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Published As A Series In Dog Days
The Puppy
Part I of a Series
All because of a puppy I started tracking. Like most people involved in conformation I had heard the rumors about a “sub-cult” of enthusiasts, called trackers. These were people who relished the idea of being dragged by their dogs through brush and brambles searching for the scent of a tracklayer. They were gifted with the insight that finding the glove was even better than finding the Holy Grail or, heaven forbid, a Group placement. Like most other show people, I lumped tracking, hunting and most obedience people into one group - non-show. A strange group mind you, no suits, coats, ties or polished shoes - this group was into mud splattered bluejeans, artic parkas, ugly rubber boots and gaudy rain gear.
My introduction into tracking started when Sandy, a local conformation enthusiast who had been waiting over a year for a particular breeding from our kennel, called. After careful evaluation of her show abilities and background she was offered the pick bitch from our latest show litter. A nice puppy, with our kennel name, going to a proven owner/handler show home - it was everything an established breeder could want. When she came to pick up the puppy, the trouble started. Sandy started talking about introducing the puppy into tracking as well as conformation. In my mind, she was quickly moving into that non-show group. We started having serious second doubts about our chosen show home for this puppy.
Several weeks later I called her. Tell me more about tracking I asked. Sandy spent about fifteen minutes describing tracking, but I was still totally confused. I just could not relate to the terms she was using - “cross-winds” and “cross-tracks”? Now, mind you, I have met a few cross judges, but what about “air-scenting” and “articles”? Articles like in obedience, I asked? Not quite, but close, she responded. Finally in desperation, she recommended that I go out and observe a tracking test. I asked her to call me when the next one was schedule and immediately dismissed the entire concept as a waste of time.
5 a.m., I cried! Why would anyone want to get up at 5 a.m. to drive to a field and watch dogs prance around in the mud looking for a glove? She was sure I would have fun, and there wasn’t a “real” show that weekend so I agreed to humor her and at least confirm my suspicions about this sub-cult and see for myself why I did not want to be involved in such a sport.
The spring test was my first view of the sport of tracking. It was 95 degrees and humid with a 50% chance of light showers. In other words, normal for a spring day in Houston. When I arrived at Sandy’s house she crammed the Suburban full of knee boots, ponchos, extra clothing, extra shoes and an armload of tracking literature and books. During the hour-long drive to the test site, I joked about her being over-prepared and quipped that I had a small fold up umbrella in the back. She ignored me and informed me of the basic rules and etiquette of the sport. We also talked about her experiences in Hawaii, when she and her dogs had assisted in tracking lost children.
Scheduled to start at 7 a.m., we arrived a few minutes early at the show site in a steady drizzle. The site was a muddy field on the historic San Jacinto Battlegrounds, where (on a similar spring morning in 1836) Sam Houston had led his troops to victory over Santa Anna’s forces and Texas won its independence from Mexico. According to the catalogue, the test was scheduled for 7 a.m. At 7:30, we were still the only car at the show site, but by 7:50, the judges, stewards and all but one of the competitors had arrived. There were strained looks on the faces of the other competitors. It reminded me of that sinking feeling when you arrived ringside after a six or seven hour drive to find the major had broken. In tracking, I was told, it took three dogs to even hold the test, so if the missing one did not arrive, the test would be cancelled. Finally, the last competitor arrived. By now, the humidity was off the scale, with lightning, high winds and rain falling at about two inches per hour. Still, this is not abnormal weather for Houston in the springtime, so no one else seemed worried. Since I could hardly see to drive, I couldn’t imagine that the dogs could track in this mess. Suddenly, the four-wheel drive and all that extra clothing and rain-gear looked great while my puny umbrella and lack of planning seemed useless.
Like members of Sam Houston’s ragtag army of many years ago we plodded through waist high brush, ankle deep water and a blinding rainstorm to watch two of the three dogs pass the test. I must admit, it was exhilarating to watch those dogs work but, I kept telling myself, these are German Shorthairs and I raise Springers and Clumbers. I began to wonder, would they work the same, or even work at all?
Afterwards, huddled under a tent, not twenty feet from the marker where General Santa Anna had surrendered, we joked and ate. The excitement surrounding the dogs and handlers, the friendship offered by the stewards and judges and the frank discussions which followed the test over a wonderful brunch made me feel as if I was part of this and not just a novice observer from the “other camp”. I learned several very unusual things that afternoon. First, many of these people were also show people. In fact, two of the dogs entered in the test already had their Championships. Secondly I learned that there was no real competition between the entrants. Everyone, including the judges it seemed, pulled for each dog every inch of the way.
