THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

We’ve been talking about secondary reinforcers and markers, and the good question has come up about the difference between them. On the one hand, we know that a click or a “yes” can be used to communicate to a dog that a specific behavior is what is about to be reinforced. Clicking or saying “yes” at exactly the right moment is incredibly powerful in that it is a precise way of communicating to an animal exactly what it was doing that will elicit the reinforcement (clicks are more precise than words, by the way).

However, you could also call a click or “yes” a 2ndary reinforcer, since to be effective it is paired with a primary reinforcer like food, and the animal learns to associate the click/marker with the treat, right? So which is it? Ah, you gotta love the English language: sometimes it helps us understand things, sometimes it makes things more confusing.

Let me answer that question from a different perspective. Ethology, the study of animal behavior in its natural environment, spends a lot of time studying communication. One of the traditional ways at looking at communication is to distinguish between the Message and the Meaning. The Message can be thought of as what the sender is trying to convey, whether intentionally or not. The Meaning, on the other hand, is the information the receiver gets from the signal. As every human who has ever been in a relationship knows, those aren’t always the same thing. So in this case, the Message  of a click or other marker is clear: “THAT, what you JUST did, is what will get you a treat!” [I first inadvertently wrote "meaning," thanks to an alert reader for noticing the mistake! Jeez]

At the other side of the signal, we  don’t know what the receiver makes of it–do they have any idea that we are intentionally ‘marking’ a behavior?  Are they consciously aware that the click/yes leads to a treat if they do that exact, specific thing again? (They don’t have to be to perform brilliantly, as a matter of fact we’ve all seen animals perform perfectly and then have it all fall apart, often when they start thinking about what they are doing!) Are they simultaneously or uniquely becoming classically conditioned to the sound of a marker (I think they are being CC’d, no matter what else is going on)… It seems reasonable that our dogs, if we could talk to them, would define the Message of a marker as both a marker AND as a 2ndary reinforcer. Perhaps what is most important from our perspective is how we define it, because that is what drives how we use it.Does this make sense? I have to admit sometimes I worry less about labels and more about actual behavior, but still, it’s a fun intellectual inquiry.

Question for you: I’m curious: How many of you use markers, of any kind, at all? Did you consciously decide to use a marker and follow it up with praise (sometimes, as a 2ndary)…? If you use a marker in the strict sense of the word, what do you use? Click from a clicker? A word?

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Over 6 inches in the last 24 hours. No kidding. Another 1 to 3 today. Eeeeeps. Last night there were many small tornadoes reported in the area, one not far at all from the farm. I take these babies very seriously, the infamous Barneveld tornado (9 people killed, the town 90% destroyed) freight-trained just one valley away from my farm, less than a 1/2 mile away, and I will never forget the impact of the first view I had of a close neighbor’s farm, metal roofing blown over a 1/2 mile into tree trunks, 5 buildings destroyed, the ground littered with siding and bricks and fertilizer and corn and thousands of things in tiny pieces too small to identify.

I was in town with friends during the worst of it, and we were all happy to return home to find the structures still standing, the dogs, cats, sheep, etc. fine. Sorry, no pictures yet, it was raining, again, so hard this morning when I left that I didn’t want to take the camera outside.

But here’s Hopey-boy (don’t you love knicknames?), a  helpless victim of Sherman the Sheep, who somehow developed a wound in his neck and is attempting to blame it all on an innocent little puppy. Tall two-leg female is not upset, however. Sherman has been played with, tugged upon, bitten, and thrown around every day for a long time, and has shown an impressive amount of stamina. Besides, we just got in Polly the Pig (seriously) to sell on the website, and Tall Two-Leg is forced to take her home for the dogs to try out. Poor dogs.

I wish the world could have seen Ken’s seminar on Sunday in Worcester MA, it was fantastic. For those of you who don’t know his name, he is the Training Director and Senior Trainer at the Shedd Acquarim, has trained exotic animals for over 30 years, and could train just about anyone to do anything. I left inspired and crazed to train something, anything, and had to stop myself from trying to teach the flight attendant to scratch her head on cue.

When I got home, close to midnight, I sat down with Hope and taught him to flip his hips sideways while lying down to “Settle” before I even walked upstairs. Took five minutes. Scary easy, and extra fun because of being inspired by Ken.

However, in order to get home Sunday night, I had to miss the last hour of Ken’s videos. I heard they were great… anyone care to tell us what I missed?

Here’s what I didn’t miss: some excellent points about what are often called “Secondary Reinforcers.” [Note to training geeks: there are some details about terminology that Ken went into that I found fascinating, but it would take a couple of posts to explain them, and you're better off going to see Ken in person if you are interested in terminology.] But here is a summary of points that I think are  relevant to all of us:

First, many of you know that “Primary Reinforcers” are things that are inherently reinforcing (that automatically cause an animal to increase the frequency of a behavior). Strictly speaking, they are things that an animal needs to survive: food, water, etc. When you give your dog a treat for sitting on cue, you are using a primary reinforcer.

Secondary reinforcers are things that are learned by an animal to be associated with Primary Reinforcers, and thus eventually elicit a similar response through classical conditioning. For example, if you repeat “Good Dog” and follow up it with a treat enough times, eventually your dog will work to hear you say it. But here’s what I learned from Ken:

It is critical to continue to link a secondary with a primary  part of the time, no matter how long you’ve been using it. In his experience with his animals (who have to perform perfectly in shows and when being treated medically), even if the animal inherently enjoys the secondary reinforcement, it has to be maintained with a primary if you want a totally reliable behavior. That’s true even if the animal loves the secondary reinforcement. For example, at the Shedd, Beluga Whales love having their tongues rubbed, it clearly feels good to them and they seek it out. However, Ken considers it still a secondary reinforcement, and is very careful not to over use it.

He advises that you condition ALL secondary behaviors as if they were a behavior. In other words, rub tongue, give treat. Rub dog’s belly, give treat. Even if your dog likes it inherently, initially reinforce it with food if your dog likes food. That makes it much more powerful in the long run.

