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Archive for June, 2013

Golden retriever and “Tweed water spaniel”

Source.

Most sources list the Tweed water spaniel or Tweed water dog as a breed strongly resembling a small liver or yellow curly-coated retriever.

In the late nineteenth century, the flat-coated retriever expert Stanley O’Neil encountered some of the Tweeds helping salmon fishermen with their nets on the Northumberland coast:

Further up the coast, probably Alnmouth, I saw men netting for salmon. With them was a dog with a wavy or curly coat. It was a tawny colour but, wet and spumy, it was difficult to see the exact colour, or how much was due to bleach and salt. Whilst my elders discussed the fishing I asked these Northumberland salmon net men whether their dog was a Water-Dog or a Curly, airing my knowledge. They told me he was a Tweed Water Spaniel. This was a new one on me. I had a nasty suspicion my leg was being pulled. This dog looked like a brown Water Dog to me, certainly retrieverish, and not at all spanielly. I asked if he came from a trawler, and was told it came from Berwick.

The dogs were water spaniel/Newfoundland (“St. John’s water dog) crosses, which were essentially a regional variant of the curly-coated retriever.

 

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zelstone

 

I often get requests for posts.

I usually do my best to meet the request, and when I had more time on my hands, it was usually done within a week of the request.

I don’t mind doing posts that readers request.

You are the readers, and I’m not writing a diary.

However, over the years I have noticed that I do get a lot of requests for posts on the history of retrievers.

I’ve noticed that those posts tend to be popular, but they generally are only transitory.

Not only that, I have often found where I have been wrong about some of the things I’ve written, but because the post was written so long ago, I don’t have time to go back and fix it.

There are also posts I no longer stand by. Ignore all my posts that talk about the “original appearance” of golden retrievers. At the time, I was under the delusion of “original intent,” which I now believe is simply a fallacy.  The original wavy-coated retriever from which golden retrievers descend varied from heavily-built and beefy to lithe and settery.  The lighter built dogs did eventually win favor because they were more agile on land and faster swimmers.

Also, ignore this post on the history of water dogs. It was based solely upon various historical research that was later largely debunked through genomic studies.

I am willing to admit that I’m wrong.  However, there are so many posts that it would take me several months or perhaps a year to fix all of them.

Such is the hazard of producing nonfiction at volume.

But I still do get requests about these history posts, and I’ve occasionally been asked when I was going to write a book on the history of these dogs.

The answer was always, “I don’t know.”

But I am wondering if maybe there is a market for such a book, and if there is, I think I’d like to write it.

I don’t want it to be as breed blind as Richard Wolters’s amazing (though somewhat flawed) history of the Labrador retriever.

It obviously must contain the history of Newfoundland water dogs, but I don’t want people to have a narrowly construed understanding of what this sort of dog was (or is).  Wolters focused heavily on smooth-coated St. John’s water dogs in the literature, assuming that they were the only type available. They were the only that could be found in Newfoundland during most of the twentieth century.

What I found interesting is that all these Labrador retriever historians quote Lambert De Boilieu, who famous wrote:

The Labrador dog, let me remark, is a bold fellow, and, when well taught, understands, almost as well as any Christian biped, what you say to him.

Never mind the religious bigotry in the statement, but virtually every Labrador retriever history quotes it.

They seem to ignore the rest of De Boilieu’s discussion of the dog in which he talks about the long-haired ones that the British were turning into the wavy-coated retrievers:

 The dogs sent to England, with rough shaggy coats, are useless on the coast; the true-bred and serviceable dog having smooth, short hair, very close and compact to the body. I sent to England a fine specimen of these, but unfortunately the vessel which bore it had the misfortune to be wrecked on the north coast of Ireland, and all hands were lost.

This is why when you read of Dr. Bond Moore’s “Labradors,” which were registered as wavy-coated retrievers, they were long-coated dogs. The golden retriever is also derived from that “bold fellow,” as are all the other large retrievers.

I call this dog a St. John’s water dog.

It is this dog that had the greatest impact on the development of retrievers, for before it became widespread, retrieving dogs were almost always either water spaniels, poodle-types, or various types of purpose-bred mongrel.

In Russia and Scandinavia, laikas and their relatives retrieved shot ducks. And still do today.

But this rugged water dog from Newfoundland had the greatest impact on the development of retrievers today.

If I were going to write about the history of the retrievers, I would have to include big section on that breed.

