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Millie our youngest Keeshond venturing in to the sea and retrieving a stick for the first time at three and a half years old.
Der Akita ist ein japanischer Spitz. Vor 1999 wurden zwei Erscheinungsformen der Rasse gezüchtet, nämlich der hier beschriebene japanische und der amerikanische Typ (American Akita). Die Rasse wurde 1999 von der FCI in zwei Rassen aufgeteilt. Seitdem trägt der japanische Typ ausschließlich den Namen „Akita“, der Zusatz „Inu“ (japanisch für "Hund") entfällt. Der American Akita wird seit dem 1. Januar 2000 innerhalb der FCI als eigene Rasse geführt.
Der Akita ist ein großer, gut proportionierter Hund mit einer Körpergröße bis 70 cm, von kräftigem Körperbau, robuste Konstitution; das Verhältnis Widerristhöhe zu Körperlänge beträgt 10:11. Seine Statur ist kräftig und muskulös. Auffällig ist seine breite Stirn mit der typischen Stirnfurche. Die Ohren sind klein, dreieckig, eher dick, aufrecht, nach vorne geneigt. Das Fell ist hart, das Deckhaar grob, allerdings mit weicher Unterwolle. In den Farben Rot-falbfarben, Sesam (rot-falbfarbene Haare mit schwarzen Spitzen), Brindle, Weiß, die Unterwolle weich und dicht. Die Rute wird fest eingerollt auf dem Rücken getragen.
Quelle: Wikipedia
+2
What a lucky shot, huh? Just so happened to catch them at a perfect moment, almost in the same stride.
Its great to watch dogs of the same breed playing together. They have a common language.
File name: 08_06_000898
Title: Dogland dinner - spotted English setter, mother and young
Creator/Contributor: Jones, Leslie, 1886-1967 (photographer)
Date created: 1931-05-02
Physical description: 1 negative : glass, black & white ; 4 x 5 in.
Genre: Glass negatives
Subjects: Dogs; Baby animals
Notes: Title and date from information provided by Leslie Jones or the Boston Public Library on the negative or negative sleeve.
Collection: Leslie Jones Collection
Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department
Rights: Copyright © Leslie Jones.
Preferred citation: Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection.
Recently BLM hosted the Whid Isle and Inland Empire Brittany Clubs to run dogs on two different "courses" in what are called braces. The courses included Puppy, Derby, Gun Dog, and All-Age. The dogs ran on Goose Butte in the BLM’s Spokane District. This has been the site for field trials for three Brittany Clubs for more than a decade. The most recent trial included with competitors from Washington, Oregon, Montana, Idaho, California and Canada!
John Henderson, a handler and judge for different braces said this BLM location is fantastic for the trials. "
First of all, it's centrally located for a lot of the club members and it's a great place to let the dogs loose. The folks here from southern California and the west side of Washington and Oregon don't have anything like this near them. These two courses are so big and it's chukar habitat so the birds we release feel at home," said Henderson.
Henderson said more than 500 birds were released over the three trials so the Brittanys could demonstrate their ability to find birds, point staunchly and remain steady to wing and shot. Most field trial dogs are handled from horseback because these patches of BLM land are too rough and expansive to cover on foot.
More information about hunting and fishing on YOUR public lands is available online: www.blm.gov/programs/recreation/recreation-programs/recre...
#huntshootfish, #huntingisconservation, #huntingonpubliclands, #yourpubliclands
I cannot believe the year at 52WFD is over. I don't know if I have ever told you that when I applied for membership to this group I was under the impression that each week you submit a photo of a DIFFERENT dog. I watch dogs and often take their photos so I thought this would be perfect for me. I had no idea I had to do the same dog all year! It's been a wonderful experience. Happy Holidays to all my Flickr photo friends and best to all of you in the New Year 2015. PS: I will be handing over the reins to my black pooch Skippy for 2015!
"I had always thought dogs to be playful and spirited; to me they were animals who loved to chase sticks and romp around and lick you. That is, I used to think that, until that day I met the serious dogs. When I first saw the serious dogs, they were sitting on a small hill out to the side of my house watching the sunset. One dog was standing on his hind legs, leaning his elbow on a tree, lost in melancholy thought. They all watched this particularly glorious sunset, then each sighed in turn and strolled in a pack over the hill. Were these the dogs I had thrown bones to for the last several months? These day-dreamers?
"Several days later I saw the serious dogs lunching under the willow. They were not gulping their food down like Spritzie does; they seemed almost refined. After dining they buried their trash, cleaned themselves up, and disappeared over the horizon. I waited half an hour and then took my shovel over to that willow and dug up what they had buried there: several wrappers of cheese, some half-eaten doggie biscuits, and Good Lord! . . . two empty bottles of fairly expensive Bordeaux! I turned, confused, and saw a small pamphlet lying on the ground. I picked it up and read the title, "Federal Migratory Waterfowl Stamps." "Well," I thought, "some poor stamp collector left his book here. . ." Just then, one of the serious dogs appeared and gently took the volume from my hands and padded off.
"I stopped. This was something more than just some dogs who didn't like to play fetch. I decided to secretly follow this dog. I laid about a hundred yards back and watched him. I was impressed with his courtesy to other animals and his compulsion to leave his pathway neat. If a branch had fallen over he would right it; if leaves had blown over this trail, he would brush them back onto less traveled ground.
"Then I saw him crawl through an opening in some thick brush. As I approached, I could hear the sounds of other dogs moving lightly. I moved toward the opening and cautiously peered through. I could see a few dogs staring intently at something, as though studying it. I could not make out exactly what it was so I moved in closer. I was sure not to make my presence known. As I parted some branches in the brush, I saw a most incredible sight. A fully-constructed skeleton of a cow! The construction was crude to be sure, but, missing only the head and feet, it was well-formed and highly commendable. I remembered throwing them bones now and then, and I could recall several of the dogs seemingly analyze it before accepting it. I looked along the ground and saw several of the books I had thrown out months before. They were well kept and stored upright. Most were reference, but I recognized several of the better novels. Then I noticed some dogs all facing something and sniffing judiciously like connoisseurs would sniff wine. I could not make out what they were looking at as a bush blocked my line of sight. I moved ever so slowly through the underbrush, with such caution that it took me a full ten minutes to travel five feet. Then, with some trepidation, I lifted my eyes at the object of the dogs' curiosity and saw. . . My God! . . . THE LOST MONET!"
Hudson, Ohio, USA, April 2008.