Once your dog is clearly thrilled with what you are doing, then begin to use it as reinforcement by asking for a simple behavior, then use your 2ndary R, and follow with the primary R. After that, for a long time, use the 2ndary by itself only twice in a session, and never in a row. Gradually increase the use of the 2ndary, but be very careful not to overuse it. (By the way, he is NOT talking about a click for those of you who are clicker trainers. He considers that a marker, not a reinforcer.) Clearly there is a lot to talk about here, but this is enough for now to get us all thinking about the issue.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm, I had a chance to think especially  hard about all this the day after the seminar. I loaded up the dogs, the plastic bags, the treats, the water, the camera and the leashes and drove over to a wonderful place to walk the dogs. Hope has been there off leash 5 times before, but I am very careful because in the beginning it is close to a road. In the past he’s gotten lots and lots of food treats for coming when called, and for checking in with me on his own.

When we arrived I looked for my bait bag and discovered I’d left it on the counter in the house. Whoops, no food. No primary reinforcer for a young pup who was going to be off leash for 45 minutes. I pondered keeping him on leash the entire time (I always start with him on leash) and thus him getting less exercise, but decided to forge ahead because 1) the path has a natural boundary of high grasses 2) Hope tends to follow Will, who always stays on the path 3) Hope has had 5 lessons there and had done very well and 4) I DID have a primary reinforcer: water. It was hot, and I knew the dogs would be thirsty after not very long. So I decided to risk it, but here’s what I did:

1. Unlike our other trips, during which I called him back to me often for training purposes, I decided to call him back only when absolutely necessary. I knew he wouldn’t always be thirsty, and wanted to have the water retain its power. I ended up calling him to come five times in 45 minutes. Every time he came he got water, but I didn’t let him drink his fill. The last time he drank one quick lap and moved away, so I immediately leashed him up. We were close to the end anyway, and at a place I have always put him back on leash, because it gets close to the road.

2. I used Willie to move Hope around in space, calling Willie (by name “Willie Willie!). This helped a lot and meant I only had to call Hope 5 times total. I also used clapping to get the dogs to come. Clapping is not trained as a recall, but is used to motivate the dogs to speed up, sometimes when they are playing with each other, sometimes when running to me. I could use it without polluting my “Hope, That’ll Do!” cue.

3. I managed to keep my hands to myself and never pet Hope when he came back, because he behaves as though he hates it when he is active. He only likes petting when he is sleepy and tired. Petting would have been punishment. Most relevant to Ken’s talk, I didn’t fool myself that “Good Dog” or any other 2ndary R was going to be effective, at least not for long. And I didn’t want to take away its power, so I said “Good Dog” only twice before he started to drink, and kept my mouth shut the rest of the time. Please send chocolate, this is not easy for me.

4. I was ready at any second to bail and put him on leash if I saw the slightest sign that he was going to get himself into trouble. Most of the walk was a long, long away from the road, and there were plenty of scents and sounds to keep him occupied. If he had put his head up and started air sniffing, or completely ignored any signals from me, I would have leashed him up in a microsecond.

Here he is, coming when called, Goooooooooooood Boy!

And here I am Saturday night in Masssachusetts, after a lovely dinner with our host Dana Crevling from Dogs of Course!, another trainer Carolyn whose last name I have rudely forgotten, Ken Ramirez and Karen Pryor (how great that she was there too for the entire weekend!). We ate at a restaurant with a giant crab balloon on its roof. Seriously. And I only had one Corona for dinner,  honest.

I didn’t know what it was at first. A large cat? A fox? The grey-brownish animal was trotting just outside the fence, looking inward toward the lambs, as Will and I stood looking at the flock in the high pasture one morning last week. As it came closer, I realized it was a coyote, a frequent visitor to the outskirts of the farm, but a rare sight in broad daylight, so close to my sheep.

Granted the lambs were no longer newborns, and granted some of the older ewes were capable of smashing a small canid into the dirt like bugs, but still, a coyote/lamb omelete is not something a shepherd wants to see. My guard dog long gone, I reflexively barked myself. (Will hadn’t noticed the coyote at that point, he was so focused on the sheep.) BARK BARK BARK, I said, trying to sound low and growly and oh-so-intimidating. The coyote stopped and looked at me for a moment, and continued its purposeful trotting along the fence. I changed tactics. WOOF WOOF WOOF I bellowed, and before the second note had left my mouth the predator pivoted and ran for the hills, its beautiful tail streaming high above the grasses.

It was the coyotes themselves who taught me to say WOOF.  Last year after Tulip had died a pack of them was rallying just yards from the barn and the damp, delicate lambs within it. We heard them yip-howling, sounding like happy banshees risen from the graveyard, and we dashed down the stairs and ran out onto the front lawn. In the past we would have run out with Tulip, who would  have been barking loud and low long before we got to the bottom of the stairs. Out she’d go on her tie out, where she’d roar out into the blackness, her voice echoing back from the hills beyond, and the coyotes would immediately go silent. One of us would stand there with her until long after, listening to the night, sleepy but thankful for her deep barks and her huge white presence.

But with Tulip buried practically under our feet, on the very spot she would stand and broadcast her presence, we were on our own. BARK BARK BARK we yelled, and the coyote chorus continued. For reasons I can’t explain, I jazz riffed my way from BARK BARK BARK to WOOF WOOF WOOF, and the cacophony immediately stopped. Nothing. Silence. I tried it again a few nights later, and again, BARK had no effect, while WOOF was a game stopper.

I told a friend who has two Great Pyrenees my story a few weeks later, bellowing out my BARK and my WOOF  at her home in the country as best I could to illustrate. My friend and her two dogs listened to my story . . . until I got to WOOF WOOF WOOF, and you guessed it, her 2 dogs immediately began to bark. Not only that, but each dog ran to a different area on the property where they typically bark at intruding animals (especially coyotes). One went left, one went right, and they each raised their beautiful white muzzles to the sky and barked like a stereo symphony. Their barks were loud and serious… they had to be loud for us to hear them, because my friend and I were laughing so hard, big-eyed and amazed, that we would have drowned out anything less than a full operatic performance.

