Seek And You Shall Find

Search & Rescue Dogs Seeing With Their Noses

By Hugh Jones

Home
Feature Stories
Vet's Voice
Bird Beat
Fe-Lines
Aunt Debe
Agility Tips
Miss Behavior
Dogs-The Right Stuff
Archives

Breeder Directory
Classifieds

Oklahoma City:
Event Calendar
Adoption Outreach

Animal Welfare
OKC Animal Welfare
Favorite Links
Let's Go Shopping

About Us
Authors' Bios
Advertising Info
Writer's Guidelines

Subscribe
Okla. Distributors
Contact Us

A miserable winter day. The wind is howling, it's flat cold, and the only one who doesn't mind is Millie. She's having fun.

The members of Pathfinder Search and Rescue, and a reporter willing to suffer for a story, trudge through underbrush, following the German Shepherd as she circles left and right, looking for Greg Metty. He's 10 feet up, hugging a tree trunk, hoping Millie hurries.

Most Saturdays, in most weather, the team practices. It's the only way to keep the handlers and dogs ready for the call. And they never know when the call will come. That's why they wear pagers and keep emergency packs nearby. It could be a natural disaster, like the May 3rd 1999 tornado, which the Moore-based team became intimately familiar with, or a lost child.

The Top Dogs of Pathfinder Search and Rescue, in a rubble pile they use for practice.
From left, Kay Dawson and Gero, Debra Potter and Ace, Steve Potter and Millie-B.

Today, they're practicing in a wooded area just north of Tinker Air Force Base. The members take turns hiding–sometimes, a long distance from the heated building we reluctantly left behind. Once the member is hidden–it may be in a clump of bushes, in a ditch under leaves, in a rubble pile or up a tree–the dogs get to play.

"Play?" I ask, while trying to stem the flow from my reddened nose. "This is play?"

"For them," says Steve Potter, urging Millie on. She runs ahead but keeps returning. She's confused, I think.

"She comes back to check on us, her pack, to make sure we're all here," says Kay Dawson. "She's in charge.

" Score: one for the dog, minus one for the reporter.

Minutes later, Millie runs 50 yards past the target and appears baffled. Now, I think, she is confused. Oh well, this will embarrass them, but then, how could anyone smell anything in this gale?

Nose in the air, Millie turns, gets her bearings and laser beams to the tree.

"The wind does funny things," says Potter, petting Millie while Metty climbs down. "The scent arched over here," he points, "ended up way over there where she picked it up."

Plus two dog, minus two reporter. "When the dogs are searching, they're in control," says Dawson. "We're the interpreters. We can guide them into wind patterns and such, but they're the ones seeing with their noses. We, so to speak, are blind."

Now that's an interesting way to put it: seeing with their noses. The dogs, with noses a million times more sensitive than ours, are forming a scent picture, kind of like showing humans the photo of a missing person. I'm a stranger to Millie. The next time we meet, she may not remember my face, but she'll recognize my scent.

What Pathfinder's dogs do is extraordinary. And their handlers? They're ordinary people, four women: a waitress, a homemaker, a business manager and an emergency medical technician. Both men are in the Air Force, stationed at Tinker. What they do after work is, likewise, extraordinary: volunteer their time, money, effort (and today, their comfort) for a good cause. On the team's brochure is a biblical message: blessed are those that give of themselves. Thus, the inspiration for this article's headline.

The Pathfinder team from left: Kay Dawson and Gero, Kacy Parker and Heidi, Steve Potter and
Millie-B, Debra Potter and Ace, Anna Dohrmann and Odin, Greg Metty and Tory.

Dawson, leader of "the pack," has trained dogs in various disciplines for 20 years. Potter and his wife Debra met her 10 years ago when they attended an obedience class she was teaching. Five years ago, they started Pathfinder, the only air scent SAR team in the state. And it's one of only a few groups that require dog and handler teams to be certified in all three rescue scenarios: urban, disaster and wilderness.

Why air scent?

"Most groups are tracking and trailing, following footprints," says Dawson. "They follow the exact trail a person walked. Our dogs follow the invisible path that the wind brings. They can take shortcuts to the direct source of the scent. It's a lot quicker. Last year, we were on a recovery mission at the crash site of an air force plane in Texas. There were 300 men walking a grid, and they couldn't find anyone. It took two dogs two hours. They did what 300 men couldn't do."

The dogs seek the scent cone. How it works: pardon me, but you smell, and it's unique. Fortunately, if you're lost, you also have skin. You constantly shed skin cells called rafts. Each raft carries bacteria and vapor, floating downwind in a cone-like pattern–narrow and concentrated at the source, becoming wider as the scent travels farther away. Once in the cone, the dog narrows it down to the source. On the other end, the handler must know what the dog is doing.

"There has to be a bond," says Potter. "You have to be able to read the body language, whether it's a look or whine."

