Full Cry Column
May 2003

Clint Stubbe (Northern Working Airedale Terrier Association correspondent)

I was standing by a little runoff freshet when spring snuck up behind me and smacked me square in the senses. For several minutes all I could do was just stand dumbstruck and let the earthy smells soak into my bones like the smell of fresh coffee does when you're snug in a sleeping bag. I listened as the sound of rushing water told it's tale, a tale that sounded so much like a crowd of voices all trying to tell you something at the same time. They call them ephemeral streams because in a few short weeks with the heat of summer they will be just a memory, perhaps that is why this stream had to tell it's story now with such urgency. The sun seemingly overnight had decided to give off warmth it's been too stingy to release for months now and even this early in the year new growth was pushing up where the snow had retreated in patches which daily would grow in size and number.

I'M INVISIBLE

Fall is beautiful but it comes with signs, a certain measured progression of something slowly leaving for a time until it can reappear in another year. Days become shorter and the temperatures drop. Birds head South but even before they leave they have stopped their songs, all except the geese but that can hardly be called song more like laughter at the poor souls left behind as they head for wintering grounds far away. I love fall but it is a time of decrease. Not spring, no it comes in a rush with a promise of new life and color. New fawns so confident in their lack of scent and camouflage you can walk right up to them, bear cubs so tiny it is a miracle they can ever grow in to the impressive giants they one day may become, and green. Everything green, so refreshing after the months of dull gray and white. It is the middle of March as I write this and spring is on its way to the Selkirk Mountains of BC and I for one am ready.

This winter I have been involved in a project to trap and collar some elk and will enclose a picture of a nice bull if space provides. In total 36 animals have had GPS, VHF or visual collars attached in an effort to monitor some of their movements and to make some informed management decisions. The strength of these animals is amazing and metal corral sections that take five men to handle comfortably are definitely not overbuilt when a large elk wants to go through them. The animals are lured into an open corral with alfalfa and a trap door is triggered to close when a perched bail of hay is upset releasing a simple gate latch. Approaching the corral is the worst time and things get real western but once the elk are confined to the squeeze chute area they become much calmer and will even lay down. The collaring is done as quickly as possible to minimize stress on the animals and they are sent on their way. The GPS collars are interesting in that they combine a data logger which records locations several times a day as well as a VHF transmitter to allow the elk to be located when it is time to remove the collar. Once the elk is located and hopefully spotted the collar is remotely triggered and explosive bolts fire dropping the collar from the elks neck so it can be retrieved and the data downloaded and plotted to show what the elk has been up to on a daily basis over the past year.

A DRUGGED, COLLARED BULL ELK

By the time this gets printed bear season will be upon us but now cougar season is just winding down. I have had a dismal season and have come to the realization that I absolutely must have a snow machine for next year. It was something I said last year as well but it never transpired. They are fairly spendy for a decent machine but I really have no way to get up to where the mule deer winter after the snows close the roads and that really is the only way to get to cats when a mild winter like this past one keeps the mule deer and cats up fairly high. Most of my cat hunting this year has been very close to home within an hours drive at the most and more often a half hour. There is plenty of country to explore right out my back door and when gas is $0.87 a litre ($3.30/gal) there is a certain incentive to stick close to home. I went for many three and four hour hikes on skis usually every couple of days but the local spots that usually held cats were empty.

