Through the summer months and into autumn, we have been busy running many, many trails. To begin with, I set the trails myself, walking the route with the target so I knew exactly where they had walked and what the wind was doing when they walked it. This meant (in theory at least) that I could place the dog where the scent was likely to have been deposited to help her learn the game. These early “known” trails were only a few hundred metres long with perhaps a couple of decision points (junctions to you and me), but as confidence grew we attempted longer and more complex trails. After the sorry tale of the 3-person line-ups, I was relieved to see that Venn really enjoyed this new game, and we rattled through the basics at a healthy pace.
The process of trailing, as discussed previously, involves a degree of interpretation by the handler because the scent gets scattered around by atmospheric conditions and doesn’t just sit in a nice line where the person walked. In real terms, what this meant was that I too had to learn stuff in order to give Venn the best chance of success. If scent has been blown into an area away from where the body walked, the dog will still react, but it is the handler’s job to assess the dog’s confidence, and the likely scent location in terms of the prevailing conditions, in order to work out whether the response is significant. All this while trying to read the dog’s body language when she is on the trail, and keeping an eye on navigation too. Who says I can’t multi-task?
Besides the occasional hiccup, our known trails went really well, and we successfully negotiated complex trails of over a couple of kilometres at our best; well into assessment standard.
Well, not quite.
The next stage in the progression is to start running “blind” trails, where the handler does not know where the trail goes. When we tried these, frustratingly they usually went wrong. If things went well when I knew the answer, and went wrong when I didn’t, then the only conclusion is that I was influencing the dog in some way. In short, it seemed that perhaps I was telling her the answer.
We went back to known trails and I tried to analyse my behaviour for any hint that I was pushing Venn in the correct direction, but after a good number of runs I could find nothing.
The other possibility was that when I did not know the answer, I was somehow undermining Venn’s confidence or ability to follow the route she wanted. This seemed like a richer seam to pick at. I think it is pretty well established that dogs can pick up on their owner’s anxiety, and running blind trails was proving to be a hugely stressful experience for me. Not an easy one to address, as I haven’t mastered the “I’ll simply not be stressed this time” level of emotional control. Another thought was that I was checking for commitment to a particular route by adding line tension and making her pull me if she wanted to go that way. Was I over-cooking the tension to the point where Venn thought I was saying “no”?
The weeks rolled by as I tried different permutations but to no avail. This, of course, did not help the stress levels. Another emerging problem was the noise Venn was generating on these blind trails; her frustration was rising as well as mine. A particular low point was as we trailed around Dolgellau, and someone came out of their house to complain about the noise. Not a good look!
We have always done blind trails at SARDA training weekends, largely because the availability of lots of willing Dogs-Bodies makes it too good an opportunity to pass up, and November’s training was no different. We set out on a blind trail with the usual mix of barking, false leads and a general struggle. We got there in the end, but critically Tim, one of the trainers (and who knew the trail) noticed something of a pattern in her vocalisations. Basically, she picked up the trail quickly and started trailing silently in the correct direction. I turned her around from this route as she was putting no tension through the line which I read as her being uncommitted. I took her to examine other options which resulted in frustration barking and abortive trailing. When I took her back to the first (correct) option she again started working silently, though initially with little line tension. It seems that the barking, or indeed lack of it was a better predictor of confidence than line-tension, and a silent dog on a taught line was a very good sign indeed.
This new reading of Venn’s behaviour gelled with things I had observed myself but never put together, along with anecdotal evidence from our bodies, who often report that they never heard us coming. It was certainly worth exploring.
With some trepidation we set out on a second blind trail, with the intention of letting silence be our guide. And it worked. A third, more complex and semi-urban trail also fell before us. Wow.
On the second day we ran another three blind trails, building on the previous day’s observations, and working on trying to understand what the barking meant when it occurred. As we looked more closely, we thought we could identify 4 different vocalisations.
1. Intermittent wimper/yelp while pulling hard: “I’m on a very strong scent” or “I’m close to someone I know.” Reasonably uncommon.
2. Single bark, often looking backwards: “Come-on, keep up” often occurs following a line-snag, over enthusiastic tension check, or steep uphill! Quite common.
3. Repeated insistent bark: Sign of frustration. E.g.”lets start the game”, but also “just been taken off the correct trail and put somewhere else”, being pushed against the flow of the trail, scent pool, intermittent scent, or “cant make sense of the pattern”. Often accompanied by repeated indications but no trailing. Common. Not necessarily an indication she is off the scent, but that there may be better options available.
4. Silence while obviously working, often with little line tension: a good sign. Trust her.
What was also apparent was that with Venn covering the nose-work, I was more relaxed and able to give more thought to terrain considerations and my own decision making. I was back in business as the weakest link.
Day-3 and another 3 blind trails. Not long or particularly complex, but in a fairly busy caravan park with people, strange wind patterns and vehicular traffic to increase the difficulty. On the first run I had a bit of a crisis of confidence (we had had a shocker in much the same place a month ago) and needed to ask the trail setter whether we were still on the route. We were. With that little boost we were able to push on and find the body without issue. The next two were found without too much of an issue too.
So perhaps we have a new way forwards. It looks promising so far.
Commentaires