Another Hunt Training Day in Spokane

We made the drive up to Spokane this morning for another Spokane Bird Dog Association training day.  Both Maple and Alder came, but I only worked with Maple. Alder enjoyed a run on the grounds before training started.  He lounged in the van during the training.

Maple was much calmer for this one. (“Oh, I get it now. I have to wait my turn.”)  I learned more than Maple this time.  Paul, one of the SBDA guys working with the less experienced dogs and handlers, showed me how to release the leash at the line and gave pointers on how to send and the procedures to expect at a trial.

Maple, waiting for the bird.

Maple, with her duck

Maple went swimming after we worked on marks and retrieving.  I had not intended to do any water retrieves with her, because it was cold, with snow on the ground and ice at the edges of puddles.  I let her loose with a group of young dogs being encouraged to splash around in shallow water.  Maple saw someone with a bumper and took matters into her own paws.  She swam out and waited until I borrowed a bumper and threw it for her.  I only tossed one bumper for her, but she swam out again, going way out and paddling blissfully around.  I was surprised she wasn’t shivering when I toweled her off at the van, but her undercoat felt mostly dry.  She’s like an orange seal.

Camas, part 2: Our Saturday Treats

Camas, my orange and white mixed-breed, is an elderly lady, approximately 13.5 years old. Thus far, she has remained remarkably healthy.  During the 5.5 years she has been with me, her most serious health issue has been the cracked carnassials tooth she had when I got her.  Nonetheless, her hearing is getting worse, and she exudes an increasing sense of frailty, reminders that she cannot live forever.  She is at the age when any slight sign of illness – a little diarrhea, an odd lump, a moment’s seeming hesitation to go on the morning walk – causes that sickening jolt of the stomach, familiar to all old dog owners.  It’s the fear that the final fatal old-age ailment has arrived. 

Last fall, acutely aware that Camas’s clock is winding down, I decided to devote a special time every week to Camas.  I began taking her with me to town on Saturday mornings when I do the grocery shopping.  None of the other three dogs get to come. On the way to the store, we stop at a city park and go for a walk.  It is her walk.  She sets the pace, sniffing and piddling as she sees fit.  To describe our speed as an “amble” would be generous.  Camas thoroughly examines all important scents, and there are (apparently) important odors every 6 inches.  Lately, I’ve begun to notice that her dawdling increases as we near the van and the end of the walk.  The old dog can still learn a few new tricks, it seems.  The walks are a treat for me, too.  With Camas, I can pay attention to the Bewick’s wren singing from the brush beside the river.  If I were to get so distracted walking my younger dogs, I’d be lucky if I didn’t end up in the river.

After the walk, we go to Safeway where Camas naps in the van.  Before I start the grocery shopping, I visit the coffee stand in the store.  I order a dry cappuccino and two donuts, the only donuts I allow myself for the week.  (Dieting tip: Eating donuts before shopping will eliminate the desire to buy junk food.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)  I save half a donut for Camas.  She gets to eat it in the van while I load the groceries.

Do something special with your old dog today.  Camas says to not forget the donuts.

What a Day

I’ve been doing basic hunt training with Maple and Alder.  I’ve never done hunt training, but diving in headlong with no idea what I’m doing has never stopped me before.  I’ve been learning from videos, books, and helpful tips from email lists. 

Up until today, training has largely been limited to me throwing marks using bumpers.  “Throwing marks” means to toss an object while the dog maintains a stay, then send the dog for the object.  Sometimes, George throws the bumpers.  Usually, it’s me putting the dog on a sit-stay, walking out 30-100 yards, tossing the bumper, and releasing the dog at that distance by yelling its name.  A couple weeks ago, I cautiously introduced the dogs to a gunshot at a long distance, with George firing as he tossed a bumper.  Maple has been completely unfazed by the gunshots, but Alder the poodle is still a bit rattled by them.

I’ve had a few dead birds to work the dogs with, but the dogs don’t get much time on each bird.  Repeated freezing and thawing, being slung around and falling on the ground, and being slobbered on by dogs takes a lot out a bird in a short period of time.  Foolish me, I’ve always disposed of the birds when they start to look shabby and before they get really smelly.  Among the many things I learned today is that I’ve been much too finicky with my bird supply. 

