In my years of visiting Spain with L'Europe des Levriers, I had never heard of the Spanish hunters celebrating podencos - until recently, when on a chance visit to a facebook page I read a post from Kevin Walker about 'celebration' of the Podenco in Andalucia. Below you can read his report.
'From 2003 until 2012, I was fortunate to own a house and live in the inland Andalucian town of Cuevas de San Marcos. It was notable for several things. There were ancient caves in the cliffs above the town, we were a couple of kilometres from the huge reservoir and dam of Iznajar and it was said that we were the originators of the breed of dog, the Podenco.
There were certainly huge amounts of Pods around the town, many living in dubious situations. Hunting was still a pastime of some of the locals, but I am glad to say I saw it beginning to die out whilst I lived there. All around the village and surrounding countryside, there were what could loosely be described as ‘kennels’, where hunting packs were kept. Some were well looked after and exercised, but many were also kept in locked, dark garages. They never saw daylight from one hunting expedition to the next, and fed a dubious diet. It was heartbreaking to hear them scratching at the doors or howling through boredom. But, as I said, this practice did begin to cease over the years.
Some though were kept as pets. An old man round the corner from me had four, all beautifully kept and fed, and twice a day he would set off into the olive groves to exercise them. The cow farm had one too. He was very vocal and would almost scream at us if we came too near his territory.
Then one year, there was an event organised to celebrate the breed. It was well attended with, mainly Spanish men, driving to the showground in their four-wheel drive vehicles with carrying cages to transport their precious dogs. We attended too, out of interest. It was wonderful to see the many versions of Pods, from tiny, short legged souls, through the common brown ones to the tall, shaggy coated, cream beauties. And puppies, lovely puppies.
As we wandered around taking in the sights, I noticed an attractive large mound, planted with bushes and rocks, a fence around it and lots of men standing around it. Having always loved gardening and especially wild gardens, and walked over to take a look. That’s when the horror set in. There were officials with clipboards and stop watches, and every now and again, an eager Pod was lifted over the fence and placed on the mound. They went crazy with excitement as they zoomed around trying to find and hunt down the live wild rabbits that were also in the little compound. To be fair, there were burrows and holes for them to head for, but they stood no chance against the tenacious Pods. We headed quickly away and left the venue, feeling rather sick.
So, when you are fed up with your rescued Pod maybe ripping up furnishings and shoes, barking at noises, running off and refusing to return, howling at the moon etc, just imagine the life they may have come from, and what they had been bred to do, and give yourself a pat on the back for providing a new and special life for your furry friend, full of love, warm blankets and food you only have to chase round the bowl to catch.
www.kevinwalker-storyteller.com
Video of the event
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