Eye on the Prize
It is 10:00 on the Sunday morning of the Fourth of July weekend. I am heading north on Manning Trail, on my way to Kelly Farms for a field training session with Jet. It will be my third day in a row and fourth of the week. On a holiday weekend typically spent relaxing near water, or at a music festival, I am hitting the training hard, taking advantage of the favorable weather and abundance of time. I imagine this is how triathletes feel. I note that I have put a little over 1,000 miles on my car in the two weeks since I was last up here. I have also spent over $200 dollars in that same time span. All in the quest of trying to get Jet to the next level in hunt test competition.
Three years ago he was impressive in his Junior Hunter tests. His marking was spectacular, and on those rare occasions when he missed, his perseverance more than made up for it. He achieved his Junior Hunter title in four straight passes as well as his breed's Working Certificate at the age of 18 months. His future in field work looked very bright.
If only the next level were not quite so complicated.
And time consuming.
And requiring special equipment.
And access to lands with ponds.
And inordinate amounts of time.
And helpers.
I had a plan for today’s session. I even had the spot picked out where I wanted to work. This place, for which I paid the tidy sum of $300 for unlimited access for a year, is a cattle ranch. There are ponds of all shapes and sizes, and rolling hills with lots of cover changes. As long as you do not go where the cattle are grazing, you can have your pick of spots for train. And, of all the places at which I can train, this comes in as one of the closest at a mere 45 minutes away.
As I approached the driveway to my spot, I reviewed my training plan for this session. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how I was going to do it. Slowing down, I noticed a sign at the entrance to the driveway: an event was being held somewhere in that area. I remained optimistic; there was so much property in that area, surely they would not be in the little spot where I had my carefully thought out session prepared…..
My heart sank as I saw the long line of dog trucks and a porta-potty right smack dab in the field where I had planned to work. Sadly, I had not contemplated a Plan B. As I turned around, I tried to review the locations of other small ponds where I might be able to set up my same plan. After driving around for what seemed like an eternity, I settled on an area that I hoped would work. I walked out to set up my Bumper Boy, a remote bumper launcher I had spent $875 on six years ago for training Casey Mae. I set it up for a test fire. I launched the first bumper and it did not land where I wanted it to, so I went out to retrieve it. I reset both launchers for a final test fire. They did not launch at all. Either the blanks I was using were bad or the launchers needed cleaning, but I was not going to be able to use the Bumper Boy today.
This day was going downhill rapidly. I had to go to Plan C. I have thrown remotely for Jet a few times, but not consistently. The concept I wanted to train involved him swimming a small to medium body of water to get a mark that was thrown up on land on the opposite shore. For some reason, despite having mastered this concept previously, he was having difficulties with it this summer, and it had now become a significant setback. The previous day I had run this type of mark with a partner who threw and shot multiple times to help Jet keep his confidence up as he swam to the opposite shore. I figured, if I could get him to: 1) stay sitting while I went around to the opposite shore, and 2) release into the water as opposed to trying to cheat on land, this might actually work.
So I returned with the Bumper Boy to the car and got out my starter pistol and a bunch of white bumpers. I took Jet out, heeled him around to the line, gave him a sit command and left him. As I walked around the small pond I willed him to stay put. I did not want to have any additional battles with him. He was as still as could be. I got into position, gave him another sit command and blew my duck call, fired my gun and threw the bumper. He sat still as a rock. I released him and he came confidently straight into the water. He got to my shore and then could not push up onto the land. Instead he searched right on the bank and when he couldn’t find it, he headed back into the water, away from me. I fired and threw another bumper to get him back in the right direction. He got back on land and I could immediately hear his gargled, labored breathing as he hunted around for the bumper. Within a few seconds he had found it and I whistled him to me.
I decided to do it again. Repeating marks is discouraged in field training, instead, it is suggested that you throw another mark in a different location with the same concept. Unfortunately, I did not have the time or the land to find another similar set up with a small body of water. And although I feared a no-go, my hope was that he could just nail it and we could be done. I also felt as though there was more incentive for him to go with me out there throwing the bumper for him. Turns out it was a good choice. He plunged in the water again, swam in a fairly straight line, got up on the shore, hunted around a bit and recovered the bumper. I was ecstatic. But again, his breathing was terrible. It seemed as though he had inhaled a bunch of water.
It was time for a break. And he had only done two moderately long water marks. In the end, I spent over three hours and worked on two concepts. The majority of the time was spent in the car traveling to and from the land, with Jet panting anxiously the entire time in the car.
I have been hooked on field training for almost 10 years, when I started with Casey Mae. At the ripe old age of 10, she is still a tremendous retriever, when she can do it on her terms. I had been training her about a year when I first started to learn about pressure and how it is used in field training. I was surprised that I would need to use pressure on a dog who would retrieve for hours. Until she didn’t. Then, all manner of cajoling was ineffective. The same could be said for getting her to hold a bird. She loved to retrieve it and then would bring it back and spit it out at me. This worked for some types of hunt tests, but when I decided to run her in AKC, I knew I needed to get a good hold and delivery out of her.
