This month I want to talk about how animals of the same species are individuals in their own right, just like us. Each may take a different way of handling, a different training method to communicate. None of them enjoy or learn happily from pain or being bullied, just like us. There’s going to be a little nostalgia and I can be long winded, so hang on. I hope you enjoy my story.
A long, long, long time and many years ago, I was born in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. It was a magic place miles away from the city. We had lots of animals and we raised our own food as country people did in those times. There were seven kids in my family and we all had our daily chores.
My Dad was a horse trader. He was always bringing home a new horse he’d traded for a stack of hay or a load of corn or even for the occasional saddle. Sometimes he traded the horse he brought home last week for a new horse this week. It was a wonderful life for me, I loved every horse. And they were all different. This horse threw himself out of the trailer, ears back, eyes wide, teeth bared and flashing, tail stiff. That horse nickered and with a soft eye, reached out to be petted by all the little kids, tickling our hands while he ate our offerings of grass and apples. Another horse stood straight and tall and strong, waiting to see what would happen next.
We always had a dog or two around the place, sometimes more. Brown dogs and black dogs, mutts and old dogs. One time we had puppies. Dad shook his head and cussed. He said, “I thought that old dog was sterile.” Some of the dogs were soft and squishy, tongues all loose and lolling, eyes soft and brown and warm. Some were upright, alert and ready to work. Some were quiet and kept to the barn. I dressed a brown lab puppy up like a baby one time. He slept in my arms and sucked a baby bottle. I loved him, too. It was way better than playing with dolls.
Our big fat sow grunted her disdain for people who leaned on the board wall around her pen. “She’s wearing high heels!” squealed my little cousin from the city. The sow nosed her piglets into a far corner. We watched as she drank right from the hose and shot a broad, yellow stream of laughter generating pee at the same time. She grunted again and her audience made comments about why people think pigs stink. Dad said, “Stay out of that pen, she has babies. She won’t give you much warning before she bites your leg off.”
Goats are interesting characters. Billy used to head butt me until he knocked me down, then he would stand on top of me. I’d been taught not to cuss but being a younger sister of some very tough boys, I was a little fighter. I struggled and kicked against that darn goat until either he decided I was too much trouble or I just wasn’t any fun any more. He’d let me up unharmed but mad. I’d swing a kick at him and throw a handful of dirt. He’d take a step back and watch me wipe away a tear. Goat cheese that my Mom made was great. That goat was not my favorite character.
We had a Banty rooster, too. A little guy with great big spurs. He would attack me when I stepped through the barnyard gate. He’d come flying at me, batting his wings, and squawking. It was awful. Dad said he probably singled me out because I was the smallest human on the place. We never knew for sure. My hands flew up to cover my face and I’d yell. His spurs raked at me and he left deep and bleeding scratch marks. Dad said I should start carrying a stick. I swung that board one time at that stupid rooster. With everything that my little six year old arms could muster, I hit his mad whirlwind of feathers solid, like a batter up and no strikes left. I never did see him again. (Please don’t email about this….he was a horrible, horrible rooster….and I was only six years old!)
In the summer bare feet kicked up soft, puffy brown dust everywhere I went. I remember celebrating snow one Christmastime, the year the pond froze over. We’d been skating in our shoes for hours when Dad showed up. He called us all off of the ice and then stepped onto the edge of the frozen pond. Ice cracked clean across to the other side. Big, thin sheets of ice were set adrift and rocked gently on the water. “Stay off of that ice until it will hold me”, he said. My brothers and sisters and I didn’t say anything, our eyes told it all. Ruined our fun.
There’s something about growing up in the quietness of the country, close to Nature, that gives a person a different perspective of the world. Animals have more space to move, more confidence to move about that space, more reasons to be there, and more to teach a little girl than animals that live confined in a house or a small yard. We raised our own meat. We rode horses. We milked our cows and our goats. We had fresh eggs. We raised our own vegetable garden and picked fruit and berries in season. We never went hungry.
I learned a lot about animals and a lot about myself.
My Dad taught me when I was very little that a cornered animal with no way out and no way to avoid you in its escape will go through you or over you. Whatever it takes to get away. And he was right. Horses, dogs, cats, any animal who does not trust you and wants to get away, will go right over the top of you. Biting, clawing, kicking, running. They will use whatever means they can to get away. And we learned it.
I learned that trust and gentleness, confidence and good energy will turn a horse from a shy, scared, trembling mass into an easy, soft eyed, warm and relaxed bundle of joy for a little girl. You just have to give them some time to understand that you don’t mean them any harm. Hens wouldn’t peck when you took their eggs, if you were gentle. Cud chewing cows moved easy and slow if you moved easy and slow. Pigs and goats were respected, no teasing.
Dogs and kids growing up together must have been a plan that God made. It was great. Mom wouldn’t let the dogs into the house, there was way too much housekeeping already with seven kids, but the dogs didn’t seem to mind. We had a great big barn and there was a nice cool space under the back porch steps. It was dark and earthy under there. I could lay there in the heat of the day and watch people walk around, watch their shoes. They didn’t know I was hiding there with the new mommy dog and puppies. Mommy licked my arm a few times; the puppies slurped and made little mewing noises while I watched them nurse. They smelled warm and nice. It was Heaven growing up in the country.
