command leader

Leo is incredible. He is not only a confidant leader, but he knows his commands well. He doesn't get freaked out when I mess up, he just stands there calmly until I figure it out. Sometimes, if I don't figure it out, he figures it out for me and drags us all back to where we need to be.

The day after our dusk-disaster run, we did about an eight mile out-and-back east along the southern valley trail. At one point, I jumped the gun and had Leo turn right off the trail thinking I was asking him to turn onto an already established (but unbroken) cut to another trail at a right angle. I was wrong, and in a few seconds it was clear we were bush-whacking through powder and downed trees and not following an established trail. After about fifty feet, we hit a little kettle pond and I called Leo to turn around. He dutifully swung the team around and bushwhacked right back to the trail, turned the way we'd been going and about a minute later we got to the trail I'd been looking for. No panic. No tangles. No problem. This is such a huge change from last year, when I would have had to stop the sled, get a hold of whoever was leading and drag them around and back to the trail, hoping the snow was deep enough to keep the sled from sliding into the wheel dogs who were probably trying to bound ahead of me and the nearly panicking front-running dog anyway. The result was universally frustration, tangles & a reluctant if not totally freaked out team. Now, I can just tell Leo what I want and with a few exceptions (more on this later) he steps to it.

The relationship that I am developing with him is different than anything I've experienced with a dog, and I am beginning to understand the reverence that mushers hold for their best leaders. He is a shy boy and doesn't like petting or affection. He ducks from my hand and only lets me touch him when I've got a harness ready, or when he's in harness and we are taking a break from running. But as we've been running, I can tell he's warmed up to me. The looks he gives me communicate his questions and intentions, and I can see him thinking as we get to forks in the trail or places where I want to turn around. He took us around open water the first day in the marshes, resolutely dragged the whole team away from a flock of ptarmigan on the south-valley trial run, kept them lined out and on the trail when I had to backtrack for the camera ... and I am beginning to rely on him in a way that I've never relied on an animal before. Much less an animal that I feel hardly cares to see me if I don't have a harness in my hand.