Today, I went to my very first training day, put on by the Spokane Bird Dog Association.  The dogs got to see a real hunt test set-up, with bird boys throwing ducks and pigeons, gun shots, and lots of very excited labs and goldens.  None of the other dogs were more excited than Maple.  She could see birds being thrown while she waited in line and she was absolutely certain that she deserved them all.  I thought she might be hesitant to run towards strangers firing guns.  Ha ha. Not a chance. She sees a bird drop and she motors out like her tail’s on fire.  She rarely breaks at home, but I had to hold her collar today.  I thought she might have trouble with real birds, since she mostly picks up bumpers. No problem with the pigeons, except that she tended to stop just before she got back to me and drop the bird.  Something to work on.

The ducks were tougher. They’re a lot bigger than pigeons and I’ve only recently gotten a duck to use at home.  She did two ducks. She wasn’t bad on the first one.  She didn’t want to pick it up at first, but did it with some encouragement. The second one was another matter entirely.  She raced out to it…and started having a wonderful time rolling on it.  I got her to pick it up and bring it partway back, when she dropped it and commenced with another roll-fest.

The duck, as it turned out, was beyond rank.  Any self-respecting maggot would have bypassed this duck.  Evidently, I am not the only dog trainer that has limited access to ducks.  Ducks are so cherished, they are used, frozen, and reused until parts are rotting and falling off.  It was a wonder this duck still had two wings (what was left of them) and a head.  Bleech. Double Bleech.  I say this as a vertebrate museum curator that has skinned many a road-killed specimen that has lain on black asphalt in July sunshine for many hours before being picked up and generously donated to the museum.  That duck had been ready to become fertilizer many months prior to this training day.

Alder, the poodle boy, I am afraid, did not make poodledom proud.  He looked good for the first few seconds.  To my surprise, even with the gunshot, he bounded out with enthusiasm to the thrown pigeon, but then realized that a) it was a bird instead of a bumper and b) THE MAN SHOOTING THE SCARY GUN WAS HIDING OUT THERE.  No way was Alder getting near that guy, and when the guy tried tossing the pigeon around to encourage Alder to get it, Alder was out of there.  It is unlikely that any of the lab or golden owners who watched Alder will be rushing out to buy a poodle as their next hunting dog.  Luckily, I have shown Alder in obedience long enough to become immune to embarrassment.

Afterwards, we went to another part of the training grounds and took a walk with the dogs.  They had a great time.  Retrieving in water was not part of this training day because it was windy and cold, but George threw the Dokken (a foam-bodied “duck” that the dogs love to retrieve) into a shallow pond for Maple.  Alder, now that he was out of sight of witnesses that might get the impression he had actually had some training, demanded his turns, too.  He especially liked that the water as so shallow, he didn’t have to get his tummy wet.  Alder hasn't read the memo that says poodles are supposed to be water retrievers.

All in all, a long, cold, windy day in which me and Maple learned a lot.  I was given two pigeons that I would have described as rank and smelly before dealing with the infamous duck.  By comparison, my two pigeons are fresh as daisies, but I am under stern orders to keep using them until their feet fall off and they morph into zombie pigeons.

Old lady Camas, part 1

It’s about time I wrote a little something about my two old ladies and added their photos to the side bar.  I’ll start with Camas, the orange and white girl, and the oldest of my dogs.  I have no idea what mix of breeds she is.  I’ve speculated husky and bird dog.  Husky, because of her very dense undercoat, short ears and dogs, tail in a loose curl over her back, and her somewhat independent nature.  Bird dog because of her orange and white color, amazing nose for birds, and sweet gentle disposition.  Others claim to see border collie in the shape of her face. Her natural attentiveness in training supports that idea.  But, who can really say, and what does it matter?  Camas is Camas. 

