feigning injury

We entered field trials only once, when Starbuck was fairly young. It was a whole day event and it was difficult to keep him occupied until his turn to run as the smell of birds was in the air the entire time.

The event was not a competitive one, more just for the fun of it and to get the dogs (and hunters) ready for the upcoming season. A cart would take the judges upslope to the trial area and they would plant birds if necessary. They would radio down to the starter when ready. Two dogs and their handlers were sent out in each heat.

Starbuck was paired with a large Weimaraner and they both got out of the gate fast but the Weimaraner shot out ahead with its longer stride. He turned off and may have scented something not too far from the judges. The Buckster kept going and after a while, I wondered if he was going to come back, kind of like the scene in Chevy Chase's Funny Farm (3:20 into the clip).

The Weimaraner's find turned out to be the judge's cart, as the planted birds were formerly in it. Starbuck was out of the judges' sight but just as I caught up to him, he put up a covey of quail. He watched them sail off in a multitude of directions. He looked back at me and then toward the judge's cart but unfortunately, they weren't watching him. If I can anthropomorphize, he had a look of disbelief that no one (other than me) saw his prowess.

As we headed back downslope to where the judges were, Starbuck started to limp a bit and then more vigorously right as we got to the cart. I stopped to take a look at his affected leg and paw but couldn't see anything. The judges said to put him in the cart for the ride back to the starting line. I rode along to watch over him.

As soon as I took him out, he ran back to the truck, drank water from his bowl and started to play around the truck. I looked at his leg and paw once more and, again, there was nothing, nor any signs of a lingering limp. I began to wonder if he was actually feigning injury because of a) getting a free ride back, b) not wanting to participate, seeing as his find went unrewarded (he did get a biscuit) or c) there would be no implied shame for the majority perception of him not finding anything if he was injured in the process.

I guess I shouldn't complain, I got a free ride too.

two pairs beats four of a kind

It seems the larger a company gets - or the more departments it divides itself into - the more difficult it is for it to get from the inkling of a need to product. The classic cartoon with the various departmental views of a swing humorously depicts the problem.

So it was with dog boots. Before, about 5 years ago, you could only buy dog boots in sets of four, all identical in size. Maybe all of the dogs I've seen are freaks of nature and there really are dogs with four equal-sized paws.

Maybe it's all the inbreeding that accounted for Starbuck's front paws being larger than his rear paws. He waddled around with his ill-fitting boots, like one wearing fins on land. He ended up casting the boots off and ran around tracking mud wherever his happy, bootless paws took him. I assumed wrong that the size difference would be accounted for when you bought a set of four. Makes you wonder if the key personnel in the dog boot industry interact with the end user.

The last time I was in a pet store, while the Buckster was still alive, I noticed that there was a neatly stocked display of dog boots, sold in pairs. There was even a place a dog could sit down and try them on.

made in the shade

As mentioned in a previous post, it was sometimes difficult to distinguish the Buckster's motives, finding birds or finding a place to rest. His body language for birds or rest was very similar for both, with a degree of stiffer, more deliberate movements, intense sniffing and a telltale tail. Usually, his nose lead him in a certain direction and he would check markings along the way. Most of these markings were where birds may have been earlier in the day, ground roosts or feeding areas.

Sometimes, these tracking missions would take us on a long and circuitous route to a familiar resting spot. I usually didn't notice until I was almost at the spot and Starbuck was already there, resting. He was usually pretty intuitive about when we needed these stops, though as my lag time increased, it must have been pretty obvious to him.

The picture above was one of his favorites. This spot was one of the view that didn't have much of a view. It was intended to be more of a short, intermediate stop, one on the way to a better place for the lunch stop. As you can see, the shade is suspiciously sized to his body size and shape, not leaving much for the rest of the party (me). And, there is no other piece of shade for miles, only a bunch of smaller bushes and twigs sticking out of the ground in a relatively barren portion of the landscape. Hence, the only shade afforded me was that which was cast from my cap's visor; not much in the blistering tropic heat of the locale.

