Gem Gem is a prospector of smells. Snow gives her the opportunity to test her olfactory prowess. I mean, what's challenging about summer turf for a shepherd? As she prances, hunts, and tracks, sniffing with the acuity of a Geiger counter, she plugs her snout into the snow every few strides, pauses a moment, and recoils, leaving a Dixie-cup sized crater. Her nose is a frosted cream cake. It's suspenseful, because the real holy grail is elusive. Once in a while, the initial core sample leads to an excavation site. She digs. It's a peculiar method; she's more like a gopher than a TV dog. Squatting, kind of curled over, she works her front paws furiously until white snow gives way to green grass and black earth. What she finds is anyone's guess; at least it remains mysterious to the useless human nose. As swiftly as she began, she's out of the hole, like a popped champagne cork. Apparently satisfied, she's onto the next one.