Comrade to Chieftains
From the pages of the March 2007 AKC Gazette
© 2007 The American Kennel Club, Inc.
When Joel Samaha was learning to judge Irish Wolfhounds more than
30 years ago, Englishwoman Florence Nagle, the doyenne of the breed,
gave him the most valuable gem of advice on evaluating these dogs he
would ever receive. It summarized everything she'd told him about
weight, height, length of leg, shape of skull, all of the physical
attributes that add up to an outstanding specimen.
"As you look down the line," said Nagle, "ask yourself which of
these dogs would you like to have by your side if you encountered a
ferocious wolf." Sounds clear enough, but as fanciers will tell you,
it is no small feat to produce such a formidable creature. To be
true to type, an Irish Wolfhound must be swift enough to catch a
wolf, and powerful enough to kill it.
"A wolf killer in Greyhound form," Samaha says, quoting another
influential fancier. Achieving this delicate balance is a challenge
for breeders. But when they do, the result is truly something to
behold, as awe-inspiring today as he was to the eyes of the
ancients.
Ice-Age Mystery
"All Rome viewed [them] with wonder," wrote Roman consul Quintus
Aurelius Symmachus in a.d. 391, in a letter thanking his brother for
a gift of seven Irish Dogs to be exhibited at the "Shows and Games."
This is the first written account of the breed, although images of
enormous hounds have been found on fourth century b.c. Greek
pottery.
The fossil record suggests that massive dogs existed side by side
with wolves long before art or literature, possibly as far back as
the Ice Age, which ended around 8000 b.c., noted Alfred de Quoy in
The Irish Wolfhound Saga. "This would indicate either that man also
existed in Ireland some 2,000 years before his arrival there
generally is thought to have occurred or that the Irish Wolfhound
developed independently of Man and had a common ancestor with the
Wolf."
Roman coins from Emperor Trajan's reign (a.d. 98 to 117) depict the
Egyptian goddess Isis riding on a rough-coated dog, which suggested
to de Quoy a retort for the perennial question—Where is his
saddle?—that plagues Irish Wolfhound owners to this day.
"Persons seeing Irish Wolfhounds for the first time, frequently say,
'He's big enough to ride' or 'Why don't you put a saddle on him?' "
wrote de Quoy. "Henceforth, the reply could be 'A goddess did ride
one.' "
By the fifth century a.d., these massive dogs were tightly woven
into the folklore and history of the Irish people. The name of one
of the country's greatest early heroes—Cuchulainn—translates as "Culann's
hound." Wolfhounds also played a significant role in the
transformation of an English slave, Patrick Macalpern, into Saint
Patrick. He "owed it all to wolfhounds," according to folklorists
Gerald and Loretta Hausman in The Mythology of Dogs (St. Martin's
Griffin, 1997).
The Celtic word cu, which means greyhound, is often used to denote
strength and courage, and many Irish chieftains took this name, or
mil chu, which translates as "Greyhound who hunts large game," wrote
Samaha in The New Complete Irish Wolfhound (Howell Book House,
1991).
Out of Work
But by the late 18th century, wolves were gone from Ireland, and
there was no need for a hound to hunt them. The breed went into
decline.
It was a Scottish Deerhound breeder—Captain George Augustus
Graham—who pulled them back from the brink of extinction. In 1862,
Graham started a program based on the few remaining specimens of the
ancient strains, with judicious outcrossing to Great Danes,
Mastiffs, and Deerhounds. Within two decades, he gave birth to the
modern Irish Wolfhound, as well as ongoing contemplation over
whether Graham revived an ancient breed or manufactured a new one.
In 1885, Captain Graham wrote a standard, based on historical prints
and references, and the first club devoted to the breed was founded.
By the dawn of the 20th century, the ancient breed was poised to
stride into the modern world.
Small groups of devoted fanciers struggled to keep the Wolfhound
alive through two world wars and a depression, eras that were
particularly cruel to giant dogs. During World War I, the Kennel
Club (England) required breeders to obtain permission to register
litters, "which was rarely given, owing to the food position,"
recalled Nagle, whose influential Sulhamstead Kennels produced
nearly 50 English champions. Nagle bred only one litter through WWI
and during the subsequent conflict two decades later,
"Very few Irish Wolfhounds were bred, and the breed was just kept
going."
Nearly invisible in show rings through these lean years, Irish
Wolfhounds made their presence known as war dogs, mascots, and
symbols of strength, as they had done throughout their history (see
sidebar).
Far-off Look
"They are unlike any other dog," says Dot Arn, education chair and
past president of the Irish Wolfhound Club of America, which was
founded in 1926, 14 years after the first AKC Wolfhound
registration. "It's a combination of imposing stature and unique
temperament. They have very stable dispositions, combining courage
and gentleness."
"They have this tremendous power, but they don't abuse it," says
breeder and AKC judge Gretchen Bernardi, Berwyck Irish Wolfhounds.
"It's really true what they say, 'Gentle when stroked, fierce when
provoked.' "
Samaha got his first glimpse of an Irish Wolfhound in the late
1960s, at the famous Sanctuary kennel, which also had a large pack
of Pomeranians. The breeds were kenneled side by side.
