This Dog

 

I was boiling brine for refrigerator dills. Found some nice cukes at an Amish farm in Otsego County yesterday and I wanted to get the dill before the caterpillars did.

The girls were swapping yarns and nibbling French fries

Suddenly there were lambs on the lawn.

The three big lambs have what amounts to a gigantic, three-hundred acre, creep feeder at their disposal. They found a bent bar on a six-bar gate and they can just squeeze through. The ewes don't fit, or at least don't try, but the lambs are out every day. They don't seem to wander far so we let it go on.

I don't begrudge them a single nettle, all the burdocks on the place, or the all-you-can-eat weed buffet they have been sampling since the sheep went out in the spring. In fact I welcome their attention to things I would otherwise have to address with the string trimmer.

However...and it's a big however...the garden, especially the beautiful potted navy blue lobelia on my garden table is off limits.

Guess what they tasted first the last time they came to the house...

Thus Liz headed for the door, Jill at heel. However she had just gotten off a challenging shift at work, and hey, working a Border Collie and all, so I chimed in, "I'll go."

When Jill saw the sheep she looked at me for the okay then immediately swept off, Away to Me, which seems to be her favorite side.

That was not what I needed, so I told her, "Walk up".

That's when I realized that she probably has not been trained to drive, or if she was there hasn't been a lot of practice. Driving is when the dog is moving the sheep away from the handler rather than gathering them in, which is quite against their instinct.

She did it though. By a combination of her name, a few corrective sounds, and a couple of nos when she tried to bring them to me, she got them moving toward the barnyard.

Then the guy pictured above decided to choose things up with her. Up on his tippy toes, chin tucked, horns all spikey, he went. I thought she was a timid dog, especially when I said, "Get 'im" and she didn't. A lot of dogs love an excuse to dive at a sheep. Heck, Mike loved to swing off the nose of a recalcitrant cow...or even a bull on the prod once...and never had to be asked twice.

However, once again, she just didn't know what I wanted. As soon as I went Sshh, sshh, sshh at her in she dove, all bristle and sass. She never laid a tooth on him, but I do believe that as of today he should qualify for "dog broke".

Shamelessly stolen from Liz's Facebook page.
Like most BCs she hates the camera so I don't have any good 
ones of her.

Most fun I've had all week. What a sweet, biddable, lovely little dog Jill is.

A Great Honor

As you know, we added a Border Collie, Finnbar, to our pack last summer. And yes, I did spell his name wrong at first.

He turned out to be quite a dog. He can fetch toys, jump up on the snowmobile trailer when asked..... 

.....as well as when not asked. He can paw you on the head when you try to sit there with him, because he is a big boy for a BC, and he is over endowed in the paw department.

He can also bark.

Play bitey face with his brother. And eat newspaper. His hefty fur coat can collect mud like your best sneakers when you have to go to the barn to calf check after you go out to dinner.

However, what we haven't mentioned is his degree in veterinary medicine. Finnbar Friers, DVM. 

He already had his Masters degree when we got him, majoring in Cow Control, along with minors in house breaking and kibble cleanup. It was astounding to bring such an astute dog into the household. Mack was resentful at first.

However, like all Border Collies, he was bored without a job.

Thus he has been sharing my computer to do online classes in large animal medicine. He also took extra courses whenever he could in artiodactyla obstetrics. That is not an easy elective but he aced it. 4.0 across the board!

His grades were so outstanding that he has been given a singular honor. He has been asked to observe and attend when April the Giraffe finally delivers that long awaited baby. Although he is not qualified to assist they want his opinion on technique. 

He is much calmer about all this than we are! Just lying in his kennel chewing a Milk Bone.

It all seems so fitting. Her name. The name of the month the baby is expected. Today's date. It's like karma, serendipity, and fate all wrapped up in one big taco.

****Update, alas and unfortunately, Finn was forced to decline this singular honor. Turns out  I need the exercise he offers with his mud. I get a lot of steps toward my 10,000 sweeping the kitchen after he comes indoors. Mack needs him to wear him out playing bitey face when they can't be out on the cable and in the run because of said mud.

And what would the House Sparrows do without him to keep them honest by barking at them and chasing them? Sadly we will never know what fame he might have attained.....

BTW, someone stole all our ducks, so we are not making the big bucks like we thought we would. The police have been aggressive in their hunt for the culprits as in the wrong hands they could do terrible damage! Do go read about them if you missed the news last year. They were very special to us and we miss them....although judging by the weather there are at least of few of them hanging around still. And there are a LOT of mallards down on the river....