I thought to myself that, if these dogs could find it in this weather, mine (with their superior genes and inbred hunting ability to stalk birds across the backyard) surely could. I capitulated and inquired how I could learn more about tracking. I was referred to one of the better known trainers in the area who just happened to be at that test. She stated that a new training class would soon be starting and that my conformation dog(s) and I would be welcome to observe or participate.
Always a good sign, and keeping in constant character with my usual luck, the one dog which missed a turn in the rain and did not pass, was handled by this trainer. It was a sign. One I had seen many times before and therefore ignored! I said “sure, I’d be there” then thanked everyone, and Sandy and I left for our trip back home. Along the way I kept asking myself, “was I really crazy enough to try this sport?” How about something more normal, like bungee jumping from the top of tall buildings or hot air ballooning in gale force winds? In my younger years I had raced cars, then the dogs came along and years later our son. Would this be so different from any of that? At this point I convinced myself that I was only going to watch the class. If I did not like it, then I would quit and walk away, retaining my original feelings towards these “non-show” people and their dogs.
Starting The Class
Part II of a Series
The Class started on a hot dry afternoon - ten days after the first test that I attended to observe. There were seven students with tracking experience or who had already earned TD’s or TDX’s, a respected tracking judge, the instructor, and a complete novice -- me! Sandy brought the conformation puppy we had sold her that got me into all of this, and I brought my new “English Import” conformation dog. I selected this dog to help me learn about tracking because he was still a puppy. I certainly did not want to risk one of my champion show dogs on a folly like this. Besides, he still needed at least another year to mature, and rather than spend it in a kennel or as a house dog, this would give him something to do for exercise and conditioning. After all, since he wasn’t going to be shown yet, I did not need to worry about his coat condition or how dirty he got playing in the mud.
Being prepared for a tracking class did not occur to me any more than it had for the test. It was a nice day, so I went in shorts, a tee-shirt and jogging shoes. Everyone else unloaded their dogs and pulled knee-high rubber boots over their jeans. As they gathered around, a murmur of voices said, “what is that?” as they pointed to my Clumber. Merlin, being a typical, reserved, laid back and somewhat shy Clumber (Ha!) proceeded to introduce himself to the other with big, sloppy kisses.
After introductions and an hour of rules, equipment overviews, and a review of the vocabulary used in this sport, I was informed that a short baited track had been paid and the Clumber and I would now show the class how to follow it. I was shocked! Everyone obviously knew more about this than I did and the instructor and judge were simply trying to rub in how stupid those “conformation” people really were. Surprise! We wandered up to the start flag, and Merlin found the scent and the first bite of food. Then he found the second and the third bite and finally (after wandering off track only once) found the glove! The instructors, the other competitors and I, all praised him. He looked up at me with those big expressive eyes as if to say, This is hard? All I do is follow the scent to the food and then go on to the glove. Big deal. When is it going to get tough?” I, on the other hand, was thinking, “Well it might have been easy for you, but what about my scratched up legs and muddy shoes?”
However, I was now hooked. The instructor must have been pretty sure that the dog could do it and I now realized (with the 20/20 vision of hindsight) had hoped that my happiness with the dog would result in increasing my own desire to track. Well, it worked! There was no longer an option but for me to continue with the classes. I returned home and mumbled to my wife that it was sure different than the conformation ring and that I might return for another class. I stated that I wasn’t sure I had really liked it. I lied!
Another thing that was now clear was that proper planning was essential, so in preparation for the next class, I talked to everyone and read anything and everything I could find on tracking. I decided that if I was going to continue with the classes, I needed some basic equipment. With an armload of tracking books, notes and quotes from other trackers and a handful of credit cards, I jumped up and headed for my favorite pet supply.
Like a kid in a candy store, I rolled through the aisles like Grant took Richmond. Never being one to lake being caught short, I threw myself into the action with zeal. When faced with any critical decision, I concluded -- purchase one of everything. With armloads of training harness, collars and 10’, 15’, 30’ and 40’ foot leads, and a new tack box for Merlin, I headed for the cash register. Then I was off to another store for boots, gloves, rain-gear and even a new winter parka for me. This equipment and clothing was so foreign to me as a conformation person, that I did not even bother to “color coordinate” the outfits.
I arrived home with my “basic” equipment and overheard my wife comment to one of our conformation friends that I had gone nuts and broken the back buying tracking junk. She further observed that the hundreds of dollars in books I had purchased was bad enough but now I had all this new clothing and equipment, and for what? Just to drag it through the mud?
The classes continued, and I had to admit (even to my wife) this was actually becoming fun. Instruction picked up with a demonstration of proper lead handling. Actually this was an exercise in how to get yourself untangled from the lead without falling down in the mud after your dog wraps it around you, the brush and the weeds. I try it and fail, falling face first into the brush. This may take a while.....
