Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/801177
138 • S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S bruin that outweighed Oscar roughly 40-to-1, Klus left a bit too much slack in the lead, and the next think anybody knew Oscar was hanging off the side of the bear with his teeth sunk into its flesh. What's that saying about the size of the fight in the dog? Getting back to that goose, when Oscar touched down after his unscheduled flight, he hit the ground running, grabbed the Canada by the throat, and proceeded to drag it, inch by inch, until Klus quit laughing long enough to step out of the blind and relieve Oscar of his burden. For his part, Klus takes no credit for Oscar's achievements. "All I did," he observes, "is put him in the right environments and let his genetics take over from there. He does what he was bred to do." Klus hopes to get a puppy to carry on the family tradition, but while he's already iced down a quantity of Oscar's semen, he's still searching for the right match, i.e., an Oscar-worthy female. "Oscar has taught my clients and me more about wounded animal behavior and perceived shot placement than any human could," Klus asserts. "He's an incredible tool, but more importantly, an exceptional friend. I'm blessed that he picked me to be his owner." n "He was showing me the sign," Klus adds. Needless to say, he no longer doubts his dog; in fact, it's become a kind of running joke between them. Klus will tell Oscar he's full of you-know-what and Oscar will immediately "point" a spot of blood or some other piece of incontrovertible evidence—a potent reminder that our dogs operate in a world of scent that is brilliantly illuminated to them but dungeon-dark to us. This wiener dog is no one-trick pony, either. On pheasant and grouse hunts with the Labs, he rides in Klus' game pouch. Whenever a bird comes to hand, Klus dangles it in front of the opening, where, in the snap of a dachshund's jaws, it disappears inside. Those birds still showing signs of life seldom show them for long. He goes waterfowl hunting, too. Once, while the Labs were fetching ducks, Oscar took it upon himself to retrieve a wing- tipped Canada that had swum to shore. In the ensuing wrestling match, the goose managed to roll onto its back, wedge those big paddles beneath that little dog, and send him flying. Big mistake. Oscar's basically a friendly guy—"He goes into quite a few bars with me," Klus quips—but get on the wrong side of him and he morphs into 11 pounds of bad attitude. Last fall during a melee with a "Dozens and dozens," he shrugs. In this most recent season (2016), Oscar accounted for nine bears and five deer. The standard fee for Oscar's services is $500, but Klus vets his potential clients very carefully; as he puts it, "I don't want to have to follow Oscar five miles tracking a deer that's only been clipped in the leg." The flip side of that coin is that if Oscar tracks an animal for a long way without recovering it, there's a good chance the wound wasn't mortal—cold comfort, perhaps, but comfort nevertheless. O scar is what is known in the trade as a "silent tracker," but that doesn't mean he can't communicate loudly and clearly when he needs to. Early in their career as hunting partners, a disbelieving Klus would occasionally intone, "Oscar, you're full of shit!" when he felt his dog wasn't being honest. This came to a head one day when, following a wounded deer, Klus realized they were on the same trail for the third time. "Oscar, you're full of shit!" he barked. Oscar looked Klus straight in the eye, trotted off a few paces, and put his nose directly on the ground. When he didn't move Klus walked over, looked down—and saw a spot of fresh blood no bigger than a pinprick. It was as if Oscar was saying, "Full of shit, my ass!" "Why don't you develop cabin fever and go out for a run!" by john troy – courtesy skyhorse publishing