IN THE LIVING ROOM of my parents鈥 house in Littleton, Colorado, stands a nineteenth-century grandfather clock from England. The wood has a deep burgundy luster, and a painted swan that used to rock to and fro with the turning of the hands. Until this past spring, the clock chimed every 15 minutes. But thanks to my border collie puppy, Danny, who was three months old when I left him there while on a week-long trip to San Diego, the swan is stalled mid-rock and the clock is silent.
Danny could hear the clock chime from anywhere in the house. When he did, he鈥檇 jerk his head up from a piece of rawhide or one of my running shoes, listen for a confirming second chime, then take off at full speed. A foot off the ground at 20 miles per hour, he鈥檇 sail into the living room and slam into the clock with a full-body chest bump. He would then crouch and scamper in front it, barking as though he were trying to turn a mother cow, until the chiming stopped.
The sequence was disruptive, to say the least鈥攎ostly to the delicate mechanisms inside the clock. Mom and dad could hardly believe his intensity or speed, and when I returned from my trip, the heirloom had been permanently silenced. In addition, Danny had split a terra cotta vase, chewed the spines on a number of encyclopedia volumes, and dismantled a drip-irrigation system on the patio.
鈥淚 read that border collies are the worst breed of dog to have in the house,鈥 my dad told my brother over the phone while Danny swam in the lily pad garden and I pretended not to listen in. 鈥淒anny is certainly living up to that.鈥
Worst breed in the house鈥攖hat鈥檚 exactly the breed I want: A dog that鈥檚 better outdoors than indoors. A dog that can handle snow drifts and scree fields, that鈥檚 smart enough to avoid guy lines and porcupines, and that has enough drive to walk uphill all day. I鈥檓 looking at Danny to be my companion in the field. Now, as he approaches his first birthday, he鈥檚 showing signs of being a good fit for the job. Surprisingly enough, the common-sense preparation I鈥檝e bumbled through for the last eight months, much of the time worried that my dog was out-thinking me, seems to have worked.
I made it easy on myself by getting what a trainer would call 鈥済ood material to work with.鈥 An American bulldog doesn鈥檛 have the legs for what I have in mind. Huskies run through the forest as easily as wolves but have never been bred for obedience. A German shepherd is too large for the front seat of my truck.
As soon as I brought Danny home, I started exposing him to aspects of the kind life I wanted for him. I set up a tent in the backyard, laid his bed in the open vestibule, and read a book nearby. We spent the evening hours in the woods during a gentle rain. I watched him hobble with cactus spines in his paws until he learned to jerk them out with his teeth and avoid cactus. I was preconditioning the puppy to be my dog.
The first night we slept under the stars on the banks of Northern New Mexico鈥檚 Rio Chama, I could see the payoff. Danny prefers a muddy night in camp to an evening in front of the TV. He鈥檚 taken our early adventures together in stride, just as I鈥檝e put up with his destruction of my property. We鈥檙e now at the point where he can go for longer hikes, spend multiple days in the backcountry, and I can feel confident we鈥檒l both be happy. Puppyhood may suck, but watching my dog grow into the role I鈥檇 envisioned him for is worth all the running shoes I鈥檒l ever own.
I BOUGHT DANNY on December 31, 2012, from in northern Colorado. His litter was seven weeks old, looked like a mob of baby skunks, and was living in what had to be the coldest kennel in the state. At 2 P.M. the thermometer read five degrees Fahrenheit in the sun. Ice casts of water dishes lay scattered on the snow in front of kennels for 17 border collies. Not one dog in the place looked cold.
I have yet to see Danny shiver. Whether that鈥檚 a function of his infancy in an icebox, I don鈥檛 know. But it couldn鈥檛 have hurt. Herding dogs are tough. The nature of their job requires it. They get kicked by cows, they duck under barded wire fences, and most have never seen a Milk Bone.