Our training then accelerated. Now those short 25 and 50 yard tracks have been increased to 100 and 200 yards. Along with all this new stuff there are terms to learn too. The dog seems to enjoy it, and now we are learning how to lay and follow “with the wind”, “into the wind” and “single lay” or “double lay” tracks. The key point which I gleaned from various books and discussions was, to say the least, unusual. Unlike other types of competition, you can not teach a dog to track. You can however, learn to understand your dog and how he or she indicates that they are “on-track” or “lost” or just “playing around” in the field. To do this, during the first three or four weeks all of the tracks will be in straight lines with the bait or food prize being moved from 10 to 25 steps apart. It will be several weeks before we learn about turns. Hopefully, by that time, Merlin will follow the scent and not just the food.
By now the instructor wants us to demonstrate when to trust the dog. Merlin and I go out on a 200 yard crosswind leg. The grass is wet and I can see the track quite clearly in the knee high brush. Merlin, however, is convinced that the track is exactly four feet to the left of where I know it to be. For almost 150 yards, I plead, tug, pull and beg Merlin to return to where I am -- where the track is! Then the instruction, in a stern voice, informs me that I should believe the dog, after all he has been on the track all along and all I was succeeding in doing was to pull or coax him off of it! I give in, knowing that I am right and the instructor and dog are wrong and, about then, Merlin happily drags me to the glove. Another embarrassing lesson in front of the class! However, I now find that I don’t care. He is doing well, having fun and I am addicted!
Beginners Enthusiam
Part III of a Series
Five weeks have gone by; the class is now half over. Tracking lessons with the class continue in 95 degree heat followed by homework assignments. I found the homework to be more satisfying than the classes because of two basic factors. First of all, on my own schedule, I was able to switch to a 7 a.m. tracking time on weekends. The temperature was only in the high 80’s when we started, though easily in the 90’s within an hour or so. The second and most important factor was that there weren’t as many people around to watch me mess up the dog! He seems to really know what he is doing, and I am learning to trust him. We just might get the hang of this!
The class had now begun to do “turns”. Although they looked easy, I was anxious. I still cannot get use to the slow and methodical manner in which this Clumber works. He plods along, looks back at me with those big sad eyes and almost says “What is your hurry? There is no time limit in this event as long as the judge thinks I’m working.”
For three weeks now, I have been bringing another dog along when I go to the classes. JJ, a Springer Spaniel, would just sit in the van and watch the class work. JJ already had his show championship and an obedience title. Our house had become JJ’s sixth home in less than a year. After his original breeder and owner died he was moved every other month or so to a “new and better” home. All of the previous owners had complained that he was “hyper,” constantly jumped on people, and required more attention that they were willing to give him. His last owner wanted a dog to sit near the fireplace on the rug and just look pretty. He just did not fit into the type of “picture” she had always had of the perfect pet. Having raised Springers for over 18 years, we gladly accepted him into our home. JJ, like most other Springers we had seen, simply needed attention. He could not be locked in a crate or as the case of his last owner, a closet, for hours on end. I felt that having him just ride in the van and watch the other dogs and people work would be good therapy for him. He calmly sat in the front seat and seemed to ask “Is it my turn yet?”
Secretly, in week 5, I started training the Springer on a simple 25 yard straight legs. I did his training alone on a small field by my house. After all, a rank novice with 5 weeks training should be smart enough to train two dogs at one time, right? It should be even more fun if they are of two different breeds and react to tracking in totally different manners! I am not sure, now that I look back, that all of my brain cells were engaged at the time I decided to perform this stunt.
The next weekend, a group of us from the class met to do our homework assignment. As usual JJ rode in the van and watched. My instructor with a TDX judge in tow, dropped by to watch and critique our handling methods. When we were finished, I put Merlin up, and pulled JJ out of the van to let him stretch his legs in a short walk. In a sudden case of instant insanity, I asked one of the class members to lay me a simple three turn track for JJ. Everyone looked at me like I was nuts. This dog wasn’t in the class and was not even being trained. Like a good sport, one of the tracklayers laid a track.
JJ flew down the start, made a perfect first turn, stumbled on the second leg but searched and found the next turn. By this time everyone was watching this “crazy untrained dog”. He finished with a flourish and nosed the glove at the end. As I ran up to him to praise him, I could feel the searing pain in my back caused by the stares I was getting from the instructor and judge. JJ was good. He was, in my novice opinion, actually better at tracking than Merlin was -- an amazing feat for a dog with less than two weeks of actual training!