Barking is such a huge topic, and surprisingly little studied for such an important behavior of the animals we live with most closely. We know that wolves bark, but rarely, and most often when they are adolescents. The message appears to be directed to two parties: one to the intruder (I see you!) and another to the pack itself (911: I need some assistance here!). Domestic dogs are veritable Chatty Cathy’s compared to wolves, which makes sense if you think of dogs as wolves who never grew up (called paedomorphic or neotonous). Surely we have also selected for barking; in many places in the world the primary purpose of  dogs is to be an early warning system for predators.

Barking itself is controversial (isn’t everything?). Some argue that barks lack any communicative value at all (these could not be people who own dogs, could they?), while others argue that barks vary by context and can be accurately used at minimum to assess the internal emotions of a dog, and at most to gain information about the environment (ie, what kind of predator is approaching?). For a great review of this literature, see Sophia Yin’s article in the Journal of Comparative Psychology (2002, Vol. 116, No. 2), “A New Perspective on Barking in Dogs.” Fedderson-Peterson, a researcher in Germany, agrees with Yin that barks can convey a tremendous amount of information. All (most?) agree that low, noisy barks  correlate with offensive & defensive threats (following the “universal principles of vocalizations” described by Morton many decades ago, with  lower pitched sounds correlating with an animal on offensive or about to be aggressive), while high-pitched, more harmonic barks correlate with fear or play or mild frustration.

So how does that fit with WOOF versus BARK? When I repeat the words and listen to myself, WOOF sounds a lot lower. It’s easier for me to say ‘woof’ in a low, deep voice than it is to say ‘bark.’ Could that be the reason it had more impact on the coyotes? Certainly, the words we use to symbolize canine vocalizations vary greatly, depending on the language. According to Wikipedia, people in Albania say “ham ham” while people in Iceland say “voff voff” to label a dog’s ‘bark.’ I find it interesting that for English, the article listed “woof,” “ruff” and “arf” for large dogs, and “yip,” and “yap” for small ones. Say those to yourself, and if you’re like me, you’ll say ‘woof a lot lower than you’ll say ‘yip.’ Larger animals inherently make lower sounds, which is believed to be one of the reasons that a deep, low bark is perceived as more threatening…. “I am BIG and I’m coming to get you…”

And here’s the beauty of the internet: This blog has about 16,000 readers now, from all over the world. So let’s hear it: what word do people use for “bark” in your native language?

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Hope, at 12 weeks now, is doing beautifully on so many things. We’ve made huge strides on coming on when called (best reinforcement is running away from him, much better even than pieces of dried beef!), crate training, house training, sit and down on cue, puppy pauses, sitting down instead of chasing the cat (this one will take awhile!), and walking on leash. He is just as willing and biddable as his parents and the 7 older siblings I was able to hear all about (2 different litters, 3 yrs and 1 year of age). Of course, none of this is close to “done”.. he is only 12 weeks after all!

Hope and Will have more good moments than bad. They wrestle play and “tooth fence” in the house, and Will has lost his look of abject misery that he greeted with me every morning for a few days. Here they are now–look carefully and you’ll see the tiny, curved shark-like teeth in Hope’s open mouth. Last week he lept up and bit me on my . . . well, let’s just say I was facing forward, he jumped up above my waist, and it was quite a surprise. Good thing he’s learning bite inhibition from me and Willie both.

A short post today, but I hope a helpful one. It’s inspired by the “mud luscious and puddle wonderful” nature of spring, and the need to wipe off Will’s paws as we enter the house when it’s wet outside. As I was drying Willie’s paws a few days ago, I thought about how much easier it is now that I say “Ready?” right before I pick up each leg. Since I started communicating my intention (“now I am going to pick up this paw”), he is beginning, on occasion, to pick up a paw himself, but more often he will shift his weight so that it is less awkward for him. (Yep, I could train him to pick up each paw on cue… also a potential solution, but keep reading for some potential benefits of a more generalized cue.)

Keep in mind that this is the dog who, as an adolescent, growled at me  when I picked up a paw to dry off the mud. That was 3 years ago, and I remember saying something like “Oh, don’t be silly” and continuing what I was doing. He growled one or two more times, but we worked through it and I haven’t heard him growl at anything in years. However, he doesn’t enjoy his paws being cleaned, as most dogs don’t, and the process got me thinking about how little control a dog has over having his/her body moved around, even gently, without any say in the matter. That’s especially difficult if there is any pain involved in putting more weight than usual on one limb. I’ve always been aware of Will’s bad shoulder, and have always been extra careful about picking up the other paw, but a few months ago I started saying “Ready?” right before I picked up a paw, giving him a chance to shift his weight himself.

It’s made a difference to both of us. I lean down and put my hand close to a paw and say “Ready?” and he either shifts his weight or picks it up. Paw cleaning is not only faster, it feels like Will and I are moving down the same path, instead of trying to go in opposite directions. This is a cue that has so many applications; Will’s structural troubles require acupuncture and chiropracty, and he’s not the kind of hail-fellow-well-met who takes being handled lightly. I would bet the farm (and, hey, I have one) that handling Will with force and punishment would have created a severe aggression problem within a few months. In both cases, we give Will lots of options, using patience and communication during the treatments. He adores both practitioners, but he literally hides behind me when the greetings are over and it’s time for treatments. But we work through it, sort of like a dance; sometimes asking, sometimes quietly insisting, but always with an awareness that Will desperately needs to have some say in what is happening to him.

I know many others use cues like “Ready” for a variety of reasons. I’ve heard similar cues most often in obedience, meaning “Okay, time to start working together”. But I’ll bet there are many examples from your own experience of using a cue to communicate your intentions to a dog. I’d love to hear them. I think we’d all learn something from hearing about all the ways that concept can be used. (By the way, signals like “Ready” are called “meta-communication,” meaning “communication about communication.” A play bow is an example in dogs, meaning “Everything that happens next is in play, don’t take these bites and growls seriously!”

Meanwhile, back on the farm: The new fence is working beautifully (more on Will and the fence soon), the bottle lambs have learned to use the self feeder, though they still mug me relentlessly for more, and Snickers has stopped looking for her 3rd lamb, the one I had to take to a friend because 1/2 of Snicker’s bag dried up. The tulips and blossoming trees are in full bloom. Here are Tulip’s tulips, the flowers I planted over my Great Pyrenees grave, her body deep in the soil, nestled onto a bed of of hundreds of tulips, warm and safe in the small hill in front of the house, where she’d stand strong and tall, and bark out her great, white presence to the world.

