The Hunting Cairn

   

 

                                                         BY BILL JUNEAU                                     

                                                                  Tip your hat to the hunter extraordinaire: the Cairn terrier. The little dog with the big personality. 

                                              The feisty Cairn, almost always  wheaten or black in color, though maybe a blend leaning slightly to toward rouge, is a descendant of a wolf, believe it or not, and gained its fame and reputation as an aggressive hunter in the fields and underground tunnels of beautiful Scotland. Some say it was in the Isle of Skye.   They were commissioned to examine rocky piles known to farmers as cairns and to rid them of any interlopers such as mice, rats, snakes, rabbits or squirrels or any other unwelcome critter hanging around.
                                              In fact, it was said these hunters would "go to ground," in search of such critters, and there are still competitions where terriers are sent into tunnels with caged rats and timed on how quickly they reach the prey and for how long they perform: barking, baying, scratching or staring intensely.  
                                          With a determined nature and guided by a nose which can always detect a foreign critter hiding where he does not belong, the sturdy Cairn would do his work and provide for the farmer, his friend and mentor, a rock pile as free and as sterile as a rock pile can be.  Unwelcome visitors are dispatched by the Cairns by grabbing them by the neck and delivering some mighty shakes. 
                                                In America and much of the world, the tough little Cairn has become a respected and beloved pet in tens of thousands of homes. They love their owners and the kids and other dogs--well, most of the time, when it comes to other canines.  They do a  good deal of barking and they will sound off mightily at footsteps, even those dropped by a squirrel or bunny. Some owners will laughingly say their Cairns bark at the sound of a leaf dropping.
                                                They are powerful and dominating when it comes to rodents and the unlikeable critters are never too much for the determined Cairn. According to canine expert Stanley Coren, he learned of a terrier named Tiny who was said to have polished off some 5,000 rats in his lifetime.  That's dedication. 
                                                 Recently, I saw on a social media site an inquiry and concern from a Cairn "mom" that her pet was an overly aggressive hunter of little critters, and that perhaps that was a negative quality which her Cairn possessed.  Somewhat distressed, she invited comments from other owners on what she perceived as an unwelcome trait which she was not fond of.
                                                  The answer is that the instinct to hunt is in the canine genes. For me, also a Cairn booster, I look upon their talent to ferret out the intruder with admiration--a Cairn doing what a Cairn was meant to do. 
                                                   Not too long ago, while living in sunny Florida, our male, Andy, a handsome, wheaten colored Cairn weighing in at about 16 pounds, left our back door and raced to the far end of our fenced one-acre yard. He seemed to be on a mission.  Minutes later I saw him furiously shaking a black "rope" in his mouth.  It wasn't a rope, it was a black garter snake about three feet long.  Most interesting was that Andy seemed to know that the alien was there. He made quick work of the intruder.   How?  What tipped Andy off?  
                                                    Just a couple of days ago, our 7-year-old black Cairn, Wendy, declined to answer our whistle and call which was completely unlike her while inside our home in South Florida. We went to look for her and found her staring at a closed closet door.  It was the unmistakable Cairn "death stare," with her nose inches from the tiny slit under the door. No question, but there had to be something inside the closet where we have boxes stored with Xmas decorations and other items and some luggage.  We were hoping that a mouse had not gotten into the house. 
                                                  Opening the door, Wendy shot in without hesitation. She nosed around items piled on the floor and darted under the shelf housing the air conditioner. Presto, within seconds, she exploded out with a large Palmetto bug--an unpleasant fact of life in Florida--in her mouth, zoomed to another corner of the house, and then dropped the lifeless meddler onto the floor. Thanks, Wendy.  We cleaned up the remains, and Wendy then went about her business. 
                                                Niki, another female cairn of ours, would suddenly stake out a pantry or closet and we knew it was time to buy a mouse trap. 
                                                  The search by the young and middle aged Cairn is never ending.  Maybe age will slow them down, but just a little.  The Cairn does not discern which intruder might be a more or less welcome addition to the terrain. They are all prey.                                                          In Florida, and perhaps elsewhere where there is an abundance of sun and showers, we need to keep an eye on the inquisitive Cairn lest in his instinct to hunt, he comes upon the dreaded Bufo toad, which will react to danger by exuding a substance on its skin which is poisonous to dogs and can even be fatal. When the Cairn sees the  toad, he attacks and most large toads cannot move fast enough to escape.  If it happens, which it has to us three times, we wipe out the inside of the dog's mouth with a wet rag and then rush the little fur head to the vet for immediate treatment, which will save the dog if the action is timely enough. Anyway, be on guard against these dog menaces.  Bufos are ugly looking dudes whose size can match a dessert plate. 
                                                Is the Cairn a dedicated hunter?  You bet.  Absolutely.  We sometimes fear ours got an overabundance of terrier genes.  So, what is it about an unwelcome  critter which draws their attention?  What do they hear?  What do they smell?                                                     The dog's nose is, according to some experts, about a million times more sensitive than man's ability to smell. In one experiment I read about, a tiny mouse was placed in the center of a one acre field of grass, and the dog, (must have been a Cairn) was released to hunt.  Within minutes, the proud dog returned, mouse in tow. That was all nose.  It was the hunter, home from the hills. 
                                                 The Cairn terrier has a tradition to uphold.  Hunting is what he does and what he has always done. His people and the unconditional love which he bestows upon his owners of course comes first.  But intruders and aliens are definitely not welcome in Cairn territory.   So do not be concerned.  Enjoy your Cairn.  There is no other dog like yours in the world!!!!                                                    
                                              XXX
                                             

