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The storm, like many spring storms in the Midwest, arrived with gusto. Lashing rain, booming thunder intermixed with blazing flashes of lightening and the howl of high winds. A hundred miles northwest of my farm the rain was turning to sleet and within a few hours it would start to change to snow.Standing at the window of my office, in a hundred year old farmhouse high on a hill, I thought of those who were braving the elements to put on the event. In my minds-eye I could picture the judges, tracklayers and committee people sloshing through the rain. Bent over from the wind, with rain running down their faces, they plodded on, plotting the magnificent tracks for tomorrow’s test. A bolt of lightening crashed nearby and flung me from my daydreams back to the present. I reached down and picked up a tennis ball and headed off to play with my dogs. My worrying about the weather was not going to change it.
Early Sunday morning I awoke with a start. At first I thought it was the thunder and lightening but I quickly determined that it was the almost deafening silence of the storm that startled me. Looking out the window I saw a light drizzle falling and noticed that the winds were down to almost manageable levels for tracking. Briefly I allowed a small smile to creep across my face. Perhaps this would be the day.
Driving south I arrived in the rain and blustery winds of Chicagoland to face yet another test of teamwork against the elements. After a few minutes of camaraderie, I was called to reach for the small memento, which would tell me my running order. I reached out and clutched the small piece of leather in my hand and read the number. Walking back to my car, I started to go through my test-day routine. Making sure all of the items I’d need were ready, double-checking the “lucky” items I always carry and of course keeping an eye on the weather while watching the other dogs work their tracks.Almost too soon it was our turn. As we walked to the start flag I allowed myself a smile as the drizzle stopped and the sun occasionally peeked from the clouds. Dillon downed at the start, I put on his harness, adjusted the long line and waited a full minute for him to gather in the scent of the start pad. Removing a sock, the start article, from his paws I told him to track.
Dillon’s starts appear to be a shot-from-a gun type of launch. After a few feet he settles down into a nice walking pace with his body performing only what I can describe as weave poling. Casting back and forth across the track, limiting the cast to the six inches or perhaps a foot on either side of the track itself. He actually appears to be running a long set of weave poles and when I see this body language … I have learned to follow.
We started on a strip of grass about 20 yards wide. To our left was a lightly traveled street, to our right a broad lawn and after 30 or so yards a pond down the right side. He tracked intently for sixty yards, crossed a driveway, and continued on down the lawn. Seventy-two yards later he crossed another driveway and continued on. After a long 226-yard start leg he indicated a corner to the right. Stopping to double check the corner, he followed blown scent into the street to our left. I allowed him the line to look and he crossed the narrow street. When he reached the curb on the other side, now about 10 yards from the corner, he indicated loss of scent. As he prepared to return to the street, I saw a car coming from the left and an 18-wheel truck coming from the right. I told him to down and wait while I crossed and waited with him for the traffic to pass. Telling him to restart, he crossed the street, verified the corner and continued over a berm and into a parking lot.Crossing the parking lot he turned left at the wall of a building. Following the track along the asphalt and only a foot or so from the building wall, he worked the track. After about 40 yards his body language told me he was close to an article. He darted left about 7 yards into the parking lot and stopped at a white or gray square on the asphalt. He did not down but stood over it. When I got to the potential article I saw that it was only a soggy post-it note stuck to the asphalt. I told him to find his article and he returned to the track and in another 8 or so yards dropped next to a round leather coaster.
Restarting, he followed the track in the asphalt along the building for another 90 yards. At the end of the building he continued straight across a lawn and up to a small pond. At the pond he worked out a left corner and continued down a gravel and stone path, across another 10 yards of grass and marched across a street and into a concrete driveway. Downing next to a wet leather glove I asked him if he was sure it was “his” article. He stayed in a down position and I picked up the “extra” article. Later I was informed that the tracklayer had used the glove for her corner marker and had stepped on it a few hours earlier, so in fact, it was “his” article.Restarting in a ninety-degree angle from his leg into the glove, I questioned him. He glanced over his shoulder with that “ok … so who has the nose here – look” and continued across the driveway, over 8 yards of grass, crossed another driveway and 16 more yards of grass and stopped. In front of him the mowed lawn edged into an un-mowed field. At the break, the grass went from about 2 inches tall to about a foot. Along that edge two small chipmunks were playing. He stopped to watch … arggggg. After a moment or two he turned left and paralleled a driveway while led into a small parking lot. Across the driveway to our left was a building; to our right was the un-mown field and bundles of tall swamp grass and bull-rushes. In front of us at the end of the parking area, about 140 yards away, I could see another small pond.
He worked the grass edge about two feet to the right of the parking area. I walked along the asphalt parking lot following him. After 52 yards he downed at a metal box. For the first time since we started I remembered to take a breath. A thought flicked through my head that we only needed one more article … I pushed the thought aside and went back to work. He restarted and continued down the grass paralleling the parking area. Eighty-five or so yards later he turned left crossed the parking area and went into a very active article search mode. He almost bounced over the lawn to a t-shirt tied in a knot, rejecting it as not “his” article he continued on. A few yards later he found a discarded white cloth glove. Again rejecting it he continued down the track. Ten yards further he found another white cotton glove, rejected it and pulled me towards the end of the building where it met up with the edge of the pond. He dropped like a rock at the building and looked over his shoulder proudly holding a blue plastic checkbook cover in his mouth. I could see from where I was standing that it had the “magic” number 4 written on the article.
Raising my arms above my head in triumph I ran to hold him as we were surrounded and mobbed by the judges, our tracklayer and the crowd of spectators. We had gone 750 yards in a little over 32 minutes. Dillon, a Border Collie, now CT Wildfire Smoking Gun NA, NAJ AAD, FDX CGC had finished his tracking journey from TD to Champion Tracker in about two years. This day will always be special to me. It was exactly one year ago when my Field Spaniel found his “magic” last article to earn his TDX and his CT title. Dillon becomes my 4th dog and 4th breed of dog to earn the VST title but after today’s excitement … I don’t think he will be my last!
His co-owner, Phyllis Dorrough of Houston had the pleasure of earning his TD and TDX titles but I’ll never forget how happy he was to work for me on this rainy, cold and blustery day in Chicago. Soon he will return to Texas to have fun in obedience and agility and continue his training in urban Search And Rescue.
Seven months later I received notification from the AKC that Dillon’s title was being rescinded. The letter arrived without the required investigation or even written notice of the infraction or problem. As there was no discussion, interviewing of test committee members, participants, spectators or judges; even an appeal of the seemingly arbitrary decision was denied. Those that were there that day watched a dog at the peak of his training, virtually footstep track through the course to earn a deserved title. He is one of the best and as his trainer I know we can do it again. We will prove that teamwork and skill are more important than politics and maleficence. This story will be continued.
CT Wildfire Smoking Gun NA, NAJ, AAD, FDX, CGC
with Co-Owner/Handler Ed Presnall and
Judges Anne & Ev Campbell
After The Passing Track
[Click to View Dillon's Passing Track]
© 2003-1996 - Ed Presnall - All Rights Reserved
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