Sheep crossing?

Found the strangest thing one day in the wilderness. I wandered off the trail a bit, mostly out of boredom, and I found the stream that ran along side the trail just disappeared at one point into the ground. The closer I looked I realized it wasn't natural. Someone had laid huge flat stones over a section, maybe 20-30 feet or so.
 
Then at the other end, it came out of a little channel, since the grade sloped downward there. I was really amazed at who and why someone would do that. It seemed logical that is was a sort of crossing, probably for animals since given the stone walls that abound there, it was most likely fields probably a hundred years ago, maybe less.

Then across the stream, maybe another 30 feet was the ruins of some sort of foundation into the side of the hill, with the entrance clearly on the inside of the hill. That made me think it was probably a pen for the animals, but it was fairly small and not too well reinforced. Too small for cows, I think, but maybe not for sheep. But I'm not sure because I think sheep would be more sure-footed and less likely to need a smooth walkway across the rather rugged stream. Time to do some more research.

This enclosure seems too small for cattle but maybe might have adequately sheltered sheep from bad weather, when once it was covered and more built up.

Ribbony way

My rambling adventures with Maya continued over the weekend when I found an obscure mountain biking trail on the backside of the mountain. It was a wonderfully ribbony switchback and eventually connected with the main trail to the top. As we were ascending about 4:30 p.m. on Saturday it began to snow, a granular snow propelled by a hard wind coming across the reservoir. I was happy to have dressed warmly with gloves and was confident the trail was going to hit the main one—there wasn't really any other option—or I'd have been worried about getting caught in a storm in the woods. The reality is that I know what roads border the area and I could easily find my way out, though if it were dark the walk could be treacherous. We ended up hiking 4.5 miles and coming out just after sunset. We've had such little snow this year that it was great to be out in it and Maya seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself, following the trail like she'd been there plenty of times before.

The ribbony switchback trail on the north side of the mountain, taken just as the trail began to ascend. From high up the curve of the trails isn't so clearly discernible as it climbs somewhat sharply. Shortly after the photo was take it started to snow.

Maya with her 'trench coat' at the wilderness the morning after a light snowfall.
That's really the first time she's worn it outside and it is already a bit tight on her.

The day before at the wilderness we ran into Kay and her Lab named Maggie, one of Maya's first friends from our outings. Kay first told me about the wilderness and I repaid her by tipping her off to the mountain. On Friday she told me she and her family had been away for three weeks and boarded Maggie at a place upstate with acres fenced in for the dogs to run, and for only $30 to $35 a day. We're planning to be in Peru this summer for maybe up to three weeks and this may be just what we were looking for, as I've been hesitant to commit because I just didn't know what to do with Maya. Meche and I are going to check it out and leave her overnight one weekend next month. We'll use that as an excuse for a little get away by ourselves. Plus, I really like heading north where it's more rural and even more wooded. Fionna is going to camp up in the Adirondacks over July 4th weekend and knowing we might have a nice place to board Maya will give us an excuse to stay over a few nights ourselves and explore. Maybe I'll go even farther north and visit my mother's family. Haven't seen them since her funeral. Maybe we'll do that when we pick up Fionna, as I want her to get to know a little more of Grammy's side as well.

Good girls

A half hour of tossing a ball with Maya in the yard tonight was quite effective. She's mellowed and sacked out. Molly walked her for about 10 minutes after school as well. Good girl! Both of them.

Dog tired

For two days Maya has been behaving extremely well in the evenings. Then again, we walked four miles yesterday, meeting up with another dog walker and her beautiful gray Weimaraner, who gets along great with Maya. So last night Maya was sacked out—unfortunately still on the downstairs couch as we haven't come up with something else for her to sleep on down there while we're watching TV.

Today, since I was off from work, I took her for a long walk on the mountain, going around the north side where we eventually came to an incredible meadow. On the way back we veered off onto a mountain bike path and came out at the top of an abandoned rock quarry. That was a bit nervy—finding Maya looking over the edge. The area is all wooded over now but it was clearly dug out and strewn with broken rock. Anyway we went four and half miles, and Maya slept the rest of the afternoon in her crate, and is still sacked out downstairs. Cliche but true: A tired dog is a good dog.

Pack structure revisted

Sometimes you have to go back to basics. I think we need to do this with Maya, with whom we are having some pack structure issues, most notably over her getting up on the furniture. Unfortunately, we've lapsed in keeping Maya off the couches and the other day we had a problem with that when some friends were over.

We tired to keep Maya off the couches, though allowed an exception in the basement family area, while trying to keep the main living room for us. The problem is that while the daycare is in session in the basement, Maya is alone upstairs in the living room and dining room area. For a while we laid baby gates across the sofa and love seat to keep her off, but somehow that practice lapsed, in part because it meant removing them to sit down ourselves and they were unsightly. Besides, Maya is such a good dog and generally got down without much resistance. We even put a blanket there to keep the couch clean while she was on it.