One of the great comments on my post about the new Puppy Book reminded me that training “step by step” is not intuitive. Someone may know that there are multiple steps between a dog sitting on cue when asked in the kitchen at dinner time, versus being asked to sit when barking at the visitors at the front door. But what are those steps? And how do you know when to move on to the next one?

I thought it would be helpful to give a few examples. However, I would love it if some of the experienced readers would add an example of their own. My favorite part of writing this blog is the wealth of knowledge of its readers, and I am sure that many of the readers would benefit greatly from hearing a range of examples.

Here’s an example, using the dog sitting on cue when it’s easy for him to comply and when it’s hard (in kitchen, no distractions versus at door, company ringing door bell): Note that this is only one way to get to Step 25: There are many paths to the top of a mountain…

Step 1: Teach the dog to sit (I use the Lure/Reward method to get it started quickly) when holding a treat as a lure, with as few distractions as possible. Use food as lure, do not say “sit” yet.

Step 2: Once dog will sit as you move your hand through its ears and toward its tail, say “sit” before you move your hand.

Step 3: Modify your hand movement so that it is less of a lure and more of a hand signal, sweeping your hand upward toward your face. (This could be in session 1, 2 or 3, depending on how well things are going)

Step 4: 3 times in a row, use your visual signal (hand movement) and reinforce with the treat. The 4th time, immediately after the first 3 (assuming they were successful), say “sit” and don’t move at all. Wait for the dog to respond just to your voice.

Step 5-8: Practice using either the VISUAL or the VERBAL cue one at a time, being careful to only use one or the other.

Step 9-12: Begin to ask your dog to sit when there are MILD distractions. For example, try it outside in the yard when it’s relatively quiet or in the house when someone else is making some noise. Be sure to practice in many different places, not just the kitchen. Begin to give a food reinforcement when asking during mild distractions, and substitute other reinforcements for times when it is easier. For example, you could clap, say GOOD! (I also teach people to condition an association between a praise word and a food treat) and let your dog chase you as a game. Or throw a toy, or rub a belly….

Step 13: Start asking your dog to sit when you are by the front door, or whatever door company comes in through.

Step 14-18: Have all family members ask the dog to sit when they are greeting the dog. Put treats by the entry door so that all family members can easily reinforce the dog for sitting while greeting. Get in the habit of ringing the bell or knocking before you enter your own house, then ask for the sit. Once you’ve given the treat, squat down to greet your dog so that he or she doesn’t have to jump up to get to your face.

Step 19: Have good friends who are dog lovers AND who will listen to you (the hardest part!) start helping you teach your dog ‘door manners.’ Have only one person come at a time. Ask them to ring the bell or knock, and immediately ask your dog to sit (using BOTH the verbal and visual signals) as soon as you open the door. They ask for the sit, but YOU reinforce the dog (because you are the one with the best timing, right?!). If the dog doesn’t sit, close the door and have the person try again. Repeat 3-5 times in a row if you can.

Step 20: (Can be during the same time period as Step 19) When people come over who aren’t part of training, get the best food treat imaginable, and ask your dog to sit (not sit and stay, too hard for now!) before you open the door. Give copious treats for any positive response. If your dog tends to jump up a lot, even after a first greeting, just lure him away from the door with pieces of chicken and put him in a crate, or give him a stuffed toy once he’s made an initial greeting.

Step 21: Once your dog is sitting well when your friends come over and ask for a sit, try it with two or three people coming together (even more exciting and distracting!).  Have each of them ask for a sit, and be ready to give out lots of food as fast as you can!

Step 22: Assuming again, that all is going well (at least 80% compliance), ask for a sit before you open the door when ‘regular’ visitors come over, but this time don’t have a food treat in your hand. Explain through the door that you’ll be right with them (I always say “Just a minute! I’m training my dog to be polite to visitors!”), ask your dog to sit and if you get compliance, praise liberally and run to the kitchen and give your dog a great treat.

Step 23: As above, with anyone, but this time use your praise word and skip any primary reinforcement.

Step 24: Continue alternating primary reinforcements (especially food or toys if dog is toy motivated) with a praise word that you have conditioned.

All this can easily take nine to ten months! (Hey, it’s hard for a dog to control his or her emotions and excitement when people come over. I can relate.)

Step 25: Dog becomes an adolescent. Go back to Step 9, rinse and repeat.

I know that sitting at the front door isn’t a serious behavioral problem for many people, but trust me, for some it really is. I’ve seen so many families whose dogs were out of control at the door, which has resulted in dogs being yelled at, kicked, or stashed in crates for too long. I’ve also met lots of people who have just simply stopped having visitors because they are embarrassed about their dog’s behavior. It can be very stressful to have a dog misbehaving around company (like you didn’t know that.) Of course, there are many alternatives to problems related to greeting visitors (my favorites are training to run into another room when the bell rings, or going to a designated place, see the Manners Minder that Sophia Yin designed.)

Of course, this is just one tiny example… (and I’ve SURE I’ve actually skipped some steps, I reserve the right to modify later!) I’d love to hear from you if you’d like to tackle a description.

Meanwhile, back on the farm: On Sunday, the University of Wisconsin Vet Students interested in small ruminants came out to do pregnancy checks under the supervision of Dr. Harry Momont (standing in back on the left). That’s my girl Rosebud on her butt, getting an ultrasound through her lower belly. We didn’t get a shot of the screen, but the lambs are far enough along that the students could see beating hearts, backbones and other bones of the lambs, all due within 4 to 6 weeks. The ewes didn’t exactly volunteer, but everyone was very gentle and I doubt that any of the sheep were unduly stressed. Jim took the photographs, (thanks hon!), because I had gone up to the house, a tad under the weather and wanting to get out the raspberry/cherry/strawberry pies I’d made for everyone. Ahhh, a little bit of summer in the middle of a snowy day goes a long way!

Here’s one small aspect related to the question of how dogs interpret our cues:

I started listing the cues that Will responds to, asking myself if he saw them as verbs or nouns (good point by one of the readers that humans can use one word for both, as in “snow.”) I didn’t get very far before things got interesting. Remember that game that Ian Dunbar used to do in working seminars? Testing out what cues really mean to your dog?

