Christian Schierbeck - Den ægte islandske Spids

Christian Schierbeck was born in 1872 in Denmark and completed his medical studies in Reykjavík in 1900. He worked as a doctor in Reykjavík during 1901 and 1902. Christian Schierbeck married the Danish woman Berta Schultz in Reykjavík in 1900, and during their stay, they lived on Laufásvegur in the city center. From Iceland, they moved to Norway and then to Australia, where he died in 1917, only 45 years old.

Schierbeck acquired the dog Sámur, who attracted attention in Denmark, and he lamented that the Icelandic sheepdog was not well-known in Denmark and had become rare in Iceland. He wrote an article about the "Icelandic Spitz" that was originally published in Vore Hunde in 1900.

Schierbeck was one of the first to point out that the Icelandic dog population was declining in its homeland.

Part of his article appears in Watson's book, but the full article can be found on the Danish website Naskur.dk.

I received permission to republish the article here in translation_._

The True Icelandic Spitz
By Chr. Schierbeck, M.D., Reykjavík. Originally published in Vore Hunde, 1900.

Sámur and I have now spent approximately 2 1/2 hours at the Hansen & Weller photo studio – the result was dozens of failed plates.

We had the best one printed, and the result now appears as an artistic supplement to Vore Hunde.
Readers of Vore Hunde may not understand that Sámur’s stay here in this country was one continuous triumph. It started in the kennel with flattering comments from cynologists; it continued on the street, where we were constantly called after: "Look at that beautiful animal!" "No, have you seen the dog, he looks like a bear!" "Daddy, isn’t that a wolf walking there?" "I’ve never seen a dog like that before!" and so on and so forth. Similar comments and high praise of the utmost kind rained down on Sámur in cafés and gathering houses. It reached a peak when the editor of Vore Hunde visited me here in Amaliegade to ask for a picture of Sámur for his famous magazine.

I mention all this only to emphasize that I am not the only one who admires the beauty of the true Icelandic Spitz. Those who have admired Sámur the most have been people with a far greater cynological understanding than mine. And he has won the hearts of refined women with storm. The Great Dane, the Greenlandic Spitz, and the Icelandic Spitz seem to me to form a three-leaf clover that should be bred at home.

But why has the old, true Icelandic dog been forgotten; the dog mentioned in the oldest Nordic sagas (my dog is named after the famous dog of Gunnar in the Njáls Saga); the dog the Norse Vikings brought to Iceland; which has kept its breed pure for more than a thousand years, indispensable to every Icelandic herder, as it is so wonderfully wise at retrieving, gathering, and recognizing sheep; the dog that is so loyal it would rather die than leave its master (Sámur has proven that to me) – why has this wonderful animal been forgotten in Denmark?

Yes, I know it hasn’t been completely forgotten. But one must admit that those who truly own the genuine Icelandic dog, who can stand up to critical scrutiny, are, to put it mildly, very few. The reason why the Icelandic Spitz is so incredibly rare here is first and foremost the sad fact that, despite everything said to the contrary, it is also rare in Iceland itself. It is now only found on rural farms located by remote fjords, where there is very little shipping traffic and until recently, none at all. In all the well-known fjords and in Reykjavík itself, the breed has been mixed with numerous French and English dog breeds found there. Another reason it’s not kept here at home is fear of the notorious tapeworm, as prevalent among Icelandic sheepdogs, purebred or not, as among Australian sheepdogs.

I will discuss these two points in more detail: the characteristics of the breed and tapeworms. First, the characteristics of the true Icelandic Spitz, brought to Iceland by the Norse Vikings, or perhaps earlier by Irish monks, from Britain.

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The Breed

The dog is somewhat shorter (about a hand’s width) and smaller than the Greenlandic Spitz. Its coat is thick and filled with wool that can be combed out in clumps when it sheds. This is therefore a real coat; it has shiny, soft, and long hairs that somewhat resemble the fur of a bear. The colors are usually white, golden white, or spotted brown, more rarely black. I have only once seen a completely black purebred in Iceland. The front part of its body is unusually developed compared to the back, which is slender and narrow.

