We're up at "the Farm" this week (Slick's Grandmother lives on the family farm way up in Potter County, PA) for Christmas.
Max and I were out hiking in the snow this morning (brisk 17 deg) when we came across a confluence of fresh tracks at the tree-line. Because of the blowing snow, any tracks we found were from today. We studied them intently. The fist-sized tracks were probably bear. The multitude of dog-like tracks were probably the coyote we've been hearing about. Max found this very interesting. He sniffed and sniffed. He dug at a few tracks. And then...
Max head snapped up and looked into the tree-line. He stared intently, sniffed the air, sniffed the tracks and proceeded to drag me down the hill with all his might.
I've never seen this kind of response from him. He's a "charge headlong" kind of dog. It's part of the reason I usually have to leash him while hiking. I once lost him for 30 minutes when he bolted after a deer while hiking in SC. We've been in the woods in question many times. He's flushed grouse & turkeys from the fields. He's chased deer into there so fast that my in-laws' collie had to go find him for me. But, run away? This was a first.
At first, I was going to make him stop. Except, well... His tail was tucked as far as it could go between his legs. His ears were as tight against his head as he could get them. He kept whipping his head around looking into the woods. He kept dragging with all of his might.
I couldn't see anything, but the tracks were there. It was cold. AND, the dog was completely freaked.
So yeah, I decided to trust his instincts on this one. We came down off the hill.