This winter has been extremely dry on the whole but we finally got a good dump of snow after an extended cold dry spell recently and my friend Bernie decided he had better pull his daughter from school for the day if she was to get a chance at a cat this year. This girl is fourteen and has already got a bear and a couple good whitetails to her credit. What with all the things that take up a young girls time we had only got her out once before but today we decided to go a little farther afield to a spot that generally has been good to me in the past. It was two and a half hours drive away but around 10:00 we got to a spot I thought might have a cat and sure enough we hit a couple good tracks, unfortunately they were very large wolf tracks. By the looks of it we had bumped them off the road and the dogs indicated that this was the case. I haven't broken my dogs off wolves, as they are not that common where I generally hunt but they are becoming more and more of a nuisance. We carried on up the road and cut a small cat track crossing the road only about a kilometer ahead. We had decided when we set out that we weren't going to be selective today and as my friend said "if it's brown it's down" so we decided to take this track rather then look for something better which we might never find. The season was quickly drawing to a close and the dogs really did need something brought down before it was over, add to this the fact that this was likely the last snowfall of the season and we were in no position to be choosy.
I had brought Grizz, Lulu and Buzz (hound) along so after getting collars, leashes and ourselves ready we headed out. I had no intention of just cutting the dogs lose on this track as the wolves were only minutes away so we decided to walk the track out with the dogs on lead until we could jump the cat from it's bed. My friends daughter Tiffany was quite excited being on her first cat chase but that soon turned to exhaustion and after two hours of slipping, falling and sliding as we followed the track up the mountain and then side hill she was lagging behind. I suggested to Bernie that he take Tiffany back to the truck while I carried on ahead to which they agreed. While it was evident Tiffany was getting tired and beat up she never uttered a peep of complaint. It wasn't too far back to the valley bottom and I intended to carry on for a couple more hours while they listened from the road. The track was going in the direction the wolves were traveling and after a couple more hours I had about had enough myself when within a space of a half kilometre the lion took two long pauses looking for game while the snow had melted completely beneath it's pads. Shortly after that it had ducked under two rock outcrops and while it hadn't bedded as evidenced by the skiff of snow in the tracks I knew it wouldn't be long now. I now had to decide whether to let the dogs go with the wolves possibly close at hand, continue walking or call it quits. I decided to let the dogs go and was relieved to hear them bark treed within a short 300 meters. It was a small female and now I just had to wait for Bernie and his daughter to arrive which they did after about an hour. I was soaked and freezing at this point while they were sweating from the trip up but it was at this point that things went downhill. Tiffany readied herself and got a good rest with the 22-250 sporting a huge 12x scope and squeezed off a shot. A clean miss. After some calming words of encouragement she tried again. Another clean miss. A third shot had the cat wiggling its ear but nothing more. A shot at a tree showed that the scope was horribly misaligned having taken one too many bumps during the many falls we all had taken. We had some idea how much the scope was out but the angle and distance were not the same as the test shot and bullets were in very short supply since my friend had thought that seven were more then sufficient for this tack driver. The next shot Tiffany aimed very low and was rewarded with what looked like a good hit bringing the cat out and running down the hill. My friend went to check if the cat was down before I released the dogs but after 10 minutes I was too cold to take it any more and I released the dogs and followed to catch up to Bernie, Tiffany and the dogs. Soon enough the dogs treed again but if the other spot was steep this was worse and because of the position of the cat (who now wouldn't move), thick cover and branches, a good shot even with a rifle that would hit where it was aimed would be difficult. Two more misses and near darkness made us realize that this would not end this day.

TIFFANY'S CAT

The next day we went back and even though it was raining and all the snow had come out of the trees overnight making tracking a chore I cut the cats track by making some big loops and we took the cat when it treed after a short chase. The cat had not gone far but had laid a very complicated trail before holing up under a windfall where it stayed until we were virtually on top of it. You could only hope that things would go better for a young girl early in her hunting career but she did learn a lesson about following up on a wounded animal and putting in the required effort regardless of how sore or tired you are from the previous day. To really put a topper on things even the sausages came out too salty.

My Bar (Slim x Brisk) has been lame for the longest time ever since injuring himself on a bear race last spring. A vet visit was inconclusive but I took him back recently for x-rays which I hoped would show OCD or osteochondritis dissecans. This is a treatable injury where a small flap of cartilage comes loose in the joint causing pain and which might have explained Bar's abnormal gait ever since the injury. He walks and runs by swinging his right foreleg out and around to the side seeming unable to bring it straight ahead and flex it properly so that crossing logs and other obstacles is somewhat awkward. The x-rays showed nothing in the way of cartilage but there was a ghost along his spine and nerve damage was the best guess. The muscle tissue that normally surrounds the shoulder blade has atrophied greatly and this probably wouldn't be the case if he were only favouring the leg. I haven't worked him much since the injury being afraid to aggravate some condition but now I intend to work him up to shape and let him out on bears this spring and hopefully he will be able to carry his load. Even on three and a half legs he travels pretty well and as long as a good workout doesn't cause him pain he should be able to contribute. It's too bad as he was really coming along well on bear and on one of his last outings he struck from the truck box even before Buzz who has a pretty good nose. Bar's sharp as a tack, has a beautiful dark red coat and is an incredible retriever as well. He's not much of a looker but handsome is as handsome does and it would be a shame to lose him.
When I say he was coming along I mean he is able to work a track pretty well and will strike a hot bear and just needs work on the treeing. Airedales are not natural tree dogs but certainly learn to tree very well once they realize that what they are after is up the tree and the way to get it down is to let you know. I hate to generalize but unlike a hound an Airedale is driven by the intense desire to sink it's teeth into whatever it is they are after whereas some hounds I have had seem to get as much pleasure from just treeing as anything. My Buzz is like this and from the get go would lock onto a tree and bark treed while his whole body fairly quivered with delight all without ever having much game shot out to him. It seems that the physical act of ending a trail at a tree and letting the whole world know what a great thing he had accomplished is all the joy he requires in this world and in fact when the game is brought down it is as if a switch is pulled and he instantly realizes his part is over. Airedales on the other hand will never tree as an end in itself but as a means to an end which is to get the game and in fact when the game is brought down it is far from over and they will wool the game long past what is acceptable if the hide is of any consideration and they can make a trip out of the bush seem awfully long by pulling as hard or harder in one direction as you are in the other if you let them. I think some folks will give up too soon on an Airedale as a tree dog not realizing that the act of treeing often must be reinforced many times before it comes naturally and that extra time and effort may be required to get a finished dog but the end result is well worth the effort.

