Third time around...

A brisk, cold wind blew in from Lake Michigan as "Race", Am/Can CH Calico's Hot Pursuit Del Prado TD, and I stand next to the car, waiting our turn. Walking slowly, I wonder to myself whether the spectators know the butterflies in my stomach are the size of Volkswagens or that my knees are knocking from anticipation and not from the cold. The excitement of test day was, as is usual for most people, still there. Mentally willing myself to be patient, I took several deep breaths to calm myself and began our normal start routine.

I glance around to acquaint myself with the surroundings. This is the inaugural VST test for the Moraine Tracking Club. As a "long distance" member from Texas, I was honored to have made the draw for this test and Race and I both enjoyed the flight up from Houston. I look around and see many of my peers and friends including the judges, Pam German and Wally O'Brien, waiting for us to say we are ready. We have parked in the "chapel" area of Ft. Sheridan, an Army post situated on the edge of Lake Michigan, just a few miles north of Chicago. The track area is filled with empty army barracks currently populated with a menagerie of mice, moles, birds and other critters, which will be tantalizing to my sporting dog. Near one edge of the area sits a small church from which the area takes it's name. As we continue our walk to the start flag, a musical tune from the 1960s pops into my head. It is the melody from the song Chapel of Love by the Dixie Cups. I smile and think that this might be a good omen! At the very least, it relieves some of the stress of the moment.

As planned, Race sits at the start flag and holds the start article in his mouth as I snap on his harness, adjust the lead and spend a few moments telling him, and myself, that we have trained for this moment and that we, as a team, are ready. When he is ready, he drops the article, stands and waits for me to tell him to track! I glance back at the judges and spectators to acknowledge that we are ready to begin the journey and can almost feel the emotion, anticipation and good will emanating from the friends, associates and fellow trackers who have braved the wind and cold to judge, participate, or watch a group of teams compete in variable surface tracking.

Taking another deep breath, I issue the “track!” command and Race starts off down the track. After 32 yards he indicates a turn to the right and spies a field mouse moving to his left. Knowing how his devious little Field Spaniel mind works, I can see him think about playing with the mouse and then, perhaps, going back to tracking. I stand my ground and conjure up a magic word from my mental toolbox. In a fairly gruff voice I tell him to "leave it!" and after a moment of circling, he returns to the track, crosses 10 yards of grass and steps into an asphalt parking area. Working across the parking lot we enter a roadway bordered on both sides by buildings. Race casts and works both sides of the narrow 4 yard wide roadway, traverses a road, and after 100 yards indicates a turn to the left near another an intersecting road.

Turning on the grass, he works parallel to the road and between the first two buildings indicates a blue plastic lid. Pocketing the article, we go through our restart routine and continue down the edge of the road. After 60 yards, his head snaps to the right, indicating an eminent turn between two buildings. Like many dogs working in a swirling wind, he overshoots the turn and tries to turn on the other side of the building. Not committing to this turn, he backs up near the original indication point and commits to the proper turn. Unknown to me, at this time we are approximately five or so yards off track, paralleling the tracklayer between two buildings. We cross another street and continue between more barracks. In the wind, Race works more to the right of the track, somewhat paralleling a sidewalk and finds a small metal article. As I picked it up I thought it was much too small to be an official article, yet, I have learned never to leave anything on the track that could be an article. Pocketing the metal disk, we continue on. Race indicates a right turn at the next crossroad, yet crosses the road and works twenty or so yards along another building. Correcting himself, Race backs up and turns on the roadway. Twenty five yards later he indicates a metal Altoids canister and my hopes rise. We now have three of the four articles and I estimate that we have covered about 400 yards of the track. Glancing at my watch, I notice we've been on the track for a little over 20 minutes. Continuing down the blacktop road, I look up and observe that we are now facing the chapel. The Dixie Cups pop back into my head and as we work down the road I'm humming the tune and willing him to continue on our journey.

