It’s the key to seeing.
We’ve been doing our mostly-weekly tracking sessions in a beautiful drainage area for the past several months. It’s adjacent to a shopping center and easily accessible, just a couple hundred yards from the parking lot.
The drainage area is fairly new. It was planned and installed as mitigation when a large development (Talega) was approved about 20 years ago, though the recession of the early ‘90s delayed construction for some time. It’s not likely that this drainage area will ever be needed in my lifetime, but planners decided that the ‘100 year flood’ cycles should be taken seriously.
Water doesn’t flow through this area -- there is an underground system large enough to drive a truck through, located beneath the spot where we track. The drainage area is planted in grass and shrubs, mowed and manicured on a regular basis. A paved jogging/bicycle path runs next to the grass.
When I first considered using this area I was concerned about herbicide use. But the year-round presence of broad-leaf weeds in the grass seemed to put that fear to rest. My only complaint has been that someone ought to monitor the sprinklers -- it is often quite soggy.
So there I was. I got out of the van this morning and looked down at the area. It looked like it had probably been mowed within the past few days... and it wasn’t soggy! Hooray.
As I walked down to lay the track, planned what I’d do.
First thing I decided was to keep watch for piles of unclaimed dog poop! Last time I’d missed a couple as I was laying the track and Beasil had a little fun with them.
I also figured that I’d lay a short ‘warm-up’ track of about 50 steps and then a longer one.
I layed the first one and was about 40 steps into the second one when I noticed, not dog poop, but granules of fertilizer. I must have been looking for big poop and not seen the tiny granules. So I stopped.
I went back towards the car, looking at the area of the first track. It didn’t seem to have many of the granules, so I figured I’d just do the first track and skip the second one.
On second thought, I’d add one on the access road and through the shrubs.
What was I thinking???
I went back to the van and got Beasil out. We did our usual potty/jog walk and some OB for practice and to get her focused. As we approached the area of the first track on the access road, she was excited, as usual.
We did our usual routine of switching from leash to tracking line, etc., and I led her to the start pad.
She just couldn’t get it. Like nothing I’ve ever seen -- she just went in circles, missing the pieces of bait that I’d dropped (sparingly) along the way. I encouraged her along, showing her the way when she’d get frustrated and look up at me as if to say “What the hell are you doing, old man?”
We got to the end where there was a nice jackpot and she practically ran around it and over it!
I took her to the first grass track and looked around. Once again, I saw almost no sign of the granules, so we started.
Or at least I thought we started. Beasil knew what we were there for and tried, but just didn’t seem to be tracking. By the time we’d gone about 25 steps I decided to call it. How do you communicate to your partner that you are stopping what really never started?
We stepped over to the bike path, did some attention and got treats and went for a jog. Make obedience, have fun and shake it off.
It wasn’t until we were back to the van that it dawned on me. I was ‘stuck’ in the mode of thinking about two things separately: the health issues of fertilizer ( even without herbicides) and the inexplicable poor performance of Beasil on the track.
DUH! It hit me like a falling piano: the smell of the fertilizer must have been overpowering! Not just when she had her nose on the ground -- it probably hung in the cool morning air in that low-lying drainage area like a thick fog! I didn’t smell it, though the realization of what Beasil might have been experiencing certainly evoked memories of a newly opened bag of fertilizer.
No wonder she didn’t have her nose on the ground!
On the way home we drove past a skunk that had been splatted on the road. What a great example to help a scent-disabled human comprehend: dogs ‘smell’ better than we ‘see’, and those little tiny granules that I ‘saw’ were boulder-sized to Beasil’s nose -- just like the little skunk was to mine. Overpowering.
The best lessons are the ones we discover ourselves-- when they run over us as though we just wandered on the the railroad tracks.
Paying Attention:
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
