us speak even though we share a common language. Silence is important, we want to be invisible. When you’re jump shooting ducks stealth is paramount. Every once in awhile I look over at my companion but he rarely looks at me. He’s calm but intent on the reason why we’re enduring this soggy, self-imposed, silent vigil. Nevertheless, the warmth I feel inside comes from him. It’s at once reassuring and emboldening. I know today, like every other day, with certainty, he will hold up his end of the bargain if I hold up mine; and we both draw strength and confidence from each other based on that unspoken understanding. I can’t imagine being here without him. That’s why we are lifelong companions.

And then something catches his interest and he gives me a brief look to be sure I have seen it too. Something primal flows through his body as if the Homeland Security Alert just went from orange to red and he holds one of the two weapons keys. He looks at me again and I see it in his eyes, the softness is gone, his look has hardened with purpose and one can see him take the personal safety off his firing mechanism. There is an increase in vapor from his nose as his body warms with the flow of adrenaline in reaction to the change in circumstances. I feel him give me one last quick look and then born and built for purpose, for times like this, his eyes on the target, he sits quiet and ready. Amid the ensuing brief commotion he remains unflinchingly steady, his eyes like mine are tracking the fall. Over the fading echo I speak his name calmly, just once, and he is on his way to do his part before my mouth is fully closed.

Nick and I share this journey through life, bound by a relationship that grows ever-deepening roots with the passage of time. When day is done, fully spent, damp, dirty, tired and satisfied we luxuriate together in the unrivaled feelings of well-being that are borne of such a relationship. It is steeped in the things that make us each feel connected to our own inner core as well as each other’s. Once home, I head for the coffee and the recliner, Nick curls up next to me on the floor in his soft, worn, favorite bed. He lifts his head a last time and looks over his shoulder to be sure I’ve settled in. I tell him “good job today” and then with a satisfied sigh he drops off to sleep. I look down at him one more time and say, “I love you, bud” but he’s already in dreamland.

I experience a rich life with Nick because we nurture each other’s nature. What appeals to him are real opportunities for the expression of his ancestral instincts, not substituted, trainer devised and approximated activities. He wants his time on earth devoted to doing dog things not human contrived substitutions. I offer him such opportunities as best I can and in exchange he endures all our less than successful attempts to live out my half-baked visions and dreams. I understand he relishes the challenges that test his nerve and confidence in ways that allow him to build more of each. It is the ultimate gift and responsibility he gives me, his trust. For me, watching him grow with self-recognized accomplishment is one of the special joys in life.

For Nick and I our shared objective is learning through exploration and experimentation with the goal that his decision-making is productive and satisfying to him. Some say I take too many risks with him but I say it’s a far greater risk to cultivate a relationship with a dog that’s not built from the start on decisions and choices made by the dog. More importantly, what looks to some like a big risk is actually the result of a process of building on small steps over an unrushed period of time; an on-the-job course in life and companionship.

Nick and I are companions for life.

Living a happy & safe off-leash life – part XII

Waterfowl season

According to the 2009-10 Texas Department of Parks and Wildlife calendar duck and goose season opens in this region in a week. You don’t really need to consult the calendar however to know what’s coming just let your senses tell you or, if in doubt, check in with Nick.

The unrelenting heat and humidity of summer have eased off the gas. The hummingbirds that daily bombarded the feeders hanging in the yard have dwindled with the last of them leaving for Mexico and other points south. Squirrel activity is more urgent and obvious as they stock up for the coming months; and best of all the stifling humidity that hung like the cover on a bar-b-que has been lifted and the early mornings are at first cold, by recent contrast, with temperatures ranging in the 40s and not the 80s.

The cool morning breeze and the heavy layer of dew hold and carry the scents of the season like no other time. Each morning, hours before the sunrise, our routine begins. I open the front door and Nick takes those first few quick steps outside and pauses, head alert, nostrils working, deciding in which direction to move off. It’s one of those special times when you wish you could put yourself inside your dog and imagine what the morning is telling him about not only the day ahead but the night that just passed.

Every nocturnal visitor, the rabbit, raccoon, deer and fox, has left its scent crisscrossed in our yard and those of our neighbors while we slept. After a short recon Nick knows who’s been where, who visited us, who was busy elsewhere, and who may still be lingering nearby.