That’s when I learned about force fetch.
I also learned early on, that field retrieving is one of only a few dog sports where professionals make a living training other people’s dogs. At first, I was astounded to discover this. While there are trainers for all dog sports, most frequently, the owner does the training, either in a class setting or under the guidance of a personal instructor. But in the world of hunt test and field trial competitions, people send their dogs away, often for months at a time, to live in a kennel, ride on a dog truck and be trained to compete in these events, or even just to be a steady hunting companion. The cost for a month of training plus room and board can run close to what I spent on that Bumper Boy six years ago.
I have always had a hard time understanding this. I am not sure why one would have a dog, only to have it live in a kennel somewhere else and be trained by someone else. No title or ribbon would ever be worth that to me. But it is remarkable how common this is. And as I struggle to find the time and the resources with which to field train my own dog, I can see all the advantages the pros have. They have routines. Dogs are trained every day. If a dog is struggling on something, that concept gets worked on at least once a day until it is fixed. And something that might take me a month to work through on my schedule, will likely take a professional trainer only a few days to a week to fix.
That fact played out loud and clear earlier this summer, as set-backs again manifested themselves, leading to frustration and disappointment. I found myself in early to mid-June thinking “I cannot believe this is happening AGAIN.” “This is where we should be making more measurable progress.” “How much longer before we get the break through that other dogs with his level of experience are achieving?” And I have no doubt that I have made more than my fair share of mistakes, particularly when it comes to pressure and corrections. I am forever grateful that he is such a forgiving teammate.
One day, not that long ago, I had a revelation of sorts, based on something that had happened with Jet last year in agility. One day, he took one too many tumbles off the dog walk (body moving faster than the brain), and from that point forward, refused to do it at all. This might have marked the end of his agility career, but I knew we had to try to rebuild his confidence to go on it again. This meant training on one that could be lowered and starting all over from the beginning. I spent the better part of last summer working with our trainer and visiting a fellow competitor who had an adjustable dog walk. I paid her a small sum to run Jet over it, back and forth, from one side to the other, combined with other obstacles, in short, 10 to 15 minute sessions. After several months running him exclusively on a lowered dog walk, my trainer and I made the decision to raise it back to full height. I remember holding my breath as we approached, not knowing what to expect. And up he went, tail wagging, head held high. We had conquered the dog walk! And it only took four months!
The day this summer that I was able to recall and reflect on the agility set-back was the day I knew I had to work all that much harder to understand why he struggled with certain aspects of field training. This has not been an easy task, as there are so many variables in any given scenario. But I have steered away from those who recommend more pressure and, instead, sought out those who employ a more nuanced approach. When I think about it in the context of what happened with Jet in agility, I cannot fathom using pressure to “make” him take the dog walk when he clearly did not have the confidence to do it. That said, it is not as clear when we are in a situation where I honestly believe he knows what he is supposed to be doing. The struggles are ugly.
It makes me wonder about other physical and mental challenges that I may not be catching.
This goofy, overly exuberant and exhausting personality has forced me to be efficient and much more thoughtful in how I approach each training session. What do I want him to accomplish? What do I want him to learn? How can I put us both in the best position to have a successful training session? In that respect, I think he is making me a better trainer.
But he has also forced me to consider whether field training is something I want to continue indefinitely with him. The lack of time and nearby land are the two factors most difficult to overcome. If he were a quick study and I could see more significant progress, (as demonstrated in his other sports), the motivation would be higher. But our stutter steps in field training this summer, painfully similar to those of a year ago, have only served to make any successes that much harder to recognize. There was a time where it was extremely important to me to prove to myself, along with everybody else, that I could do this. That feeling is starting to wane.
I came to a decision of sorts earlier this summer. I was going to do everything I possibly could to give Jet the greatest chance at making progress before I called it quits. So I leave the house at 5:45 a.m. and put in an hour of training before I go to work. I train 5-6 days a week. I get help when I can, watch videos and read books. I have almost become obsessed, in that I am always thinking about how to set up the next session.
And through it all, I have discovered that I have lost a sense of balance.
I always have had dogs first and foremost as companions. They take up the most important space in my life, outside of my immediate family. Doing sports and other activities with them is an added bonus, like having kids in extra-curricular activities. But as with human children, not all are cut out for all types of activities. And while there are so many dog training articles written about perseverance and never quitting, not much is out there about determining when it is okay to give up. The truth of the matter is that my dogs love life regardless of whether they are training and competing, or merely hanging out with me on the back porch.
So, in the end, it will not be about a Senior Hunter title. It may not even be about a single Senior Hunter pass. It will be about my relationship with my dog. It will be about mutual love and respect. It will be about joy. And it will be about balance. Those are the prizes on which my eyes are firmly fixed.