It came to mind when I started working with Will, and I asked him to Sit when he was already sitting. He immediately lay down. Of course, you can teach through this, but I never have because I haven’t needed to. So right there…. Will and I have not defined sit the same way. I think Will defines it as an action similar to:  “Go down toward the ground,” while I’ve defined it as a posture. Right there we have a big difference in perceptions.

Lie down: When I asked him to Lie Down while already doing so, he flipped his hips and began to lay down on his side. Again, it looks like he defines it as an action (“go down farther toward the ground!”), while I tend to think of it as a posture.

Here’s another one to think about: What does “Stay” mean to your dog? My speculation is that dogs are extremely sensitive to ‘place,’ and that stay does not mean “don’t move your body,” it means “remain in the exact point in space.” I’ve come to define it that way too. If I tell my dog to Sit and Stay and he lays down, I’m perfectly happy because his behavior suggests that he has accepted that he’s not going anywhere and is choosing to get comfortable. Of course, if I competed in obedience that would be a problem, but I don’t so it doesn’t bother me. (Although I have to admit that I wish dogs weren’t asked to do long Sit/Stays.. it’s just not a comfortable or natural position for many dogs.)

Right now Will and I are working on using one hand signal for “High Five” and another for “Touch” (with your nose). He is struggling, because he anticipates so much… the second I move my hand he throws out a paw for a High Five, even if it’s his “Touch” signal. I can’t use separate hands because I’ve taught him to High Five with both fore legs, depending on which hand I hold up. Like so many highly visual dogs, he is so reactive to movement that sometimes it makes things harder rather than easier. I’m putting both High Five and Touch on verbal cues and we’ll see if that makes it easier for him. (I’m also going to tape my visual signals and see if something I am doing is making it harder. Moving my hand to the right 1/4 of an inch each time without knowing it? Could be…..)

Meanwhile, back on the farm: another 6 inches of snow or so. Nothing note worthy compared to some of the country, but pretty enough and thick enough to wear out me, Will and the sheep when we did some herding up the hill. Boy that warm bath is going to feel good!

Here’s Dorothy, impatiently waiting for me to put the &*^%$* camera away and get out her hay.

And because I am starved for color, here’s a Little Blue Heron from my trip to Florida in January. (This is one chilly bird, by the way, it was cold and rainy and the bird has one foot up to warm it and his/her feathers fluffed to capture air for more warmth. Seemed appropriate for this snowy day in Wisconsin!)

One of the segments on the BBC show The Secret Life of Dogs that generated several interesting comments was the segment that showed “Betsy,” (not her real name, you gotta love that some dogs now have ‘nom de plumes’) retrieving an object after being shown just a photograph of it. Wow. That truly is amazing. It got me to thinking about the trouble I had a year or so ago when I tried to teach Willie to discriminate between toys based on a name. For over a year he’d been told to “Go get your toy,” and he’d pick out whatever toy he liked best that was nearby.

When I tried to teach him to touch or pick up a toy based on a different word (“ball” or “rope”), he became hopelessly confused. He became so stressed over the entire operation that I dropped it and went on to teach him other things. My best guess is that he had categorized all signals as requests for action, not as labels of an object. That’s a pretty big frame shift to make. And yet, here is Betsy, able to pick out 250 different objects by name and by just looking at a 2-dimensional photograph (which dogs, by the way, were not supposed to be able to do). And of course, there’s Rico, the other famous BC, who could not only pick out hundreds of objects, he could get the larger of two versions, AND could ‘fast map,’ or be asked to retrieve something he’d never heard of or seen before, and deduce that it was the only unfamiliar object in a group of familiar toys. Wow. These are some smart dogs.

Will now has learned labels of living things: he knows “Jim” and “Trisha” and “Sushi.” I can say “Go to the Barn” or “Go up the hill” and he runs the right way, but I suspect he doesn’t think of the “barn” or “hill” as a label of the object itself, but rather of an action and direction. The BBC segment got me rethinking about what Willie understands as an action and what he understands as a label. He knows “get your toy”… and I suspect understands that “toy” relates to the objects he plays with, but does he see it as a label or as an action? Is it more about playing with anything in front of him, or the objects themselves?

I’m inspired now to start testing this out with Will. I’m going to write down every word and movement I make that I think might be a cue to him, and what I think it means to him. This, needless to say, is going to take some time, so stay tuned for what I come up with. Meanwhile, I’d love to hear from you. How much of what your dog understands relates to an action, and how much is it a label of an object? Is there any difference between learning to label a living thing versus an non-living object? Willie definitely knows “sheep” and “Sushi,” and I wonder if it matters that the ‘object’ of a label is living or not? He knew all the names of my other dogs, in that he’d turn and look at them if I said “Where’s Lassie?” He gets excited when I say “Dinner,” but does it mean the actual food itself, or the action of eating them? See how interesting this can get?

Meanwhile, back at the farm: We are all continuing to heal. Willie played for hours with his new friend, Max, an adolescent Border Collie who lives not far away. Watching them run and run and run huge circles around the Orchard Pasture cheered me up immensely. The best part of it was the way they played, because Willie didn’t always play as well with others. Willie would start running with another dog, then get in front and air snap toward their face to stop their forward movement. Then he’d stand still with a satisfied look on his face. Look what I accomplished! Boy, am I a good herding dog! Eventually the other dog would just stop running, because what was the point? However, recently the lovely Dobberman Mishka seemed to have taught Willie to stop playing by herding. Mishka put up with his “herding” two times, and then growl-charged at Willie. Totally appropriate, very controlled; I remember saying “Good girl!” I was so impressed. Willie backed off with that confused, silly look that male dogs get around females who discipline them, and never tried it again. They began racing instead and now it’s Willie’s favorite game.

It helps that Max is fast. Really fast, and so is Willie, but neither can really beat the other, so they run and run and run in the snow, stop and get their breath and then run some more. And you’d think that would have tired Willie out enough to sleep through the evening? Of course not, he kept dropping toys in our lap all evening long. I think it just warmed him up. Here’s some photos of Max and Willie playing. Not the best photographs, but I love how it shows the world we live in right now. Black and white (dogs). Black and white (everything else!)