One day we had a strange dog limp onto the place. Fear rippled through my oldest brother, through my Dad, and down to me. “David, go get your gun, Son”, Dad said. “I think we’re gonna have some trouble.” It was a light colored dog, male and growling low in his throat. He was limping and kind of staggering a little bit. Dave came back with his gun and we watched and waited. The dog moved toward us, then turned and went on through slowly, his butt tucked tight, his eyes were wide. He’d throw a glance at us over his shoulder every once in a while. As he moved across and into the tree line away from the pond, I felt the tension go out of my Dad. He put his hand on my brother’s shoulder and said, “It’s the one thing I worry about when I’m not here. You kids getting hurt by a stray dog. That dog was hurt, maybe somebody shot him or maybe he fought with another dog, we don’t know. A sick or injured dog will throw signals at you. He’ll tell you what he’s thinking and feeling. Did you see him pull his body close in and his teeth were showing? Never corner an animal. Give him a way to get away or back away until he understands what you want. A scared animal will go over you or through you. Any man who pushes an animal further than it can go without keeping its pride is a fool. He’ll never earn the trust of that animal. Remember that.”
Do you know how to tell what an animal looks like when it’s hurt, or scared or when it might fight or attack? It’s a good thing to know. More and more animals are making their way to the city. Bears, coyotes, possums, raccoons, wild dogs, feral cats, moose, deer and the occasional horse that might stray in and of course, we live with dogs.
Dogs under stress should never be pressured or pushed into a corner. They need time to relax and understand what you want before you ever try to put your hands on them. There are some dog wranglers and people out there who can calm a dog quickly. And way too many who are working with much too little knowledge of the dog. Some of them just want a quick result, usually because that’s more exciting for the owner of the dog. They get that result with fear. That result will not last. They have created a dog which can and most likely will explode. Someone is going to get hurt. I think Ian Dunbar said it best, “Removing the ticker from the time bomb.” Take a dog’s warning away and next time he won’t take the time to warn you, he’ll go straight for the attack.
Next time you watch the dog training shows on TV or go to a dog park or go walking with your dog, watch the body language. Both of the people and the dogs. Is the dog leaning away, licking its lips, is his mouth closed while someone tries to touch him? Does the person have to pull on the leash to get the dog closer to them? Is the leash tight? Is the person putting pressure on the dog, leaning into it, insisting on contact or cornering it so to stop its movement? Do you see avoidance from the dog, looking away or not approaching the person but keeping a distance? Are the whites of the dog’s eyes showing? Or is it a happy and trusting body language, does the dog approach the person with trust, happily, with an open mouth and a happy tail? Dogs are great instant judges of character and motive.
A dog under stress or being pressured by a human will show these signals: Nose licking, lip licking, airplane ears, ears back, flat ears, head down, tail between legs, tail high and straight, curled lip, teeth showing, mouth pulled back, still legs, hackles up, eyes staring, crouching down, muzzle wrinkled back, ears pointing in different directions while snarling, turning head away, behind tucked under, wide open mouth, lips drawn back, rapid respiration, body posture forward, hunched, holding body tight, trembling, tail low, tense face, tense lips, whiskers erect, frozen or stiff body posture, nose up and looking away, whale eye, leaning flat against something. Moving away, running away, or keeping it’s distance.
Around you or through you. Or what looks like submission but is really shutting down from fear and stress.
Pressure goes by a lot of different names. It’s still bullying. And it doesn’t work; it doesn’t change behavior, not for the long run.
Read books, watch a DVD like The Language of Dogs series, watch trainers trusted by dogs. We have some of the greatest books ever written by positive training and positive relationships with dogs in the SitStay library. Know what your dog looks like happy, what he looks like alert, and what he looks like when he feels danger or fear. It can save your life and his. It’s like learning another language from a very good teacher. The SitStay library has a select choice of books that we know will help you and your dog live with each other better. Here are some of my favorite picks:
The Language of Dogs DVD
The Dog Whisperer by Paul Owens. He is the genuine Dog Whisperer, you will not regret it.
Don’t Shoot the Dog by Karen Pryor
Positive Perspectives by Pat Miller
The Other End of the Leash by Patricia McConnell
It’s Me or The Dog, a very good TV show. (There are a few good dog shows on TV and there are a lot of very good dog trainers who will never get on TV. Watch. Be discerning, watch the dog with the trainer. Are the face, ears, and body fearful and stressed or accepting, trusting, and relaxed? )
Reminiscing about the past has given me the urge to sit quietly for a while. I’m going to go get a cup of hot chocolate and butter a piece of home made bread. Then I’m going to sit down and enjoy being in the same room with my dogs while they sleep soft and warm and trusting at my feet. I love my dogs.
Darcie Krueger
President
SitStay.com
