Mushing and Snow Dogs: A Roundabout History

Anyone who’s ever walked a dog on a leash for the first time knows that a dog pulls. photo: AdobeStock

Common question: “My dog pulls on his leash. Why?”

Common answer: “It’s because dogs have an ‘opposition reflex.’ That’s why they’ll pull against anything pulling on them, move towards something moving away from them, or move away from something moving towards them.”

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! 

Sorry for the scream, but I do not want readers spreading this erroneous idea about canine physiology. Without boring you with all of the details about how this theory started, I will briefly say that the famed physiologist Ivan Pavlov called a lot of behaviors “reflexes” and the students of animal behavior mistakenly assumed that because Pavlov said it, it must be science. Not so.

Of course, many animals (humans included) do resist pressure. But we don’t do it as a reflex. Instead, as is the case with almost every animal behavior, we do it because we are motivated to perform the action, not because of a biological reflex. 

Of course, anyone who’s ever walked a dog on a leash for the first time knows that a dog pulls. This occurs because (a) the dog wants to interact with anything and everything right now, or (b) because the dog is afraid and wants to scare the stimulant by yelling and charging at it. In short, the dog is motivated to do this  action based on its wants and needs. (Without going into a diatribe, I’ll just say that leash walking is a learned skill for both humans and dogs, requiring practice, mechanical skill, and communication between the two beings. It has almost nothing to do with biological reflexes). 

I must admit that I, too, believed in the opposition reflex in my early training days. I even used working sled dogs as my example. “Dogs are so good at pulling sleds because of this reflex,” I’d assert blithely. (Dear past clients, I was wrong!).

But I used sled dogs as an example because I am fascinated by snow and the humans that live in extreme conditions in places like Lapland, Alaska, Siberia, and other frosty climes. And I am even more fascinated by the animals that live there. All of which is a very roundabout way of bringing us to my actual topic: the history of sled dogs. 

Sled dogs are working dog breeds such as the Alaskan Malamute, Husky, and Samoyed. They pull sleds because they have been trained to do so, not by reflexes, but by using things that motivate them as reinforcement. 

Archeologists believe the use of sled dogs first began around 8,000 years ago based on carbon-dated remnants of sleds and harnesses found with canine remains in Siberia. Now fast forward many centuries to when France began to imperialize various places, including northern Canada. Seeing native Canadians using dogs to pull sleds, the French appropriated this practice and called it “Marche!” based on the French verb meaning “walk.” Over the years, “Marche” etymologically evolved to the now-familiar command, “Mush!” 

And that’s why the trained behavior of a dog pulling a sled and pummeling the snow with its paws is today called mushing. As a lover of dogs and words, I cannot get over how cute that is. 

Of course, nowadays, there are famous mushing races held throughout the world every year, including the thousand-plus mile Alaskan Iditarod from Anchorage to Nome. There are even folks lobbying to get mushing recognized as an Olympic sport. 

All of this fascinates me. The idea that we humans found a way to motivate a dog to run across hundreds of miles of frozen snow and to do this repeatedly is astounding. And it supports a simple truth I still impart to clients today: we can train a dog to do almost anything they are physically capable of doing. 

That fact alone is a sort of miracle. That we can communicate with another being, another species, and understand each other, and achieve tangible goals together is the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced and the reason I am a dog trainer. Those “light bulb” moments when you and the dog suddenly get it are soul changing. That we can train dogs to do hard things for us is a gift.

So whether you’re a snow dog or a show dog, a bomb-sniffing veteran or a teacup senior, I am grateful to you and all canine companions. Thank you for allowing us to learn and grow with you. Thank you for being a dog.