I got Camas in 2006, a couple months after my standard poodle, Cedar, had died.  I was deeply mired in grief.  We still had George’s elderly Brittany, Popcorn, but Popcorn was a strange, solitary dog.  I felt I needed a normal dog to come home to, but knew it was a bad time emotionally for me to be choosing a puppy.  I think of Camas as a “second-hand dog” more than a “rescue dog”.  She didn’t come from a bad home.  She was a farm dog that had lived most of her life unfenced and untied.  It was her bad luck that her human family got divorced.  Mom and the two kids moved into town, leaving Camas with the wheat-farming dad.  It was the late summer harvest season and the father was spending all daylight hours in the field.  Camas, seeking company, took to hanging out at a neighbor’s place a mile away and across a busy road. 

That neighbor was in the process of selling her house and soon moved out, but Camas was still visiting, probably drawn by the prospective buyer traffic.  Camas is quite the social butterfly.  As it turned out, the real estate agent, Carmel Travis, has a passion for dog rescue. She talked to Camas’s owner.  The owner agreed to let Camas be adopted out because she was either going to have to be tied up all the time or would eventually get hit by a car roaming around looking for company.

Camas’s former owners weren’t sure how old she was.  They agreed that they had gotten her from the dog pound in Lewiston, Idaho.  The husband thought she was an adult dog when they got her and that they had had her for about 8 years, which would have made her at least 9 years old in 2006.  The wife remembered her being a puppy and thought they had had her for 7 years.  I averaged their estimates and designated August 22, 1998 as her official birth date, the August 22 being the date I picked her up.  “Officially” that makes her about 13.5 years now, but she could be anywhere from 12.5 to over 14 years. 

Camas had never been inside a house when I got her.  She was, and still is, afraid of linoleum floors or any other smooth-looking surface.  I created “safe” islands and paths across the wood and linoleum floors with throw rugs.  Despite her fear of floors, within a few days, Camas had discovered the comfort of sleeping on a couch and the wonders of the kitchen with its treasure trove of goodies.  Within a week, she had decided that she had spent enough of her life outdoors.  She loves going for trips and car rides, and likes being outside when her people are outside, but otherwise sees no need to leave the house except for potty duties and to bark at coyotes.  She hates rain and snow.

AKC opened obedience to mixed breeds in 2010 when Camas was 11.5 years (officially).  I had casually been training Camas so she wouldn’t feel left out.  When it became clear that AKC was finally going to allow mixes, I rushed Camas through Novice training. Shows that allowed mixes were scarce in that first year.  I made the 6-hour drive to Missoula (much further than I would normally go for a Novice leg) to get her 2^nd, 3^rd, and 4^th Novice and Rally Novice legs in June 2010 shortly before Camas turned 12.  Later that fall, after Camas turned 12, she picked up her 3 Rally Advanced legs.  Camas is a smidgeon under 20 inches, the dividing line between the 12” and the 16” Rally height.  Her dense fluffy hair makes her look taller. A judge with a generous measuring tape would have put her in the 16 inch class.  I entered her in the 12 inch jump class, because, at her age, 16” was out of the question.  Luckily, we got Rally judges that didn’t question the 12” height.  For those readers thinking that I was mistreating an old dog encouraging her to jump, Camas was still voluntarily leaping over logs on walks in the woods as recently as last summer.  Still, the 12” jump was a challenge for her and on every one of her Rally Advanced runs, she refused it on the first try.  But she is a trooper and always took it on the second try, finishing her Rally Advanced title in 3 runs.  In fact, Camas Q’d on every regular Novice and Rally run we did.  Overcoming her fear of strange surfaces, such as mats, was our biggest challenge.  Her scores were all over the place.  Camas is a natural heeling, a dog that barely needed training, she is so attentive.  Her scores were good, when she wasn’t worried about the floor.  They were barely passing if she was worried about the mats or if she thought she saw or smelled something she felt she had to dodge around. 

Camas in Rally Novice in Missoula, summer, 2010. 

I’ve shown Camas a few times in Veterans because she absolutely loves going to shows.  She is still the social butterfly.  I only use the Veteran entry as an excuse to bring her along to shows sometimes.  She doesn’t hold her sit anymore and has the occasional moment of forgetfulness. 

For the sidebar, I chose a picture of Camas lying with her front paws crossed. She often strikes that pose. Her eyes cross slightly, too.  After she is gone, I think my most distinct memory of her will always be looking down at her funny crossed eyes and eager face during the heeling exercise.