More importantly, herding dogs have to be intelligent and obedient. In addition to their border collie program, Bob and Jan Wagner run Wagner Ranch, where dogs work alongside cowboys to handle a herd of Charolais cattle. Like most breeders, the Wagners try to encourage certain traits in their dogs.
鈥淲e want our dogs to be smart,鈥 says Bob Wagner. 鈥淲e need them to work with us as a team, and the smart dogs know what we want. I don鈥檛 know how they do, but they do.鈥
In human terms, I would say Danny has the intelligence of a mischievous two-year-old. He can open both the front door to the house and the backdoor to the porch. I鈥檓 afraid to leave the keys in the tractor ignition for fear that Danny might jump in the driver鈥檚 seat and mimic what he鈥檚 seen me do. The flip side is that he can read my expressions and body language. If Danny is 200 yards away squaring off with a cow elk, I need to be able to defuse the situation without screaming.
Maybe it鈥檚 because I鈥檝e been around farm and ranch dogs all my life, but I avoid leashing Danny if at all possible. I don鈥檛 even like him wearing a collar because I think it affects his coat. I stick to these principals even when we head out to the hills. Chasing wildlife is not only bad manners, it can be dangerous for the dog. So Danny must listen when I tell him to forget the elk. If he doesn鈥檛, he gets left at home. If I tell Danny not to paw at the door of the tent, I expect him to remember that for the rest of his life. I鈥檒l likely never tap the full extent of his brainpower but I like to know the mental potential and capacity is there.
In the same way that an adolescent dog grows into its body, Danny is growing into his intelligence. When he first saw moving vehicles he acted like they were oversized sheep that needed herding. His focus was a little scary and completely unshakable. He would throw himself to the ground, flat as a stalking lioness, and track the vehicles with his yellow eyes. If I continued walking, Danny would rather be dragged than take his eyes off a car.
Danny is better about cars now. He still flattens himself to the ground and refuses to move, but he spends more time looking and responding to me than he does creating and solving his own problems. A little maturity is a welcome sign, but at the same time, it means the window is closing on the most impressionable period of his life.
ON OUR LAST FISHING TRIP, I saved Danny鈥檚 life. We were on Southern Colorado鈥檚 Conejos River, along its lower, wider stretches. Cottonwood and fir logs had piled in large jams at the river鈥檚 cut-bank corners. For four hours that morning, Danny had contented himself on the bank and in the shallows while I cast dry flies into the foam lines.
About noon I was de-rigging my rod when I saw Danny, upstream of me, wade into a fast chute of water. The current began to move him downstream as he paddled hard for the near bank. He turned to swim upstream鈥攁 novice and dangerous mistake. Swimming against the current, he was being pulled towards a logjam. I lost sight of him behind the pile of logs. I dropped my rod, unclipped my hip pack and started up the bank, hoping I wouldn鈥檛 have to swim for him.
When Danny hit the logjam, he wrapped his front legs over a partially submerged piece of wood. The water started pulling him under the jam. I broke through the opposite side of the deadfall, puncturing my waders, and scrambled out to where he clung for his life. I lifted him out of the water with both hands.
Danny was scared and glad to see me, but I don鈥檛 think he knew he was about to drown. He doesn鈥檛 seem to have any residual fear of rivers or logjams. But I do. I should have seen and prevented the situation before it developed. We鈥檇 been camped on the upper sections of the river for two days, and he鈥檇 been on fishing trips before, but this was bigger water. Without realizing it, I had overexposed my dog.
Tony Banuelos is head trainer for the K-9 unit at Arizona鈥檚 Maricopa County Sherriff鈥檚 Office, one of the largest sheriff鈥檚 offices in the country. Banuelos and his crew spend months preparing the dogs to tolerate gunshots, flash bangs, and helicopters. Most of the dogs鈥擥erman-Czech shepherds, Belgian Malinois, Labradors, and golden retrievers鈥攃ome to Arizona at a year to two years old from countryside breeders in Europe. They鈥檝e never seen a skyscraper and many have never been in a vehicle. Though they have a foundation of training, they鈥檙e a long way from being able to work with a SWAT Team in downtown Phoenix. Banuelos鈥檚 first job is to desensitize them to their workplace.
