Relative Something

In the last couple of weeks, our dog, Asher, has turned into something of a bird dog. It started simply enough one day when a pigeon in the barn underestimated Asher’s speed and jumping ability. As soon as Asher gets prey in his mouth, he executes a perfect “soft carry” and paces around with notable purpose.

Cyndie recognized it right away and let him out of the barn to find a place to bury his prize.

Asher demonstrates a classic nose push to cover his treasure.

Soon after bringing him from his foster family to our home, we discovered Asher’s natural inclination to bury bones that we were hoping would occupy him for hours of gnawing. Asher has mad skill at burying things.

After that first capture, I noticed Asher developed a singular focus on returning to the barn for another chance. When we would head out on an exploratory walk around the property, I could only distract him with my agenda for a few minutes before he redirected our heading toward the barn from any point we were at.

Eventually, I began taking advantage of his compulsion and left him alone in the barn while I accomplished other tasks. He could run to and fro in there and bark while the pigeons flapped around in the rafters. I expected him to get bored with the game, but he’s pretty persistent.

I can’t blame him. His persistence paid off. Of the 18 different breeds identified by his DNA, he seems pretty tuned in on the 16% Labrador Retriever in bird dog skills. Cyndie texted me that Asher got another pigeon. I don’t know how the birds are losing this battle with him, given their wings and the many high perches available to them.

It sounds like the third one he got yesterday afternoon was surprised by the back door entry into the dark barn by Cyndie and the dog. She said she could feel by his actions in the dark that he probably had some critter in his mouth as they walked the length of the barn to reach the light switches.

Sure enough, he caught another pigeon.

We aren’t complaining because the number of pigeons has been increasing exponentially of late, and there is pigeon shit accumulating everywhere, inside and out. However, Cyndie ends up interrupting her horse services to give him a chance to bury the birds. She prefers that he bury them rather than begin devouring them on the spot.

I’m hoping some nighttime predator will dig them up and take the bodies away before Asher ever gets around to remembering that he buried these little bird-dog trophies.

Maybe that 5th breed on the list of his DNA percentages (he’s 6% Chihuahua) will distract him enough from remembering where he buries them. At this point, he seems much more interested in the hunt and the reward of another fresh capture.

His persistence indicates he believes there’s always potential for one more to be snatched.

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