THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

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!

Hard to imagine we’re on our way to Africa tomorrow. Even though it’s my fourth trip, going to Africa still seems like something I could only dream about, never really do. Of course, the only dreaming at this point is of things I might have forgotten, and worries about leaving the dogs and the sheep. It will be such a relief to finally be on the plane and let it all go. I think of trips like this as white water kayaking (not that I’ve ever done it!)… You prepare carefully and meticulously, then launch into the rapids and go with the flow.

The most fun of the preparation has been reading up on the behavior of the animals we’ll probably see. For example, I’ve been reading about the comparative social systems of Golden Jackals and Black-Backed Jackals (coyote-like canids, common in both Kenya and Botswana). Both form strong pair bonds (I remember a great sighting we had one trip of a pair of Black-Backs doing “tandem scent marking” in which they traveled in single file, and each marking the same spot about every 50 feet.) and both are reproductively more successful if their older litters stay around as “helpers at the nest,” helping to protect and feed the next litter. But it’s more common in Goldens, even though Black Backs seems to profit most if they have helpers.

The researchers note (see Estes amazing book, The Behavior Guide to African Mammals) that Black Backs are much more aggressive to each other as they mature and tend to disperse earlier and more often. It’s unclear why, but it is clear that lions and humans are their main predators, and they need numbers to help protect the young and to protect food sources from hyenas, lions and even vultures.

Although nothing is ever for sure in Africa, we probably will see quite a few jackals, and if we are lucky, some of the harder to spot canids, like Bat Eared foxes (who are terminally adorable). Whether we see African Wild Dogs in Botswana has become quite the question: The Okavango Delta where we will be staying has been inundated with atypical flooding, and the radio-collared pack that normally dens close to where we are staying has moved and is denning elsewhere. People on the ground in Botswana are being wonderful about doing all they can to facilitate our seeing the dogs, but the fact is, the only guarantee in Africa is that there are no guarantees. I sent out an email yesterday to folks explaining the situation, and so far I’ve have gotten lovely responses from a number of folks who completely understand that wild animals are just that, and that we are but visitors into their world. Whatever happens, happens.

The only thing I am sure of on this entire trip is that it will be an amazing adventure.  I’d be stunned if we didn’t get great looks at lions (although their numbers are decreasing due to the use of poison by farmers around the parks), hyenas, and probably cheetahs. Leopards are extremely common, but their success is partially due to their skill at hiding out during the day and it is not common to see them at all. However, on my first trip we actually saw a leopard leap out of tall grasses and kill an antelope, then drag it to a tree. (That was on the way to breakfast, right outside of the lodge we were staying at. Oh my.) I can pretty well assure everyone that won’t happen again, but that something equally amazing probably will!

By the way, I MIGHT be able to get on-line and post from Africa on occasion, and I would love to be able to keep up with your comments, so keep them coming. But no promises, internet connections are tenuous at best when on safari, and you just never know. However, I have written 5 posts to appear when I’m gone, and I hope you enjoy them. Many of them have photos from previous trips to Africa, so in some ways I’ll be keeping you updated. . .

Meanwhile, back at the farm: The flowers are especially beautiful right now, in part due to an atypically cool and wet summer. It is heaven for heat-haters like me and Willie, and for crops like alfalfa and flowers like roses and bergamot. The berries just never stop, and I just can’t stop myself from making a mixed berry pie every week. Here’s berries in the bowl, with Tapioca and sugar, waiting to be dished into the pie shell. (And oh yeah, it’s long gone by now!) No more pies for awhile, but the food on safari is absurd… the tent camps (do not think pup tent, think hardwood floors, bathrooms and gorgeous linens!) put out feasts three times a day. I expect to come back looking like a strawberry (red from sun burn and round).

And here are the ones who make it incredibly  hard to leave. Truth is, tears will flow as we drive away. I have my own version of separation anxiety when I leave the farm and the dogs. Once I’m on the plane I’m okay, but the first fifteen minutes is just awful. It gets bad again after about a week… no matter how wonderful it is I will start yearning for Will and Lassie. I’ll miss Sushi too, but to be honest, it’s not the same as missing my dogs. I feel guilty saying that, but I suspect Sushi would say the same thing; she’ll miss us, but nothing like Lassie and Will.

Do not think the dog’s postures in the photo below suggest that they know I’m leaving and are sad. There’s no question Lassie knows I’m leaving soon on a trip, but in this case they were just bored to tears with me trying to get a picture! But foolish as it is, I can’t stop myself from telling them (as if they read the blog!):

Be safe my friends, I’ll miss you more than I can say.

I’m curious if any readers have some advice for me and a friend of mine. She and her husband have a young German Shorthaired Pointer they’d love to train to hunt, but are having problems finding any professional trainers who don’t use ear pinches, forced retrieves and a basic attitude of “Do it because I say so!” This is not the first time I’ve been asked about positive trainers in this field, whether for retrievers or pointers, and I haven’t had a lot of luck finding professionals who take dogs in and train them using primarily positive methods. If you know the world of hunting dogs, you know that there is a long history of “positive punishment” and dominance-based training in the field, perhaps more so than any other, at least in my experience.

