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Springtime in the Midwest. We'd started out the weekend in sweaters and windbreakers and ended it in short sleeves with sunburns that made many of us closely resemble Rocky Raccoon.
After judging the Irish Water Spaniel Club of America VST Match on Saturday, I jumped in the car for a quick drive to another event. Seven hours and about 400 miles later I arrived at Hudson, WI, the site for the Croix Valley Tracking Club TDX test. Stopping by the hotel to check in, I was informed that the computer system was down and all of the reservations had been cancelled or lost. Thrown into the night, my dog and I left in search of a room … any room. Hours later we located a room in what the travel industry might call "quaint and out of the way". It resembled a cross between a bombed out building and the Bates Motel (grin). But then again, it was clean, had a bed and a satellite dish with 400+ channels!
Sunday morning Race, my Field Spaniel, and I started for the test site. Traffic was being diverted in several areas to circumvent the flooding in St Paul and rerouting around the now underwater bridge to Stillwater. Driving down River Road heading for Willow River State Park, I expected to find flooded or soggy fields with standing water and mosquitoes the size of Volkswagens. To my surprise the fields were high and dry the mosquitoes were on vacation but the ticks were thicker than thieves. At one point I overhead a conversation regarding the actions of "primates grooming each other" as friends and strangers alike casually plucked ticks from each other while watching the dogs work.
Croix Valley is known for its hospitality and great tracking events. As a "long distance" member for several years, I've tried to participate and support the club whenever possible. This weekend I'd had the almost unbelievable luck of making the draw for three different TDX tests. I withdrew from the test in Ann Arbor, MI to allow a fellow competitor and Springer breeder to run as the first alternate. I also withdrew from a local test in Chicago to allow a friend and judge to make the attempt with her Golden.
I like to travel to events and see how the various clubs host events and what new and unusual concepts have been used to utilize the fields to the local terrain. Driving through the park I saw the hills, valleys, swales, brush, tree lines and woods and a multitude of other challenging areas and wondered just what the judges has conjured up for the exhibitors.
Linda Tanner the Croix Valley President introduced the judges, my old friends Ev and Anne Campbell, and the other members of the club. Test Secretary Marj Schultz managed the draw for tracks and soon the crowd was watching a Rottweiler negotiate the first track. I had walked down to the car to get Race out and exercise him. As he came out of the car, Race pulled me about ten yards away and stopped. He carefully pawed the ground. I walked over to see what "treasure" he had found and reached down to pick up a small arrowhead shaped piece of slate. The rock was a reminder of the glaciers which once roamed this area. A stone older than the dirt in the field itself. Solid and durable. It could and had withstood the changes of time. Perhaps an omen; perhaps not. To be safe, I dropped it into my pocket and waited. In the distance I heard a whistle … and soon the judges arrived to say it was my turn.
I've heard a lot of people talk about the training and compassion for the dogs, the time required to be ready and the raw fear that grips even the most experienced as they approach a start flag in front of their peers and friends. Deep down inside, like many of you, I am somewhat superstitious. I've known people with "lucky" shoes or perhaps a bumblebee multicolored jacket. A special pocket watch or that personal memento. I tend to cross the gambit, trying to cover all of the bases.
To lighten the air, I carry three quarters. One for each of the judges and one for myself. The basic principal is that if it appears that there is a serious problem in the field …no one will need to search for a quarter to call for another handler! I also carry a "lucky" dollar coin. The one in my pocket now has been with me on two VST passes, one TDX pass and three TD passes. It is NOT for sale! I was told of a new shirt being offered by a tracking club which when worn was "almost" assured that the wearer would pass. Of course I bought one …didn't you? My hat of choice was bright red this year … a change from last years robin's egg blue (which helped me garner two passes) and my eyes were shielded with my almost trademark Rayban aviators. Tucked into a back pocket was a wallet found by my first VST dog on his passing track and stuffed into my watch pocket of my jeans was a tuff of hair from the finest and perhaps best tracking dog I've ever seen. A small blue- merle Border Collie over a thousand miles away. Modesty forbids me from discussing the lucky underwear. Like I said … I try to cover all of the bets!