One of our alert readers sent a link to a study done by Kathryn Lord of U. Massachusetts on the “meaning” of barks in a variety of species. The link is to a newspaper article written about the study, complete with comments (mostly irate) about the findings of the work. But the study (which I of course don’t think is a waste of money, contrary to some of the negative comments) brings up some very interesting questions that researchers in animal behavior have been thinking about for decades. The over riding question is this: what, exactly, is the message of vocal communication? Take any species, and ask yourself: is the bark, the growl or the song of a particular animal an expression of the animal’s internal state (expressing fear, or affiliation, or emotions that could lead to aggression) or (and?) are some vocalizations more like the abstract aspects of human language, in that each call refers to something in the environment, external to the sender. Scientists call this “referential communication,” meaning that the call is not just an expression of fear or excitement, but a more abstract phenomenon that refers to an event or object external to the self (as in: “There’s a lion under our tree” or “I just found a specific kind of food.”)

What’s fun for us is that this debate now includes the bark of the domestic dog (and high time I would say!). It is shocking (truly) how little the bark of the domestic dog has been studied–there are, after all, over a thousand individual studies on the call note of the Red-winged Black bird.  But thanks to researchers like Sophia Yin and Kathryn Lord, among others, barking has become a vocalization worth study. Yeah for them!

To summarize with painful simplicity, Sophia Yin and Yin and McCowan did some very interesting work (see (J. of Comparative Psychology, 2002, Vol X, p 189-193 and Animal Behaviour, 2004, Vol 68, p 343-355 respectively) confirming our anecdotal observations that different contexts elicit different kinds of barks from dogs. Harsh, low pitched barks were given most often in “disturbance” situations (stranger at the door) and higher pitched, more tonal barks were given if the dogs were playing or were isolated away from their owners. Yin suggests that these differences are interesting and important, countering the arguments of some others whose published work suggests that dogs are so altered from the wild type that barks have no value for ethological study.  Yeah for Yin for making an excellent argument (as I told my Dissertation committe once, if it’s good enough for Darwin, who was fascinated by domestic dogs, surely it’s good enough for us!)

Lord et al, in her recent paper that got so much press (just Google her name and “dog barks,” argues that barking in domestic dogs is best described as a “mobbing call,” a vocalization seen in a large range of species, given in circumstances in which an individual is often ambivalent (wants to approach but afraid to) and has the same acoustic features of other mobbing calls. She and her co-authors argue that barks are purely expressions of emotional states, and have no “referential function.” That does NOT mean that a great deal of communication can’t be relayed, and that the receivers can’t learn a great deal about the environment by listening to the bark of a social partner, but it does mean that a bark is not saying “Large man approaching from the North” or “Timmy is stuck in the well” but something closer to “Ah Uh, What do I do now?” We can learn that the sound of their bark means there is an intruder, but the dog isn’t necessarily trying to communicate that.. or are they?

This is VERY complicated and wonderful topic. I could write for hours, but I’d better not, so I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to comment on what you think about this issue.  To prime your thoughts, I’ll add that I’ve never had the impression that barks were anywhere near as nuanced a communication as visual signals in dogs, AND that there is a growing body of research that has found referential communication in a variety of species, including Prairie Dogs and, ironically, a small, beautiful primate called a Vervet, who I am probably watching right now as you read this . . .

Meanwhile, not “back at the farm” but in Africa: As most of you know, I’m in Africa (having written and pre-posted this before I left). This is a photo I took on a previous trip of the famous Vervet Monkeys, known to all students of animal behavior because researchers Seyfarth and Cheney spent over 20 years studying their vocalizations, and showing that they truly do use “referential communication.” They have different alarm signals (and responses) for flying predators (who they run DOWN the tree and hide from), terrestrial predators (who they run UP the tree to escape) and snakes (who they run into the grasses and mob). It’s great research, using lots of playbacks that show that although the young can physically produce all the calls, they give them to the wrong triggers at first (at any flying bird for example) and the adults generally  ignore them until they learn to distinguish an eagle from a vulture. Cool stuff, and seeing the monkeys live, right next to our dinner table (as we might be right now!) is a thrill for me beyond description. Besides, how many male mammals have testicles that are robin’s egg blue? Well, Vervets do… but sorry, this photo is of a Vervet female and her new born infant. They are in a tree that was just a few feet from our table, beside a Masai Warrior who usually stays in the dining area to shoo them off our tables if need be!

Earlier I wrote that you “can’t reinforce fear” and used a dog who is afraid of thunder as an example.  For so long we have been told that we’ll just make our dogs worse if we try to comfort them when they run to us in fear when the skies rumble and the rain falls. In this context, it really is doubtful that comforting your dog is going to make him worse. As I said previously, fear is designed to be aversive, and dogs who are terrified of thunder aren’t going to get worse because you stroked their belly.

Indeed, there is research that some interpret to mean that our petting has little effect at all: As I mentioned in a 2008 Bark column (and an alert reader posted), Dreschel & Granger (Applied Animal Beh Science, 2005) found that cortisol levels, a measure of stress, did not decrease when owners pet their dogs during storms. (The most important factor in decreasing cortisol was the presence of other dogs.) However, note that a study by Odendaa & Meintjes (2003, Veterinary Journal) found that cortisol in dogs doesn’t decrease when we are petting them at other times, (although it does in us when we pet them!). However, it is important to remember that cortisol is not the be-all and end-all of indicators of emotion. The authors found that other indicators of internal affect, such as feel-good hormones like oxytocin and prolactin, increased when the dogs were petted, which suggests that stroking did indeed have a positive effect. And hey, if a dog’s behavior changes such that he is no longer pacing and panting while I rub his belly, I’m going to rub his belly!