SOME OF TIFFANY'S OTHER HARVESTS

Well I didn't get much in the way of working Airedale updates this past month so I'm going back to the archives here and pulling out a little taste of summer in the high country, which will be here before we know it. Before the popularity of message boards or email Bob McClellan of Fort Jones California would at one time send along stories on tape of what he was up to with his dogs and horses and this is one that Henry Johnson had transcribed.

"Well, boy, it sure has been hot here lately. I saw a Beagle chasing a rabbit the other day and they were both walking. Now when you see something like that you know it sure enough is hot. Well, when it gets like this about the only way I know to cool off is either go set in the creek or gain a little altitude. For me that means get on a horse and head for the high country. It's sure too hot to be sitting around here at home.

"So, anyway, Jim and I, we've been doing quite a little bit of fishing lately, heading for the high country lakes. Oh, we'll take off with the trucks and horse trailers and camp outfit. We'll head up to one of the trailheads and make a camp around there in the near vicinity somewhere and then spend some time riding into the high country lakes, doing a little bit of trail riding and see if we can't catch a fish for our dinner now and then.

"So here just a few days ago that's just what we did. We pretty well got caught up on the chores round home, so we loaded up and took the horses and the dogs and headed for a spot over in the Trinity Alps Wilderness Area, a trailhead up there close to the Wilderness boundary.

"We didn't park right there at the trailhead. We like to get off by ourselves a little bit where there's not quite so much traffic. So we pulled down on a crick there, where we are kind of out of the way, and set up a camp and spent the night there.

"We got up the next morning and saddled everything up and rode up to the trailhead, probably less than a quarter of a mile, and met a friend of ours there. He drove up just for a day ride, to ride in with us. So we headed on up the trail to a little lake, oh it's getting pretty popular. Everybody likes to try that lake. There's some real big fish in it. German browns. I mean there're some whoppers in there if you can ever get lucky enough or figure what it takes to catch 'em. So far I haven't figured it out. Somebody said a Dupont Spinner might be the ticket in there but I haven't tried that yet. But there are some real big German browns there and I guess you just have to be at the right place at the right time to catch 'em but every once in awhile you'll catch a rainbow or brookie out of there too. So it's fun to go up there and give 'em a try now and then.

"Well, anyway, the three of us got in there and spent about three to three and a half hours up there fishing I guess. And the total catch for the day, I caught one 12-inch rainbow. That's all anybody caught. And I did pack a video camera in there and took a few pictures while I was up there.

"So then we rode back out and our friend, he had to go back home that day. Jim and I just rode on down to where we had the camp set up down there on the creek and spent the night down there.

"Well the next morning we got up and, standard camp procedure, fed the horses and got a little bit of breakfast ourselves and figured we had better ride in to a different lake today. That one little old rainbow there in the ice chest looked kinda lonesome. He wasn't quite enough for dinner for anybody. So we figured we had better try another lake where we stood a better chance to see if we can't catch enough fish for a fish fry dinner. And of course while we're riding these trails and everything we're always looking for game sign too. But in this area we haven't been seeing much yet this year. Haven't been seeing any cat sign yet, not a whole heck of a lot of deer sign, and bear sign has been very scarce. The game just hasn't moved in here yet to amount to anything.

"So, anyway, we rode on up to the same trailhead and heading up the same trail and dogs all around us and hunting out. I had all three of my dog Casey and Kelly and Punk.. We got to riding up there and all the dogs except the two Airedales were right there with us. And the Airedales were out scouting around or on up the trail ahead. They're not necessarily together, but anyway they were gone.

"So we got maybe a quarter mile up the trail and I thought I heard a dog bark. So we pulled up to listen, and way down there to our left I heard one of the Airedales bark, you know, and a couple of more barks and then he just sat down treed. And I had a pretty good idea it sounded like Casey. Sometimes it's pretty hard to tell 'em apart but there was only one dog barking down there. And the way he was barking I figured it was Casey.

"So we rode up the trail just a little ways to find some good trees to tie the horses up. I was leading a pack horse and Jim was leading a young mule he's starting to work with, so we had four head there to tie up. And we got 'em all tied up and then listened back down there again and, boy, there's a bunch of tree barks going on down there. All the other dogs had got down there to Casey and they were telling the world here's something up a tree down there.

