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Some of the biggest personalities on the Iditarod trail this year may not be Martin Buser, DeeDee Jonrowe or Jeff King but Shut up, Rascal and Wolf Man. As many mushers will tell you, each dog has its habits, quirks, and "issues." You don't have to be Sigmund Freud to race the Iditarod, but a bit of doggy psychology to cajole and calm your team doesn't hurt. "I have to be a dog," said Harald Tunheim, a musher from Norway who studies wolf behavior and applies it to his team. Tunheim considers his team a pack of wolves; he's the leader. "If I am good, it's harmony. If not, they know that one of them has to take over," he said. On the trail, Tunheim walks and talks dog. If he is angry, he growls. If he wants to calm a dog, he cups his hands over the animal's head, mimicking the way a mother dog puts its mouth lightly around a puppy's head to soothe the animal. But to get the dogs to give that extra push at the end of a race, Tunheim relies on a bit of human trickery. For some time, he has been making a particular sound every time his dogs encounter animals or snowmobiles, two things they enjoy chasing. Now when he makes the sound, the dogs think there is a snowmobile round the corner and pick up their pace. The Iditarod rookie just needs to be careful not to overuse the technique. Musher Harry Caldwell of Wasilla sings to his dogs on the trail to keep them calm. He's a fan of positive reinforcement, calling out the names of dogs in praise after they take the team round a tight turn or giving them "kissy face" in the dog yard, he said. But even affection can be a problem. If Caldwell pets a dog while the team is hooked on the line, the other dogs can get jealous and may try to attack the lucky pooch. To get around the problem, Caldwell pets on the sly. He will give the dog a little hug, while pretending to adjust its harness so the other dogs don't notice. "He's a diplomat," says his wife, Barbara Caldwell. Ed Iten, a Kotzebue musher, likes to think of himself as a basketball coach. "I've got 16 different personalities out there, and my job is to bring out the best in everybody. I work with their strengths and help them with their weaknesses," Iten said. If Iten is the coach, Freckles is the player who hates losing. The dog Iten describes as "ultracompetitive" can't stand seeing another team ahead of her, a trait Iten uses to his advantage. At the end of a race, when trying to pass the other mushers, Iten will put Freckles in lead. Otherwise she's in the back - forced to let other dogs on the team set a more reasonable pace. "If I left it up to her, she would drive the team into the ground," he said. Rascal, another hard charging dog, runs for the joy of eating. Rascal charges from check point to check point along the race route to get his next meal. "At first I thought he was this amazing dog, but now I know he is just looking at the food box at the next checkpoint," he said. Defending champion King has dogs who like to play hard and work hard. Among them is Egan, who's always barking in search of a playmate, and Jenna, who's up for a ball game any time. But when it's race time, King's "warriors" have an intense commitment to their work. "They are possessed," he said. Mike Williams, a 45-year-old Yupik Eskimo who has raced the Iditarod five times, believes the musher's personality rubs off on the dogs. "I am quiet so my dogs are quiet," he said. Williams, who works as a counselor, said he doesn't spend too much time trying to figure out what's going on inside his dogs' heads. "Dogs are dogs," he said. "The good ones get to race. The strange and bad dogs stay home." * @Credit:q Reporter Eve Rose can be reached at erose@adn.com
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