Here’s an example of fearful behavior from last night at the farm. It’s not about thunder, but it is still instructive: late last night my farmer neighbor was in the field across the street from me in a tractor the size of Connecticut. As soon as Willie heard something and looked out the window, he absolutely lost it. He ran frantically in circles, barking hysterically with his ears pinned, his eyes twice their normal size and a look of sheer terror on his face. When I first heard him bark I honestly thought something terrible had happened, he sounded so horrifically upset. As soon as I saw what it was I said “Will! It’s okay!” and went to him. I used my voice in a soothing way (soft, quiet, looooooooooong notes), sat beside him and asked him to stay still. I rubbed the area between his eyes and the side of his head with long strokes. His barking decreased, although one BOOOOF would still burst out of his mouth every 5-10 seconds at first. In about a minute he stopped barking altogether and stayed still without me helping him. Eventually he put his head down and buried it between my body and my arm. It looked like he was hiding it, and I remember feeling all gooey when I saw that and said “Awww, honey, it’s okay!” but I suspect he was looking as much for the soothing feeling of being cradled as simply hiding his head.

This example brings up an issue that I didn’t address in my first post about reinforcing fear. I should have, but thanks to several thoughtful commentators, I will here. (You can read their comments on the May 4th, 2009 post). They raised the point that surely it IS possible to increase the frequency of a problematic behavior in some contexts, even if fear is one of the motivators. I agree completely that the issue is a bit more complicated that I might have suggested in my first post–ironically I had started to go into it in more depth and then ended up deleting several paragraphs because the post was getting too long and the topic was getting to complicated. But I shouldn’t have, because the topic really does deserve more nuance than I suggested.

The bottom line is you could indeed cause problems by inadvertently reinforcing behavior in certain contexts. There are two things that are important to remember here: one is that fear is an emotion, and “reinforcement” refers to something that increases a behavior. You can’t, technically, reinforce an emotion, but you can increase the frequency of a particular behavior. In the case of thunder phobic dogs I don’t think there is ever a problem, because you are trying to decrease the emotion, which would indirectly decrease the problem behavior. Besides, if you sit beside your dog and stroke him while it thunders, and he stops pacing in circles but sits beside you, then if you are reinforcing anything it is him sitting beside you and not pacing.

Secondly, motivation is key here.  If a dog is barking at visitor from fear, then having the visitor toss treats or toys does NOT reinforce the barking! It decreases it, because the emotion of fear subsides and it is the emotion of fear that drives the behavior. Once the dog associates visitors with treats, her behavior changes to body wags and happy dances. (Visitor = chicken! I love chicken! I love visitors!) This is standard Classical Conditioning, and I can tell you from 22 years of experience that it works incredibly well with lots and lots of dogs. However, if the dog is barking at people not because she is afraid, but because of another reason, it IS possible that you could increase the frequency of the behavior. That’s why it is so important to be able to read dogs and do a good evaluation of a problem behavior. I met a dog once who loved to get right into your face, all body waggy and grinny and relaxed, and then explode in a bark lunge about four inches from your face. I truly believed she just adored it when you startled (I rose at least a foot from my chair), and that is behavior that was clearly being reinforced!

I also think that how you respond to a dog’s fear is critical. First of all, we know that emotions can be contagious, so it is important to not be fearful yourself. Jennifer, in the comments, mentioned the importance of role modeling cool and collected sometimes, and I couldn’t agree more. If I had run to Willie and tried to pet him with an anxious voice and upset affect, it well might have made him more fearful.

Oh, my, I could go on and on, but life continues and I need to get to other things…. But here’s a link to the study on Storm Defender Capes that has just been published (thanks to an alert reader, Chris, for the link!). It looks as though capes in general do indeed have a positive effect, and that there might be something to the Storm Defender cape itself. I haven’t seen the whole study yet, but check it out, even the abstract is interesting. It in Applied Animal Behavior Science.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, it’s been cool and gorgeous and busy. This time of year in the country is never-endingly full of chores. (Did I mention the 150 exams to grade?) The lambs (who, with one exception, are doing beautifully) are thriving but need worming, the grass is growing and so are the thistles which have to be killed one by one, the ram needs to be split out before he breeds Snickers and Truffles, the gardens are full of weeds, the LP tank is leaking, the water tank up the hill needs to be scrubbed out…. and I need to sit in the swing at least a few minutes every day. Can you see it calling to me?

Here’s Sushi this morning. You gotta love the flexibility of cats. I love that Sushi maintained her x-rated yoga pose even while she moved on to licking her legs.

I promised I’d write more about treating thunder phobia in dogs, beyond the earlier posting that it won’t make things worse if you try to comfort them. It’s such a serious problem for some dogs (and their humans), and everyone who has a dog who suffers from it deserves some help (or just support!).

All I can do here is to summarize some of the treatments I have known to work.. a thorough discussion of treatments requires a booklet unto itself . I encourage you to send in comments to let others know what has worked for you, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there is no one treatment that works for all dogs.

Counter Classical Conditioning: This is the first treatment I recommend, and it is especially effective in mild or moderate cases. I’m doing it now to prevent thunder phobia in Will, who is one of the most sound sensitive dogs I know, but so far has not reacted with any anxiety to thunder. In this paradigm (described in a a general sense in The Cautious Canine), you pair something the dog adores (food or play best) with a damped down version of what scares him. Your goal is to condition your dog to associate thunder with something he loves, so that his emotional response to the loud noise is “Oh boy!” rather than “Oh No!” To get this to work:

~ You need to start at whatever stimulus first elicits any sign of fear in the dog. Dogs backward chain storms so well that you can use them as meteorologists… beginning to pace and whine when the wind comes up, and in extreme cases, when the barometer drops long before the storm rolls in.

~ The thunder or other stimulus has to be mild enough to prevent eliciting extreme fear (you can also use CDs or tapes of thunder, but need to have speakers distributed around the room, overhead being best).

~ The “treat” (food or play) has to be highly desirable so that the emotional response it elicits is more powerful than any fear elicited by the thunder.

~ The thunder/noise has to come first… so that it becomes a predictor of something good.

~ You need to proceed in a step-by-step manner, gradually linking louder and louder thunder with the food or play.

In other words, you hear thunder in the far distance, you say “Oh boy! Thunder Treats!” and give your dog a piece of chicken, or throw the ball if they are more motivated by play. Your goal is for your dog to emotionally respond to thunder as a predictor of something good, just like a clicker in clicker training.

