Based on life experience, I’d always thought small dogs were yippy, nervous, and fairly useless.
I was sitting in a tree stand on my friend’s farm when the deer started coming. I was told this spot was “guaranteed” and that was the damn truth. No less than 30 deer came out of nowhere right before sunset as I saw them carefully move through the trees, pausing at every noise they heard. As I watched them slowly maneuver, I picked one and waited until it made its way to my shooting lane. At full draw, I let out a noise to stop the animal in its tracks and released my arrow. I watched the deer jump, run to the right and dash into the woods across the field but was unsure if I had hit it.
After sitting for 15 minutes I climbed down from the stand and looked for any trace of blood. To my relief, I had in fact hit the deer as I found a smattering of crimson soaked fur on the ground and an obvious trail in the direction of flight. By now it was getting dark so I broke out the headlamp and followed the blood to the middle of the field where the trail immediately ran cold. Completely baffled at how that was even possible, I went back down to my friend’s house where he and his parents sat in the living room watching TV.
“Hey Tim, I got a deer but I tracked it and can’t find it.”
“Well shit I guess I better go get Ximo,” he said.
“Who the hell is Ximo?,” I replied.
“The neighbors tracking dog. I’ve never seen a dog so good at following blood. Stay here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Having never used a tracking dog I was pretty excited to see this thing in action but was nervous at the fact that the trail just stopped so abruptly in a wide open field with no further sign anywhere. After drinking a beer, I heard Tim’s truck pull back up to the house and eagerly awaited my introduction to this prized bloodhound.
I could hear Ximo before I could see him. As the door opened the air filled with a symphony of bells and Tim walked in with a scruffy little weiner dog. The dog was wearing a vest with sleigh bells attached to it and they jingled in staccato with every short legged step. I looked at Tim and waited for him to start laughing at his dumb joke but the laughing never came.
“Are you sure you grabbed the right dog Tim?”
“You just wait. Take him to the trail.”
As we walked through the dark I led Ximo and Tim to the start of the blood trail. Immediately the dog picked up the scent and bolted to the right, following my exact same footsteps until hitting the point where I couldn’t spot any more blood. Ximo stopped and sniffed around, long snout pressed against the grass.
“I for sure saw her cross this field and go into the tree line to the right but I couldn’t find any more blood.”
All of the sudden Ximo got a whiff of something and bolted off to the left. The complete opposite direction I was so positive the deer had gone.
“You didn’t see shit dumbass,” Tim said, laughing.
Attempting to keep up with the dog proved impossible. He was a deer-seeking fur-missile doing exactly what he was bred for. Sure enough, when we walked up on him he was biting and tugging away on the dead doe, bells ringing every time he pulled.
Now I’m not saying I’d ever own one, but maybe not all small dogs are useless.