Perhaps I expected bounding enthusiasm and a moment of glory for the achievement. Instead, I endured several minutes of brisk discussion from the instructor and judge about the difficulties of attempting to train two dogs at once. Horror stories flew back and forth about handlers who had tried and quickly crashed and burned their way out of tracking. As a novice, of course, I knew more about my abilities and the abilities of my dogs than some outsider did. I ignored their pleas to work with one dog and wait on the other and I plodded on, excited about tracking. I started developing excuses to allow me to track even more! I continued to read every publication I could find about tracking and to pester every tracking enthusiast I met for their knowledge of the sport or an opportunity to track with them.
In spite of all the warnings, I continue to train both of the dogs. Many embarrassing moments occur while I attempt to determine when they are on track. The Clumber is slow and methodical in its tracking while the Springer literally flies down the track. Turns become a nightmare, while I try to anticipate what each dog will do. The Clumber tends to acknowledge that there is a turn at the right point but keeps on going for another 10 yards just to make sure. Once he determines that, “yup Dad I missed the turn” he turns in the direction of the turn and returns to the track. The Springer, however, jerks his head up at the turns, immediately telling me where they are, and then proceeds to run, at full speed, in a 360 degree circle to get back to the turn. Lines are flying as I am attempting to pull in the lead and not get run over by the dog! Lots of embarrassing moments during this stage. Both my instructor and the judge kept telling me not to track both dogs. But, what did they know? Why should I listen to someone who had already tracked with hundreds of dogs?
Although the Springer never actually joined the class, I continued to work with him on all homework assignments. Now I know for sure that all of my brain cells were not engaged. It was true that tracking both dogs was confusing and sometimes embarrassing. It is also true that I might have become discouraged at this stage. However, all I can say, is you know you are hooked on tracking when you are in a boat in the middle of a lake with several friends at one o’clock in the morning (catching more fish than you’ve ever seen before) and it suddenly dawns on you that you have a tracking class in six hours. Without even thinking, you pull up the anchor and head for shore. In spite of your friends’ numerous and rowdy complaints, you leave them at the lake and drive 250 miles to grab your dogs and your tack and make it to your 7 a.m. tracking class on time!
The Mysteries Of Map Making
Part IV of a Series
I interrupted my classes for a one day seminar on map making. Someday I may need to draw an actual map of a track. I arrived, sure that there is little that they can teach me about mapmaking. After all, I was a Boy Scout! I have plotted numerous maps for trips, and I was very proficient with a compass.
I quickly learned that, as good as I was, most of what I learned was 25 years ago and little of it had anything to do with designing maps which other people could actually follow. Since these are open fields, there is much to learn about horizon points, and compass readings. There are changes in cover, a wide variety of trees, power lines and lots of other things which did not previously seem very important. After a presentation of the pertinent details that must appear on a tracking map, we are sent out to plot and draw one of our own.
Out in the field, alone, plotting a track which must be followed by someone else, I searched my brain for those insignificant tidbits of information which were discussed only moments before. Finally, I am finished; the map is complete, and I am confident that it is a good one. It has all of the significant points marked, and is so clear that I am convinced any amateur, maybe even a blind man, could follow it.
WRONG! First I must point out the start of the track to the person who is trying to follow my map. We are not off to a lovely start! I suddenly notice that many of the landmarks that I used were easily confused with almost identical landmarks elsewhere. We stumble through the field and even I am having trouble following my own map. I suddenly feel “embarrassing tracking moment number 14,378” coming on. Sure enough, we’re lost. Somewhere we have left the track. By retracing our steps and scouting the area, eventually we plod to the end of the track and recover my glove.
Back with the workshop group, I learn that my map was almost as good as several of the others - which isn’t saying much. I am quickly learning just how easy and complicated this sport can be at the same time. Map making, rather than being a simple matter of counting steps to a dropped glove, is a significant and vital portion of tracking. Each tracker desires that his/her own tracklayer is a very experienced and savy person who will lay a track that, though complicated, is clear to the dog. Scent conditions must be taken into consideration, as well as terrain changes and manmade obstacles.
It is especially essential that the person who has layed your “training” track for you be able to tell you when you have left the track, so that you can begin to recognize the signs that your dog is giving you at the earliest possible moment. Since tracking is not really training the dog (it is instinct and natural ability) but learning to “read your dog” you can then stop and allow the dog to search for, and return to, the actual track and continue on without significant confusion.
The chart prepared for an actual test is even more involved. It must also show the approximate course followed by the dog, as well as the plotted track. This chart, showing the time the tracklayer started, the time the dog started and finished tracking, a brief description of ground and wind and weather conditions, is then signed by both of the judges and marked with a “Pass” or “Fail”. The procedure for laying out a course for a test is complicated and time consuming. The judges and tracklayers are required to lay out the course the previous day, and the advanced tests must include crosstracks and obstacles. A significant attempt is made to be sure that each of the tracks is closely equivalent to the others in length and difficulty as well as set far distant from the next track. The amount of time needed, and the size and availability of property used in a test are the factors that limit the number of tests held per season.
