Breed Profiles

The first Catalburun I ever saw made me stop walking. He came out of a farmyard in central Anatolia with a nose that looked split down the middle, two nostrils facing slightly different ways. My guide just grinned and said the dog found birds better than any spaniel he'd owned. I'd driven six hours to chase a rumor about a rare hunting dog, and the rumor had a face, and the face was the strangest thing I'd met in years around dogs.

Most people have never heard the name. The Catalburun is a Turkish pointer, a landrace really, kept by hunters in the Konya and Aksaray regions for generations. What sets him apart is that nose, the split or "double" nose that looks like two halves joined by a seam. Nobody bred it on purpose for looks. It just shows up in the line, and the hunters kept the dogs that had it because they swore the nose made the dog a better tracker. I'm not sure the science backs that up, but the dogs are undeniably good at their job.

I spent a morning watching one work a wheat field. He moved with the loose, economical stride of a dog who knows the ground, quartering back and forth, head down, then freezing with one paw lifted the way only a pointer does. When a quail flushed he didn't chase, he just marked it and looked back at his person, calm as a statue. That steadiness surprised me. I'd expected a flashy dog and got a quiet professional instead.

Temperament-wise he's the kind of dog who bonds to his people and tolerates the rest of the world with polite disinterest. The one I met leaned on his owner constantly, a heavy, happy lean, but gave me a wide circle until I'd earned a sniff. These aren't pushy dogs. They want a job and a person, and they're content with those two things. Strangers are fine, kids are fine, but the relationship with the hunter is the whole center of their world.

The body is built for the field. Medium-sized, lean, short-coated in liver or a speckled brown, with the kind of muscle that comes from real work rather than a treadmill. His ears are long and low, his tail a straight whip, and his eyes are dark and a little suspicious in the best way. He's not a glamour dog. He's a working dog who happens to have a face you can't forget.

Care is easy if you respect what he is. Short coat, a weekly brush, and not much else in the way of grooming. The hard part is the brain. A Catalburun without a job goes stir-crazy, and a stir-crazy pointer becomes a demolitions expert in your living room. Mine for the day needed a long walk and some scent games just to be civil, and even then he watched the door like he was clocking out early.

Health-wise the breed is lucky, mostly because it's never been popular enough to be wrecked by show fads. The split nose is cosmetic and doesn't seem to cause breathing trouble. Like any deep-chested hunting dog he can bloat, so I'd feed two smaller meals and skip the post-run water gulp. Ears need a look after a wet day in the field, since long floppy ears trap moisture and invite infection.

Training came down to respect, not force. The hunter I watched used a soft voice and a lot of patience, and the dog worked for praise and the occasional piece of dried meat. Harsh corrections would have shut this dog down, and a shut-down pointer is no use to anyone. Keep it light, keep it consistent, and he'll give you his whole heart.

I left Turkey with a different idea of what a rare breed is. The Catalburun isn't rare because someone engineered him in a kennel. He's rare because he stayed a working dog in a handful of villages, doing the same job his great-grandfather did. That's a kind of purity you can't buy, and it shows in every step he takes through the grass.

If you ever meet one, don't stare at the nose too long. He'll notice, and he'll judge you for it. Then he'll go back to the important business of finding birds, which is the only thing he ever really asked to do.

I'd love to say the breed is easy to find, but that's the catch. Outside Turkey you'll rarely meet one, and importing is a tangle of paperwork and a long flight for a dog built for hills, not cargo holds. If you want the type, look for a working-line breeder who values the nose and the nerve over the look, and ask hard questions about health and temperament before you fall for the face. A rare dog is only a good dog if the person behind him cared about the right things, and the Catalburun deserves that care more than most.