A nose for work in Hennepin County

The newest recruit in the Sheriff's Office may look like nothin' but a hound dog, but deputy dog Hercules is ready for duty at the first scent of trouble.

By MARY JANE SMETANKA, Star Tribune

Last update: October 15, 2008 - 9:49 AM

Police dogs. You know the type. They're German shepherds, mostly -- canine soldiers with bright eyes and hair-trigger reactions, obediently dropping into a sit at a whispered command. Then there's Hercules the bloodhound.

He got his badge at a Hennepin County Sheriff's Office promotion ceremony on Tuesday right after two handsome shepherds, and drew a reaction they didn't: a collective "Awwwww" from a smitten audience of spectators.

Gangly and loose-limbed, the rusty-coated Hercules ambled down the aisle to the front of the room, nose to the carpet. His tail was high, his black jowls swinging. He sniffed a deputy's pants leg, then squeezed between a row of officers to gaze out a big window at downtown Minneapolis, showing his rear end to the crowd.

When he sank onto the carpet in a perfect "down," his surprised handler, Deputy Barry Heikkinen, told the crowd that Hercules knows how to "lay down and drool. Good dog!" Then he pinned badge No. 9023 to Hercules' harness.

Hercules was officially a deputy dog.

The 15-month-old is the first bloodhound owned by the Hennepin County Sheriff's Office. At 95 pounds, he is still a lanky youngster (he'll weigh 110 pounds when he fills out) and a relative rookie at tracking. But with almost 200 training tracks to his credit, he already knows what he's doing.

In the past two weeks, Hercules and Heikkinen have set out on four cases. Hercules didn't get to finish any of them. The targets in three of the cases -- a missing man with Alzheimer's, a suspect in a home invasion and a missing vulnerable adult -- were found by someone else before the dog got a chance to finish his tracking. In the fourth, Hercules raced along the hot trail of suspects in a Brooklyn Park home invasion until he got to a busy intersection, and then cast around fruitlessly for a scent. Witnesses later told police they had seen the suspects get on a bus at that location.

Hercules still got his reward: playful hugs and high-pitched baby talk from Heikkinen.

"He works for praise," Heikkinen said.

Obedience is the last thing Hennepin County wants from Hercules. Tracking bloodhounds act on what their nose tells them, something obedience training might ruin if Hercules started listening too much to Heikkinen rather than his nose.

"They ain't gonna take none of that direction," said Duke Snodgrass, who runs the 832 K-9 program in Florida that raised and trained Hercules. "They're gonna stink, they're gonna slobber, and they're gonna track."

Hercules (who doesn't smell) was donated to the program by a New York kennel. Raising and training a hound costs about $15,000; Hennepin County contributed $3,000 to get Hercules. While most of the tracking bloodhounds trained in the Snodgrass program are girls -- they learn faster, are less squirrelly as adolescents and their smaller frames help them last longer as trackers -- big Hercules was something special from the start, Snodgrass said.

"He's different, a real gentleman," he said.

Heikkinen trained with Hercules in South Carolina and Florida for three weeks before the dog came to Minnesota. He said most of that training was to teach him to read the dog. Hercules tracks in a zig-zag, circling if he loses a scent and running if the scent is hot. He snaps his head when he catches or regains a scent, Heikkinen said he is trained to paw at a door if he knows his prey is inside. He jumps on the people he finds. Bloodhound lore says the wrinkles on his forehead and his big ears help trap scents, as does the drool that sometimes dangles from his jowls.

At home, Hercules is a big puppy, chewing on blankets and socks and trying to engage Heikkinen's other two dogs in play. But he knows that when Heikkinen brings out the harness, it means work.

"It's what he lives for," the handler said. "It's a game for him."

Mary Jane Smetanka • 612-673-7380

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