鈥淲e put new dogs through tests to see how they react in different environments to different situations,鈥 he says. 鈥淲e鈥檒l have a new handler grab them right out of their kennel. We expose them to loud noises. I watch their body鈥攚hat are their ears doing? Is their tail wagging? Is the dog scared? Then we gradually bring them along based on what they can accept.鈥
Most of us don鈥檛 need a dog that鈥檚 willing to walk through the rotor wash of a Black Hawk helicopter. But we can all appreciate an animal that acts sensibly in a new environment. Some of that tolerance and level-headedness will be natural to the individual dog, but a lot of it can be nurtured: you show the dog something new, remain confident that he鈥檒l live through it, and reward him when he comes out the other side.
This applies to even seemingly benign situations. Every National Forest campground I鈥檝e ever been to requires dogs to be leashed. For me, that means tying Danny to a tree or picnic table. Because he鈥檚 so sensitive, this would result in hours of whimpering and barking if he had zero preparation. So I tied him to my desk chair at home following walks. After a month of half-hour sessions, I could park him with only a strand of dental floss holding him and he鈥檇 sit there for hours.
听
I鈥橫 NOT MARRIED, don鈥檛 have any children, and I ran off my last girlfriend (sort of 鈥 you might also say 鈥渨e parted ways鈥). The point is that I have the time and energy to develop a high-maintenance animal like Danny into a dog that鈥檚 not only behaves properly in the backcountry, but enhances my experience through his companionship.
If I walk Danny less than three miles a day, he鈥檚 hard to be around. He runs large circles in my small house and works me like he would livestock. He bites my ankles and knees. He knows that when I鈥檓 on the phone I won鈥檛 yell at him for latching on to my leg and gripping my shin with his teeth. In general, I keep the discipline to a minimum, and it鈥檚 safe to say that I tolerate more than most people would be comfortable with. For one, Danny sleeps in the bed with me most nights, as have all my dogs, which has nothing to do with my girlfriend situation but everything to do with his obedience. I spoil him with affection. This past winter, I slept with the bedroom windows open and would let him crawl under the sheets and sleep next to my chest. 听He knows how good life can be when he鈥檚 on the good-behavior side of the line.
Being part of the team鈥攐r the pack as he likely sees it鈥攊s Danny鈥檚 highest priority. When he contradicts me, he鈥檚 out. To lay the groundwork for this, I followed the advice a dog trainer friend of mine and ditched him in an unfamiliar (but safe) environment. In the first weeks after I got Danny, I took him to the woods and waited until he was preoccupied, then hid behind a tree. I didn鈥檛 move or make a sound until Danny came looking for me. I wanted him to worry that he鈥檇 been abandoned, and when he finally found me, I praised him and gave him a piece of rare steak. After doing this to him a second time, he was less likely to take his eyes off me, and when he saw me start to walk away he quickly hurried to my side.
With those two motivations鈥攖he desire to be with me and be accepted by me鈥攕olidly in place, Danny is psychologically ready for farther horizons. I won鈥檛 take him on longer hikes until he鈥檚 a year old to avoid damaging the soft cartilage in his joints, but I already trust him. Come the New Year, I won鈥檛 hesitate to take him through elk calving grounds or aspen groves frequented by bears.
When I start packing the truck full of gear, Danny knows we鈥檙e headed for the wilderness. He also knows that bad behavior will get him benched. His antics will always be there, and I want him to be the individual that he is, but my commands reign supreme. Though he鈥檚 a long way from being a trained dog, he鈥檚 got the tools and foundation to be my backcountry co-pilot. And there鈥檚 no one I鈥檇 rather have at my side when in God鈥檚 country than Danny.
Will Grant wrote about racing in the Mongol Derby horse race for 国产吃瓜黑料 magazine鈥檚 May 2013 issue.