Returning to me, Race and I backtrack across the parking area, enter the grass and asphalt filled field and finally re-cross the original roadway picking up the actual track and paralleling a building. Near the end of the building, we turn right and re-cross the street, a strip of grass, and a sidewalk and enter another parking lot. Without breaking stride, he traverses the parking lot and starts to cross the large street. Oncoming traffic forces me to recall him and sit him at the edge of the street. When the traffic and a series of joggers have passed, I restart him and he confidently crosses the street, enters a blacktop parking area that parallels a building. Exiting the parking area he continues down an asphalt street and indicates a left turn into a softball field. We work through the outfield and are headed for a small blacktop walkway, which divides the area. When he gets close to the walkway, I can feel the onshore winds increase from Lake Michigan, now only a hundred or so yards away. The increased winds swirl around the buildings, trees and chain link fences surrounding the 70 by 85 yard area we have entered.

On several occasions he works up to the walkway, only 25 or so yards from the final article, and is turned away by the swirling winds. Never hesitating, he works a ten or fifteen yard area and then continues on to the next. He is driven and he knows that the article is close. He continues to search the area as I give him line, and as the wind forces him to work new area I retake the line and start the process over again. In the softball area, I feel like I have given and taken in thousands of feet of line, yet he worked on, determined to finish our journey. Finally, working upwind of the article, we cross the walkway that has stood like a barrier to us for so long. Starting a final search he worked out near the tree line a few yards away, turned back toward the judges and then returned to within a few yards of me to lay down.

As I looked down at him I notice a maroon shoulder pad with the magical #4 on it among the leaves at his feet. What seemed like a lifetime of hope, frustration and pent up energy was released in that single moment. I threw my arms into the air, and both mentally and physically exhausted, collapsed on the ground next to him. Hugging him close to me, I held up the article for all to see. The chorus of whoops and cheers from the judges and gallery was music to my ears. It had been one hour and thirteen minutes since we started on the track, which was plotted at 637 yards with 287 yards being vegetated and 350 non-vegetated. Race became the 41st dog, the first Field Spaniel, the fourth Spaniel of any breed and my third Spaniel to earn the Variable Surface Tracking title.

Ed Presnall

Miracles...

Rox was certified at 6-1/2 months old and I knew it would take a miracle to get into a TD trial by the end of the year. With only two trials left we crossed our fingers and mailed the entries. The miracle happened! We were chosen third at Thorn Creek Tracking Club's trial on 11/19/00. The day was frigid and there was a brisk wind too. In spite of the wonderful site and an enthusiastic and cordial new club, Rox was not successful on this track.

Maybe, just maybe, we would get into Pecatonica's trial. Another miracle!

December 10, was another very cold and damp day, with a light snow cover. This was Rox's first experience with snow in her life, and her first real track in it. We had practiced a bit in our front yard the day before, and she tracked very differently than her normal style; so differently in fact, that I was thinking seriously of withdrawing her because I was afraid I would have difficulty reading her.

We drew track #2 which was in an open, level field right off the parking lot. With the snow cover, the judges cautioned about guiding our dogs. As we approached the flag, I gave her a pep talk which was probably more beneficial to me than to her! She started well, but much more slowly than her usual dead run. It seemed like she was taking in much more scent than was necessary to reach our goal. A bit after the second flag, she pulled off to the left but decided straight was a better way to go. The first leg seemed like forever, but I had to trust her! (It turned out to be 120 yds.) The indication left was strong and exact, so we turned easily. The second leg seemed to go very smoothly and fast (50 yds.), and she again indicated left with a bit of circling. Another long leg (100 yds.) but this one seemed easier since we had settled in well. Next indication was initially to the right, then a bit of circling, then right it was! Seems like a lot of interesting cross-tracks on this leg...a little mousing, a little dawdling...(60 yds.)

Last turn coming up. I knew it was to the right based on her initial indication and that there was another track on our left side and woods dead ahead. Once again Rox decided she had to check out the perimeter by circling, but then dug in and nearly took my arm off! At this point, I thought there might be one more leg but I decided to stop thinking before it got me in any trouble. About 75 yards down and about 15 feet to the left of the track, she stopped dead next to a small scrub bush. Rox insisted on giving it the "long sniff". I kept pleading with her to get to work, but she had to check it out! FINALLY she returned to the track and as she positioned herself right where she had left off, I spied a dark object about 20 yards ahead of her. Could it be? A few more footsteps and we'd be sure...YES! Rox nosed that BEAUTIFUL black glove and she still can't understand why she gets hugged over a silly thing like a glove!

The track was 454 yards long and Rox's first experience in snow. Just three days shy of 9 months old, her name is now Carousel Diamonds R Forever, TD.

Diane Muzzey

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