  

CAIRN'S UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

                                                       By BILL JUNEAU 

                                                               Let's be honest; there is something about dogs which is very special, and that awesome quality strikes a chord deep within certain humans, who become known as "dog people." This is pretty much a lifelong affliction for those who succumb to it. 
                                      And inside this phenomenal canine kingdom is the incredible Cairn terrier, the little guy with the huge personality whose ancestors hailed from the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Characteristics that apply to the average canine seem to apply to the Cairn terrier tenfold.
                                           With a thirst for adventure and his carrot tail pointing toward the sky, the Cairn is a hunter extraordinaire; a "ratter" with a nose ten thousand times more sensitive than his human friends and mentors.  He is very smart yet at times he "comes" at his own pace depending on what's in it for him.  Some say the Cairn, while affectionate, marches to the beat of his own drum, although a treat will usually raise the volume. As they always say at Westminster, the big dog show: "It's a terriers' world; they just let us live in it." This is especially true of our Cairn friends.
                                           Some dog owners think, "If only dogs could talk." Well, they do.  Think of that loquacious relative who downs a few too many sherries at Thanksgiving and chews your ear off between courses: now look at your cairn standing by the window barking at falling leaves. Some similarities, you think?
                                           Yet we probably don't even realize the extent of the average dog's vocabulary. (Cairns in particular are considered very "vocal.") There is no doubt that certain words, like walk, treat and suppertime, are in their dictionary.  The word "no" is perhaps more debatable. 
                                           Delivering their message is accomplished  through their ears, tail and body language. Yes, the "bark"-- now there is communication worthy of a good translator.  Noisy--yes, at times it can make you think about the dreaded shake-can or squirt gun as a remedy. 
                                            Canine psychologists have studied "dog talk" for a good while and have determined that they communicate about three main topics:  emotional states, social relations and the expression of wants and desires.  Barking is in different pitches and tones, so listen carefully, quips Dr. Stanley Coren, a professor of psychology---a man who  knows "dog talk." 

