Levi the Wonder Dog

Levi on the Trail: Following his nose and Husky radar, ears on the alert, he disappeared into the trees or the grass or the rocks – off on dog business.  He returned, chest heaving and tongue hanging, with some doggy treasure – a bone, feathers, a piece of bark covered with fox scat.  He deftly avoided all our efforts to wrest the nasty thing away from him.

Once he startled an eagle off a deer carcass.  Once he came back with porcupine quills in his nose.  Once he jumped straight in the air at the sight of a bull snake.  He was a wonder!

Husky Power: Levi knew every trail head and trail in the Black Hills from Iron Creek to Nemo to Alkali Ridge.  Soft whines from the back seat signaled that we had passed yet another opportunity to pull over and hike.  “Not yet, Levi,” we taught him.  Imagine his joy when we finally decided to stop.  Out of the car he went, right to the trail.  Once he had been on a trail, that trail was in his Husky navigation system.

  

The only time he paid attention to our directions was at trail junctions.  He waited patiently for us to indicate which fork we were taking that day.  And off he went until the next junction. We frequently saw mountain lion sign – tracks and gut piles and deer parts.

One winter day, we were the first hikers in light snow on the Dakota Point trail – except for a mountain lion.  The tracks were fresh and clear; the edges hadn’t even melted.  Denise probably spotted a cat on the Centennial Trail north of Sheridan Lake as it disappeared into the cliffs -- out of sight almost as soon as she saw it.  

“Whatever it was,” she said, “it was as big as a deer but the same color as Levi.”  

We saw tracks in the mud north of Samelius trailhead and in the snow in Little Elk Creek Canyon. 

 “Levi doesn’t like the water,” Denise told me on one of our first walks.  

“Oh,” I replied as he dragged me into Rapid Creek with all that Husky pulling strength, “Could have fooled me!”

Levi loved the water: On hot days, he ran through creeks, mouth open, drinking as he ran.  He loved to stand belly deep in cold streams.  We were hiking the Iron Creek Trail during the wet summer of 2009; each of the eleven creek crossings was deep and murky.  At the third crossing, horses had worn the ford wide and deep.  Denise and I dithered up and down the bank looking for a crossing. The water was deep and fast, covering up the usual stepping-stone boulders.  And then we saw Levi on the opposite bank.  

“How did he do that?” we asked and coaxed him back to our side. 

“Show us how, Levi.”  And off he went into the muddy water, finding the perfect place to cross – the shallowest, the firmest. All the hikers at the ford watched him and followed his lead.  And we followed his lead at every ford – always the shallowest and always the firmest footing no matter what the water conditions.  He didn’t hesitate; now we learned about Husky magic vision. 

Levi loved snow: He loved to run through it and eat as he ran.  He loved to roll and roll in it.  However, on a snowshoeing trek in Vanocker Canyon, the snow was too deep for even him.  He attempted his loping gait through the fresh powder but kept plowing nose first into the drifts.  Finally he conceded defeat and started following behind us in our snowshoe tracks. Alkali Ridge was favorite bushwhacking territory.  Levi chugged up the steep slope to the top, never looking back.  He followed deer and other game trails though the snow as we explored the oak and Ponderosa thickets.  The occasional cliff in the sun provided a good lunch spot.

Our Big Adventure: One August afternoon, we started on a hike from Iron Creek picnic ground to Grizzly Creek, hoping to make a loop with the Centennial Trail.  But, alas, the wet years had nourished heavy vegetation – thorny roses, deep grass, snow berries, currants, and the bushwhacking was very hard going.  I hadn’t been on the route for years – “I remember that the creek loops over to the Centennial Trail near high cliffs” was the best I could do.  And in a narrow canyon of many high cliffs, I couldn't tell one from another. 

On we went – Denise didn’t want to give up and turn back.  The dogs were trudging by late afternoon – not wanting to scramble over yet another rocky stream bank, wanting the brambles out of their eyes. 

Finally we simply had to turn back – better to be on a familiar trail in the dark than trying to find our way in the Black Elk Wilderness back country at night. So as the sun sank behind the cliffs, we turned around. Back over the rocks, back along the creek, back through the underbrush, until finally we found the Grizzly Creek trail.  

And here we paused to watch Levi discover frogs.  The old beaver ponds rang with their singing which ended abruptly whenever Levi came close.  He was thoroughly puzzled by this new creature, this noise with no source. On we marched, tired and wondering just how long this would take. 

We were five miles from the car.  Levi’s tail dragged, and he was limping badly.  Occasionally he simply sat down and wouldn’t move until he was ready.  Just as well – we were all tired, but he was the only one with enough sense to rest. 

Darkness fell over the forest three miles from the car. The full moon rose as we turned north on the Iron Mountain trail, but the brilliant white light and deep shadows made navigation impossible.  Where was the trail?  We couldn’t tell.  And then we noticed Levi, nose down, steadily walking the trail.  Could he find the car?  Denise clipped on his leash and let him lead.  And he did – among the rocks, through the shadows – never hesitating or taking a wrong turn.  Finally, there was the car.  What a navigator! 

Levi and Mud: Levi was fearless, wading and swimming in beaver ponds, winter and summer.  He emerged from these explorations covered with black silt and green slime.  The silt clogged his paws and smelled like the swamps from which it came.  These ponds are on the Centennial trail south of the Samelius trail head and one of Levi’s favorite spots. And, of course, water.  This stock pond along the Boulder Hill trail is muddy and swampy.  In went Levi, sinking in mud to his knees and loving every minute of it all!  Add the smell of cows to the smell of swamp – you get the idea!  Levi had magic fur, though.  Mud, water, burs, and stickers just slid off,  He would get into the car covered with mud and emerge at home clean as a cat.

Cliffs didn’t slow Levi down.  He climbed and scrambled no matter what the trail offered.  This rocky stretch at Boulder Hill slowed us down; we had to stop to catch our breath.  Not Levi; he seemed to flow along the hardest trail.

P.U. – You stink!! Levi’s most offensive adventure – we were headed back to the car on the Spring Creek Trail at Sheridan Lake.  And we were practically running because of the oppressive smell of something very dead.  “We’ll get away from it soon if we just hurry.”  But we didn’t.  And then we realized that Levi was the source of the smell.  He had crossed the creek on his own and found a lovely pile of discarded fish entrails and rolled in it to his heart’s content.  He reeked!

We drove back to town as fast as humanly possible with all the windows open and our shirts pulled over our noses.  He was oblivious to his perfume and quite pleased with himself for his great discovery.  This time his Husky fur didn’t come clean without vigorous scrubbing and applications of tomato juice. 

One more trail story: On the Spring Creek trail, we decided to head west at the last creek crossing, bushwhacking to the north end of the dam.  Almost immediately the terrain became rocky and very steep as we traversed the cliffs above the creek.  We reached the top – a knife edge of rock high above the creek.  And Levi found the way up and over and through the rocks – “If Levi can do it, we can, too,” we said as we scrambled after him.  Of course, we had to help him up and over one ridge of rock; his puppy injury left him unable to jump very high.  And there was the dam on the other side; Levi led us through again! Levi loved the Little Elk Creek canyon trail, and we hiked it often.  He waded the creek, climbed down canyon walls, napped on warm rocks, and once ate turkey feathers that made him sick. When we remember Levi now, we think of him as heading out on Little Elk Creek in search of whatever adventure lies ahead of him. 

Louise with photos by Louise, Denise, and Brian Text and Photos Copyright Goin Mobyle LLC. 2010