THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

This summary doesn’t begin to address the subject in depth, to do so would require a book, but I hope you’ll find what I’ve written interesting nonetheless. My biggest problem with this was not spending all week on it… the topic is so interesting, and almost every fact led to a question. (Territorial? Well, that’s a highly variable concept. How does it differ between species, say dogs and wolves for example.) You can see the problem here, but one of the great things about science is that it every answer generates new questions. That’s heaven for discovery junkies like me.

AFRICAN WILD DOGS  Lycaon pictus:

Also known as Cape Hunting Dogs or Painted Dogs, these canids are not “dogs” at all (note they are in a different genus than wolves and dogs). Called the wolves of Africa, they are highly social, territorial carnivores who are more dependent on group hunting than any other canid. They specialize in medium sized prey (Impala are their preferred prey) and like Hyenas, tend to rely on running their prey to exhaustion rather than the classic stalk and pounce of some canids and most big cats. (They also, like Hyenas, hunt mostly at night, thus stalking is of less importance under the cover of darkness.) They do NOT run in “relays” as often described, but tend to run in loose groups, well spread out, so that a zig-zagging quarry has a higher chance of running into another pack member when they change direction. AWDs have incredible stamina: they can run 5 km at 30 mph.

I’m not sorry I missed seeing a kill. AWDs have an incredibly high success rate as hunters (about 85%) and usually disembowl and begin consuming their prey before the animal is dead. Granted, it is probably in shock, and well might not be feeling anything at all, but I’ve seen a crocodile consume a Gazelle, and 3 African Bullalo kill another full grown buffalo, and a lion with a freshly killed zebra foal–and that’s enough for me.

Their social system is similar in many ways to that of wolves. There is usually only one breeding pair (but note there are exceptions in wolves, not sure if true in AWDs), along with non-breeding adults who also care for the young and provision the mother and pups. Unlike most social mammals in which the males leave the group and the females stay, related males stay in the pack in this species and older females emigrate if the pack becomes too large. They are completely reliant on being in a group. One study I read said that less than a group of less than 6 or 8 AWDs were incapable of successful reproduction (due no doubt to less predatory success). Their packs can become quite large, sometimes as many as 20 to 40 dogs will live in one pack.

What’s different about AWDs and Wolves is how the breeding pair maintain their rank. Apparently there are very few overt displays of aggression; you see almost none of the facial displays, growls or dominance  related actions that are commonly seen in wolves. AWDs were believed at one point not to have a social hierarchy, but careful study found that wild dogs assert their social status by assuming the same stalking posture that they use when hunting or by simply supplanting (taking the space of) another. You DO see a lot of submissive behavior, from ears-back, toothy-grinned submission displays, food begging & whining. Adults will often regurgitate food to adult pack members who missed out on a kill (which happens often, since the hunting pack is so dispersed and the food is usually consumed within just a few minutes.) (more…)

While we’re in Africa I’m sure all of us will have our eyes out for dogs, whether owned or feral. Out of the cities, most of the dogs I’ve seen in Kenya and Tanzania have been “village dogs,” although many of them are ‘owned’ by someone in the area. “Owned” just means something different there: When you ask “Is that your dog?” it’s common for someone to say yes, but the dog will have no name, no identification and clearly is relatively independent of people. Usually what they mean is that the dog is allowed to sleep in their yard, but that there is not much of a relationship otherwise. Even in the cities, the people I’ve talked to have said that dog ownership is relatively common, but that, at least for most Africans, dogs are often not allowed in the house and are primarily kept as guard animals.

Thus, guarding and protecting seems to be the most common function of dogs in urban and rural areas, although this is not to say that there aren’t lots of Africans who have pet dogs that they love and cherish. But the dogs you see driving around and in villages when on safari look like classic ‘village dogs’ and live relatively independent of people.

On previous trips I’ve noticed that every Masai and Samburu village we’ve visited has dogs hanging around. When asked, everyone says the same thing: the dogs are there to warn them of lions. I’ve never seen or heard of anyone using the dogs to manage or control livestock in any way. (This is mostly done by young children, who yell and throw stones to move animals from place to place.) The Masai and Samburu villages are protected only by thorn-tree fences constructed on the perimeter of the village, and the cattle and sheep are brought in every night and the thorny ‘gate’ is pulled shut behind them. Even inside, the animals (and people) are still sometimes vulnerable though to lions and the dogs are important warning systems for the inhabitants. I would think leopards are also a problem, having adapted to human settlements very well. I know that they are a major predator of dogs in some settlements–I’ll ask this trip if leopards are as big a problem as lions.

Here is a Masai woman with a pup at one village. (You can see the thorn fence behind her that is used to keep out night predators.) Truth be told, the impression I got was that the pup had rarely been handled, but the woman, being no dummy, noticed that we tourists found the dog fascinating, and she accommodated us by staying beside it and trying to pet it. I’ll try to take lots of pictures on this trip of dogs, and no doubt have lots to talk about when I get back . . .