To better increase my knowledge about tracking, I decided to join the local tracking club which had put on the map making seminar. I know I need an edge. I need more information, better training. What I really need most is to learn to listen to and trust my dog. Four weeks later, the classes are over!
Certification
Part V of a Series
Work, work and more work.... Merlin, JJ and I have succeeded in completing five-turn blind tracks. The class has been completed. Now the work really starts! We have got to get ready for the two TD tests coming up in the next few months. The original class was eight handlers and eight dogs. The remaining group is now down to only three handlers and four dogs -- Sandy with her Springer; the instructor who now co-owns one of my Springers; and me with Merlin, the Clumber; and JJ, the Springer I had been secretly training.
The next step in order to even enter a test is to get the dogs “Certified.” That is, they must each complete a Certification Test that is of a complexity equivalent to the Tracking Dog/TD Test and witnessed by a approved (or provisional) tracking judge. This is scheduled privately, at the time and convenience of the judge. A dog that is successful will receive an authorization to enter a real test. Actually, the judge will provide four(4) certification statements, one of which must be submitted with each test entry. If a dog then fails to qualify in four successive tracking tests during a 12 month period, the “certification” expires, and they must be “re-certified.” The intent of this process is to eliminate from the very few official tests each season, any dogs that are not quite ready to actually be tested.
As I start developing more excuses to go tracking, my tracking starts interfering with my normal job as a consultant and discussions start at home. My wife is a sporting breed handler who attends 60 to 80 dog shows each year. Comments fly about between us regarding her ability to go to shows versus my ability to train the dogs. One morning, as I am sneaking out to go tracking, she calmly states “Well at least you’ve found a full time job you like.” She had accepted the fact that, right now, the most important thing to me is getting these two dogs ready for the test.
Meeting two or three times a week, we march through fields, ditches and marshes laying blind tracks for our dogs. The dogs are good, in fact the dogs are much better than the handlers. Time is running out for training and the stupid mistakes and their related embarrassing moments continue to pile up. At least the weather has changed. It’s now “fall” in Houston. Those chilly 80 degree days and 75 degree nights make us feel like winter really is coming!
It is actually getting cooler. Temperatures have dropped into the mid 70’s with an occasional dip into the 60’s. Other parts of the country are already enjoying snow. You know - that white stuff we see in Houston every ten years or so -- the stuff that normally lasts about 15 minutes before it starts to rain again. Well, this turns out to be a very funny fall for Houston. Most years it normally rains every afternoon throughout the “fall” time of year, but we haven’t seen a drop in weeks. I am concerned about possibly tracking these dogs in the rain for a test, as they are not getting experience doing it. I keep remembering the downpour at that first test. It seems like years ago, but it has only been 4 months!
Certification..... The dogs are ready (I think). It is now time for the really embarrassing moments to begin! I call a judge and set a time. She arrives and lays the first track. It starts to rain. A wind whips up 35 to 40 m.p.h. gusts. The barometric pressure is going off the scale. We haven’t trained in this! I panic.
The track ages the proper time. I put the harness on JJ and off he goes. As we leave the start, my brain immediately goes blank. The butterflies in my stomach start migrating north and devouring my brain cells. I forget everything I have learned about tracking. Needless to say, I am a basket-case.
I proceed to jerk JJ off track before he gets to the 30 yard flag. It only gets worse from there. JJ is so frustrated he comes back and sits next to me. I can’t get him started again, because I don’t have the faintest idea where the track is and I can’t remember what I should be doing. We’re only on the first leg, about 10 yards beyond the 30 yard flag. I search my brain for some idea of what I should do and eventually blurt out to JJ, “Find It, and Save Both of Us!”. He circles, picks up the track and makes the first turn. I feel certain he has missed the track and I keep pulling him back to where I think the track is. Fifty nerve-racking yards later, I hear the whistle. It is over. We have failed.
I am depressed, a failure--I choked. As I turn to walk out of the field, the judge forces us back on track to make us finish. I am upset, and am interfering with the dog’s work. Worst of all, I am being told, he is exactly on track every time I pull him off. Finally, we finish -- JJ finds the article and is jubilant. He is barking and jumping and telling me “See Dad, I knew where the track was, but what was wrong with you?”
