THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

I love tail wags: they are such an interesting expression of internal affect and indicator of a dog’s emotional state. And I know the professional trainers who read this blog know how often they can be mis-interpreted by the general public. “But he was wagging his tail…!!!!” is a phrase heard painfully often, by people who have been bitten, or whose dog just snapped, nipped or bit.

Ah, but a tail wag is like a smile: often an indicator of happiness, but not always. For example, we all know what a “phoney” smile looks like. The lips part and the corners of the mouth rise but the eyes never change. I’m remembering one person who smiled at me in a way that caused me to think I was in danger.  There was nothing friendly about this guy’s face, because his eyes were cold and hard, and the muscles around his eyes, the orbicularis oculi muscles, were not contracted. Makes me shiver just to think about ti. In contrast, in a ‘real’ smile, (called a Duchenne smile) the muscles contract and the eyes look squinty and partially closed.

There’s an equivalent of a “phoney” smile in a dog’s tail wag. The more the wag spreads to the body, the happier I assume the dog to be. I call it a “Full  Body Wag,” in which the tail, the hindquarters and sometimes even the chest of the dog swings back and forth. In this case, the body is relaxed, the tail is sweeping back and forth, and if the eyes are squinting too.. well, then I’m as happy as the dog is.

However, if a dog stands still, stiff bodied and immobile except for a tail wagging slowly back and forth, red flags start waving in front of my face and tell me to stop what I’m doing. Tail wags that only involve the tail are often the canine equivalent of smiles that only engage the mouth: They are NOT honest indicators of a happy dog, and are often a sign of potential danger.

But here’s one for you: What about “Circle Wag?” I made that term up, so don’t go looking for it anywhere. But in the best tradition of ethology, “Circle Wag” is descriptive, because the tail literally goes around in a circle. Here’s my belief about it’s ‘meaning’ (and that’s all it is, a belief). Circle wags appear to be done by dogs who are extremely happy. I see it on dogs who just adore adore adore a particular person, and I’ve seen on Luke and Will when we finished up a great session of herding and we both were equally proud of ourselves. I can not remember ever seeing it on a dog who appeared to be anxious or potentially aggressive, either defensive or offensively. Many dogs never circle wag, and I have no idea how many dogs actually do it. Ten percent? Twenty?

What about you? Does your dog circle wag? And if so, in what context? I’ll spend some time this week researching the issue (is it described in wolves, in other ethograms, for ex?). I do know that Fox and Bekoff (1975) wrote “The only tail wagging behavior that seems to reliably predict friendliness is a relaxed tail waving in a circular motion.” I would love to hear your own thoughts and observations about what I call “circle wag”.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The pup’s name is Hope. I love it. It’s short, it’s fun to say, it’s a traditional Border Collie name (for both males and females, but more boys than girls) and it allows me to say “He’s named Hope because for a gazillion reasons I hope to hell everything goes smoothly from here.”

Here’s the good news: Will circled wagged when he came down the stairs for the first two days after Hope came home. (Thus the topic above.) They appeared to adore each other, they even slept together. I was happier than I can convey, I simply don’t have the words to express how good it all felt. Picture all of us glowing with happiness.

Here’s the bad news; On day three, Hope got his second vaccination, and in 30 minutes he was growling and lunging at Will over a stupid stick on the grass, leaping onto him and growling like a grizzly at other times. He then proceeded to play with me, but frenetically, not in a happy-puppy-kind-of-way. No circles wags were seen. Will became afraid of him, and tongue-flicked when he looked at him. Behavioral changes, especially related to aggression, have been reported after rabies vaccinations, but less often after the regular Distemper-Parvo series. However, the change in the pup was dramatic to say the least: from super sweet grovely-squinty boy to a very different dog, and the only event that one could link it to was the vaccination. I expect I do not have to spell out to you how it all felt to me. I’ve leave it that stress often inhibits one’s appetite, and I did need to lose a few pounds.

Long, long story, short short version: Will avoided the pup all weekend, the pup is now on Chinese meds designed to ameliorate reactions to vaccines, and I’ve been researching vaccine reactions (more on that later). In a day’s time, Hope calmed and became normal with me, but the relationship between Will and the pup was completely changed. Will asked to go upstairs when the pup was downstairs. Hope was no longer submissive and sweet to Will, not aggressive but somewhat aloof. On Tuesday night Hope went to a friend’s so I could concentrate on Jim and his surgery, and came back last Saturday after being a totally lovely puppy with her two dogs (more on that later too).

Sunday morning Will and I came down the stairs and Will completely ignored Hope in his crate. He was clearly nervous around him all day, but there were a few times they each attempted to initiate play. This morning we came downstairs and Will went up to the crate and sniffed Hope’s nose, and later initiated play for a second outside. Their play styles are very different now, but there are indications that Will is starting to relax around him. It goes up and down, mostly they ignore each other. Hope is a lovely, lovely pup, I adore him…. he’s responsive and fun and a total joy to work with. He’s played with other dogs and puppies very appropriately. He’s a bit softer (shyer) than the first pup, but gets over his fears very fast.  I have high hopes that as the weeks go on that Will and Hope will become buddies again . . . Crossing all paws.

As you know if you’ve been following the blog, 1/2 the folks who went to Kenya continued on to Botswana. We all knew that seeing Wild Dogs wasn’t a guarantee, but we had high hopes because we were going where and when our chances were highest. (And no, in response to one comment, there are no [African] Wild Dogs in the states, we’re talking another species here, see photos below.) We stayed at Chitabe Camp in the Okavango Delta, owned and run by Helene Heldring and David Hamman, and very close to the research station of Tico McNutt, who has been studied AWDs for over twenty years. We knew that he had radio collars on most of the packs in the area, and we knew that it was still denning season, meaning that the adults tended to stay put more than usual. Still, as an experienced naturalist told us “Seeing AWDs is a gift you can never count on.”