A word of encouragement from the judges and we head for the start flag. Like always, I toss out my tracking line behind me. Today, it tangles into a huge knot. I make Race sit and wait while I untangle the line. He is anxious and ready to go but he walks to the start flag, sniffs the article and sits to be harnessed. He holds the article in his mouth until he is ready. Then dropping the article to the ground he stands. This is my queue to pick up the article and send him off with a track! command. He works down the first leg and indicates a corner to the right. Continuing on for what seems to be his trademark 10-yard overshoot, his head comes up and he circles back to the turn.
Down the second leg he goes and nods at but ignores the cross tracks, continuing on to the first article. Stopping for a second to indicate the article, he urges me on. I glance in front of him and see a large area of woods. He works directly up to the edge of the woods and then stops. Hesitating he looks to the left and for a moment I thought he would skirt the woods. He plunges over deadfall and branches and works his way under branches heading into the woods. I scrunch down my 6'9" frame and scramble to follow him through this maze. At a large boulder, deep in the dark woods, he flings himself to the left and pick up speed. Darting around and under trees, he finds the exit to the woods and blasts out into a brushy field. We work up a long hill and just before we enter what appears to be a farmer's backyard, he turned left and heads down the hill into a big swale or bowl. The wind was swirling and he worked the hillside and valley in, as the tracklayer later said, textbook scent theory fashion. He searched every inch of the area before deciding exactly where the track was.
Continuing down the hill another hundred yards or so he came to a soggy tree line with lush grass and much lower temperatures in the shade. He stopped and asked for water. After a brief drink and a quick re-scenting, he left the shade of the trees for the blinding sunlight and worked through a small valley. After 30 or so yards, he nods again at the cross tracks and after another 30 yards turned right and indicated an article just off of his path. Stopping for a moment to allow me to catch my breath, he worked up to a large stand of woods. Intently skirting the woods he did, as the map later showed, meandered along the tree line and pushed through the next corner. Overshooting by a few yards he entered another set of woods, after 10 feet he turned and came out of the woods, again asking for water.
After another round of water he started down a grass- covered farmer's access drive heading back towards the waiting spectators and in the general direction of the start flag. After a few yards he spied a black object near the track. It was thirty or so yards ahead of us. He worked intently toward it. I alternated by watching his body language and noticing just how close we were getting to the spectators. Still 100 or so yards away … but …
When he arrived at the "article", it was only a black garbage bag caught up in the brush. He shrugged his shoulders and flatly told me it was not his. I told him to search for his article and he started working up a hill and towards a tree line to our right. As he worked he continued to back up the hill towards our last corner. Twice he crossed the grass drive to search a few feet on the other side. His tail was in non-stop article is "close" mode and he continued to search. After a few yards and what seemed like a few hours he indicated a beautiful brown glove laying to the left of the grass drive he had been working.
After congratulations from the judges, tracklayer, cross- tracklayers and club members, we walked from the field to get Race a drink and watch the other teams compete. Three Golden Retrieves followed. The first succumbed to cross tracks. The second two missed a corner near the ends of their tracks.
After a great lunch, photos with the judges and a bit of storytelling about all of our other tracking dogs, it was time to bid farewell to the members and head back home. My thanks go out to the Croix Valley club for a great test. To Ev and Anne Campbell for their work as judges. To Nan Cochran for being my "stinky" tracklayer and to Joan Tefler and Linda Tanner for being such light-footed and non-stinky cross track layers. To Dale Weyhrich for his efforts as head tracklayer and Wendy Sommer and Kim Schneider as the other tracklayers.
It would be a mistake for me not to thank those who have
invested their time and effort in helping us to succeed. To
Terri Everwine, thanks for the tip on the woods. The turn
was exactly as you trained us. To the Palo Alto Foothills
Tracking Club for the "lucky" shirt and to Phyllis Dorrough
for all of the hundreds of hours of track laying and to all of
our friends and supporters for simply believing in us.The 400+ mile trip home flew by. I don't even want to think about the cellular phone bill, but I'll always remember riding turning over that lucky dollar coin in my hand, a small piece of slate safely in my pocket, and a little brown dog sleeping the sleep of contentment as the miles flew by. He is CT Am/Can CH Calico's Hot Pursuit Del Prado.
© 2003-1996 - Ed Presnall - All Rights Reserved