Beyond the Labels: What Mantrailing Has Taught Me About My Dog

There's a particular narrative surrounding spaniels that I've never been especially fond of. They're often described as easily distracted, difficult to keep focused or too interested in hunting to pay much attention to their owners. The term 'crittering' frequently crops up in conversations, usually referring to a dog becoming interested in animal scent (or any other scent for that matter) rather than the task at hand. And whilst I understand where some of these observations come from, I can't help but wonder whether we're sometimes looking at perfectly natural behaviours through entirely the wrong lens.

Spaniels have been selectively bred for generations to use their noses, explore and work with enthusiasm and determination. Yet those very qualities can become a source of frustration when they don't fit neatly into our expectations. And really, following an interesting scent or becoming absorbed in the environment isn't exclusively a spaniel trait. It's part of being a dog.

But perhaps there's another way of looking at it. When something in the environment captures a dog's attention, I think it's worth considering what might be influencing that behaviour, including what they find rewarding. Rather than being quick to describe a dog as distracted, or attributing it to their breed, perhaps we could spend a little more time exploring what makes an activity genuinely worthwhile for that individual dog.

It's something I've reflected on a great deal through living and working with Frank, especially when I consider how much mantrailing has influenced our relationship, both on and off of trails.

Instincts Aren't the Enemy

Frank has an extraordinary enthusiasm for the world around him, a nose that rarely stops working and a genuine enjoyment of having something to do. He's also a dog who thrives on direction and engagement, something I've come to understand through years of learning and working together.

Mantrailing gives him the opportunity to use his natural abilities in an environment where his decisions matter. When he's working, I'm not telling him where to go or which way to turn. He's interpreting the scent, solving problems and deciding how to proceed, whilst I learn to understand what he's communicating and support him without interfering.

Watching him work with such confidence, independence and sheer enjoyment is something I will never tire of. He is determined, thoughtful, enthusiastic and occasionally rather creative in his approach. But what I've come to appreciate most isn't necessarily what happens whilst we're mantrailing. It's what those experiences have taught me about Frank, and how that understanding has shaped our everyday lives.

When Engagement Becomes a Choice

Our walks are rarely just walks. Frank loves having something to think about, so we play games, explore together and find little challenges along the way. Sometimes it's searching for something I've hidden, sometimes it's an impromptu game, and sometimes we simply make use of whatever our surroundings have to offer. To somebody watching, much of it probably looks like training. To us, it's just having fun together.

What I find so lovely is how much Frank actively wants to be involved. I can see when he's picked up an interesting scent; his behaviour changes just enough for me to recognise that something has caught his attention. Yet I often watch him disengage from that scent and return his attention to what we're doing together, without me needing to call him away. He seems to find our shared adventures every bit as worthwhile.

Of course, every dog is different, and there are plenty of reasons why one dog might find it harder than another to disengage from an interesting scent. I'm certainly not suggesting that mantrailing is a solution to chasing wildlife, or that a dog's willingness to engage with us is a measure of the relationship we share. This is simply what I've observed with Frank, and it's encouraged me to think more carefully about the value we create in the activities we enjoy with our dogs.

And I think this is where some of those familiar breed stereotypes deserve a little more consideration. Frank hasn't somehow become less of a spaniel because he enjoys engaging with me rather than pursuing every interesting scent. His natural instincts haven't disappeared, and I certainly haven't tried to remove them. But by understanding what he finds rewarding, we've developed a relationship where exploring the world together has genuine value to him.

There's something really wonderful about the contrast between Frank's independence whilst mantrailing and his desire to engage with me in everyday life. On a trail, I want him to make decisions confidently without constantly looking to me for direction. Away from a trail, I have a dog who actively seeks opportunities for us to do things together. I don't see those qualities as contradictory, and I believe they've developed alongside one another as we've learned to understand each other better.

Beyond the Trail

I love mantrailing for everything it offers. Watching dogs interpret scent, work through difficult environments and solve problems using abilities we can barely comprehend is endlessly fascinating. But when I think about what mantrailing has given Frank and me, the sport itself is only part of the story.

It's taught me to observe him more carefully, appreciate his individual way of working and recognise when to step back and let him figure things out. It's helped me understand what motivates him and how I can bring more of that enjoyment into our everyday lives. Of course, mantrailing isn't solely responsible for the relationship we share, but I genuinely believe it's played an important part in it.

Perhaps most importantly, it's made me consider how much emphasis we sometimes place on teaching our dogs to listen to us, without giving quite as much thought to how well we're listening to them.

Frank is a dog who loves using his nose, exploring the world and having something interesting to do. I wouldn't change any of that about him. What I treasure is that, amongst all the fascinating things the world has to offer, he finds so much enjoyment in sharing it with me.

And perhaps that's why I've become increasingly reluctant to accept some of the labels we attach to dogs, particularly when those labels are so closely tied to their breed. It's easy to describe a dog as distracted, stubborn or 'self-employed', but those descriptions rarely tell us the whole story.

I don't expect everyone to see their dog in the same way I see Frank, or to have the same experiences we've had. But I do hope his story encourages a little more curiosity about the individual behind those labels, and perhaps a little more appreciation for the things that make each dog who they are.

Because for me, the greatest thing mantrailing has given us isn't something that can be measured by what happens on a trail. It's the understanding we've developed along the way, and everything that's come from it.

And that's what makes mantrailing so much more than a dog sport.