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A N I M A L I N T E L L I G E N C E 225 how fast our washing machines cycle. I love the notion of “bioinspired design.” Even though I will still be annoyed when my setter decides to spray me, at least now I have a better understanding of the origins and potential functions of this behavior—and, maybe, even a slightly greater degree of appreciation. Apparently he’s using his quick-spin cycle so he can get back to hunting and keep up his torrid pace, as his ancestors did, not to please a human but to survive and be the fittest. I wonder why we don’t often stop to think more deeply about things we observe every day. I’m glad Dickerson did. 59 drahthaar follies Every dog owner has some stories about events in his dog’s life that at first greatly angered him and then in retrospect were just plain humorous. Here’s one of mine. On a recent trip to Texas we were bow hunting hogs at a ranch, and the guide killed a rattlesnake. Although I don’t condone the random killing of snakes, my son had just discovered a rattler in the stick blind he was hunting from, and the guide would prefer that his clients not get bitten on his hunts! The snake’s skin was really bright, and it had probably just shed. If you’ve never studied a rattler skin close up, you might not appreciate how incredibly beautiful they are. We decided to skin it out and brought the skin home frozen. A lot of places in Texas have mounted rattler skins over doorways, and I decided that such a mount would be a nice addition to our family room. I bought a tanning kit online, cleaned the skin (several hours of fleshing), tanned it, pinned it out, and let it dry. I kept it in the garage for a month or so—as the tanning solution is defined as “toxic”—and it looked great. My son and I visited a local fabric store, where I thought we should get an award for t h e t h r e e - m i n u t e o u t d o o r s m a n 226 being the first males ever to enter. We bought a mounting board and some felt fabric. I laid it all out on the dining room table (my wife is very accommodating, and we eat in the kitchen a lot), put the dried rattler skin on top, and after a couple of weeks decided to rise from a Sunday afternoon nap and mount it permanently. So I sauntered into the dining room, rubbed my eyes, and stared in disbelief. It was gone! I looked under the table, thinking it had slipped off. Or maybe I put it somewhere else and just forgot? No, I was sure the last time I looked at the table, it was there. A call to my wife, who was out shopping, got me a snippy reply: “No, I haven’t touched the snake skin and have no idea where it is.” My dogs. I figured that maybe my drahthaar or English setter had snatched it from the table, so we searched the house and then went outside to see if they had dragged it out, but no luck. I was then royally steamed and thought, well, if the stupid dog ate it and dies, too bad. After ten minutes or so, I thought about the fact that both are highly trained hunters and family pets, so I relented and took them both to an emergency vet clinic, which of course on a Sunday has triple normal fees. Each dog was induced to vomit, and nothing came up. Now I really hoped I hadn’t put it back in the garage or somewhere else. Home we went, me inside, the dogs into the yard. I watched the drahthaar do his “business,” went out, and—sure enough—saw it was full of snake scales. The dog had eaten the five-foot tanned skin, rattles and all, like it was some sort of doggie treat. Fortunately the tanning solution had long since dried, and he showed no ill effects. But I was out $350 for the vet, many hours of prep work, and a really cool mount. The dog checked out the dining room for a couple more weeks, just in case...

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