In my depressed state, we moved down the field to where a second track had been layed and aged, and I prepared Merlin to run. What I really wanted to do was to pack up the dogs and gear and go home. I should have! Merlin starts perfectly, makes the first turn and again I go crazy. The dead brain cells and butterflies again gang up on me and force me to pull Merlin off track. The Clumber is good, he knows where the track is. He keeps fighting against me to get back to the track. Suddenly, my brain clears.... from a distance I hear a voice saying “Trust the dog!” I relent, determined to follow him blindly. Oops, suddenly it is clear that a deer or other animal must have crossed our track and Merlin decides to follow the new track with me trailing along behind. Several turns later -- the dreaded whistle. Everyone consoles me but I know I have failed.
As I am driving home, I blame the dogs, the rain, the wind, the judge and the field for my failure. After two weeks of depression I finally sit down and review the tracks. When I did, I realized that I could not remember much about them. Months of training myself to observe the field and track and trust my dogs seemed to disappear when I crossed that start line.
Two weeks later, I watched Sandy and my Springer puppy (the one that got me into this) certify on their first try. Although I knew I was not mentally ready to attempt another certification, I decided to try anyway. It was the last chance I would have to certify before the closing of the first test.
Everything went wrong. I did not know the judge, the wind was blowing, it was again 90 degrees and the judge chose the exact field where my dogs had trained the day before. Once again, failure. Once again, I had entered the field without confidence in my dogs or myself.
I sat down and began to review what had happened. I have refused to listen to the trainers, instructors and judges and done what I wanted to do. As a novice, I have simultaneously trained two dogs to the point of certification in less than five months. Against all odds, complaints and warnings; I have done what I was told should not be done. I have been enormously successful! However, somewhere along the way, I have also forgotten to trust my dogs.
It is now seventeen days until the close of the last test of the year. In football, the officials would be proclaiming the two minute warning and the coaches would be encouraging the team to “get out there and score!” In tracking, however, it is just me and my dogs. All of the encouragement and helpful advice from my new tracking friends is appreciated, but I am the one who must call the play.
I decided to take the best dog, JJ, and work with him and try to at least certify one dog. We worked twice a day, everyday - tough T tracks each morning and short motivational tracks each evening. If my instructor had known how hard I was working the dog, she would have killed me. Six days later I again called the judge. We meet and JJ and I fly along the track. Then I start to think. (This is something I had promised myself I would not do.) JJ understood that I must be thinking because once again I began to interfere as though I did not want him to continue down the track. This time, he is persistent and pulled me through the first turn. I cleared my mind and swore to myself that I could and would trust my dog. JJ was perfect! He stayed on track, worked out each corner by himself, and found the glove! We passed. At least one of these dogs could now be in the test!
Four days later, Mele (The Springer puppy whose owner, Sandy, had introduced me to tracking) earned their T.D.! I regret not being there to watch, but several of us had driven to the next test site to train. I was working with Merlin and getting JJ ready for the test. Merlin is doing miserably. It is almost as if he has forgotten why we are in the field. It is called “burn-out”. It just isn’t fun for him to track when he knows I don’t believe in him. I promised myself to try to trust this dog.
Six days later, it is time to certify Merlin. No butterflies, no second thoughts, my mind is clear. I am ready! Afterwards, I noticed that it is over and that I had forgotten to even put on my boots! Who says trackers don’t get nervous?
Now the butterflies are coming back. I have two dogs entered in the same test. What if I draw back-to-back tracks? What if I blow it in front of everyone? What if? What if? What if?
Finally - The Actual Test
Part VI of a Series
Training for the test... As a change of pace and a change to relax and learn more about tracking, I volunteered to be a tracklayer for a local specialty test. Two days of intense listening and learning, sweating and groaning, driving judges around, laying track and just plain fun. I made lots of new tracking friends and received tons of advice.
Everyone, from the other tracklayers to the judges and the participants, give me their opinion on how I should or should-not prepare for the upcoming test. Lots of different suggestions, plenty of choices... But, again, it comes down to me and my dogs and making all the decisions based on personal judgment.
We go back to training. We have been expecting a cool front for several weeks, and anything to break this heat and humidity would be a relief. My instructor keeps telling me not to track the dogs too much. We can’t afford “burn-out” this close to the test.
In spite of advise to go easy, I sneak out with a friend one afternoon to track. Despite the heat we lay full T tracks for both dogs. The Springer works well; the heat and humidity have sapped his endurance, but he wants to please me so much, he just keeps on trying. The Clumber, however, has had enough; he quits after the second leg, wanders off the track and lays down under a tree. His tracking is over for this day.
That night, like a breath of fresh air, our long awaited cool front arrives in South Texas. The temperature dips into the mid 30’s. I sneak out again in the morning to work the dogs. I keep telling myself that I should listen to the instructor about training this hard before a test, but I must convince myself that I can trust the dogs. The dogs go wild. Training this close to a test should be fun. This is work. They scream around the track, never missing a turn, but never letting me slow down enough to catch my breath. It is now only seven days until the test.