"I got my little day pack that I carry on the pack horse in my pack bags. It's got a camera outfit and dog leashes and a slingshot and stuff like that in it. So I got that out and put it on my back and we headed on down the hill. And we got down there almost to the tree, close enough we could look and see what was there, and there's a pretty good bulky thing up that tree, you know, and we pretty well figured it was a bear. And, the way the sun was hitting it, it looked like a real cinnamon bear, a real red colored bear.

"But anyway we did go on down the rest of the way and got to the tree. And old Casey, he's pretty proud, bouncing around there. And Charlie and Clara and old Punk, they're doing a lot of back-up. They're barking treed pretty good. So I begin to look around to see if there was a possibility of getting a picture and it's a pretty good bear. It looked awful dark when it was in the shade but if the sun hit it just right, boy, it was a pretty red, what you would call a cinnamon bear. So I got to looking around there, you know, and doggone up in the crotch above it I saw a cub sitting there. I said, 'Jim, we got a sow and a cub'.

"Well, Jim moved around there to get a better look at it and I saw something move there, and doggone it I saw another cub. There were two laying right there in the crotch of the tree. Oh, just a few feet above their mother there. And I just couldn't get a picture out of it. There were a lot of limbs and brush in the way. You could see the old mama bear and she's a pretty good sized bear. And you could see that there were two cubs but there just wasn't a picture.

"So I begin to move around a little bit more and I saw something move farther up the tree and doggone I backed up a little bit where I could see better and oh about 20 feet higher up the tree there was a third cub, all of them about the size of a good sized Cocker Spaniel I guess. So we figured that old sow, she had her work cut out for her, she had a family to raise.

"So we got to siccing the dogs up treed and everything was there but Kelly. Doggone it, he was missing. He blew it this time, I guess. He must have been way up the trail heading towards the lake and never heard Casey hit that track or bark treed and he never heard the other dogs. He was nowhere around. But we petted up the dogs we had there and told them what good dogs they were and all that kind of stuff.

"Oh, we hung around there for quite a little while, hoping that Kelly would show up. But we finally figured, hey, it's getting awful doggone hot and these dogs are getting hot and we've got a hill to climb to get back up there to those horses and we kind of had that lake on our mind so we finally gave it up and begin to hike on back up that hill. It's a pull and we're about half way back up and, doggone, here came Kelly from wherever in the world he'd been. He completely missed out on this bear.

"But anyway we did huff and puff and got ourselves back up to the horses and got the gear stowed away and everything and got back on and headed on up to the lake. And we did spend an enjoyable day up there at the lake and we did catch a few, oh pan sized, brook trout to go with that lonely fish we had in camp. So by the time we got back to camp that evening we had a pretty good fish fry. Robert C. McClellan

Thanks Bob, I can almost hear the sizzle and smell the trout .

I got a short letter from Odon Corr of Wessington Springs South Dakota. Odon let me know that he has bred his "Turtle Peak Jack" to "Belle's Dakota Tyke" and that pups should hit the ground around March 20th. Most of the pups are spoken for unless it is an unusually large litter. Odon went on to say
"I have been pretty much line breeding for several years and have for the most part maintained the brains and hunting drive of Buster and Toby. Toby only produced one litter but one of her pups was Dakota Belle while Buster was bred to several bitches over his lifetime. I used him to breed the North Dakota bitch Sheena and this cross produced Tank and Steel. Tank is somewhere in Oklahoma and Steel is going strong with Bill Harkins in Georgia. Sheena was a hard driving hunter as was Buster. I have brought Jack (Steel x Sass) back here and have recently bought a Buster x Nell Granddaughter back.
The fur season is over and I had a good year on coyote and coons. Fur prices are not good but it gives me a chance to get out and use the dogs some. Odon"

I appreciate the letter Odon and thanks for mailing along the pedigrees as well. Jack looks real good on paper and if he has half the grit that Steel his sire has he must be a pretty good dog.

Well that's about it for this month. The quote this month is a few lines of verse

"Spring is strong and virtuous,
Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous,
Quickening underneath the mould
Grains beyond the price of gold.
So deep and large her bounties are,
That one broad, long midsummer day
Shall to the planet overpay
The ravage of a year of war. "
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882),

As Henry Johnson always said: "Until next month, let me hear from you Airedale people and don't forget to put your arms around those black and tan dogs with the beards and the moustaches and talk to them. They are people dogs and family members.
Respectfully submitted, Clint Stubbe, Northern Corresponding Secretary for the Working Airedale Terrier Association. No rules, regulations, officers, dues or formal affiliations. It's more a state of mind.