Well, when DV was over the other night with his wife and kids, he was sitting on the couch and Maya kept jumping up. He pushed her off and for a while she found something else to entertain herself, but later she returned and was much more insistent. DV was much rougher in pushing her than I am with her and in fairness to Maya, I think that was provoking her. She may have thought it was a game. I ended up putting her in her crate. DV—whose pup Sibirius is in the same dog training that Maya is—reminded me that the trainers aren't in favor of letting dogs on the furniture, except when invited and then only briefly, and that it was a key part of maintaining pack structure. Because Sibirius is in puppy class, when a lot of the basics are explained, he is hearing these things now, while we've passed that and are into more advanced training. Obviously, he was right. I can't have Maya insisting on her right to the couch!

Basically, dogs respond to pack structure by nature—they innately understand the rules—and this applies to dogs living with human families, which become their pack. They expect to follow the leader of the pack—the alpha—and will either try to take leadership if it's not clear or will become confused and insecure, leading to behavior problems, particularly if they're basically a submissive follower.

The incident with Maya and the couch has forced me to rethink how we're handling this. Meche and I agree we have to reassert this and I just reread the whole section on pack structure on our trainer's web site: www.k9-1.com

Access to the details of the web site is limited to those who are members, but the following is an excerpt from the portion on pack structure that deals with furniture.

 

Resting areas are considered prized possessions in dog society, so the subject of allowing your dog use of furniture and human beds is closely related to the rules used for other possessions. ...

 

Not letting the tail wagging members of the family on the furniture and beds will help clarify that it is not the dog’s possession. In a nutshell, we need to create boundaries for our dogs. If we treat our dogs like people they are prone to treat us like dogs. When Skippy growls and snips at another dog for going on his little dog bed it is considered normal, but when he does this to the face of a toddler on the family couch it is unacceptable. If dogs are not allowed to share our resting places there can’t be any ownership disputes with humans involving furniture. ... Thousands of dog bites can be avoided per year if dog owners just followed this rule. There are countless documented cases ranging from a tiny Pomeranian killing a baby to a Pit Bull killing an adult—all the result of dogs with no boundaries having disputes as to who owns the furniture. ...

 

Some of you reading this rule will find it conflicting with your desires to endlessly stroke your soft coated pooch as you sit back on your couch and watch “Gone with the Wind”. This is normal for us since we are primates and that’s what primates do, sit around and groom and stroke. If this is what you must do, just know it does nothing for the dog but create an unnatural addiction, and make it almost impossible to create the leadership and mental balance that the dogs needs to excel in a human world.

 

It is not an impossibility to have a well balanced dog that will go on furniture and beds—strictly when invited as a privilege—but you would never want to do this unless you have a dog that is not having any behavioral problems and is used to living as a follower of humans. To give that privilege prematurely, will make it almost impossible to troubleshoot any problems and train your dog easily. For dogs with a history of aggression toward humans or of a breed that is capable of causing serious harm to a human I would recommend a permanent ban from these places.

 

So, back to basics, Maya. Now, to figure out the logistics of that ...

A tick in time

Many people would find it hard to complain about this predominately spring-like winter, except avid skiers, of course, and perhaps the dogs. It means tick season has been virtually unending. We've taken two dog ticks off of Maya in the past two days, despite having put anti-flea and tick treatment on her earlier in the week! Fortunately, those gross gray suckers aren't as dangerous as the tiny dear ticks and are easier to find, but, still, they're awfully high on the disgusting scale. Maya already had Lime Disease late last year and so I'm particularly concerned about it—for us as well as for her.

It is supposed to get colder this weekend, and I would just as soon have a good, deep cold snap. Drive those parasites into hibernation, or whatever it is they do when it's cold, and kill off a lot of other sickening germs and viruses and whatnot. I'm not sure it's true, but I subscribe to the folk wisdom that a cold winter is healthier than this less than half-hearted season. The weather forecasters say it's due to El Nino weather pattern in the Pacific that is keeping the jet stream up in Canada, and a friend of mine in Lima, Peru, told me last night that the city had gotten heavy rain, something I never saw in the six years I lived there. It doesn't rain in Lima usually. It just sort of mists. But my desire for cold might be a mixed blessing for poor Maya. She has thin hair without an undercoat, which I suppose is fine enough for the milder Irish winters and perhaps more apt to dry quickly from all the rain there, and so she might not do too well in the bitter cold. It doesn't seem to stop her in the snow, though. She loves it.  And if need be, she has a jacket.

