Seeing the countryside through dogs’ eyes

My favorite way to see the country where I live is on foot, and because of my daily walks with our two dogs, Casey and Nova, I know every inch of the first mile of gravel roads leading in every direction from our farm.

Heading north, south, east or west, depending on the weather and the roads’ condition, eight paws and two feet hit the gravel for a two-mile walk.

The dogs either go off-leash so they can explore the fields and ditches or we walk three abreast with me in the middle, holding on to their leashes — sometimes for dear life if they spot something that warrants a better look.

I prefer letting Nova and Casey go off-leash because they get more exercise, running out to the fields and back to the road, up and down it and back to me, but Nova ate something that didn’t agree with her digestive system a couple of weeks ago on one of her exploring trips to a field. Her tummy troubles resulted in a trip to our veterinary clinic where she was diagnosed with clostridium that required a round of antibiotics to kill the bacteria and probiotics to put her digestive system back on track.

It was a learning curve to take both dogs on a walk because Casey likes to lollygag and Nova wants to be off to the races. Walking them is a demonstration of what “being pulled in both directions” means.

After several days, though, all three of us have pretty much figured out how to walk in sync and the leashes are relaxed — but not too relaxed. I know that I should always be on the lookout for something that might catch the dogs’ interest and be ready to put on my brakes so I don’t end up skittering across the gravel.

Continuously being on the alert for potential objects of interest, something I learned from riding horses, paid off the other day when I noticed a leaf dancing across the road, several feet ahead of Nova and Casey. I tightened my grip on the leash in anticipation of Nova’s reaction, which was, as I expected, to lunge forward in hot pursuit of it. Her sniff of it revealed it was inanimate, but she still gave it backward glances as the wind picked it up and blew it further down the road.

Spending time around animals, similar to being with children, lets me see the world through different eyes. I doubt I would have noticed the leaf or the way it twirled away if I hadn’t been watching for things that might catch the dogs’ attention.

The leaf is just one of the many things I might oversee if I wasn’t taking the dogs for walks. I know which gopher mounds are fresh and where the resident badger on our gravel roads has moved so it can best position itself to hunt the gophers, when the killdeer nesting in the roadside ditches have hatched, and when the coyotes have been in the neighborhood.

Being close to nature not only lets me see, but feel the change in seasons, and I pile on or take off layers, depending on whether it’s a cold or warm one, or somewhere in between. I lament the transition of summer to fall when I have to add the layers and delight in removing them, one by one, in the spring.

But once the transition to each new season is made I look for the uniqueness that makes them enjoyable. Some, such as the bitter cold, wind and snow of the winter, is a test of the spirit, but that in itself is something I embrace. I am awed by the power of nature and its affect on us and where we live and when I am walking reflect on my great-grandparents who traveled by horse and sleigh.

Whether the weather is warm, cold, windy or calm, walking down the gravel roads with two dogs in tow gives me the ultimate view of the country, 12 months of the year.

Ann Bailey lives on a farmstead near Larimore, North Dakota, that has been in her family since 1911. You can reach her at anntbailey58@gmail.com.

Ann is a journalism veteran with nearly 40 years of reporting and editing experiences on a variety of topics including agriculture and business. Story ideas or questions can be sent to Ann by email at: abailey@agweek.com or phone at: 218-779-8093.