With five days to go, a group of us drive to the test site to practice. It is only an hour’s drive, but the heat and humidity is back in full force. Thousands of mosquitoes surround the handlers and dogs. It is miserable. The dogs track poorly. My confidence is performing a free-fall.
The weatherman says the long term forecast is for highs in the 50’s with high humidity on test day. The mosquitoes will be the size of Volkswagons and will be traveling in convoys. We need another cold front, quickly.
With three days until the test, we emback for our last practice session. It is still hot and humid. The Springer performs like he should; I trust him completely. The Clumber misses the first, second and third turn. Dejected, I storm out of the field to put Merlin back into his crate. I threaten to either shoot him or leave him at home. My friends console me with the thought that dogs always track badly just before a test. If that is true, why did their dogs and my Springer do so well today?
The day before the test, our prayers are answered. A cold front moves in. The temperature again drops into the 30’s followed by a cold, heavy rain. The participants have been invited to the pre-test dinner. I’ve got two dogs entered in the eight dog test. I’m nervious and I’m not sure I want to attend. I still don’t trust my Clumber.
My wife, in an attempt to bolster my confidence, presents me with a shirt she has hand painted for the dinner. It is a tee-shirt with large lettering which states “T FOR 2 PLEASE” and a hand drawn picture of my Springer and Clumber -- I concede to attend. Everyone, including the judges, get a laugh out of the shirt and I am feeling better.
Five and one-half months after starting the class, and six months to the day from seeing my first tracking test, the dogs are ready and I’m as ready as I am going to get. The cold front has pushed through and I awaken to find clear skies and high 30’s with very low humidity. The weather has provided a perfect day for tracking.
I arrive at the test site an hour early. After exercising the dogs, I sit in the truck and fight of the butterflies. The old questions return Can I do it? Will this become embarrassing tracking moment 19,235.
Suddenly, people start arriving. It is time to draw for tracks. I reach in and pull out tracks number 6 and 7. I have done it - drawn back-to-back tracks! Now what? I know that if I am lucky enough to get through the first track, I will probably be too tired to finish the second one. And if I fail the first one, I’ll be too depressed to concentrate for the second one. A new form of panic sets in.
The testing begins. I watch each exhibitor and dog enter the field. As each one moves down the track, the spectators silently cheer on the dog and pray for a successful tracking experience for the handler. Since the tests for tracking are pass/fail, rather than a competition, there is almost a tangible “good will” among participants. However, someone must not be listening, because, one by one, the first five dogs fail. Suddenly -- all too soon -- the judge tells me I am next.
As I take JJ from the truck and walk him around, I am amazingly calm. He is my best dog and I do trust him, so what do I have to worry about? Silently I give myself a pep talk and I walk him to within twenty feet of the Start flag. We have developed a standard routine -- He sits, I put on his harness and long line and we have a brief but to-the-point discussion concerning his tracking abilities, ancestors and current and future sleeping arrangements!
We’re off! JJ flies down the track, ignoring the large clump of oak and pecan tress we are under. (Some trackers observe their dogs having difficulties in areas of heavy concentration of these varieties of tree.) His nose is plastered to the ground. At 100 yards, he makes an abrupt right turn and streaks into waist high grass. After sixty yards, he breaks out into ankle high grass and slows. He checks right and left, then contiinues on for a few yards and turns right again. I am so excited, I don’t even consider thinking about whether he might be right or wrong. I trust him and follow behind.
A quick seventy yard leg, and a fast left turn. Across the field we fly! He has his nose to the ground and tail wagging and I am literally running behind him, trying not to pull him back or fall. When we come upon a large, dry ditch. I start to think. Just as I decide that the tracklayer has cross the ditch, JJ truns to the right and speeds away. We must be near the end as there is a large oak tree directly in front of us and then a road. I know the tracklayer didn’t cross the road (that sort of thing doesn’t happen until the TDX level test) so either we are at the end, or coming up to another turn. JJ checks out the tree, I silently pray for him to keep moving. He drops his head, pulls me another fifteen yards and finds the glove!
The Spectators and other entrants cheer and honk their car horns. I suddenly experience a flood of panic. At first I think the judges have blown us off, then I noticed I have the glove held high about my head in victory. The adrenaline is high! We passed! But it’s not over.....