That's not to say he was insensitive. As he looked over from his oasis and noticed my predicament, he trotted over, turned around and dug a pile of cool earth onto my boots, the perfect dog solution to the problem at hand.

opening day

Usually, the end of October started a flurry of activity - checking all the gear, supplies and treats, those that would survive the day in a pack. Pastries from Starbucks rarely fit the description but they were somehow always plentiful. The things that were normally stored away for the other 9 months of the year were carefully checked for operation and blaze garments rewashed and dried ready for use. Everything was laid out and matched against a checklist to make sure nothing was forgotten and loaded into the truck the night before. The first Saturday in November was opening day.

It was never easy getting ready because Starbuck knew what it meant.  Certain shapes and colors (yes, blue-yellow spectrum for most dogs, blaze orange for the Buckster) were immediate clues to Starbuck and he would get barking excited. Holding a finger up w/ "shhh!" would only make things worse; it was then to be treated like a secret, like SBtv.

Therefore, most of the preparation needed to be done, really, in secrecy, while the Buckster was sleeping or in short bursts while he was outside. On occasion, he would be suspicious upon waking up or coming back in the house as everything, even secrets, have a scent. If everything worked out discretely, he was surprised on opening day and ready for a full day of fun, starting from the moment we pulled out of the driveway.

Being so excited to be out in his hunting area again, after a long 9 months, he ranged far. His first birds up were usually well out of range. In the picture (you can't see him but trust me), he is in the red square and the dotted line is the approximate trail he took to get there - in the time it took to get the camera out of my vest.

This year was very odd, the first without him on opening day; I didn't even remember that I used to look forward to preparing for it.

It came and went.

I plan to take his ashes out there, a bit later in the season, to take a look at the view again - at least one last time.

anywhere with a view

I was never really sure how good Starbuck's vision was, wondering if inconsistencies in percerption were eyesight related, color related or trickery related. At fifty yards, he could distinguish between a finger made to look like a treat and a real treat (up close, he might pretend the finger was a real treat to get the last laugh). If that treat fell on the floor right in front of him, looking around for it telegraphed he may have found it faster by smell. Or, perhaps it was just a game as he knew I would steal it from him if he didn't pick it up right away. He always got the treat in the end but sometimes with a game of chase first.

As mentioned in the last post, there was a discernable difference in his behavior and movements that would portend he was on to something; getting "birdy" is the technical terminology. Once in while, the getting "birdy" turned into getting "resty," as what he was on to was a good place to take a rest. These were not always readily available as these spots needed several attributes in order to be considered:

• shade
• ample breeze
• cool, damp earth, either exposed or easily reached by digging
• water and treats (givens)
• a view
  

A view? Usually, it was some place that the ocean (and passing whales) could be seen or a photogenic mountain range or the sunset. As he rested, he would look off to the distance, presumably enjoying the moment of rest and the view as much as I did. Like us, he would drift into a daydream as he looked across the ocean.

Some days, we spent more time being "resty" than "birdy" but no one argued. Some days, that was just fine.

camouflage

Although it is commonly thought that dogs are incapable of hiding their feelings in the same way that humans can, they can camouflage their tactical intentions. Starbuck was always overjoyed to go hunting - barking the whole way to the hunting area (silent only when sniffing the outdoor BBQ we passed every week), running around in circles while I got ready and then ranging far as we hiked along the dirt road to the hunting area. Once he scented something, his demeanor changed into a stealthy predator. Nose to the wind, he triangulated his quarry's position and approached with caution.

As  field conditions dictated, he might have further shrouded himself with an odorous mask. Aromatic plants would seem to have been adequate but the scent of choice was usually left behind by other animals. You would think that the birds he preyed upon would find it odd or unnatural that formerly stationary piles of cow dung or their own turd were now quartering across the field in front of them but he seemed confident that the birds were fooled. The sad commentary was that they usually were fooled.