                                             The  professor, who is the author of the book, "The Intelligence of Dogs,"  has done a good deal of research in carving out the interpretations of man's best friends. For example, the continuous rapid barking at mid range pitch translates into specific canine rhetoric:  "Call the pack.  There is a potential problem.  Someone is coming into our territory." Our cairns, in particular, are especially good at alerting us to the arrival of the pool service...the handyman, the dry cleaner, the lawn guy. 
                                             But then, one or two sharp, short barks, at mid range pitch, is more welcoming, the doggie version of "Hello there."  But change the pitch slightly upward, says Dr. Coren, and you have. "What's this?"  In other words, "Is there a slight movement at the back of the yard?" 
                                              There are all sorts of growls. Some graduate into a bark, and some say, "Beware--back off."  With a lower pitch, the growl/bark sends the warning, "I'm upset and ready to fight."  Dr. Coren also identifies the "undulating growl with high pitch, as "if you come at me, I may fight or I may run." This latter translation probably does not apply to the average terrier, which has no idea how small it is and rarely backs down.
                                               Understanding the language of your dog, and getting your dog to understand you, is a big part of canine ownership.  
                                              Of course there is unspoken communication too. There's that look of pure contentment as your cairn settles in next to you on the couch at night, sprawled out like a contortionist sometimes, which says "I am at peace, all is well."
                                            Many dog owners become especially loyal to a particular  breed. This is usually most common with dogs with a lot of moxie, or, let's admit it, "attitude," like our beloved Cairns.
                                             Perhaps that is part of the magic of the Cairn, be it he or she, black, brindle or wheaten. Ah, just to see him zipping about in his back yard or on the beach; or looking over the trees and bushes, or sniffing (or digging energetically) at the ground.  Is there a busier breed?  How about that moment when your Cairn attacks his squeak toy, resolved to rid that beast of all noise-making ability.  Yes, that is a Cairn being a Cairn.
                                             Do you ever wonder about the memory of a dog?  Does he store something in that busy head and then recall it in subsequent days.  Absolutely, observes Dr. Coren.  And he has some first hand experience from his days with his Cairn, Feldspar, whom he praises for his vocabulary and ability to recall.  Feldspar would always cower and hide upon hearing the word "Bath.  "  Conversely, said Coren, another of his dogs actually raced to the shower room upon hearing that word.  Can your Cairn count?  Try putting three dog cookies in your pocket and then give him only two.                                             .  
                                             In Florida, where we used to live before moving to Sun City the grass and bushes are the home for those little lizards we call gekkos. There are trillions of them.  The search for them is never ending for our Cairns. They will sniff and hunt relentlessly or until something else become more important, like maybe suppertime or a little ball chasing.  
                                             Put it all together and remember how he joins you when you are taking a nap, or accompanies you on that walk.  He is, one writer has said, "the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." A dog doesn't love us just because we do something for him like feed him food and water; let him sleep with us in bed; comb his fur and take him for a car ride.  He just loves us anyway, and that's what  "unconditional" means.  

                                                -30-

THE HUNTING CAIRN

  

 

                                                         BY BILL JUNEAU                                     

                                                                  Tip your hat to the hunter extraordinaire: the Cairn terrier. The little dog with the big personality. 