"The Pomeranians were all jumping up and down and yapping, and on
the other side were these six magnificent dogs, who stood there with
this wonderful look, that far-off look," he says. "Mrs. Jenkins
[Ruth Jenkins, Eaglescrag Kennels], a great English breeder, used
the phrase 'that sad far-off look that we have all come to know and
love in the Irish Wolfhound.' That's what I saw, and I knew I had to
have one."
Arn, Bernardi, and Samaha, all now breeder-judges, became interested
in the Irish Wolfhound at a pivotal point in its development.
Through the early part of the 20th century, there was a core of
master breeders, such as Nagle and Jenkins in England and, in
America, Alma Starbuck (Ambleside) and Mrs. Norwood B. Smith (Cragwood),
the founder of the IWCA. They worked hard to consolidate type,
producing a Greyhound-like dog of "great size and commanding
appearance," as noted in the AKC standard approved in 1950.
In the '60s, however, because of a large influx of novices, the
breed strayed from the ideal. "In the early '70s, I was watching the
Wolfhounds at Crufts, and I heard a woman say to her husband, 'I
don't know anything about these dogs, but they all look different to
me.' " Samaha recalls. "I turned to her and said, 'You know more
than you think.' They all did look different."
"We had a couple of generations where there weren't enough mentors,
especially in a country the size of ours," says Arn. "People just
went off in their own direction." Small, racy dogs started appearing
at shows, as well as behemoths with serious flaws in soundness and
balance.
The tide started to turn in the mid-1970s with Ch. Wildisle Warlock,
bred, owned, and handled by Jill Richards-Bregy. Warlock won more
IWCA specialties—four—than any other member of his breed.
"Warlock's soundness and balance came at a time when it was sorely
needed in the breed," says Arn. Some exceptional dogs were imported
from England shortly thereafter, and a new core of serious breeders
began raising standards again. By the mid-1980s, there were
significant strides in type, and judges started to remark about the
depth of quality and soundness through all classes. "At specialties
you rarely see unsound dogs, or dogs with serious coat problems, or
small dogs," says Arn. "Great excellence still appears in small
numbers, but you see plenty of well-above average hounds."
Do Fence Them In
Despite their size, Irish Wolfhounds are easy to live with.
"They don't have to demand attention. ... I had a Pekingese, and she
filled up the house. She'd growl and snarl at the Irish Wolfhounds,
and they'd back away," says Samaha.
"With the Wolfhounds, you almost don't have to housebreak them. They
are so calm." "We love living with Wolfhounds. They are fairly
quiet, affectionate, and relaxed at home with bursts of speed,
energy, and activity when turned loose in the yard," says AKC hound
judge Anne Gallant, Breawyn Kennels. "Fencing is essential because
their instinct to hunt is very keen."
Of course, it's important to note that this serenity is not to be
expected from day one.
"They are huge puppies, and they stay puppies for a long time," says
Samaha. "I used to keep evidence of their destructiveness. We had a
beautiful old apple tree, and one of my dogs stripped the bark off
of it, and the tree died. I would tell people, this is what a
4-month-old puppy did."
Another time, Samaha glanced outside his window to see his
51/2-month-old happily trotting across the yard with a long wooden
plank in his mouth, the remnants of a picnic table the puppy decided
to rearrange.And, Samaha says, "There are no holes like the holes an
Irish Wolfhound can dig."
Turning on Turbos
Their hunting drive also requires careful management. More than one
IW owner can tell about seeing their dogs chase, catch, and kill a
deer. Horses, cattle, and any other livestock must be kept separate
from the dogs, or the dogs must be carefully supervised around these
animals.
Like all sighthounds, the chase is in the blood; most Irish
Wolfhounds can't control it, and few animals can outrun them.
"We were at a lure coursing trial and a New York state trooper, who
is also a dog person, came and clocked the dogs with his radar gun.
He clocked my Wolfhound at 28 miles per hour," says Jocelyne Gagne,
of Starkeeper Irish Wolfhounds, Ontario, Canada. Her Laislinn
Starkeeper Rayne, JC, was the top-ranked Wolfhound in the American
Sighthound Field Association in 2006.
"Rayne is just a typical Wolfhound, sweet, loving—until you get to a
lure course," says Gagne, a lure-coursing judge who competes with
her dogs in conformation, coursing, and obedience. "She'll do
whatever it takes to get that lure. Lure operators say to me that
they've never had a big dog like that turn on the turbos when they
get to the corners. Normally, they'll slow down. She fools them all
the time."
Gagne believes that lure coursing gives the dogs a chance to do what
they were bred to do. "Granted, chasing a little white plastic bag
is not like chasing a huge elk, deer, or wolf, but it does simulate
the chase," she says.
Other Wolfhound fanciers are not big advocates of the sport. "It's
sad that there's no way to really judge their work. We have lure
coursing, which is fun and provides exercise, and judges their
agility," says Arn. "But it doesn't give you any idea of how
effective they would be against their natural foe, the wolf."