Trickery and camouflage found their way into home life as well. I first took a picture of the fully-awake Buckster on the couch from 15 feet away and started to walk towards him. As I got closer, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, even changing his breathing, so that a sleeping dog may lie unfettered by paparazzi. This second picture caught him monitoring the efficacy of his camouflage through slightly opened eyes, and if he was out of harm's way, when he heard the footsteps stop.

greener pastures

Whenever given the chance, Starbuck liked to escape and take a look around the neighborhood. Not so bad in a rural area (where he saw the turkeys and ignored the deer) but much more of a worry in urban areas. Luckily, he was more interested in lush landscaped areas and the creatures they tended to support, thereby limiting his wanderings off-road. He usually found a weakness: a loose gate, enough room under the lattice if he dug far enough or a new visitor that didn't know his habits and made full use of it.

Now, it wasn't so obvious as putting on his pack and heading out the door. The photograph is, of course, posed with his dog backpack but he seems to look so sad, like he was ready to run away from home. It was probably more that he didn't like to wear anything and what something like a pack - filled with dog biscuits, a collapsible water dish and a first aid kit - might portend afield. If the bell was not enough!

I think he may have worn this pack only once outside. Though cinched as close as practical, it distracted him as it slid back and forth with his movement. Dog boots were even worse, affecting his gait. He did best unencumbered by any gadgets or apparel, free to move as he wished.

And, sometimes he did wish to run away. The funniest was an episode where he tried to camouflage himself within a pack of Brittanys. We met them leaving the hunting area as we pushed further in. After a brief dog introduction, the four Brittanys started to move away and Starbuck followed them, wedging himself in the middle of the pack. Aside from the obvious, five instead four leaving and zero moving in, he was only one that kept looking back to see if anyone (me) noticed.

SBtv2

Starbuck moved 3 times in his life; I think he probably enjoyed the home of his puppyhood the best and his most recent the least.  By the time he got to his last destination, birds were of little interest to him. Once in a while, he'd chase the doves if they got too close but for the most part, he'd leave them be. But, then again, he was never really interested in doves.

In his second home, he was introduced to additional forms of wildlife - deer and turkeys. Oddly enough, though he had been curious about cows and horses in the past, the deer did not amuse him. He would be fast asleep on the couch and yet you could hear the deer chomping on passion fruit not 10 yards away outside. See the video in the sidebar; I think you can hear the Buckster sleeping in the background.

The turkeys were a different story. Many times, he'd sit on the couch by the window before the turkeys were visible, waiting for his "show" to start. Within a few minutes, the turkeys would tentatively pop into view. He'd scurry from room to room to view the turkeys from different windows as they progressed on their feeding route. As opposed to the pheasant family in Kaneohe, the turkeys were skittish and concerned by the dog-head shape in the window that followed them around (for an interesting wildlife live cam, see PixController, Inc.).

Once (on a "trick or treat" escapade), he crawled under the house to see the turkeys up close. By the time I got out of the house, I thought he'd be long gone but the Buckster was still in the back yard. It appeared that he was barking at a tree but upon closer inspection, he "treed" one of the turkeys and, despite its size, it was well concealed in the boughs. Where is that camera when you need it?

what, are you looking at me?

Although the bird feeder was primarily for Starbuck's enjoyment, I found myself watching along with him from time to time (well, actually, a lot). We both would lurk in the darkness under a table, side by side, and peer at the birds through the jalousie slats. When something particularly interesting happened (like the arrival of the pheasant hen and her chicks), we slowly looked at each other and tried to be quiet. His enthusiasm was always contagious and sometimes we did end up making too much noise and scared the birds away. Soon enough, they always came back, at least until the feeder was empty.

However, we didn't always find the same things interesting. For example, the Kentucky cardinals and shamas weren't that fascinating to the Buckster. They usually fed away from the action on a smaller feeder. This smaller feeder was the first to be used but after seeing the volume of finches that arrived, a new tubular feeder with multiple roosts became necessary. Even that, when filled with 3-4 cups of bird seed, was depleted within 15 minutes.

The cardinals apparently found the plastic red bird attached to the smaller feeder intriguing. The male cardinal would catch it looking at him, in a confrontational eye-to-eye posture, and they invariably ended up in pecking contests. Although the plastic bird always lost, he stood his ground, probably to the chagrin of the male cardinal, who probably demanded a more gracious loser in battle. On the other hand, the female cardinal seemed to nurture it, sometimes by trying to feed it.

And, she never quite got a thank you from the stoic, plastic ingrate.