                                              The feisty Cairn, almost always  wheaten or black in color, though maybe a blend leaning slightly to toward rouge, is a descendant of a wolf, believe it or not, and gained its fame and reputation as an aggressive hunter in the fields and underground tunnels of beautiful Scotland. Some say it was in the Isle of Skye.   They were commissioned to examine rocky piles known to farmers as cairns and to rid them of any interlopers such as mice, rats, snakes, rabbits or squirrels or any other unwelcome critter hanging around.
                                              In fact, it was said these hunters would "go to ground," in search of such critters, and there are still competitions where terriers are sent into tunnels with caged rats and timed on how quickly they reach the prey and for how long they perform: barking, baying, scratching or staring intensely.  
                                          With a determined nature and guided by a nose which can always detect a foreign critter hiding where he does not belong, the sturdy Cairn would do his work and provide for the farmer, his friend and mentor, a rock pile as free and as sterile as a rock pile can be.  Unwelcome visitors are dispatched by the Cairns by grabbing them by the neck and delivering some mighty shakes. 
                                                In America and much of the world, the tough little Cairn has become a respected and beloved pet in tens of thousands of homes. They love their owners and the kids and other dogs--well, most of the time, when it comes to other canines.  They do a  good deal of barking and they will sound off mightily at footsteps, even those dropped by a squirrel or bunny. Some owners will laughingly say their Cairns bark at the sound of a leaf dropping.
                                                They are powerful and dominating when it comes to rodents and the unlikeable critters are never too much for the determined Cairn. According to canine expert Stanley Coren, he learned of a terrier named Tiny who was said to have polished off some 5,000 rats in his lifetime.  That's dedication. 
                                                 Recently, I saw on a social media site an inquiry and concern from a Cairn "mom" that her pet was an overly aggressive hunter of little critters, and that perhaps that was a negative quality which her Cairn possessed.  Somewhat distressed, she invited comments from other owners on what she perceived as an unwelcome trait which she was not fond of.
                                                  The answer is that the instinct to hunt is in the canine genes. For me, also a Cairn booster, I look upon their talent to ferret out the intruder with admiration--a Cairn doing what a Cairn was meant to do. 
                                                   Not too long ago, while living in sunny Florida, our male, Andy, a handsome, wheaten colored Cairn weighing in at about 16 pounds, left our back door and raced to the far end of our fenced one-acre yard. He seemed to be on a mission.  Minutes later I saw him furiously shaking a black "rope" in his mouth.  It wasn't a rope, it was a black garter snake about three feet long.  Most interesting was that Andy seemed to know that the alien was there. He made quick work of the intruder.   How?  What tipped Andy off?  
                                                    Just a couple of days ago, our 7-year-old black Cairn, Wendy, declined to answer our whistle and call which was completely unlike her while inside our home in South Florida. We went to look for her and found her staring at a closed closet door.  It was the unmistakable Cairn "death stare," with her nose inches from the tiny slit under the door. No question, but there had to be something inside the closet where we have boxes stored with Xmas decorations and other items and some luggage.  We were hoping that a mouse had not gotten into the house. 
                                                  Opening the door, Wendy shot in without hesitation. She nosed around items piled on the floor and darted under the shelf housing the air conditioner. Presto, within seconds, she exploded out with a large Palmetto bug--an unpleasant fact of life in Florida--in her mouth, zoomed to another corner of the house, and then dropped the lifeless meddler onto the floor. Thanks, Wendy.  We cleaned up the remains, and Wendy then went about her business. 
                                                Niki, another female cairn of ours, would suddenly stake out a pantry or closet and we knew it was time to buy a mouse trap. 
                                                  The search by the young and middle aged Cairn is never ending.  Maybe age will slow them down, but just a little.  The cairn does not discern which intruder might be a more or less welcome addition to the terrain. They are all prey.                                                          In Florida, and perhaps elsewhere where there is an abundance of sun and showers, we need to keep an eye on the inquisitive Cairn lest in his instinct to hunt, he comes upon the dreaded Bufo toad, which will react to danger by exuding a substance on its skin which is poisonous to dogs and can even be fatal. When the Cairn sees the  toad, he attacks and most large toads cannot move fast enough to escape.  If it happens, which it has to us three times, we wipe out the inside of the dog's mouth with a wet rag and then rush the little fur head to the vet for immediate treatment, which will save the dog if the action is timely enough. Anyway, be on guard against these dog menaces.  Bufos are ugly looking dudes whose size can match a dessert plate. 
                                                Is the Cairn a dedicated hunter?  You bet.  Absolutely.  We sometimes fear ours got an overabundance of terrier genes.  So, what is it about an unwelcome  critter which draws their attention?  What do they hear?  What do they smell?                                                     The dog's nose is, according to some experts, about a million times more sensitive than man's ability to smell. In one experiment I read about, a tiny mouse was placed in the center of a one acre field of grass, and the dog, (must have been a Cairn) was released to hunt.  Within minutes, the proud dog returned, mouse in tow. That was all nose.  It was the hunter, home from the hills. 
                                                 The Cairn terrier has a tradition to uphold.  Hunting is what he does and what he has always done. His people and the unconditional love which he bestows upon his owners of course comes first.  But intruders and aliens are definitely not welcome in Cairn territory.   So do not be concerned.  Enjoy your Cairn.  There is no other dog like yours in the world!!!!                                                    
                                              XXX
                                             

  

CAIRN TERRIER WORLD

 

