The Nature of Field Dogs

Wild adventures with the best of friends

Ripley, watercolor and pencil on plant print

I have never been a great dog trainer. I can bring a wild hawk into my home, convince him I have value, and build a strong enough relationship with him to get him flying free and willingly returning to my glove. I have trained parrots to vocalize on cue in front of crowds. I once taught a wild kookaburra to land on my hand in return for a mouse so that he would stop stealing them from my bucket. This took understanding natural behavior, communicating without shared language, and having something of value to offer a wild creature. Dogs, however, confound me. They seem to think most of my value is just being me. Sometimes they do something simply because they know it will make me smile. It’s weird. It confuses me. And I love it.

I often wonder why humans crafted the relationships, personalities, and shapes of individual breeds. For example, the mini dachshund. Who thought it was a good idea to carefully breed for a fiercely stubborn dog on stubby legs with a wicked sense of humor and a penchant for running the entire household? To hunt badgers, sure, but I’m not sure where the sly humor and royal demands play into that. Perhaps though, this is a question I should be asking myself, because I find it utterly charming even when I’m slightly irritated.

One of my greatest pleasures this season has been watching my mini long-haired dachshund pup, Ripley find her footing in the field. There is something in her blood that sings to her and says that purpose and fulfillment are just ahead on a strange scent. I wish we could all hear that song when we start to get near our calling, that we could all be so certain of our true place in the world. It’s enough though, to live the moment through her.

I do believe that dogs are as entwined in nature as the humans that imagined their potential in the earliest of days and those who love them now. I think this because there is nothing that gives me greater joy than watching my dogs work with my hawks in the field. Their joy is expansive and carries you along with it.

When my dogs see something I do not, I look harder. When they are on their nose, I breathe more deeply. And while I feel like I can only be invited glimpses of a hawk’s world, the dogs expand the borders of my own. We shaped dogs to be an extension of ourselves and indeed they widen our senses. They extend us deeper into the secrets and surprises of a wilder world.

There are a thousand reasons to extoll the virtues of dogs. It has all been written before and they bring so much into our homes. Sometimes though, I wonder if the one true reason humans drew dogs into their sphere was simply to bridge the gap between us and all that is wild. After all, the greatest adventures are the ones that can be shared with a truest friend. Perhaps we’re more likely to get our desperately needed time in nature if our adventure buddy has an excellent nose and four strong (if not long) legs.