I have loads of material, most of which I’m not able to use even on the blog.

I could organize all of this material into a manuscript, but I don’t have a clue what to do next.

I’ll just say I’m not interested in self-publishing.

Retrievers are popular dogs. People want to read about them.

I don’t want my efforts to wind up like some poorly thought-out treatise on groundhog baiting with Jack Russells.

I want people to read this stuff.

These dogs are important to us.

I just don’t know where to start.

A book that should be written and a book that I eventually do write are two different things.

So if anyone has any ideas, please leave me comments. If you’d like to email me, please feel free to use the Contact page.

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Bonus points if you can name the dog at the top of this post. However, if you can name him, you’ve been wasting too much time reading this blog!

 

 

 

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Smelling

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But what is she smelling?

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Nature overwhelms

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This morning I woke up early and went outside.

I went without the dog.  I wanted to get the drop on the local deer herd, and because these deer worry constantly about the threat of coyote predation, I knew that going out with a big blond wolf probably wouldn’t help my chances.

But while I was out stalking the deer this morning, I was overwhelmed.

The sun, now approaching its period of greatest strength in this hemisphere, cast down beams through the canopy. The dew on the leaves of the undergrowth glistened.

For the time being, I was no longer a modern human. I was essentially a being of the forest. Perhaps a hunter-gather of yore, maybe a wild beast.

I felt savage.

I hadn’t experienced this feeling in so many months. Most of the time I am domesticated, civilized, and utterly removed from the life forces that make our existence possible.

I am not a believer in a creator. I’ve come to reconcile myself as nothing more  (or less) than a philosophical naturalist.

But that doesn’t mean that I’m devoid of my spirituality.

I was overwhelmed again, just as I was so many times before.

I remember a warm June night in the summer before my sophomore year in high school. The day had been punctuated with several midsummer thunderstorms. There were several downpours that day, and when the clouds finally cleared, it was late evening.

And I set out for a long walk in the woods.

As I walked on the barred owls started to hoot. Each breeding pair called from distant ridges. These were territorial calls, but they were hauntingly beautiful. As the sun set, the mist rose from the ground with the owls calling all around.

Another day, I was out with the dogs on one of those teacher work Fridays in which the students were given the day off.  I do not recall my exact age at the time, but I was in high school.

It was early March and the land was just waking up from winter. It was overcast, as March days can be, but it was so eerily calm and sweet.

The dogs had a blast running around the woods. They became like wolves that somehow charged out of the Stone Age to run along side me and make me feel again.

These were the same dogs I took out for a long walk on that Fall Break Friday during my sophomore year in college. It was that October Friday that followed the vote on the Iraq War Resolution.

It was a war that upset me. I was disgusted with politics, and though I had been studying political science and international relations in school, I knew that I needed the golden red leaves, the soft autumn sunshine, and the gentle lick of a golden retriever to help me escape.

Man’s inhumanity abounded before me, yet for a time, I was detached from the evils of my species.

It took being overwhelmed by the natural word to soothe me and give me some succor.

I don’t drink, mainly because I don’t like the taste of ethanol, but sometimes I must imbibe on the liquors of the sun, the trees, and the forest.

I become intoxicated by it.

And it frees me.

Maybe for just a moment.

But in that freedom, I’m in ecstasy.

So the sunlight filtered through the canopy, I felt overwhelming joy. I breathed in the sweet air and tried to wonder why every day couldn’t be just like this one.

For as soon as I begin to wonder, I know that I’ll start thinking of the mundane things once again.

These are things that a best keep me from self-actualization and at worst keep me imprisoned.

I can let them go when I’m overwhelmed.

I can be.

And not really be.

 

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A walk in the sunshine

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About that big cat

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I must make a little confession here.

Remember that  “black leopard” I wrote about several weeks ago?

I was pulling your leg.

It was actually the neighbors’ Rottweiler.

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I don’t know her name, but she’s old arthritic.

I should note that big black cat sightings are actually large black domestic dogs.

In the US, the most popular breed is the Labrador retriever, which very often solid black in color.

Unlike a Rottweiler, it usually has a tail, so it’s much easier to confuse with a leopard with melanism.

 

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Raspberries ripening on the vine

These are wild raspberries  that will start to ripe by the first of July. They will continue to ripen for the next month. If you’re going to eat them, though, you’re going to have to beat the birds first. They get up early in the morning!

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