                                    By Bill Juneau                       

                                            The Cairn terrier's world is an exclusive place to be.  Friends are welcomed, but interlopers must beware.  These fur heads are members of a special breed which came to prominence centuries ago on the Isle of Skye in Scotland and distinguished themselves for their abilities to hunt and rid farms of unwanted critters.
                              Cairns do not hand out friendships; they are something which must be earned.  And that applies to their four legged brothers as well as other intruders into their territory.
                              The cairns are considered small in the canine world, but don't let that fool you.  In their minds, they are giants, and any stranger on the other side of the door might agree. That bark can drive away much bigger dogs and any stranger who dares to knock.  But for affection and loyalty and unconditional love--tip your hat to the peerless Cairn.                          
                              So it was no small thing when my wife, Chris, and I sought to introduce our Cairns, Sammi, 11, and Sam's trusted housemate, Wendy, 9, to the 85 pound,  brown-haired  Lab mix named Gertrude.  Sammi and Wendy, both females, each weigh in at about 15 pounds.
                              Sammi is a wheaten-colored warrior who loves her family, has a big vocabulary, and comes when she is called  (most of the time), but stops short when it comes to welcoming or tolerating other dogs.  Men, women and children--they are okay, but canines rub her the wrong way and she will let them know it.  Wendy is a coal black Cairn who recognizes Sam as the boss in our house, but who is even more bullish when it comes to other canines, and is not all that enthused about unfamiliar humans until a little time passes.   
                              Our daughter, Mary, and her husband, Bob, are the owners of  Gertrude, a hefty female Lab and Irish setter mix whom they rescued a few years ago. However, Gertrude had never met Sam and Wendy.  Your scrivener and his wife, and Sam and Wendy,  had until last year been living in Florida. Upon our return to Illinois, we looked upon the introduction of a big dog to our little tough girls as just one more hassle involved in the move, and put it off.
                              Gertrude, known affectionately as Gertie, is brown haired and a  bit of a Gentle Ben.  Gertie seems to like almost everyone, dogs included, and and as Mary says, "doesn't have a mean bone in her."  Her business is eating and love and sleeping on a favorite leather chair. Walks with Bob are frequent, generally in the forest preserves sans leash.                                                                                                 The plan was to introduce  our Cairns to the gentle Gertrude so that in the future she could accompany her parents on visits to our home in Kane county west of Chicago. Mary and Bob reside in a home in northwest Chicago. 
                               The problem was our feisty pair have never experienced another dog in their house.  Just seeing another dog during a walk brings out the beast in them and they immediately begin growling, barking and lunging in an effort to escape their leashes and attack. At times, they have gotten so worked up they have turned on each other. The size of their target doesn't seem to matter, although they seem to save their most vicious outbursts for big dogs. Once, back in Florida, we were even asked to leave a dog park--we insisted another dog was to blame for starting the fracas, but we quickly departed anyway.
                                Laying the groundwork  for the meet, we consulted books by Caesar Milan, the dog whisperer, and chatted with Dr. Bob Andrysco, a Chicago area dog and cat behavior specialist we met at our veterinarian's open house. Their advice dovetailed nicely with what we had read online. 
                              First, this grand event needed to take place in a neutral area that would not trigger anybody's sense of dominance.  We chose a nearby path that wound around a small lake. The idea was to walk them together in a pack.  Each of the dogs were tethered to a leash and the initial encounter came as we walked one way and encountered Mary and Bob and the leashed Gertie walking into us.
                              There was an immediate explosion by Sammi and Wendy, growling and barking and straining at the leashes in  an effort to break away and attack the calm and peace loving Gertrude, whose big frame dwarfed our little Cairns, and who seemed oblivious to their carrying on.  
                               So, as prescribed by Caesar and Dr. Bob, we all began  walking in a single file.  First was Sam, followed by Gertie; with Wendy bringing up the rear.    We walked and talked for some time, as everybody--meaning all the cairns--calmed down.  We alternated positions in the single file and we kept walking and after about a half hour, some sniffing of rear ends began, with Sammi choosing to collect the most data: Gertie was uninterested, and Wendy still a little agitated. 
                               Amazingly, as time went on, and perhaps as they began to tire a little, Sammi and Wendy began to relax and their body language suggested that they might actually be considering allowing this big girl to become a member of their pack. As tension continued to abate, we got back into our separate cars with the dogs and and drove to the small fenced-in backyard of our home.
                                Sammi and Wendy were not happy about walking out the back door to find Gertie on the other side of the fence, and more barking ensued. After all, they are terriers.  Finally, we let all three dogs inside the enclosure, with leashes dragging behind them, available for quick action if hostilities flared. 
                             Sammi surprised us with her laisez-faire attitude, but Wendy remained true to her high strung nature, and periodically lunged toward the lounging Gertie. Bob managed to distract her with calming words, pats, treats, and a few little tugs to keep her off Gertie's back. 
                            Once we approached near calmness, we headed inside. This was the major testing ground. The cairns didn't have that much invested in the back yard, which had only been fenced for about 8 months, and was primarily just a place to do their business. Because of a field nearby that was home to coyotes, they  never got any extended time alone in the yard.
                         Once we got inside our walk-out basement, we were surprised that the barking did not resume. We let the dogs settled next to their families, spread out on the couches, while we chatted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
                        Wendy maintained a constant stare in Gertie's direction,  but time passed and no new doggie comments were made.  Bob, Mary, Chris and I provided high praise and treats for the combatants and for the peaceful Gertrude. Gertie was then allowed to go upstairs and wander around the house a little, with no objections, except for a few wary glances. 
                      Certainly the first step has been made and it was a success. We look forward to many visits from Gertrude and her parents, and will probably continue to start them with a short group walk on our street. 
                        A great movie once ended with the line: "I think that this is the beginning of  beautiful friendship." We hope so too.