I found an old picture, circa 1997 or 1998, maybe a little bit earlier:
You would think the little fellow would grow up be:
But instead, he grew up to be this:
Beware of the troll.
There was a bold claim made about hunting dogs being used as farm dogs. It was a pretty gutsy call as some things are innate and some things are learned. However they were not called herding dogs for a reason.
I haven’t really found out what Vallhunds are supposed to do other than herd, but from what I understand, they are supposed to be farm dogs that can do it all like the American Scotch Collie. It kind of makes sense because Norrbottenspets and Finnish Spitz were supposed to be farm dogs too that could bring in the horses and cows into the stables. However the concept of breed only arose what? 120, 150 years ago? So really, it’s all nebulous, no?
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Don’t know about the other Nordic spitz types, but I have great doubts whether the Finnish Spitz was ever widely supposed to drive cattle and horses back to the stables. I’ve never heard of it, it’s not in any Finnish breed histories I know of (not that many, admittedly), they don’t exhibit any tendencies for it and I’ve certainly not seen it in Finland. This of course doesn’t mean it didn’t ever happen, but still… I don’t think so. It’s not that kind of dog. Great all-round hunting dog for the forests, though.
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The comment following the claim is right: Norrbottenspitz and Finnish Spitz are not bred to herd, nor is there any history associated with them herding anything. Every account just calls for them being all-around hunting dogs in the forests on small farms. However, they are not associated with any of the hereditary traits which make other hunting breeds such as the English Setter, German Shorthaired Pointers or the Münsterländers stand out. What makes barking spitzes unique, at least according to Vangen and Klemetsdal in 1988, is their intelligence and eagerness to work.
So, what constitutes a farm dog? It largely depends on context, and how people define them.
Most people know Shiba Inu as a hunting dog. There are no traditional herding dogs in their native homeland of Japan. Even so, most Shiba Inus fill the niché of pursuing small games. Why would this come up?
Well, while we were visiting the relatives in central Alberta, they were crop farmers with only a handful of chickens, a milk cow or two and a pair of Border Collies. These people were not keen on livestocks. However everyday just before dark, the Border Collies would fetch the cows and bring them to the barn. Then in the morning, the relatives would let them out of the barn to graze. The Border Collies’ job description wasn’t to herd– they were meant as family pets who could roam when they wanted to ranging from visiting neighbours to barking at coyotes. Everything else was secondary. For the most part, the Collies left the cows alone except at dusk.
via littleoslo.com [Image: littleoslo]
Well, of course, we brought our Shiba Inu along. He got along fine with the Collies, which was surprising since he always got into a scruff with the dogs belonging to relatives on my stepdad’s side of the family; never with my mother’s side. Anyway, he was left tied up since it was uncertain if he would take off and be unseen for a couple of days. So he spent the days watching the Collies.
Well, the Shiba managed to slip out of his harness after the second day. We thought, “okay, he’s not going anywhere– let him be. We are in the middle of nowhere. He is not going to do anything, cause anything or stir up any troubles.” Sure enough, just before dusk, before the Collies got around to the cows, the Inu was fetching the cows and driving them back to the barn. Must be a fluke? He did the same thing the day after, he beat the Collies at their routines and did it again– same time of the day at dusk on the dot. And so on.
Now that being said, Shiba Inus are not known to herd. There is nothing in their breed history signifying this. There are no anecdotes of this. Most of the trial folks probably would call it a predatory drive or “livestock chasing.” So what gives?
Tod was about five or six years old when he did this. He never grew up on a farm, except in a kennel run on a ranch for the first eight months of his life. He didn’t pay any attention to cattle or deer for that matter prior to the visit. There was no display of hunting behaviours, and the cows were never bitten; nor did they run for their lives. However the relatives called him a smart farm dog.
The Border Collies were called “good herding dogs.” The unexpected turn of event earned Tod the title of “a good farm dog.” Two different concepts. In their book, anyway.
See, this Shiba Inu would never pass a Herding Instinct Test, nor would he be biddable enough to obtain titles. It is dubious he would be able to handle more than a couple of livestocks. As emphasized: he never listened. However he picks up on routines and emotions, then put them into context quite well. Actually, he never really did anything that would be disapproved by others or anything worth giving him heck for.
However the relatives asked if they could keep him as they were astounded a dog who never obeyed was able to do these things. They needed a dog that could also flush birds and catch mice. Nope. No how. No way. The dog belonged to the kids.
I say this because herding dogs can hunt, and hunting dogs can help out with the chores. They are still farm dogs by definition. Helping out with bringing home a few cows or bringing the horses into the stables is not herding; it is part of a routine. The only difference is, if someone wants a dog that could control more than a handful of livestocks, they probably will go for a herding breed. If they want to hunt with a dog, then a hunting breed would be a priority. Everything else is just bonus points.
If dogs don’t partake supplementary tasks, no harm no foul. The dogs probably weren’t purchased for those reasons. If they can, then it is an unexpected asset.
Tod, my Shiba Inu of 14 years, went in last week for a medical checkup. Lately, my family has been thinking about putting him down due to declining health; so, he went to the vet for a second opinion.
