Two weeks after I adopted Winger, we headed off on our adventure. It was May 1998, Winger was four and I was 22. I had just finished my second last year of my university forestry degree, and had accepted a job tree planting in northwestern Ontario

I had wanted a dog for awhile, and after finally narrowing down what breed and characteristics I wanted in a dog, I applied to an organization to adopt one. I realized I only had a few weeks before I had to started work, so I left it up to fate, I would apply, and if nothing came of it, I would try again in the fall. Well I was referred to the exact dog I had described on my application, the dog of my dreams, Winger. This won't be a story of his former life, and where he came from, this is instead, a story of the beginning of Winger's new life.

I had no idea what to expect in my new working companion. Would he even like the bush? I knew that he had field training in the past, but training in the field and living in it was going to be two different things! I also knew that he hadn't been exercised in awhile and he'd have to get in shape, but I wasn't too worried about that, I had to get into shape too! But he had mild-moderate hip displasia, would he be able to handle it?

Right from the first day, Winger was one happy dog. While still in the bush camp, everyone took turns throwing things for Winger, and when they weren't paying attention, he was dragging branches and dropping them at their feet. The entire first week, the pad's on Winger's feet were completely raw. He had to wear socks at night to keep him from licking them. I actually had to leave him with the cook at camp to watch him for a couple days, as I was so worried about his feet.

At first, because he just didn't have much muscle tone at all, Winger had a hard time manovering over the downed trees and terrain. He would find a tree and curl up, and as I moved on, he would get up and move closer to lie under a tree again. But as the days went by, Winger just blossomed. He would be so excited to get up at dawn and face another day. We rode on an old school bus to be able to get all the planters to the cut blocks. Winger and I would share a seat, him sitting by the window, and me against the aisle. As soon as bus stopped, Winger would shoving past me, so eager to get outside. As everyone is standing up gathering their planting shovels and bags, Winger would be weaving through their legs to get to the front of the bus. He sure heard his share of nasty words from the sleepy, cranky, planters sometimes! Off the bus he'd get, usually first. He would run up the narrow bush road, flop down, and roll around snorting in the dust and dirt. Same flop every day.

Winger would always start the day with me. He would follow me, dropping sticks in each hole that I dug for the next tree. He'd eventually get bored of me not throwing enough of them for him and he would go exploring. Most of the time he was within earshot and when I gave a whistle, he would come running. I kept tags on his collar so I would be able to hear him.

Winger was always happy treeplanting. Even in the pouring rain, when I was shivering, unable to feel my fingers, Winger would be soaked to the bone and still dropping sticks for me. On the really hot days, Winger would curl up under the tree tarp with the cool boxes of trees and relax. Somedays there would be waterholes in our planting area and Winger would jump in and swim around, back and forth, in the water, out of the water. Sometimes on the hotter days I would beg him to come and shake off some of that water on me.

Every time I had to load up on trees, I would return out to the tree cache for quick breather, filling up on trees, water, and a quick snack. Winger would continue to bring me sticks, and if no one paid any attention to him, then he would get bigger sticks. A few time he even managed to drag full sized logs up onto the road!

Winger was not comfortable around other dogs when I adopted him. Some of the other planters had canine companions too, and some of these dogs were poorly trained intact males. At first when they challenged Winger he would fight them, but as the summer wore on he learned to just ignore them. By the end of the summer, one of the females, an Akita had a crush on Winger and loved to follow him all over! But Winger just went about his ways and didn't pay her much attention.

The only times Winger was truly feeling any kind of misery was during the last few weeks when the horse flies got really bad. These huge flies buzz around and around your head. Winger learned how to win the game though, he'd eat them!! He was always biting at the air, running away from those miserable bugs. Mosquitos and black flies were easier on him, he would totally immerse himself in any mud or swamp he could find and walk around completely black and muddy!! Then they'd stay away!

During the summer, Winger's muscles returned, his coat thickened and began to shine, and he could leap logs, and run through a cut over. Even when a nasty bush road incident ripped off the stairs of that old bus, Winger was able to jump into the bus without any assistance. I tried to take advantage of his energy and teach him how to screef (dig through the top duff layers for me) but he wasn't too interested in helping me plant the trees! But every time I tossed away an empty soil container in which a tree didn't grow, Winger would always think that it was part of the game and would bring that empty peat pod back to me.

On tough, miserable days, Winger would be there to cheer me up. And if a thunderstorm rolled in, I was there for him. I never made any money on the stormy days. Winger is afraid of the thunder, and stuck to me like glue. He would always duck under me as I bent over to pop another tree into the ground.

And just as he always ran off that bus the same way every day, he also got back on it in his own way. During the last hour of every day, Winger would find a way to get himself completely wet and muddy again for ride home.

When I adopted Winger he was eating about 3 cups of kibble a day, but as the work began, Winger was eating 8-10 cups of kibble a day just to keep some meat on his bones!! At night, he would sleep like a rock until the dawn.

By the end of our contract, Winger was a happy, strong golden, who was so much more confident of himself. He learned how to trust other dogs, and to be comfortable around them, although he did always prefer the attention of people. I left the life of treeplanting after that contract, for a higher paying forestry office job, and leaving Winger in my house each day was the hardest thing to do. I would rush home from work to drive us out to the beach or a conservation area for a couple hours. I felt so guilty changing Winger back into a house dog in town again, but I realized that he was still happy.

Sometimes at night when Winger is dreaming, I can see his paws racing, and his whiskers twitching, and I always wonder if reliving one of his wilderness adventures...