Finding the dogs turned out to be the adventure of a life time. First off, 7 of us got split off from the rest, missed our plane and arrived 1 and a half days late. (Actually barely made it, bush plane couldn’t land in the dark and we and our luggage were literally thrown from one plane to the next in Maun with only minutes to spare.) The six of the group that made it on time (Barbara, Barb, Lisa, Jane, Debbie & Pam) spent 4 hours the first afternoon and 14 hours (really) the next day looking for the dogs. One of the pack was radio-collared, but you have to be within 2 km to get a signal, and the dogs had moved from their usual area because of floods earlier in the year. They finally found them late in the afternoon of the 2nd day, about two hours drive from our tent camp.

Re-united, we all (with a few exhausted exceptions) took off at 6:30 the next morning, driving back to the area where the dogs had been seen.  First we drove about an hour and half on what we would call a track and Botswanans call a road. A plane had been circling overhead looking as well, and the pilot found the dogs and radio’ed in coordinates. After approaching the area, we left the sandy rutted track and began driving ‘off road,’ which included driving not through a woods of Mopane trees, but over them. Imagine driving toward a 12 foot tall tree, with 3 or 4 three inch wide trunks, and simply driving into it and over it. Absurdly, the trees pop back up like cartoon figures, and the damage to the area is minimal. Still, the camp and researchers only go off road when they are doing research and have no choice.

Here’s Tico holding up the antenna, looking for a signal from the collared dog:

After about 45 minutes, Tico said “There!” And there they were. First we saw an adult, and then immediately came upon this scene:

The photo is a bit fuzzy,  my apologies.  The light was a bit low, but mostly I was shaking with excitement. The 12-14 pups (we were never totally sure) were seeing a vehicle for the 2nd time only in their life, and they immediately took off after this photo was taken. Unfortunately, the pups had just developed to the point in which they no longer dashed down into the den when they were frightened. That meant that instead of staying still, the pups ran off and the adults had no choice but to run after them. We followed slowly through (and over) the thick, brushy woods, stopping often to avoid scaring the pups, Tico always holding up the antenna to keep our electronic connection with them.

Lucky for us and for Tico, who wanted to radio collar another member of the pack, the pack stopped after about 30-45 minutes, and we were able to stop close by and watch them while Tico prepared to place a radio collar on another individual. (He always tries to keep 2 members of the pack collared, since mortality is high and losing a radio collared pack member means losing the pack.)

We all sat breathless as Tico prepared the tranquilizer and dart gun, and groaned as a group when his first shot was lifted by a puff of wind and landed in the sand. He prepared another, seconds counting down, and this time the dart bounced off the hip of the female he was targeting. More groans all around. However, it might have been a blessing, because he had wanted to collar “Jones,” the breeding male and had decided against him because he didn’t look settled enough to get close to. (I think that was the most fun I had on the entire trip… realizing that I too had concluded that Jones wouldn’t stay still if we drove close: even though he was lying down, he had never turned his head toward us, although we were only 30 feet away. I loved being able to transfer reading a domestic dog to reading an African Wild Dog!)

After the second darting attempt, Jones looked more settled, so we slowly approached him (in our vehicle), Tico raised the dart gun one more time, we again held our breaths and this time the dart flew straight and true, into Jones’ thigh muscle (only safe target). Jones lept up, ran 10 feet away, and then circled around for a few minutes, lying down conveniently in the shade. Tico and driver BeBe then took measurements and collared Jones, and eventually we all were allowed to come down and see Jones close up, pet his stiff fur and look at his two horrendously infected teeth. Ouch.

Here’s Erin getting a once in a lifetime encounter with one of the world’s most endangered species:

And here’s Tico giving Jones the andidote, after about 40 minutes of data collection and collaring:

We stayed with Jones until he was well up and recovering. I asked Tico if there were ever challenges to a dog’s social status if it returned to the pack a bit woozy, but he said he’d never seen a sign of it. He had worried about that very thing his first year of research, and actually removed the dog from the pack for a day to avoid a power shift. Eventually he found that to be unnecessary, and has not seen any problems in all the subsequent years he’s collared dogs.

This post is getting a bit, uh, lengthy, so I’ll postpone talking about comparative AWD/Wolf/Coyote/Dog behavior til later (if you’re interested… or is this getting boring?  let me know, truly!).

Last comments: Someone with the improbable name of Tico McNutt (I mean, really!) can be one of the most inspiring, dedicated, knowledgeable and kind people imaginable. He has three graduate students working with him now, and has spent over twenty years working with the highly endangered wild dogs. I don’t doubt that he is one of the reasons that dogs are holding their own in Botswana now. And Chitabe Camp is without question one of the most amazing places on earth. The tents are gorgeous inside (complete with blow ups of David’s astounding photographs over your comfy bed), baboons play on the roofs of the tents outside, the entire place is brilliantly run and profoundly eco-sensitive. I said this was my last trip to Africa, and it probably is, but if anything pulled me back it would be the AWD research and Chitabe Camp.

Here’s one more photo of the dogs (sorry, I just can’t resist):

Why Grandma, what big ears you have!

Meanwhile, back at the farm: No photos yet, but it is green and lush and cool and I feel like I’ve fallen into an emerald. Lassie and Willie and Sushi are wonderful, two of my ewes are struggling with a still unknown disease, the lambs are thriving and the grass is bountiful. Oh my it is good to be home!