Large Fierce Mammal

Beautiful Lucian in song. For more of him you can visit his facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/lucianthewolfdog (click to enlarge).

There is a sign by the main drag in Bedford, Nova Scotia right now that makes reference to a historical event – that the first telephone in the community was installed in the office of the local physician. This begs the question of exactly who, in the name of Hell, was expected to call it? This got me to thinking about how “communication” in a world of non-stop texting and instant access through mobile phones and internet connectivity has come to be understood merely in that context. I mean, it all started as sound waves transmitted through air from the speaker to the listener, and in the end, only the message matters. That it got through and its meaning was understood.

I happened on a beautiful picture today of a Wolfdog howling, the one that appears at the top of this article, and it came to my mind for a number of reasons that this was a perfect representation of the original “long distance call”. Mrs. LFM and I routinely hold what we call “howl fests” with our own Pack of Dogs, both of us throwing back our heads and opening our throats to lead the choir in this most primal of songs, and using it as a means of calling the Pack together. Over the years, I’ve come to regard this process as having powerful parallels in the realm of communication among Humans, living as we do in a world that all too often equates silence with nothingness, and sound with meaning.

In the realm of sound, which is my focus today, I am inspired to tell you a story. Once upon a time in this very season, Mrs. LFM and I went on a lengthy expedition into the back country with two of our Dogs – Milo and Gunner. It was a perfect day for all concerned, marred only ever so slightly by one enlightening interlude.

The return trip to our vehicle found us reaching the trail head traversing several kilometers of  open country at official sun down. Anyone who has experience with the outdoors will know that this occurs well before dark, marking rather the start of a process wherein the range of clear visibility declines, contrast and colour clarity diminishes, and the overly “civilized” being feels an escalation of disquiet. Such ones as those have never learned the ever so necessary skill of using all the senses, all the time, so that if at any moment the usefulness of one decreases, the transition to the others organically occurs. Such ones as these were not among the four who were present on this day.

Stepping out of the deeper forest and onto the more open land, I spotted a group of four White Tailed Deer that were drinking from the stream that ran parallel with our path home, no more than 20 meters away. So silent were we all, and the wind was against them, that the Deer sensed our presence but were all concentrating their attention directly away from us. And so, their scent reached Gunner a half second before Milo. Gunner alerted with a bark and the Deer bolted as one – at first directly away from us and then to the right, into the cover of the woods.

Gunner was tethered to Mrs. LFM and Milo to me, and all would have been uneventful except for the capricious nature of fate – the leash attaching Gunner to Mrs. LFM suffered a hardware failure. Inspired to give chase at the sudden eruption of large animals in such close proximity, Gunner suddenly moved in pursuit. He tends to pogo on the spot when he alerts to something he considers truly exciting, and this he did as the leash grew taught … and then it released as the buckle parted, obviously perceived by him as permission to pursue.

How could this have happened? We select, maintain, and inspect our equipment with absolute rigour! This matters not for the question has no meaning. It happened and that’s all. In the deepening gloom, Mrs. LFM, Milo and I watched Gunner streaking off into the forest in all certainty, I am sure, that his trusty comrades were right behind him.

Milo was more than ready to bring Truth to that expectation, and when I called upon him to, “FIND GUNNER!”,  we were off in that headlong, full on mind, body, and spirit thing that is the Quest of Dog and Man on the trail of their quarry.

Reaching the spot where Gunner and the Deer had turned into the forest, Milo likewise led me there. We had no sooner entered the woods with Gunner’s excited cries still in our ears than we heard his note change – at first to one of frustration, then of distress, and ultimately to excitement of the chase again, receding once more into the distance. What could it mean? It clearly meant much to Milo as he called to me to keep up!

Less than a minute later and obviously hard on his heels, we came upon the back pack Gunner had been wearing until he clearly struggled out of after it got wedged between two trees, and briefly restrained him from his chase. The cries we heard now made sense, and if I ever had the slightest doubt as to the quality of my companion’s skill it would have been completely expunged by now.

The light was growing dimmer, and the broken ground of moss covered boulders promised a treacherous exercise that I knew we were all more than willing, able, and Honour bound to follow to the end. I called Milo in and sat for a moment on the ground while Mrs. LFM caught up to us. We were in Coyote country, it was getting darker, and Gunner could no longer be heard. It seemed an eternity, but was nothing but mere seconds in which we exchanged looks of dedication to the cause before Milo, still charged with the urgency of the mission, grew tired of being held back. He threw back his head and howled! Howled with all the wonderful voice of passion his Beagle ancestors made him heir to!

And then we heard something coming towards us at speed through the woods. We all stood to face it whatever it might be, and then the source came into sight – Gunner heeding Milo’s call! In seconds we were all rolling on the ground together in a tearful reunion that was a combination of joy in having Gunner once more safe among us, and the nearly heart bursting from your chest THRILL that can only come of being granted the gift of being part of the Dog/Human organism in a moment of Truth. In the heat of the moment we had Trusted completely in everything that we knew to be Milo, even as Gunner himself had, and the degree to which they had both exceeded that Trust lies far beyond my abilities to describe within the meagre confines of written or spoken language.

When you communicate, it needs to mean something at both ends of the message. Take it from your Dog.