I have a Confession to Make

See these guys? Back in the day I had dogs that would put them right in your lap if you so desired, and sometimes even if you didn't desire. Mike would work the worst bulls and meanest cows we had...except number 171, who had it in for him...and he did the best he could with her. We had dogs that got 'er done. Even Gael, who was pretty much a wienie, at least wanted to work, and tried her darnedest.

However this guy.....this cute, fluffy, nicely housebroken little leg breaker....butter wouldn't melt in his mouth and all, but he will knock you over in a heartbeat.

Yeah, he is scared spitless of them. Good thing I don't need a good stockdog, because I sure don't have one.

Why Yes,

As a matter of fact, I AM in the toy box with all the toys...

Who wouldn't be?

We are really great buddies.....

Hurry Up

The rain has let up for a couple of days so fencing is going on apace. Cows go out today if we get the electric fence working right. Always an exciting moment.

Nick took off this morning and went way up in the old horse pasture and wouldn't come to a call. He will be spending some hours in the outside run to remind him how very lucky he is to be a house dog with yard privileges.

Meanwhile, i would not have been outside in this lovely light if I hadn't had to go looking for him, but don't tell him I am grateful for all the birds I saw and the amazing contrasts and shadows.

Yesterday I took my little bit of Sunday morning off/Mother's Day down time and sat out next to the garden pond where the bird feeders are. I was astonished by the variety of birds that came right next to me to eat. I only got photos of a few, as they flew away if I moved to focus the camera, but tufted titmice, gold finches, white-breasted nuthatches, song sparrows, and of course my good buddies the chickadees came right up about six feet from me to eat. They were closer than the chickens will come.

It was cool.

Slow Dog Crossing

It took me a long time to finish this dog. Holidays and all. However, I started hearing noises about getting it done and so I have. Hope the customer likes it.

This is Just Cool

But probably wouldn't surprise most border collie owners. Ours have all been so intuitive and observant of our actions that they never cease to astonish us.

The world's most extensive animal vocabulary belongs to a border collie. (This kind of "research" has got to be fun. Around here we call it "playing with the dog.")

Nick's favorite commands by the way are "all right" and "eat your food". (I suspect he would also love to hear, "get the kitty", someday, but that is not likely to happen.

The Border Collie Dilemma

Seems to have been solved without any decision on my part. The female broke out of her run at her home and went and found her own boyfriend.

Pins and Needles

Fair time is nervous time for me.

I worry.

The drive is terrible. 32 miles of twisting, winding road, bad enough in the day time, horrible at night when shared with hard core elbow benders and worse. We have been followed, harassed and witnessed massive drug busts while on that merry jaunt to the show and back.

Then there are the cattle. I worry about them. They are so vulnerable to who knows what while they are there. There is a good watchman, but there are so many um.....people....not cow people...all kinds of people. And loose cows, always a few loose cows.

And dear Lemmie has to be hand milked today as the milking parlor won't be open until tonight. She has been hand milked before, but I worry. She is one of my very favorites to milk, tall enough so I barely have to bend down to put the machine on, always clean with a properly placed udder, just a very nice girl...and she is the best cow Becky has ever had. Here at home one of Liz's best heifers, a Silky Cousteau, out of Mandy herself, turned up with a bum hock yesterday. Real bad. She is a big strapping thing, but somebody or something did her harm. Probably one of the other big heifers in that pasture. They tend to play rough. I am so worried about her too. That whole family of cows is very soft, not toughies like some who will just rub a little dirt in it and walk it off. I hope she is better today.

And then there is Gael. Gael is Liz's border collie, Mike's half sister. Her dad was a great enough dog to go to the National finals with his owner. I have written about him here before, one of the most staggeringly talented dogs I have ever seen. Gael was softer when she worked, but she had a git er done attitude that made her more dog than she actually was. She is fifteen. Old dog vestibular disease and with it intermittent blindness. Incontinence. She was drinking from the garden pond when I looked at her yesterday. The next time I looked out to check on her she was gone. I looked and looked. She had fallen behind some plants and couldn't get up. I went and helped her. Then she fell in another flower bed and couldn't get up. She ate a couple bites of meatloaf and nothing more. She has lost so much weight in the last few weeks.... I will get her some canned dog food and see if that helps, but in my heart I know it is getting to be Time.