In terms of body structure and lines, the same general difference exists between the Icelandic Spitz and the Great Dane as between the Icelandic horse and the Danish horse: the Icelanders are smaller, with stronger front parts and weaker rear parts, and this applies to both the dogs and the horses. I consider this an indication that the Icelandic Spitz, like its brother, the horse, is a mountain animal; accustomed through thousands of generations to dangerous leaps on steep mountains, while the Danish dog (the Great Dane), like the Danish horse, is an animal of the plains.

Between the toes, the Icelandic sheepdog has distinct webbing (it swims extremely well across rough glacial rivers!). The head is pointed, even more so than that of the Greenlandic dog. The eyes are large, intelligent, and highly expressive. As with all mountain dogs, it is also characteristic of this one that it sees and hears exceptionally well, while its sense of smell is less developed than that of plain-dwelling dogs.

The ears – yes, here comes one of the breed’s distinguishing features – must be able to stand completely upright; not a single millimeter of the outer edge of the pointed ear may droop when the animal listens, and it listens almost constantly when outside: then the conical, finely-haired ears stand erect like a horse’s ears. Most dogs in Iceland have drooping ear tips even though the ears are perked, making it immediately clear that they are crossbreeds.

On purebred animals, the wedge-shaped head merges with a beautiful, broad, and fluffy mane that rises like that of a bear. Behind the ears, it rises like a priest's collar when the animal bends its head. The body tapers, and the hindquarters are, as mentioned before, noticeably smaller. The tail should be very bushy (thick) and curl up like a bell over the back, where the hairs form a sort of part under the curved end of the tail. On the ears, mane, and tail, purebred animals can be distinguished from crossbreeds in Iceland.

Females have a much weaker mane and tail and are generally much smaller. Thick hair growth around the rump is yet another adornment of these animals. Each front leg has small dewclaws; each back leg has well-developed double dewclaws. The beautiful shape does not appear properly in photographs because the animal is too lively to stand still long enough to be posed and “taken.” Sitting still is something my dog can do better, but then you mostly only see the strong chest. The thick coat allows it to withstand the harshest cold. Snow is the dog's favorite environment, where it plays with true joy. When I first saw Sámur, he lay one winter night at 1 a.m. in the shelter of a large snowdrift, sleeping, while a fierce snowstorm howled around my horse and me, and snow drifted over his furry body; but he slept calmly, as if in his mother's bed. If they are well-bathed, they never get lice. I believe that fleas cannot survive in the dense wool. The fact is, I’ve never owned a dog that was as flea-free as Sámur.

Regarding the mental characteristics of the breed, I must be briefer than I would like due to space. The true Icelandic dog is incredibly quick to learn – it learns ordinary tricks as easily as a good poodle. As a mountain dog, it has an extraordinary sense of direction, which is also a great advantage for a dog kept in a large city. Sámur found his way home from Frederiksberg to Niels Juelsgade after a two-day stay in Copenhagen (he had never been in a city before!), where I lost him, and he sat waiting for me when I arrived. He is as loyal as any dog, I think. When he is sad (if left at home), he doesn’t whine like a fool but curls up and quietly accepts it. He expresses joy in a very exuberant manner and rarely needs to be reminded and almost never scolded.

He is used in Iceland to drive sheep and horses together and keep them in herds. His best work is done in the autumn when, from far away, even from over a thousand feet in elevation, he is sent to fetch sheep down from the mountains, where the farmer only occasionally sees a white spot far, far away. Then the dogs are sent out after them, recognizing each lamb in the herd; and without the dogs, the herder could not gather the sheep at all on the dangerous and long roads. The dogs are so indispensable that, for example, only about twenty years ago, when a dog plague swept the country and killed over 3/4 of Icelandic dogs, one horse and two sheep were offered for a single true Spitz! But as I said before, the true dogs are now almost extinct, and one must travel far and wide into the country, especially to remote districts, to find a true Icelander.