The cool air also carries the promise of a limitless day. I imagine world class marathoners get the same sense from the morning air. Humidity and heat play more heavily on their plans and strategies. Energy consumption must be more carefully rationed as it will be drained more quickly. I know Nick must have similar feelings. Dogs and other true predators are masters at conserving energy and using what they have to the fullest knowing innately how long it will take to recover in order to hunt, chase and kill again. A cool fall morning must feel like all restraints have been lifted, all bets are off, prey beware.

These mornings at the lake or in the woods near the creek, conservation is thrown to the wind. It’s as if the weather has doubled his capacity and he knows this will be one of those wonderful days – as most fall days are – that he will run and swim tirelessly – stopping only when I insist for my own reasons. At those times he fixes me with a maniacal grin, steam pumping from ever-working nostrils, eyes gleaming and scanning, ears tuning and adjusting all the while impatiently waiting to see or feel the slightest movement of any part of my body that initiates the sequence we humans go through to get from sitting to standing in preparation for walking. The slight shuffle of a foot for leverage; the small incline of the head forward in anticipation of standing up; the shift of weight through the hips from back to front; none are missed as Nick knows them all better than I do; they mean we're on the move again and off he goes.

Of course, Fall, in the “official” sense began more than a month ago but according to Nick the Texas Department of Parks and Wildlife is the arbiter of the change of seasons not the National Weather Service. As every working bird dog knows, it is the migratory patterns of waterfowl not the equinox that have a major influence on one’s life and touches one’s core.

So here we are approaching the end of October, a seminal moment in a Texas gundog’s life and he knows it as sure as it was 42 degrees this morning! This time of year water temperatures are still considerably higher than air temperatures so there is a lovely fog that drifts over the lake. It will be another hour or so until the morning sun burns it away.

These few short days before the season begins at the lake are filled with energy, anticipation and the pure joy of knowing that time is at hand.

Even the ducks and geese know something is different. Small formations of 3-4 glide in low, tilt their bodies, spread their wings to cut speed, stretch their feet forward and down, and then shush across the water in a perfect landing. Nick watches all this from shore with a greater interest than he did during the heat of August. For their part the birds are far more alert to his presence on shore. They sense the change in season just as acutely. “Dumb” ducks become cautious, easily spooked, wary prey; no longer willing to linger to see if the dog on shore or in the water is coming their way. This time of year at the first hint of movement they assume the worst and flee. All the while on shore there’s Nick, his ears up and slightly forward, nostrils working hard, eyes locked in on a couple of green-headed mallards and a brown hen. He studies and stores information for future encounters. At times he indulges a quick glance over at me and then all attention back to the ducks. He is reviewing the sequence; rehearsing it in his head as he has done countless times before. Waiting to hear his name – the method for releasing one’s dog for a retrieve. For even in close quarters with other dogs, a few rowdy hunters, shotgun fire and the air filled with birds a good dog waits for that one sound - his name - that will signal it's his turn to do what he was born and built to do. He is waiting for his turn to dance.

Simplicity itself. Imagine a bullet in the chamber, the hammer pulled back, waiting for the firing pin to strike to release an explosion of energy and purpose. Just the same see a dog, sitting on its haunches, eyes locked in on the unfolding scene, like a bullet sitting quietly in the chamber, and then that one sound the instant before the explosion, the click of the firing pin against the bullet, only in this case the click is a single word “Nick” but there is no less an explosion of energy, direction and purpose.

To watch a retriever go through the sequence is one of the most exhilarating experiences I know. That first explosion from the land, boat or blind to the water and then out to its target never gets old. Sometimes as a dog nears a bird if it can’t fly away it will dive under water to evade capture but the dog will dive under too, relentless in pursuit and completion of the retrieve. What’s remarkable about all this is as furiously as the predator goes after the prey, at the moment of capture a switch goes off. It’s as if Nick goes from hit and run driver to ambulance driver. A bird once retrieved is carried as if it were a raw egg which shall not be broken. I have seen Nick swim down a live duckling, grab it in mid-stroke and then carry it 50-75 yards back to shore, climb out of the water and place it ever so lightly on the ground. After a moments orientation the duckling tentatively rights itself, shakes its feathers out and quickly waddles away completely unhurt. I am not sure I could have carried it more carefully in the palms of my hands walking on land much less swim with it.

It’s 6:30am here, we've been up for two hours, but it's an hour before sunrise and as always we want to be there to greet it. We’re 20 minutes from the lake so it’s time to fill the travel cup with coffee and be on our way. Always fun to rehearse the sequence a bit more and brush away the last of the off-season rust.

Waterfowl season opens in one week.