How I hate to make that decision. I know will feel guilty as I did when Mike left us last fall. Who am I to say? When is it right? Too soon? Too late? Good dogs. Good friends. Good helpers. They are all getting old at the same time.

It all adds up to not much sleep. Worry and a buck and a half will get you a cup of coffee (unless you are the Star$$$$ sort) but I do it anyhow. I will be glad when the week is done and all the decisions are made and the cows and kid back home again.

****Update...first thing I saw out the kitchen window when the sun got down to business this morning was Monday, the Cousteau daughter, lying in some bushes looking awful and very sorry for herself. I was so discouraged I could barely stand it. She is good one. I want her to thrive and prosper. We brought the cows in and were discussing what we would do....try to get her down into a pen, take food and water to her right where she was (problem, the other animals would fight her to take it away from her) or put her in the empty pasture behind the barn. Then Alan said, as he looked out the cow barn window, "Isn't that her right there? Isn't she the only one with a collar on?"

Nonsense....she was so bad off, how could she walk? Well it turns out she could walk pretty darned good and was right there in the barnyard with the rest of the heifers...going back to that whole family being a bunch of wienies.....Yup they are. Guess she sprained her hock, but she is infinitely better this morning. She refused our offer to rest in the barnyard and hustled right out with the others....see this grey hair here...this one right here? It's hers!

Dogs Gone

A fat blue folder of dogs long gone
Doggone them for leaving
Their place by my feet
For not being puppies
And herders
And guarders
For leaving me waiting behind here at home
While they move on to wide fields
where cows always come running
whenever they roam.

Reading through pedigrees,
Floss, Wisp, Nell and Craig
Davy, Bobby, Sadie, Robbie,
Whitelow Jan,
Dryden Joe,

Grand dogs of the past from Scotland and Wales
All gone now too,
Though their names ring behind them
From the hills and the sheep and the big sheep dog trials

Years ago all combined to make Mike, Nick and Gael
The three collies who worked here
for fifteen long years
Making chores easy and crazy and fun
Tracking in mud and shedding black hair
And lying there sleeping right next to my chair

Mike is long gone now and Nick's getting old.

Gael lies in the kitchen
in front of the gate
Too blind to be watching
Too deaf now to hear
But you still can't get by her
She'll find you no fear.

I was looking yesterday for a picture of a border collie to help me in painting the latest wooden animal project to come my way. In the course of the hunt I dug out my old training books, finding pictures of the likes of Wiston Cap (read the bit in this story about whistle training. I have seen it myself...a dog that knows nothing about whistles working to them anyhow) and so many other great ones. It has been a while since we had a dog here that worked, but when we did they were an incredible help. I really miss just sending a dog to move cows where we want them. Now it's do it yourself if you want it done, and cows don't respect middle-aged-going-on-elderly, ladies near as much as they do fast, young dogs with sharp, white teeth.

Nick at 11 is still eager and biddable, but I could never really use him on the milk cows. He likes to bite above the hock...right where the udder is...and so is not trustworthy. Gael is fifteen and past it all, except for toddling along behind me on the way to the garden.

Mike was a good one. Born knowing more about herding than I'll ever learn.
I didn't deserve him, but I am so glad I had him. As I looked at his registration papers I realized it was no wonder that he was such a terrific dog. Wisp was his grand sire...two time International champion...and I had the honor of working with him, training him, being trained by him. Damn I was lucky.
It was bittersweet to page through the books and registrations, old licenses and vet's receipts.
I was so privileged to have had such a dog...such dogs in fact...but I miss working with them. Their lives are too short.

We have four dogs now, all elderly, what with Nick and Gael, Wally the blue heeler guardian of the barn, and Sadie, the boss's late mother's old mutt, but I am getting the itch to get a puppy. You can't ever replace an old dog and no pup can fill their footprints....but a puppy grows....and learns...and leads you new places where you haven't been before. I'd like to find a puppy.

A working puppy, with the blood of the great ones running through him....
Training stock dogs was the most challenging thing (next to parenting) that I ever did (or more like tried to do). I had to learn several new languages from come bye and away to me to reading cows and sheep in a whole new way.
From training the dog to listen to me and convincing him to work with me to thinking where he needed to be and where I needed to be to make the cows go where we both wanted them without getting anybody run over. From knowing two lefts from two rights...his and mine (and if you want to get complicated, the cows' lefts too) to balance and pressure and outruns and drives.
It is a game I want to play again and I do believe that I am going to need a new dog to play it with.
It is getting hard to wait for him.