Arn points out that Wolfhounds quickly figure out the gameplan in
lure coursing. "After about one trip around, they'd know the
pattern, and cut to the lure," says Arn. "They'd be penalized for
cutting the course. But I think those hounds would make the best
natural hunters."
Bernardi says that while coursing is an enjoyable activity for dogs
and owners, it doesn't seem relevant to the breed. "They were not
bred to chase a plastic bag or rabbits on the ground. It's like it
says in the Deerhound standard. Their necks should not be overlong,
because they do not stoop to their work."
Galloping Hounds
Before deciding to share your life with one of these dogs, it's
important to understand a significant drawback. Like many giants,
they do not live very long.
"It's a heartbreaking breed," says Bernardi. In 1987, she conducted
a study, which was published in the gazette, to determine life
expectancy. The average: about 6½. Health problems include heart
disease, bloat, and osteosarcoma, the deadly bone cancer that is the
bane of many large breeds. It is also important to choose a vet
familiar with the metabolic idiosyncrasies of sighthounds because
they can have serious reactions to anesthesia.
That is not to say that they all die young. Bernardi has had some
dogs reach 12 or 13, and Gagne has dogs still competing around their
10th birthday. There is simply no way to predict how long they will
be with you.
Heartache aside, people who love the Irish Wolfhound say they could
not envision life without one. "Perhaps it's making lemonade," says
Gallant, "but I have been able to live with and love many more
individual Wolfhounds, given their life span, than I would have with
the typical canine life span of 14 years."
Even after decades, fanciers still talk about getting chills and
goosebumps when they see their hounds charging across a field, or
standing tall with that far-off look.
"People like me admire them for what they could do," says Samaha. He
tells of a informal event at a Norwegian specialty he judged some
years back. After the serious judging was over, owners took their
hounds out to an open field. Someone would hold the dogs as the
owners walked far down a long lane. At a certain point, the owners
would turn and the handlers set the hounds free.
"You'd hear them first, these big, heavy-boned dogs. It was like
watching what we call 'stallion dogs,' pounding, hitting the ground,
doing these great extensions," says Samaha, who still gets choked up
describing the scene. "It was such a beautiful sight, one after
another doing this great gallop to get to their owners. They weren't
trying to kill a wolf—but they sure looked like they could."
SIDE BAR ARTICLES
Dog of War
This account of an Irish Wolfhound during the Great War was written
by Walter A. Dyer, author of Pierrot, Dog of Belgium, and was
published in Country Life, 1918. "Bally Shannon had been ... a
soldier in France. No ordinary ambulance helper was he, but an
over-the-top fighter. Ten wounded men he saved by dragging them out
of No Man's Land. Then came a bursting shell and Bally Shannon and
his master were both wounded. They were sent home on a hospital
ship, and in mid-Channel the ship was torpedoed by a German
submarine. ... Only three men were saved—Bally Shannon's master and
two others. They managed to scramble on top of a barely floating
piece of wreckage. Then came the brave dog, swimming strongly in
spite of his wounds, and begged to be taken aboard. But the piece of
wreckage would not have withstood his additional weight, and his
master was forced to order him to keep away. ... All night he swam
about the rude raft, only resting his chin upon it when nearly
exhausted. In the morning they were picked up. ... When I visited
the dog he was nearly well, though his master, alas, had succumbed
to his wounds. I spoke his name ... He came to the edge of the
enclosure and raised himself to his full height, resting his
forepaws on the top of the fence ... I thought I had never seen so
magnificent an animal. All sinew and brawn, built on lines of speed,
he stood there and received my homage. ... And I looked into his
eyes—great, honest, intelligent eyes, utterly human. 'I know what
you did, Bally Shannon,' said I. 'You're a better man than I am,
Gunga Din.' "
"Mr. Irish Wolfhound"
During 52 years, Samuel Evans Ewing III, who died in 2004,
established one of the most influential kennels in the breed's
history. Eagle Farms produced five national-specialty winners over
four decades and the first Wolfhound to win the Hound Group at
Westminster. But to those who knew him best, their strongest
memories center on his love for the dogs, and the care he gave his
puppies—and there were lots of puppies. Ewing kept scores of
Wolfhounds at his kennels.
His partner, AKC judge Sam Houston McDonald, says that when there
was a new litter, no one would see Ewing outside the kennel for
days. Friend and fellow fancier Anne Gallant shares this: "He
thoroughly enjoyed his puppies and would sit with them for hours
holding them and gently blowing into their faces. Even after years
of being apart from Sam, his dogs recognized him. I guess it is an
example of early imprinting. ... He knew the history of the breed,
its form, and function, as if he were a medieval Irish king. He also
knew pedigrees from all over the world and imported bloodlines that
might serve his vision."
AKC President Dennis B. Sprung, a friend of Ewing's for over 35
years, says, "When I think of the Irish Wolfhound the word noble
comes to mind. The same adjective can be used to describe Sam as a
breeder. He was generous, honorable, and bold in his very successful
breeding practices. Sam loved the breed, the sport, and the AKC; he
will always be remembered as a loyal friend to all three."
Source: http://www.akc.org/pubs/monthlyfeaturedarticle/