A quick congratulation by the judges and the tracklayer and suddenly I am surrounded. My teacher, friends, spectators and other exhibitors are clapping me on the back, praising JJ and cherring us for our success. I hand JJ to a friend who has agreed to pamper him a bit to make sure he knows he has done well and make sure he is cool, while I head to the truck to get Merlin ready. The crowd surrounds me and continues to congratulate me. Merlin, in the midst of this and still a puppy, thinks its play-time. He is jumping up and barking. I decide that I must calm him down or he will never even find the beginning of his track. I put Merlin in my truck and drive up the hill to the start of the next track. He and I get out and walk to calm down.
The judges arrive. Not intending to put pressure on me, one of the judges states that she “will not accept anything less than a perfect run from the Clumber.” No pressure, right? Merlin and I walk towards the start. We stop and go through the same routine of putting on the harness and having our “discussion.” I am exhausted but adrenaline is pumping at a rate of ten gallons per minutes through my veins.
There’s the start and Merlin picks up the scent. I have learned that his style is totally different than the Springer’s. He rumbles down the track in his familiar plodding manner. After 100 yards he indicates a turn to the right. Rather than take the turn immediately, however, he drifts to the right in a sweeping open turn. I restrain myself from pulling him back but my confidence and trust is failing. I wait to hear the judges whistle that we have “blown it” and are too far off track. Merlin continues working though, and after 115 yards, the track goes toward a large grove of pine trees on the crest of the hill. The dog circles left, then right then left and heads off down the hill. It dawns on me that I haven’t heard the whistle. In my state, I honestly wasn’t sure I would have heard a bomb go off, but when I glanced back towards the judges I notice, to my surprise, that they are still there, and following. So far, so good......
Merlin gains speed going down the hill. At the bottom is a large wet, swampy ditch. It is surrounded by waist high shoots and weeds. Clearly, I can see the tracklayers track through the brush and even a footprint or two in the muck. Unfortunately Merlin is ten feet to the left of the track that I see. Is he right or am I? Here I go thinking again. I blurt out to Merlin to “get on track” and he quickly moves from where he was to the track I could see. Maybe I was correct.....maybe????
He splashes through the mud, I trip, steady myself and Merlin pulls me up the hill and into a grove of pecan trees. He searches for the scent amid the pecan shells and turns left towards a road. About thirty feet from the road, he turns right and heads up yet another hill. By this time, especially since this is my second track, I am gasping for breath. I look up and see the parking area across the road. The track will run right next to it! Merlin stops and looks towards the parking area. My heart falters. “It is all over”, I think to myself. “Merlin is going to see someone he knows and head over to play.” I force myself to look towards the parking lot. Although the lot is full of cars, trucks and vans, there is not a person in sight!
Merlin lowers his head and plods up the hill. At the crest, I lose sight of him for a moment, at the end of his long-line. Then, suddenly even the pull on the line goes slack. When I reach the top, he is laying on the ground. Again, my heart fails. “He is tired and has quit on me”, I think immediately; after all, I have seen him do it before. “Wrong!, He’s found the glove!”. In an explosion of honking horns and cheering voices, the crowd emerges from their hiding places in and behind the cars and trucks. Everyone is cheering and applauding the work of my dogs. With my arm around my instructor’s shoulder, I proudly state that I could not have done it without her. It is over. We Passed!
The euphoria is instantaneous and complete! I know, however, that I have been extremely lucky in the start of my tracking experience. I started with two dogs who have great noses and an almost unending desire to please me. I also had the time and energy to invest many hours in the field in those few short months. Most importantly, I had a very experienced and understanding teacher who was always ready to take the time to lay track and show me proper training methods, an instructor with the patience of Job and the wisdom of Soloman, who guided two novice dogs and a novice handler through a twice successful first test!
Where do we go from here? Well, JJ and Merlin are learning about the TDX (Tracking Dog Excellent) and the new VST (Variable Surface Tracking) program. I have also started training another Springer, Named “Redd Hott” and another Clumber, named “Stella” who sniffed their first tracks at 12 weeks of age.
All because of a puppy I started tracking. I am now PART OF what I once considered a “sub-cult” of enthusiats, called trackers. I too, relish the idea of being dragged by my dog through brush and brambles searching for the scent of a tracklayer. Though, like most other show people, I once lumped tracking, hunting and most obedience people into one group -- non-show - I am now part of that group - AND PROUD TO BE!. I discovered that many of the dogs out tracking are also show dogs. Most importantly, I have found a home within this strange group who are routinely found in mud splattered bluejeans, artic parkas, ugly rubber boots and gaudy rain gear They have shared with me the insight that finding the glove really is better than finding the Holy Grail or even a Group placement. It is a way of becoming part of a team with your dog, and discovering more about your canine friend that you ever thought possible. There is a value in that that cannot be explained -- You must experience it for yourself. Try it! You and your dog will love it.
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