Tod’s breath was rancid, had difficulty digesting food, flat out too stubborn to accept help to find his way to the back door for a bathroom break, or find his way back inside, without flailing like a stuck pig. Kibble consumption reached all-time low, and he refused to touch his rawhides. Sometimes when he slept, he breathed so deeply, it was difficult to know if he was still alive or not. One can see why this was heavy on our minds.
Well, the day of the eye removal surgery three or so years ago, Tod grew a second “tongue.” The flap was difficult to look at since it kept extracting underneath his tongue every time it was touched, so it had functioning nerves. The day of his checkup was the first time the mysterious growth was looked at closely. Turned out it was a benign tumour, more like a membrane, thin as a seran wrap, containing seven cysts. So it was removed and cauterized.
The reason for Tod’s horrid breath was not because of stomach ulcer, like it was originally theorized, but rather since the membrane was preventing him from chewing on rawhides, without accidentally biting down on the growth; his gum became infested and pussed due to lack of teeth cleaning. So he received dental while under, then given antibiotics.
On top of the dental surgery, Tod had his blood drawn, since the medications he is on for his glaucoma is hard on the liver and the kidneys; and liver failure is a common occurrence with his meds. Tox report came back clean. If cancer was an issue, it did not show up in the screen. The vet was surprised the blood results revealed Tod is only three years old.
Then it was time for his eye exams. Glaucoma haven’t gone away, and he lost sight completely in the remaining eye. However the ocular pressure isn’t high enough to warrant a second removal, so that consideration is off the table.
The Shiba is much happier now the membrane under his tongue has been removed. His appetite has returned, and he’s more inclined to take biscuits. Actually, he’s perkier and much more active than he was two years ago. No luck on him wanting to go for a walk without panicking the freak out; or letting us touch his paws to clip his nails, but we take what we can get. Either way, his quality of life went up exponentially.
Sidenote: Tod’s veterinarian, a Norwegian, was impressed Riley is a Swedish Vallhund, and was surprised I found a breeder since they are so rare. He likes the Vallhunds because they are one of the few breeds left that haven’t been ran into the ground. He commented they are “reliable,” “intuitive” and “quite intelligent.” For Riley’s breed, he would not recommend neutering them until they mature around three years old. I will have to ask for his opinion on the elghund and pystykorva landraces.
Oftentimes people think of being biddable is a sign of intelligence in a dog. Obviously they don’t look at the glaze and see if there’s a curious mind locked in there or not. Now, by many people’s definition, Tod, the Shiba Inu, would be defined as a stupid dog since he seldom listens to commands.
Tod does listens, but only if he is benefiting from the scenario, otherwise he’s off in his own world; hardly an obedient dog. He wanders about the neighbourhood whenever he gets a chance, only coming back when he finds something to share or is hungry or thirsty.
I thought about what people speak about sighthounds and many of the nomadic breeds like huskies, complaining they are stupid. Unfortunately, most of these people who make comments as such obviously never lived with such dogs.
I remember someone said we were bad dog owners if we couldn’t get him to do reliable recalls. Obviously such a person never lived with a hunting dog or a nomadic breed. She still maintains this opinion even to this day.
What makes Tod special? He can identify objects, and he has different sound for each of them. Sounds? Forget that. Try actual words. True, he won’t be able to formulate his own words and construct a sentence, but he does have sounds resembling words like: “me” as in himself, “mom,” “out now,” “hamburger,” “hot dog,” “rice,” “pepperoni,” “water,” “kibble,” “meow,” “pet me,” “cat,” “raven,” “walk,” “play,” “ball,” “tug,” “sit,” “down,” “crawl” and many more. He even surprised our vet with “I don’t like it” in response to procedures he associate discomforts with such as the eye-pressure tests. He even got names for each individual person who came into his life more than three or four times. If that wasn’t bad enough, he also learned how to read American Sign Language.
No, we didn’t teach him the signs. What happened was Tod would get so hyper about us hearing certain words like “walk” and “steak” or “pork loin,” as a family, we started having conversation in my native language, ASL, then from thereon he picked up the individual signs within a day of seeing them. Not only he learned the individual spoken English words, modified his pitches to imitate the words, and how to sight-read the signs, he also learned to imitate the signs as well. And no, we didn’t teach him these. We did not reward him with anything, except go: “ah crap.” In fact, we tried to discourage him from associating such words and sounds with objects.
I am sure at this point, you’re wondering: “does he bark?” No, he just have yelps, yowls, yawns, pitches and different variations of growls. In fact, if other dogs bark in the neighbourhood, he just go back inside the house or try to find the quietest place in the house. No, this doesn’t means he’s quiet. All it means is he doesn’t bay like hounds, yap like toy dogs or bark like herding dogs and hunting spitzes.
So ask yourself this, even though this dog has poor recall, only sits or lies when it see itself in an advantageous position, what would you call a dog who not only learned what English words means, but also copied them? Not only that, but did the same thing with a manual language as well. Would you consider this dog stupid?
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