The Tapeworm

Regarding tapeworms, I must be very brief. In fact, this question doesn’t really belong in this magazine, but as a doctor, I can’t help but make a few superficial remarks on the subject. Over 95% of all dogs in Iceland (both purebred, imported, and mixed breeds) host a 4 mm long tapeworm in their intestines, which is called Taenia echinococcus in Latin. The tapeworm common in Danish dogs and harmless to humans—_Taenia coenurus_—is also somewhat common in Iceland. However, only 1 to 2% of dogs in Denmark carry these same harmful tapeworms (echinococcus). The eggs of this tapeworm are expelled with the dog's feces, and it’s not uncommon for a dog in Iceland to have such eggs on its snout.

If such an infected dog licks a plate that isn’t later cleaned thoroughly—or even worse: licks a person—the risk of transmission is present. The eggs of the tapeworm (echinococcus) need to go through a larval stage, the so-called cyst stage (hydatid) in humans or sheep. These insignificant tapeworms, unfortunately, have enormous larvae. So enormous that I have seen them in humans, where they could fill an ordinary water bucket. It sounds like a fairy tale, but it is unfortunately all too true. If one of these eggs enters a person’s digestive system, it develops into a tiny larva that travels through the intestinal wall and usually settles in the liver (liver echinococcus). There, it grows into a tumor that typically becomes as large as a human head. Only surgery can then provide a cure. And many patients die from this prolonged disease (the illness often lasts many years, up to 20 years).

As mentioned earlier, the dog carries a mature but small tapeworm. Humans are usually infected by dogs; dogs are infected by sheep, which, like humans, host these enormous larvae (hydatid cysts). Dogs are easily infected because they are unfortunately still often fed raw scraps of meat after the slaughter of sheep. The hydatid cyst mainly resides in the fat membrane of the sheep (less often in the liver, as in humans)—and the fat membrane is only suitable as fertilizer and dog food. Moreover, hydatid cysts, which are transmitted from dogs, are the most common tumors in humans in Iceland.

It is now legally required that every dog undergo a deworming treatment twice a year, aimed at killing and removing these small, dangerous parasites from the intestines of dogs. The treatment is as follows: First, the dog is fasted for 24 hours and confined to a shed. Then, it receives 5 grams of areca nut and must remain in the shed for 6 hours. By then, the areca nut has taken effect, and one of the results is significant defecation. Afterward, the dog is bathed, and the treatment is complete. Many dogs die during this treatment. In my opinion, this treatment alone is not reliable.

The most important thing is that the dog does not eat raw slaughter remains of sheep. Although it is legally required to bury these remains, only a few Icelandic dogs are fed exclusively cooked or fried meat—most still receive raw meat. I have deliberately not hidden this danger from the readers of _Vore Hunde_—I, who have seen so many serious and painful cases of hydatid disease in humans, have felt it my duty to warn against careless purchases of Icelandic dogs through merchants or farmers there. Sámur is completely free of these tapeworms, having undergone many difficult treatments, and in the 2 years that I have owned him, he has never had the opportunity to eat raw meat and now has such an aversion to it that he won’t touch it.

In March, Sámur is to mate—he is now 2 1/2 years old and therefore at the age where "street meetings" are no longer sufficient. If I manage to get a good puppy, I plan to offer one or two for one (or two) of the readers of Vore Hunde. They will cost nothing except transportation and any possible veterinary certificates here. As a doctor, I can guarantee that such puppies will be free from Taenia echinococcus (I will not send them until I have observed them for some time). Next March (1901), I am returning to Iceland, and a year later, 1 or 2 puppies will likely be available. My dog was once offered to a Parisian by a Scottish collie breeder for an additional 100 francs. A doctor in London wanted to buy him from me for 10 pounds sterling—but even if I were offered 50 pounds, I would not sell him. I mention this at the end only to show how highly the dog is valued abroad as well.

Photo: Christian Schierbeck and Berta, his wife. Schierbeck holds a puppy that is Sámur’s offspring. The photo was taken in Lillehammer, Norway.