Hole in the hill

We had no idea we'd be stumbling across a piece of U.S. history on Saturday when DV and I took our dogs out together for the first time since he got a new pup. Walking along an old mining road that is now part of a state park we met a man and a woman who were also walking their dog. While chatting with the guy he told us how to find the old iron mine, which was easily reached along two paths that used to be the rail lines up to the mine. We had walked by them so many times! It's amazing what you don't see sometimes. The mine—a gaping hole among an otherwise typical rock outcropping—apparently fed a now razed foundry that existed a few miles west on the river. It made armaments during the 19th century, including supplying cannons for Union forces during the Civil War.

I tried to find some information about the mine on the Net but learned only that this area was heavily mined for iron until the technology was displaced by steel production in the later part of the 1800s. I picked up a piece of ore that fit nicely into my hand. A magnet slaps to it tightly. That's high quality ore. It obviously was worth all the work they put into getting it.

To be honest, the mine was both fascinating and scary. It's big triangular hole going down into the hillside, and where the vein of iron was you can still see wooden beams placed there, I suppose, to keep the other strata of rock from caving in, though I doubt it would have done much good. The intrepid explorer Maya ventured down in, though only DV was close enough to see her and she came right out when called. DV wants to go back without the dogs and scale down inside with some rope. I dunno 'bout that. One might say the signs weren't good for such an adventure, since DV fell while taking pictures of me at the opening. The fall was outside the mine on the slope leading away from the lip of the cut in the earth leading down to the hole but some might take that as a bad omen. Not that I'm superstitious, though if I recall correctly, folks who toil around such tunnels into the earth tend to be. DV had to hobble out for more than two miles of the 6.37 miles we hiked that day (according to the Nike Plus I used to log our distance).

Despite DV's injury—he felt like he twisted his knee—it was a great outing. The weather was fantastic in this, probably the warmest winter I can remember, and I'm still psyched about finding the mine. Our dogs got along really well. DV's Shiba Inu named Sibirius is a feisty little guy. Sibi, who is about four months old, I think, kept asserting himself with Maya, but she was cool, as long as she has someone to play with she doesn't care about who's boss. DV says he usually has trouble keeping track of Sibi, who tends to run ahead and doesn't readily respond when called. From what I've read and heard that's typical of Shiba Inus, a Japanese breed that is known for independence. Maya had a positive influence and Sibi stayed fairly close to us. I'm looking forward to more outings with DV and Sibi. "The woods are lovely, dark and deep." ... and so full of archaeology and history. In all the places Maya and I hike it seems the past is there, just waiting to be recognized.
                                                                                 

Spooked Maya

Last Friday when we walked on the mountain Maya was extremely nervous. It was getting late, around 4:30, but I knew we had time before we lost the light. The sunset was at 5:04 and we'd have a while after that. When we reached as far up as we were going, she clearly wanted to head back, so we started down on the main, most direct trail. The sun through the woods as we headed pretty much due west was incredible and I was dawdling and taking a few pictures.

At one point I leashed Maya so we could go by a muddy patch without her bounding through it. Then I let her loose again. Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough because, after dashing ahead of me for a spell, she returned and started pulling at the leash that was still in my hand. I stopped and she waited. I started to put the leash back on her but then decided not to yet. I shooed her on and she went a little way, turned and watched me, and then returned to bite at the leash some more. Again I stopped and she waited to be leashed, so I did. She took off pulling me! It was one of the most deliberately communicative things I've seen her do, though I have never doubted her intelligence. She was so clearly saying, "Let's go!" She tends toward nervousness and she was definitely uncomfortable about something. I've seen her like that before, especially when it's nearly twilight. It was difficult to accommodate her this day because the sunset though the trees was like a tight, brilliant fire on the horizon and it gave the forest an unusual glow. The picture below was taken then. It was lovely but odd.

Maya wasn't a bit pleased with my stopping. She tugged me all the way back to the car. When she climbed into the back seat and I was putting on her harness (yeah, her seat belt, so she isn't tossed about) she remained jittery. She stood very erect as I buckled her in, staring apprehensively up the trail we'd just come off. It was exactly sunset when I settled into my seat.

She has been like that at least a couple of times before. Once, shortly after I'd found these trails on the mountain, she had behaved as if she were scared, more uneasy than even than this time. Then, too, it was around dusk. Another time when she was quite little and still on a leash she just flatly refused to go into a darkening trail, to the point of sitting down and refusing to move though she was on the point of being dragged. I relented and turned around.

I wonder, is it just the dimming light or does she sense things. Are other animals about that she hears or smells? This time, with the light so incredibly beautiful, I wasn't bothered by her nervousness. At other times, though, with just the two of us supposedly alone in the forest, well ... sometimes it's just best not to tarry.