Debra adds, "Its like when you've been married long enough you can finish each other's sentences. We finish the dog's sentence."

Listening to their banter as they walk back to the building, it's clear this is a close-knit group. "It takes a certain type of person to do this," says Debra. "We have people come out for a week, then quit, because it can be rough. It takes time. It takes commitment. It's a.…

"Lifestyle," says Potter, finishing her sentence.

So what drives them?

"It makes me feel good," says Debra, "knowing if my child is lost, these people will be out there looking for her." "It's being part of a team, this extended family," offers Metty. "And I love working with my dog Tory, watching her get excited and happy when she gets that alert. Her nose comes up, and she starts prancing as she works the scent. It's an incredible feeling, after you've trained and worked hard for so long, seeing it pay off."

It certainly paid off for Tory. Now, she learns to rescue others, but first, she had to be rescued. Metty got her from the Pets and People shelter in Yukon, after she was rescued from a puppy mill. "She was so frightened, no socialization," he says. "It took a long time to bring her around."

There are other rescues in the bunch. Kacy Parker's yellow Labrador was an abused dog that has blossomed under her care. "It's important to me to show how important she is," she says. "I want others to see what she can do, what a difference she can make."

The sixth member, Anna Dohrmann, juggles work, school and raising a family with Pathfinder. Heavy duty, yet, she confesses to being hooked on the rescue work. She says simply, "My dog makes me look good."

Dawson smiles at the comments as we rest temporarily in the building. "These dogs are with the people they were meant to be with."

For both, SAR is a tough test. Each dog-handler team has to pass initial runaway training and obedience, as well as the urban, disaster and wilderness certification. Then comes specialty training in water, cadaver recovery and scent discrimination. Also, the handler must be proficient in first aid (human and canine), CPR, map and compass, hazmat, crime scene preservation and heat and cold problems (yes, I'm learning about the cold problem). Pathfinder is the only Oklahoma team with a CLEET class, geared toward teaching law enforcement how to utilize SAR teams.

The dogs are trained to be scent and non-scent discriminatory. That means they can locate a specific, known victim when given an item the person has handled or locate all humans within a given area.

"They stick to business," says Dawson, "though Debra's dog did get distracted and stop for an open can of chocolate icing during the May 3rd tornado search."

"No he didn't!" Debra counters. "He took a lick as he went by, but he kept going."

For their contribution in that mammoth disaster, four Pathfinder dogs were inducted into the Oklahoma Veterinary Medical Association's Pet Hall of Fame. And the group has won other awards.

It doesn't stop there. Pathfinder extends its community service into programs like Sit and Stay, where they teach children (8,000 to date) what to do if lost in the woods. The kids get to meet the dogs, and they're taught about bite prevention too. "We do it through positive methods, nothing negative," says Potter. "And we'll talk to any group: school, church, scouts. There's no charge."

That's part of the extraordinary: there's no charge for anything they do. The hard part, says Dawson, is getting the word out. "It has been difficult, making the community aware that we're here and we're a resource, getting the public and law enforcement to understand what we do."

Maybe this story will help. Right now, though, my primary concern is it's time for the next search, and I'm still contemplating how low my body's core temperature can drop. "We follow three rules," says Dawson, slipping on her gloves and heading for the door. "Always trust your dog, never trust the victims–because they're always where you least expect them–and lastly, always trust your dog."

As I watch them succeed in practice after practice, I'm convinced. These are dogs you can trust–and admire

You Can Help

The day may come when you need Pathfinder, if you or a loved one are lost. Perhaps it's a parent with Alzheimer's who wandered off or a fishing buddy who drowned and can't be found. You never know when a May 3rd tornado might visit your neighborhood.

Pathfinder can't respond to public requests. The call comes through official channels: law enforcement or other SAR teams with that authority. When it does come, they'll be there at no charge. Nor is there a charge for any of their community services, like the Sit and Stay program.

There are several ways you can help insure Pathfinder will be there: If you think you and your dog have what it takes, you can try out for the team. Don't want to go that far? Then call 794-7987 and volunteer to be a victim. Dawson says the dogs can always use fresh scents to search for–they get tired of looking for the same ole people.

"If you'd like something different to do on a Saturday, and it doesn't have to be a cold one like today, you can come out, play hide and seek, meet the dogs, walk behind the handlers and see what we do," she says.

Don't want to get physical? Maybe you have a building or warehouse. The team is always looking for new sites to practice in.

Don't have a building? Open your wallet. Providing SAR and educational programs is expensive: travel, equipment, vet bills, etc. The dog harnesses alone cost $200 each. Among the items on Pathfinder's wish list, helmets and better radios.

"If we could get a few businesses to sponsor us at, say, $100 a year, we'd be set," says Potter.

They deserve your support.

Back to Features


	© Copyright 2000-02 Ashworth Publishing LLC (OK PetGazette) No part of this Web site may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior written permission from Ashworth Publishing LLC (OK PetGazette)