Blue Ridge Country - September/October 2013 - 8

From the
Editor

Kurt Rheinheimer

Wonder Dogs in the Woods
thEy EvEn catch thE tRail tuRns signalEd by doublE blazEs!
The GreaTesT Day hiker Of
Them all, with whom I have
walked in the woods most every
weekend for more than nine years, is
nothing if not a doter on the dogs.
They know where water is better than
I do, will protect her better than I
from all critters save chiggers and
ticks, and possess in greater measures
than I do the boy-scout traits of kindness, fairness and trustworthiness.
Well, except maybe this one time,
when now very-old-dog Fluff was just
a young pup and we were going up
the lonely North Mountain Trail here
near Roanoke, and his instincts to
chase smaller creatures in motion
resulted in The Day Hiker having to
hear the shrieking squeals of a freckled fawn being run down and apparently caught, somewhere down the
hillside beyond our view.
Of course Fluff came back to the
trail all sheepish – just ask Gail – but
she was mad at him for maybe three
weeks – exactly two weeks, six days,
23 hours and 58 minutes longer than
Fluff remembered his successful
chase.
Well, and except maybe that one
time when still-youngish Cookie took
off after a skunk at Scorched Earth
Gap and came back smelling like an,
um, skunk. All sheepish, Cookie was,
of course, and fully aware that she
was now facing that nasty tomato
bath at the hands of her mistress.
Other than that, the dogs that
have walked with us – the late
Gunnar too, in addition to Cookie
and Fluff (we are not, as a family, very
good at naming dogs) – can pretty
much do no wrong in the woods,
despite their predilections to steal any
piece of lunch possible, to bark like
maniacs at any approaching hiker
once we have established our spot for
lunch and to preclude, with licking
and breathing and pacing-to-getstarted-again any thought of a nice

8 | BlueRidgeCountry.com

post-lunch nap.
Perhaps the ultimate example of
the dogs being more capable, more
valuable beings than I in the woods
occurred one winter many years back
as we walked on frozen-over snow.
This was along a narrow trailbed cut
into a steep slope, and at some point
Gunnar lost her footing on the ice
and began a long, squealing slide
down the frozen mountainside, with
the squeals being accompanied by
The Day Hiker’s screams, which, had
you happened upon us in the woods
at that moment, would have left the
overwhelming perception that I had
pushed the dog down the hill.
My going down the hill to lead the
dog back up to the trail had little
immediate calming effect on The Day
Hiker, although she did not stay mad
at me as long as she did at Fluff over
the fawn. But the snow was still blue
in that area as we walked over it on
our way back after lunch.
We had a new dog along for the
first time a few Saturdays back – sixmonth-old Moose, out for her first
walk not just in the woods, but on
the Appalachian Trail where, despite
her youth and inexperience, she led
much of the way, following those
white blazes as if she’d been a thruhiker in a previous life. Amazing.
Just ask The Day Hiker. 

Cookie and The Day Hiker pause along
the Appalachian Trail.

The late Gunnar and the slow Kurt
match facial expressions: Bemused?
Confused? Grumpy?

Fluff, now retired from hiking, was an
adventurous dog in the woods.

Young Moose pauses on her first hike to
show off her green eyes.

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Blue Ridge Country - September/October 2013

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