Why Are Great Danes Interested in Squirrels

My squirrel fixation comes down to ancient wolf ancestry that’s still running the show. Those quick, erratic movements trigger an instinctual response before my brain even catches up. My nose picks up squirrel scent markers humans can’t detect, and my ears lock onto scratching sounds they’ll never hear. I’m convinced I’m a nimble hunter despite weighing 150 pounds. Look, I know what you’re thinking – “Yeti, you’re basically a small horse.” And yeah, that’s fair. But here’s the thing: squirrels don’t know that. They see me coming and assume I have the coordination to match my enthusiasm. Spoiler alert: I don’t. Last week, I tried to chase one and somehow got tangled in a lawn chair. The squirrel stopped halfway up the tree to watch. Pretty sure it was laughing. But I keep trying because that’s what we do. It’s like my brain sees a squirrel and goes, “This is it. This is your moment.” Even though my moment usually ends with me confused about how I got into the neighbor’s recycling bin.

The Ancestral Prey Drive Behind Your Great Dane’s Squirrel Obsession

Here’s the thing people don’t get: I’m not crazy. Well, I mean, I sleep on a memory foam bed that costs more than most people’s first car, so maybe I’m a little crazy. But when it comes to squirrels? That’s just science.

My great-great-great-great-great-grandpa was a wolf. And wolves didn’t have fancy food bowls with their names on them. They’d catch stuff. So my brain is basically running on ancient wolf software, except I’m using it to chase rodents in a fenced backyard instead of hunting elk or whatever.

When a squirrel shows up, something clicks. One second, I’m lying on the couch thinking about absolutely nothing, which is most of the time if I’m being honest. The next second, there’s this fuzzy thing dancing the fence, and my brain goes, “Oh, we’re doing this now.”

It’s not like I’m planning to hurt anybody. I probably wouldn’t even know what to do if I caught one. I’d be like, “Uh, hi? Want to see my toy collection?”

But when they run those weird zig-zag patterns and stop and start like they’re messing with me on purpose, my wolf ancestors are basically yelling at me through time to DO SOMETHING. Emotional states significantly influence my behavior, which is why I can’t resist the chase.

I can’t explain it any better than that. The squirrel runs. I chase. It’s pretty simple, really.

How Movement and Quick Reflexes Trigger Your Great Dane’s Hunting Instincts

So yeah, the squirrel runs, and I chase. That’s pretty much the whole deal. My brain doesn’t even get a vote.

When something small zooms across the yard, my eyes are already locked on before the rest of me catches up. The movement just triggers everything. Fast, jerky, totally random squirrels basically flip every switch in my giant head at the same time.

This whole thing isn’t something I learned at obedience school or anything. It came with the package. Standard features. My eyes zero in, my muscles get all tight, and my legs are already doing their thing.

The squirrel’s quick moves make it even worse, to be honest. Every time it zigs or zags, my brain hits the reset button, and we’re back to square one.

I’m not sitting there thinking “Oh boy, dinner.” I’m not really thinking about anything. The chase happens in this weird zone before actual thoughts kick in, where if it moves, I go after it. Pretty straightforward.

Something runs. I follow. That’s my whole system. Mental stimulation is essential for keeping my instincts in check.

The Role of Scent and Sound in Squirrel Detection

I smell the squirrel way before my human figures out what’s going on. My nose is basically a supercomputer, and Dad’s is like a calculator from 1987. He tries, bless his heart.

Here’s what I pick up on:

1. That funky squirrel fur smell they leave all over the tree bark (it’s like their cologne, and it’s terrible)
2. Their pee spots along the fence (they’re marking territory, which is bold considering whose yard this actually is)
3. Those tiny scratchy sounds their claws make on branches (they’re not as sneaky as they think)
4. That annoying chittering noise they make when they believe they are safe (spoiler alert: they’re not)

My ears are basically high-tech radar dishes. Dad’s ears? They’re decorative. I can hear a squirrel scratching around thirty feet up like it’s happening right next to me. Meanwhile, Dad’s standing there squinting at nothing.

Here’s my whole routine: I do the head tilt, freeze like a statue, and lock eyes on the target. Dad looks where I’m looking and sees absolutely nothing. Then, like five whole seconds later, he finally spots the tail.

“Oh, there it is!” he says, like he discovered it. Sure, Dad. You got there eventually. I knew three minutes ago, but who’s counting? Sniffing allows Great Danes to read the “neighborhood newspaper” written in scents, providing information about the environment and past events.

Why Size Doesn’t Diminish Your Great Dane’s Natural Hunting Behaviors

When you’re 150 pounds of dog, you’d think the whole stealth-predator thing would be a lost cause. Yet here I am, Yeti, still committed to the chase. My hunting instincts don’t consult a scale before activating, which is probably for the best.

Trait	What You’d Think	What Actually Happens
Speed	Lumbering around	I’ve got some surprisingly quick bursts
My agility	Clumsy as a newborn giraffe	Pretty nimble when there’s a squirrel involved
Determination	Give up easily	I will not quit, ever

I’ve launched after squirrels with the confidence of a much smaller, way more aerodynamic animal. Like, I really believe I can catch them. The disconnect between how I see myself and what I actually look like is pretty wild. Evolution hardwired these behaviors into me before anyone thought, “Hey, let’s make this dog the size of a small horse.” The prey drive just didn’t get the memo about the size upgrade. I still think I’m built for this work, and honestly, nobody’s gonna convince me otherwise. My playful antics and gentle nature keep the pursuit fun, even if I don’t always catch my furry friends.

Managing and Redirecting Your Great Dane’s Squirrel Chasing Tendencies

My humans caught on real fast that asking a Great Dane to ignore squirrels is about as realistic as asking a teenager to put down their phone.

So they got smart and started working with my brain instead of fighting it.

Here’s what actually works:

1. Delicious treats that show up right when squirrels do (we’re talking cheese, not those dry biscuits)
2. A “watch me” command we practiced so much that I could do it in my sleep
3. Playing fetch before our walks so I’m not wound up like a spring
4. Taking different routes to dodge that big oak tree where Steve the Squirrel hangs out, being all dramatic

Look, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you I’m fixed.

When a squirrel runs by, something deep inside me wakes up like it’s the most important thing in the world.

But now I pause for like half a second, which is just long enough for my humans to wave a piece of hot dog in my face.

It’s not perfect, but it’s something. Regular exercise and mental stimulation help keep my focus sharper during our walks.

Final Thoughts

Look, I’m Yeti, and I need you to understand something about these squirrels. They’re not just small furry things; they’re basically taunting me on purpose.

My human thinks I’ve “lost my mind” when I see one, but that’s not what’s happening. What’s happening is my entire body goes into code red because there’s a tiny gray thing that moves like it’s being controlled by a remote with dying batteries. Up, down, sideways, freeze, zoom—it’s chaos with a tail.

I weigh 150 pounds. I know this because I heard the vet say it slowly to my human, like it was bad news. The squirrel weighs maybe two pounds if it’s been eating well. But here’s the thing, size doesn’t matter when something’s running away from you. That just makes you want to chase it more. It’s like when someone takes your phone. You weren’t even using it, but now you need it back immediately.

My human says I’m running on “ancient instincts” like I’m some kind of outdated computer program. And honestly? Yeah. That’s pretty accurate. Somewhere deep in my brain, there’s a voice that just goes “CHASE IT CHASE IT CHASE IT” the second I see something move real quick. I don’t make the rules. I live here.

Can I be trained to ignore squirrels? Probably. Do I want to be? Absolutely not.