This just in: Scientists at the International Association of Human Behavior say that not all Swedes are taciturn, not all Italians are universally horny, and not all French look down on you.
If such an organization existed (I invented it), few of us would consider such a statement newsworthy. We have all encountered individuals who don’t fit any stereotype. One of the friendliest, most outgoing people I have ever known is a Frenchman I met years ago on a tennis court, although his wife once confided to me that she always appreciated our visits because Alain was a much nicer person in English than in French.
But this is another story.
Experts at the International Association of Animal Behavior Consultants Foundation (a real thing) told The Atlantic’s Katherine Wu that people’s beliefs about what to expect from different types of dogs cause many problems.
“Stereotypes about breed ‘personalities,’” she writes, “are embedded in almost every interaction people have with dogs: they influence which dogs are adopted first, which are funneled into service jobs, those who are authorized to live in apartment buildings. »
A dog behavior expert from the University of Colorado went so far as to tell him: “Any good dog trainer will tell you that these stereotypes are a disaster…Breeds don’t have personalities. Individuals do. “
In my experience, this is largely true for every type of mammal I’ve encountered, even herd animals like horses and cows. Some are placid and confident, others wary and wary of human contact. Every flock has leaders and followers, friends and non-friends. When you get to know them, cows have very strong individual personalities.
When it comes to dogs, however, people’s expectations are often confused. Although dog breeds are among humanity’s oldest and most successful bioengineering efforts, the results have never been precise. Wu: “There are border collies who won’t herd, and pugs who will; there are Great Pyrenees who are very nervous and there are beagles who will obey any command.”
The bravest dog I knew was our Great Pyrenees, Jesse, who feared no living thing. I once saw Jesse rout two coyotes who had a neighbor’s kid on the ground. He then picked up the baby, carried him to the herd and set him down. Another time, he and his Anatolian companion, Maggie, chased a stray cougar from our home. The invader ran towards the ridge like a house cat.
Then there was the day my wife inadvertently walked between a newborn calf and its mother. The cow charged her. Jesse replied. This cow didn’t want him and turned away. It was probably a bluff charge anyway, but Jesse was willing to take on his 1,200 pounds.
The storms, however, scared Jesse to death. He only knew one safe place: on Diane’s knees. Since he was a little taller and a lot hairier than her, it made for fun photos.
Back in town, he was friendly but distant toward strangers. If someone was talking to Diane while she was walking him, Jesse would stand quietly between them. No one taught him any of these things; they were just who he was. The Pyrenees were bred to herd livestock, and that’s what he did.
He also ignored orders while on duty.
However, when it comes to ignoring commands, there is no dog like the basset hound. Not even beagles, an equally stubborn member of the dog group. Bred to stalk game with their prodigious noses, I believe that when their nostrils are engaged, their ears are disconnected.
At the dog park, our basset hound, Hank, is nicknamed “the ladies’ man” because of his penchant for women and girls. In fact, Hank has never met a stranger, human or canine. Bred to hunt in packs, basset hounds view other dogs as allies. They are friendly and optimistic all the time. Also persistent. If you want them, you absolutely have to go get them.
One day last month, we were walking our dogs on a golf course that was closed after the Little Rock tornado. A herd of deer appeared, and Hank—a pet, never a hunting dog—felt a chill run through his blood. The other dogs stopped chasing once the deer were out of sight. Hank, however, put his nose to the ground and began barking along the scent line.
My heart sank. As a long-time breeder of beagle rabbit dogs, I knew immediately that Hank had gone native. I heard him cross the road and railway line, then climb the steep wooded ridge on the other side. I was afraid we would never see him again.
Except once he got to the residential area at the top of the ridge, Hank encountered a group of small children and returned to pet mode. The children took him to their mothers. His photo appeared on Facebook before I even got home from my research.
Hank heard the call of the wild, but he came home for dinner.