Do any of you, wise readers, know of a professional trainer, or any other resources, in the midwest who primarily uses positive reinforcement? Do any of you hunt with retrievers, or compete in trials or tests? Any ideas for us? I swear I thought there was a series of books by a primarily positive trainers, but for the life of me I can’t remember the author’s name or find the books anywhere…

Meanwhile, back at the farm, the “to do” list for Africa never seems to get smaller. As soon as I cross one thing off, I write two more on. Besides power packing (every ounce is considered at great length, every piece of clothing requires careful thought!), the list of things to do for the farm and the animals never seems to end. But we’re making progress, and I’ve had another training session with the wonderful woman who is farm sitting (who is a Certified Equine Massage Therapist and massages Lassie into heaven; I’m not sure Lassie will be happy when I return!), all the food and supplements for 3 weeks are collected and slowly but surely we’re getting closer to departure. Ewe Martha 2.0 is still having respiratory trouble, along with 2 others, diagnosis is now down to 2 things (lung worms in spite of being wormed w/ 2 different wormers or OPP, an untreatable and ultimately fatal wasting disease)… I will leave with some new medicine and all paws crossed for the old girl.

Here’s a photo of my friend’s GSP. Gotta love the tongue.

Well, I can’t tell you that last night went smoothly, but my Willie boy tried his best and ended up learning a lot about working sheep last night. (We went to a good friends, Peg, who has a lot more sheep and a lot more land than I do and is extremely generous with her time.) First, Will and I drove a flock of about 35 sheep into a pen at the end of a long field, and then turned and walked 40 yards in the other direction, where Peg had brought out a group of 5 or 6 ewes about 250 yards away. I waited until I was sure Willie had seen them, and then sent him “Come Bye” (clockwise). He began correctly, but then stopped part way there and looked back at the flock he had just worked (who were behind him and me both). I said Come Bye again, and he started right but again slowed and looked back. Eventually  he ended up driving directly toward the flock he was supposed to run to the back of, and actually drove them away from me at one point. I whistled stop, lie down, come bye, etc etc, all to no avail. It was abundantly clear to me that he was completely confused, so I stopped trying to signal him and went to help him.

As I started to walk toward him he got around the sheep and brought them toward me, or more accurately, he ran behind the sheep who were now charging in my direction toward the larger flock behind me. The group he was trying to work ended up smack dab against the pen’s fence, with a few thin boards separating the small and the larger flocks. That was Willie’s next challenge–pulling the small flock away from the large one, and he just couldn’t manage it. He needed to force himself between the fence (and most relevant, the larger flock) and push the small flock away, and he just couldn’t do it. He kept looking at the sheep inside the fence, and as an excessively strong-eyed dog, he simply couldn’t detach himself from wanting to work them too. I suspect it was partly a confidence issue, Willie being a dog full of fears, but the draw of the other sheep was clearly a huge factor as well. I went over and helped and we got it done, but when we tried it again he still had trouble. We’ve worked a bit at this at home, but what we’ve done is new enough that it didn’t transfer to a new context.

Peg and I switched directions to make it easier for Will, but now the sheep were on the upside of a pasture with two hills and big dip in the middle. Will lost sight of the sheep halfway through his outrun and began to run flat (toward the sheep rather than around). He tried to fix it when he got the sheep back in sight, but by then he was too close, and struggled to get control of them once he got around them. He brought them to me eventually, but it wasn’t very pretty. I was sure he had just never been in this situation, (losing sight of the sheep on such a long outrun) so I sent him one more time, and damn if he didn’t run a perfect outrun, take control of the sheep much more effectively (not perfectly, but not bad either) and bring them spot-on to me at a perfect pace. Whew. Good boy, good boy.

Of course, by now he and the sheep were a bit tired (Will over heats pathetically fast, so between runs 2 and 3 he had taken a rest in the shade, drunk water and had water poured on his paws), so that partially explains the quiet pace, but nonetheless, it was a good place to end and I was pleased he had clearly learned from experience. We’ll try again next week if we can fit it in before we go to Africa, but meanwhile I’ll work on the issue of shedding the sheep off of a fence with a flock right behind at home.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Besides walks with dogs and working with sheep (and scrubbing water tanks and grinding nails… all the boring stuff we all do to maintain life), lots of time at home is being spent of preparation for Africa. Oh my, hard to believe that in 2 weeks I’ll be with a pack of animal lovers watching hippos in an underwater viewing area in Tsavo National Park.  I won’t be able to send posts from there, so I’m going to write articles before I go, to be posted throughout the time I’m gone. Who knows, maybe I will have internet access in some places.. that would be great fun to write you all from there!

Closer to home, here’s Will and flowers, two of my favorite things: