Burglary, two houses over.
I know it's a half mile away, but still. Bunch of stuff gone, the house was trashed.
Padlock goes on our gate at first light.
Wednesday 28 January 2009
Monday 26 January 2009
Gettin' on a Groove Thang
This afternoon, strains of the song "Reunited" (by Peaches And Herb) kept going through my head, but my mood was so fine I didn't care. "Feels so good..." in particular.
Why, you ask? Because I've made my peace with Negative Reinforcement and its role in horse training, enabling me to make a lot of progress with Bugg this week. Since her arrival in December, Bugg has made it clear that she thinks she won the anti-lottery. OK she's got a new best buddy with a QH mare, Mouse (they have adjacent stalls and are turned out together), but the snow is not her favorite and the lack of humidity took some getting used to. And then there's this pesky human that keeps screwing up her life of leisure. Yes, that would be me.
For a while our daily routine was minor handling, just rubs all over with occasional treats. Her feet got picked out every day (still do), some days she was haltered and led around, and that was no big deal. Even playing the Friendly Game with either a lead rope or savvy string was no big deal. But the blanket - sorry, the monster on her back every evening - ooooooh, that sucks. The cold truth - pun fully intended - is that our California girl would freeze without her heavy waterproof blanket on every night. And some days, too. But Bugg made faces - tight lips, ears back, neck stiff - when it came time to put it on. After many weeks' work, she sometimes has to remember to look a little resentful when the blanket is brought into her stall.
In parallel to the blanket desensitization, I've been working on Parelli's Seven Games (you can read or watch, as you please). These use Negative Reinforcement (R-), which I avoid like the plauge in dog training. (Basically, it's applying a punisher until you get the right response, then removing the punisher. Icky stuff. And punishment is in the eye of the receiver...) It took a long conversation with my friend and mentor Jill to persuade me that R- (ie., pressure) has a place in working with prey animals, and that I would easily figure out how to switch to Positive Reinforcement (R+) and Negative Punishment (P-) as my skills improved. That gave me the confidence to plunge ahead.
The last few days there's been a new demand on her: round pen work at liberty. The idea is to get Bugg to build some muscle and understand pressure before we try trailriding. The first day I could get her to canter in one direction, only if I kept the pressure on and used a lounge whip. My neighbor (and friend, teacher, and coach) Elizabeth was able to get Bugg to go in both directions, and gave me some great pointers. She then gave me a challenge: Figure out how to keep Bugg at a trot (not a canter) and switch directions at will. With nothing in my hands.
I love challenges.
The second day we went back to the round pen, and I took a carrot stick with me. Once I got Bugg moving with the lounge whip (just the staff, the string was in my hand) I put it on the ground and switched to the carrot stick with string. Worked pretty well, better to one side than the other, but it was progress. I focused on her off-side and maintaining a trot.
The third day (yesterday) the weather sucked, really windy, getting cold, a front moving in. It was also late in the afternoon, so I thought I'd try and work Bugg in the arena on a lounge line. More or less OK to one side (with carrot stick) but hopless on her off-side. I asked Elizabeth for help, to show me the body position to use and talk me through it. Bugg wouldn't go to her off-side for Elizabeth either, so I decided to play "you win a prize!" and took Bugg back to the round pen. At liberty, I insisted she do a total of 10 circuits on her off-side, then quit. I'll spare you the analysis, but this appears to have been very successful. On the way back to the barn I played a clicker-game called "touch the monster" (basically a modified targeting game) to acclimate her to a mounting block. That went great.
So today - day four - I take Bugg out of the arena to the mounting block from yesterday. I stand on the mounting block and brush her, even leaning over and putting weight on her back to do the far side. Switched sides, same thing. She was a relaxed rock, wahoo. So off to the round pen. At liberty, I was able to ask her to go around at a trot, switch sides, switch again, and again, hold a trot for multiple complete circuits. My "off" switch needs a little work, and she did have one good burst of cantering that I didn't really ask for. But it was SO COOL to play with her and it felt great, like we both knew what the other was doing most of the time. So then I played the Porcupine Game with her, and just barely asked her to move her rear, both directions, very softly, and got instant responses. Perfect. So I tried one more thing, asking her to back straight up by putting my hand on the end of her muzzle. Wow, that worked the first time. I decided to quit while we were ridiculously ahead and get Bugg-a-boo her dinner.
OK, guess this R- stuff works, even for a non-believer like me. Tomorrow I'll try moving her front end by asking very softly, and see how that goes. And ask Elizabeth to set the next challenge. There's a new level of trust and understanding, and I believe we'll be dancing soon.
Despite the cheezy 70's love song.
----------------------
Tues's update: 19 degrees and snowing, so no round pen today. Oh well.
Why, you ask? Because I've made my peace with Negative Reinforcement and its role in horse training, enabling me to make a lot of progress with Bugg this week. Since her arrival in December, Bugg has made it clear that she thinks she won the anti-lottery. OK she's got a new best buddy with a QH mare, Mouse (they have adjacent stalls and are turned out together), but the snow is not her favorite and the lack of humidity took some getting used to. And then there's this pesky human that keeps screwing up her life of leisure. Yes, that would be me.
For a while our daily routine was minor handling, just rubs all over with occasional treats. Her feet got picked out every day (still do), some days she was haltered and led around, and that was no big deal. Even playing the Friendly Game with either a lead rope or savvy string was no big deal. But the blanket - sorry, the monster on her back every evening - ooooooh, that sucks. The cold truth - pun fully intended - is that our California girl would freeze without her heavy waterproof blanket on every night. And some days, too. But Bugg made faces - tight lips, ears back, neck stiff - when it came time to put it on. After many weeks' work, she sometimes has to remember to look a little resentful when the blanket is brought into her stall.
In parallel to the blanket desensitization, I've been working on Parelli's Seven Games (you can read or watch, as you please). These use Negative Reinforcement (R-), which I avoid like the plauge in dog training. (Basically, it's applying a punisher until you get the right response, then removing the punisher. Icky stuff. And punishment is in the eye of the receiver...) It took a long conversation with my friend and mentor Jill to persuade me that R- (ie., pressure) has a place in working with prey animals, and that I would easily figure out how to switch to Positive Reinforcement (R+) and Negative Punishment (P-) as my skills improved. That gave me the confidence to plunge ahead.
The last few days there's been a new demand on her: round pen work at liberty. The idea is to get Bugg to build some muscle and understand pressure before we try trailriding. The first day I could get her to canter in one direction, only if I kept the pressure on and used a lounge whip. My neighbor (and friend, teacher, and coach) Elizabeth was able to get Bugg to go in both directions, and gave me some great pointers. She then gave me a challenge: Figure out how to keep Bugg at a trot (not a canter) and switch directions at will. With nothing in my hands.
I love challenges.
The second day we went back to the round pen, and I took a carrot stick with me. Once I got Bugg moving with the lounge whip (just the staff, the string was in my hand) I put it on the ground and switched to the carrot stick with string. Worked pretty well, better to one side than the other, but it was progress. I focused on her off-side and maintaining a trot.
The third day (yesterday) the weather sucked, really windy, getting cold, a front moving in. It was also late in the afternoon, so I thought I'd try and work Bugg in the arena on a lounge line. More or less OK to one side (with carrot stick) but hopless on her off-side. I asked Elizabeth for help, to show me the body position to use and talk me through it. Bugg wouldn't go to her off-side for Elizabeth either, so I decided to play "you win a prize!" and took Bugg back to the round pen. At liberty, I insisted she do a total of 10 circuits on her off-side, then quit. I'll spare you the analysis, but this appears to have been very successful. On the way back to the barn I played a clicker-game called "touch the monster" (basically a modified targeting game) to acclimate her to a mounting block. That went great.
So today - day four - I take Bugg out of the arena to the mounting block from yesterday. I stand on the mounting block and brush her, even leaning over and putting weight on her back to do the far side. Switched sides, same thing. She was a relaxed rock, wahoo. So off to the round pen. At liberty, I was able to ask her to go around at a trot, switch sides, switch again, and again, hold a trot for multiple complete circuits. My "off" switch needs a little work, and she did have one good burst of cantering that I didn't really ask for. But it was SO COOL to play with her and it felt great, like we both knew what the other was doing most of the time. So then I played the Porcupine Game with her, and just barely asked her to move her rear, both directions, very softly, and got instant responses. Perfect. So I tried one more thing, asking her to back straight up by putting my hand on the end of her muzzle. Wow, that worked the first time. I decided to quit while we were ridiculously ahead and get Bugg-a-boo her dinner.
OK, guess this R- stuff works, even for a non-believer like me. Tomorrow I'll try moving her front end by asking very softly, and see how that goes. And ask Elizabeth to set the next challenge. There's a new level of trust and understanding, and I believe we'll be dancing soon.
Despite the cheezy 70's love song.
----------------------
Tues's update: 19 degrees and snowing, so no round pen today. Oh well.
Saturday 24 January 2009
'Nuther Thought for Every Day
"You've got to be productive before you can be reproductive."
~ David Pugh, DVM, MS, Dipl. ACT, Dipl. ACVN
Spoken like a world-renowned reproductive vet - oh wait, that's what he is. Man after my own heart.
Tuesday 20 January 2009
Thought for every day
"Pedigree indicates what the animal should be.
Conformation indicates what the animal appears to be.
But Performance indicates what the animal actually is."
~ author unknown
A friend sent this; all I can say is amen!
Monday 19 January 2009
The Biggest Loser
Not the TV show; I'm referring to the job of Huntmaster.
There are - in my admittedly limited experience - (at least) two types of huntmaster (HM) jobs. I started HM at lure coursing trials a year or so ago, and think it's a great gig. I get to eye-ball every hound that enters the field, I have an up-close view of every course, and I get to make a contribution to the club's efforts in putting on trials. There are job duty specifics (such as timing the Tally-ho!) that take some brain-work, and if I'm going to be outside all day I'd rather be moving than sitting on my butt. My own hounds get a lot less attention when I'm HM, so I prefer to only do it one day of a trial. All it all, it's a good fit for me.
Other than yelling Tally-ho!, HM in lure coursing has nothing in common with HM in OFC. And I'm now doing that, let me tell you, it is the ultimate no-win role.
At the beginning of the season I read an article, published some fifteen years ago, saying (I'm paraphrasing) that if there were lots of rabbits the field got the credit, and if there were no rabbits the HM got the blame. Having been both Gallery and HM, I'd wager that's a basic truth.
The HM is allowed to walk dogs on the line, and I have discovered that my neck and shoulder muscles are much more sore now that I HM. I think this is because, in addition to 160# plus of dog in my hands and a ruck sack with 20# of water and provisions, I'm constantly scanning - right, left, right, left, repeat - for movement. My head and eyes are in constant motion, and my muscles aren't used to it yet. Gallery placement, formation (tight in the trash, looser in open areas) steering a dozen or so people plus dogs to some murky target on the horizon, keeping hunt dogs evenly forward, and constantly looking for game. The HM must have a good memory - what ground has been covered, or not, what was productive, where the rocky areas and arroyos and fences are, where the judge is or should be, where we're going next, and oh yes where are the vehicles because at some point we're going back there. Some people carry a GPS; I don't - excess weight is to be avoided and frankly, I prefer the open field to be a technology-free zone.
There are also no right choices. In my humble and inexperienced opinion, it's orchestrating chaos.
When something moves I have a split second to find and identify it - bird? gopher? cottontail? jackrabbit? If a jack, I next look at the hunt dogs, are they sighted? If no, I have fraction of a split second to decide if the dogs can GET sighted. I may yell RABBIT LEFT then TALLYHO!! and watch for pre-slips. As the hounds in my hands transform into hysterical hairy helicopters and I hang on for dear life while desperately trying to maintain my footing, I scan the Gallery to ensure there are no loose dogs, confirm the judge is doing his job, order everyone to take three steps back, or get down or shut up or all of the above or whatever else is necessary... Be wrong and the hunt dogs are slipped on the wrong species. Be late and they lose the the jack in the cover. Be downwind and the far handler that's hard of hearing (or running off at the mouth) misses the slip. Be anything short of pretty perfect and you're a heel. Get it all right, and you're just flat lucky.
And luck plays a spectacular role in OFC. For example, if your dog is in blue (hence on the right) and the rabbit breaks out on the left and goes left, you are unlucky. It is a rare dog that can overtake and dominate a course from the outside position. If the rabbit breaks in high cover and is quickly lost... If the rabbit leads your dog on a merry chase across bad terrain and your dog is injured... If you walk for hours and hours and never see a jack... If it is a short course and your dog doesn't have the opportunity to demonstrate endurance, the score will reflect that... and you are unlucky. But if the rabbit breaks in the clear, and your dog is sighted, and the lay of the land is such that you can see most of the course, and it's a good rabbit and makes honest dogs work hard and then gets away, and your dog comes back sound, you are very lucky indeed. Bad luck is easy to come by, good luck much harder.
Of course, a good day in the field requires much more than luck; good planning and common sense are absolute necessities. Bring out an unconditioned or untrained dog, come out sans proper supplies and knowledge, fail to be prepared for bad luck, and you're stupid - not unlucky: stupid. If luck favors the well-prepared, we are all able to stack the deck in our favor.
One frustration, for me, is the lack of data on jackrabbit behavior. Considered a pest species, there's not a lot of empirical information available on where to find them, how they behave at different times of day or based on temperature, wind speed, season... There's plenty of anecdotal information, some of which is probably accurate, but lots of just plain baseless opinion too. I am left to wonder if jacks would be easier to find if we understood them better.
I suppose I will make a decent HM for OFC for a couple of reasons: I'm loud (an indispensable talent when the Gallery is screaming RABBIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and hounds explode in frustration at the end of taut leashes), and I don't care if I'm wrong. A bad day in the desert with dogs beats the socks off a good day doing most anything else.
Want the job? It's yours, I'll walk over here with my dogs and keep my eyes peeled. Don't want it? Don't blame you, it's a no-win job.
There are - in my admittedly limited experience - (at least) two types of huntmaster (HM) jobs. I started HM at lure coursing trials a year or so ago, and think it's a great gig. I get to eye-ball every hound that enters the field, I have an up-close view of every course, and I get to make a contribution to the club's efforts in putting on trials. There are job duty specifics (such as timing the Tally-ho!) that take some brain-work, and if I'm going to be outside all day I'd rather be moving than sitting on my butt. My own hounds get a lot less attention when I'm HM, so I prefer to only do it one day of a trial. All it all, it's a good fit for me.
Other than yelling Tally-ho!, HM in lure coursing has nothing in common with HM in OFC. And I'm now doing that, let me tell you, it is the ultimate no-win role.
At the beginning of the season I read an article, published some fifteen years ago, saying (I'm paraphrasing) that if there were lots of rabbits the field got the credit, and if there were no rabbits the HM got the blame. Having been both Gallery and HM, I'd wager that's a basic truth.
My first few HM apprentice experiences were full of advice and bemusement... there are no wrong choices, I was told. When rabbits are few and far between, the Gallery certainly second-guesses and stage-whispers their dissatisfaction. Opinions are like noses: everybody has one and they all smell. Some are good, some are bad, but I get no takers when offering to hand over the job mid-day.
OFC is about the chase, not the catch. from the rulebook:
"A get-together of owners, handlers and hounds for the purpose of evaluating performance of the hounds on live game on its own ground." The jacks have every possible advantage: a head start, incredible speed, agility, and terrain familiarity. We honor most those that get away - and virtually all do.
The HM is allowed to walk dogs on the line, and I have discovered that my neck and shoulder muscles are much more sore now that I HM. I think this is because, in addition to 160# plus of dog in my hands and a ruck sack with 20# of water and provisions, I'm constantly scanning - right, left, right, left, repeat - for movement. My head and eyes are in constant motion, and my muscles aren't used to it yet. Gallery placement, formation (tight in the trash, looser in open areas) steering a dozen or so people plus dogs to some murky target on the horizon, keeping hunt dogs evenly forward, and constantly looking for game. The HM must have a good memory - what ground has been covered, or not, what was productive, where the rocky areas and arroyos and fences are, where the judge is or should be, where we're going next, and oh yes where are the vehicles because at some point we're going back there. Some people carry a GPS; I don't - excess weight is to be avoided and frankly, I prefer the open field to be a technology-free zone.
There are also no right choices. In my humble and inexperienced opinion, it's orchestrating chaos.
When something moves I have a split second to find and identify it - bird? gopher? cottontail? jackrabbit? If a jack, I next look at the hunt dogs, are they sighted? If no, I have fraction of a split second to decide if the dogs can GET sighted. I may yell RABBIT LEFT then TALLYHO!! and watch for pre-slips. As the hounds in my hands transform into hysterical hairy helicopters and I hang on for dear life while desperately trying to maintain my footing, I scan the Gallery to ensure there are no loose dogs, confirm the judge is doing his job, order everyone to take three steps back, or get down or shut up or all of the above or whatever else is necessary... Be wrong and the hunt dogs are slipped on the wrong species. Be late and they lose the the jack in the cover. Be downwind and the far handler that's hard of hearing (or running off at the mouth) misses the slip. Be anything short of pretty perfect and you're a heel. Get it all right, and you're just flat lucky.
And luck plays a spectacular role in OFC. For example, if your dog is in blue (hence on the right) and the rabbit breaks out on the left and goes left, you are unlucky. It is a rare dog that can overtake and dominate a course from the outside position. If the rabbit breaks in high cover and is quickly lost... If the rabbit leads your dog on a merry chase across bad terrain and your dog is injured... If you walk for hours and hours and never see a jack... If it is a short course and your dog doesn't have the opportunity to demonstrate endurance, the score will reflect that... and you are unlucky. But if the rabbit breaks in the clear, and your dog is sighted, and the lay of the land is such that you can see most of the course, and it's a good rabbit and makes honest dogs work hard and then gets away, and your dog comes back sound, you are very lucky indeed. Bad luck is easy to come by, good luck much harder.
Of course, a good day in the field requires much more than luck; good planning and common sense are absolute necessities. Bring out an unconditioned or untrained dog, come out sans proper supplies and knowledge, fail to be prepared for bad luck, and you're stupid - not unlucky: stupid. If luck favors the well-prepared, we are all able to stack the deck in our favor.
One frustration, for me, is the lack of data on jackrabbit behavior. Considered a pest species, there's not a lot of empirical information available on where to find them, how they behave at different times of day or based on temperature, wind speed, season... There's plenty of anecdotal information, some of which is probably accurate, but lots of just plain baseless opinion too. I am left to wonder if jacks would be easier to find if we understood them better.
I suppose I will make a decent HM for OFC for a couple of reasons: I'm loud (an indispensable talent when the Gallery is screaming RABBIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and hounds explode in frustration at the end of taut leashes), and I don't care if I'm wrong. A bad day in the desert with dogs beats the socks off a good day doing most anything else.
Want the job? It's yours, I'll walk over here with my dogs and keep my eyes peeled. Don't want it? Don't blame you, it's a no-win job.
Friday 9 January 2009
R.I.P. Junior: 7/9/1999 - 1/9/2009
I found her, dead, this morning. We are all very sad.
Her full name is Flare Junior, as we got her after Flare went missing just a few days after we got him. Anthony was seven, and had wanted a snake for over a year, so we got him a snake. Anthony started getting an allowance and was responsible for all the food costs and half the supplies; we covered the vet bills. Anyway, Flare went missing (design flaw with the tank lid) so Junior came home; a few days later Flare turned up - incredibly the cat had not killed him - so we had two snakes. Not the plan, but there it is.
Father's Day we found Junior curled up around a clutch of eggs - surprise!! Junior was a girl (snakes, like birds, are difficult to sex) and immediately moved into a separate tank from her brother, Flare. The eggs turned out non-viable, which is probably just as well.
Over the years a lot of people handled these gentle corn snakes (elaphe guttata guttata), some even overcame their fear of snakes thanks to their harmless movement and fascinating characteristics. Junior was very popular at show-and-tell in the 4th grade, and because she was a girl, some of the girls in class were comfortable holding or petting her. My mother can even be in the same room as them without freaking out any more, but the thought of touching one is of course ridiculous.
Snakes make great pets. They are quiet, odorless (if you are responsible about keeping the tank clean), require feeding every fortnight, and are happy to be handled (especially in cool weather) or ignored. Females can be temperamental before laying eggs, but that is a short season. Our dogs and cats have never had more than a temporary interest in them.
Rest in peace, Junior. We'll miss you.
Her full name is Flare Junior, as we got her after Flare went missing just a few days after we got him. Anthony was seven, and had wanted a snake for over a year, so we got him a snake. Anthony started getting an allowance and was responsible for all the food costs and half the supplies; we covered the vet bills. Anyway, Flare went missing (design flaw with the tank lid) so Junior came home; a few days later Flare turned up - incredibly the cat had not killed him - so we had two snakes. Not the plan, but there it is.
Father's Day we found Junior curled up around a clutch of eggs - surprise!! Junior was a girl (snakes, like birds, are difficult to sex) and immediately moved into a separate tank from her brother, Flare. The eggs turned out non-viable, which is probably just as well.
Over the years a lot of people handled these gentle corn snakes (elaphe guttata guttata), some even overcame their fear of snakes thanks to their harmless movement and fascinating characteristics. Junior was very popular at show-and-tell in the 4th grade, and because she was a girl, some of the girls in class were comfortable holding or petting her. My mother can even be in the same room as them without freaking out any more, but the thought of touching one is of course ridiculous.
Snakes make great pets. They are quiet, odorless (if you are responsible about keeping the tank clean), require feeding every fortnight, and are happy to be handled (especially in cool weather) or ignored. Females can be temperamental before laying eggs, but that is a short season. Our dogs and cats have never had more than a temporary interest in them.
Rest in peace, Junior. We'll miss you.
Thursday 8 January 2009
Frozen Wasteland
As in, dog shit. Lots of it.
For the past two weeks we've had many inches of snow or mud. The last two days were howling wind. Today it's 40 degrees, time to play pick-up catch-up.
I need a new hobby.
For the past two weeks we've had many inches of snow or mud. The last two days were howling wind. Today it's 40 degrees, time to play pick-up catch-up.
I need a new hobby.
Monday 5 January 2009
Happy 13th Birthday, Mac!
We weren't sure you'd make it - glad you're still here!!
MacPhearson CGC, RTD, HCT, JHD, HTD - this incredible dog did it ALL: obedience, therapy work, and was the best herding instructor ever. A wonderful communicator with reactive dogs, Mac was a tremendous partner for seminars. Unfortunately his vision deteriorated, so he was retired one Q short of another herding title. Old age has caught up with this magnificent dog, but death is still at least one step too slow.
MacPhearson CGC, RTD, HCT, JHD, HTD - this incredible dog did it ALL: obedience, therapy work, and was the best herding instructor ever. A wonderful communicator with reactive dogs, Mac was a tremendous partner for seminars. Unfortunately his vision deteriorated, so he was retired one Q short of another herding title. Old age has caught up with this magnificent dog, but death is still at least one step too slow.
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