Yeah, I know. Believe me, I’ve been through it myself with several dogs. You see the problem here…. how, exactly, does one make arrangements for thunder storms to begin in May with tiny, little quiet thunderettes and then gradually work their way up into glass-rattling boomers once your dog is ready for it? Well, you can’t (if you can, please write soon), but you can give your dog the ‘treat’ (I used food for Pip and play for Luke & Willie) whenever the thunder is relatively quiet, and then just stop once it becomes loud. I’d run outside with Luke and play ball when the barometer dropped and the wind came up, continue playing until the thunder started far away, and then come inside when the thunder began to get so loud that it would overwhelm Luke’s love of ball play. Then we’d go inside, I’d let him hunker beside me, rub his belly, sing and laugh. He got through it in two seasons (I’d call his case a moderate one, not at all severe, while Pip was severe for a few years but came through it fine after two summers of thunder = chicken.).

Pheromone Therapy: I’ve had several clients who had good success with Dog Appeasing Pheromone, or DAP, which is an artificial replicate of the pheromone produced between the mammary glands of a lactating bitch. It is species-specific and has no detectable odor and has the huge advantage of requiring you to buy it and plug it in. Period. Perhaps the easiest behavioral treatment known to science. It has some good research behind it and I’ve recommended it to clients for several anxiety-related problems in dogs and cats (Feliway is the brand name of one of the feline versions) and I’d estimate that it appeared to be helpful in at least half of them.

Acupuncture/Acupressure: I’ve never used this specifically for thunder phobia, but as I’ve said earlier, have used it for a variety of problems with good success.

Wraps: I’d be curious about reader comments on their success with wraps (originally developed by Linda Tellington of Tellington Touch). The theory is that in a general sense, swaddling provides a sense of comfort and safety. More specifically, the speculation is that the continuous neuronal stimulation of the wrap on the dog’s body at minimum distracts him from his fear (a process often called “overshadowing,” in which one stimulus modality dominates an animal’s nervous system) or at best, creates the production of endorphins that de-activate the amygdala and create a sense of calm.

I tried a wrap on Pip and she certainly appeared to be “calm,” but then, that was because she pretty much stopped moving altogether. I wasn’t sure if she was relaxed or in what’s called “tonic immobility,” (or frozen with fear) but after about 10 minutes she lay down and went to sleep, so I relaxed myself and tried it the next time a storm came up. (Use it first before a storm.) It seemed to work miracles at first… she slept right through the next two storms. But wouldn’t you know, the next storm was a barn burner, and it never worked after that. Have you ever tried wraps? (I should add that Pippy looked adorable in an old pink T-shirt! It made me smile anyway!) There are many commercial products available now, but I’ve never seen any research that they would be more effective than wrapping a la Tellington Touch or using an snugly-fitting T-shirt.

A Safe Place: I wrote in For the Love of a Dog about a dog whose job was to protect acres of vegetables from deer, and who became so afraid of thunder he’d run through the electric fence and risk his life on the county highway. I designed, and the owners built, a ’safe house’ for him, and his dedicated human, Barb, spent many a wild night hunkering in his straw covered cave giving him chicken in storms. It worked incredibly well, but it took one amazing woman about two months of dashing 200 yards across the lettuce and beans to get to the safe house before the thunder started!

Safe houses can be created inside houses too… I’ve had several clients who did the counter conditioning in a roomy closet or sound-insulated dog house, and ended up with a dog who was still a bit nervous about thunder, but simply went to her safe house and curled up and slept through the storm.

Sound Therapy: I’ve talked before about the interesting work of Leeds and Wagner in developing music specifically designed to calm dogs. Their work is based on solid biological principles, and I’ve seen many cases in which anxious dogs appeared to be calmed by playing their music. You can read more about it, and get a CD of the music by checking out their book, Through a Dog’s Ear.

Eliminating Static Electricity: Nicolas Dodman suggested a few years ago that part of a dog’s fear of thunder storms could be due to static electricity. One of the blog readers commented that she, in desperation, wiped her dog’s coat with an anti-static dryer sheet, and that it seemed to help. Interesting… I know that Tufts was doing a study of Storm Defender (a wrap that is designed to dispel static electricity), but I haven’t seen the results yet. Any one seen any studies on this yet?

The list goes on.... there are so many things that people have tried. Claudeen McAulifee has a good booklet on treatments from homeopathy to flower essences to melatonin, etc. It’s called the Big Bang! and it’s the only booklet I know of exclusively on the topic of noise phobias. She doesn’t talk about counter conditioning, but goes through many different kinds of non-intrusive treatments (including the use of pink light…… interesting!).

And last, but not at all least, Medication: Serious cases of thunder phobia can be life threatening. I’ve had clients whose dogs ran away, and weren’t found for days, and clients whose dogs jumped out of second story windows, mutilating their bodies in the process. I wouldn’t hesitate to suggest that someone talk to their veterinarian about using medication as a supplement to counter conditioning or other methods if their dog has a serious case of noise phobia. In the most serious cases the veterinarians I’ve worked with have prescribed both a tricyclic antidepressant (like clomicalm) and a fast-acting tranquilizer (like diazepam). In many serious cases, I’ve found over the years that a combination of meds, counter conditioning and a ’safe house’ led to a successful resolution, but I would now add in music from a Dog’s Ear without a doubt.

That said, again, every dog is different, and not all dogs can be cured. As John Paul Scott said to me once, (of Scott and Fuller, and yes, I’m dropping names, I was thrilled to meet him!) not long before he died “Of course dogs are afraid of thunder, to them it sounds like GOD IS GROWLING.”

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Spring is glorious, gorgeous, wonderful and exquisite. it’s amazing how few days like today one needs to make an entire 5 months of winter worth it! There is also so much to do (besides grading 300 pages of essay exams and supevising the grading of another 900) it is overwhelming, but I”m going to focus on the good part!

Here are Tulip’s tulips from the window in the living room, showing the view she had as she overlooked the farm:

I fear you will all get tired of yet another photo of Mr. Will’s bright, expectant face, but it does remind me of spring! (This was taken a week ago, and wow is it different now. The leaves are coming out, the size of a squirrel’s ear, and right on schedule, or a little late, the warblers have arrived this morning. As colorful as any tulip (but too hard to get good photos of for me!). I’ll post more photos of spring at the farm as soon as I can get outside again….