The Humiliation

Over and over again I go to the post. Over and over again I leave the post in frustration. Countless times I have decided to quit this sport, only to render myself a fool to have thought such a thing as I head off to the next trial. For five long years, I have humiliated myself at dog trials. Intermittently that humiliation is smattered with jubilation when my dog actually completes the course leaving me with a score. More often than not, the score is not a worthy score in the grand scheme of things but, to me, any score is worthy of celebration.

Recently I was at a trial where the sheep were difficult, the field was difficult, it was a difficult trial. Day one I ran Data and left the field. Day two of the trial, I was determined not to leave the field. Data did exemplary outwork, despite the fact that the setout person let the sheep go before he got to them. I tried to concentrate and remember all the things that I had learned. Keep talking to him. I kept whistling to him to let him know he was doing ok. I knew I was going to need a perfect stop once he met the sheep so I whistled him down before I needed it, knowing he wouldn’t take the whistle. My intent was to kind of give him a heads up. When I needed him to stop, I spit out my whistle and screamed like a banshee. LIE DOWN!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? LIE DOWN ! Plop, down he went. Perfect. Sheep stopped, dog stopped, I had some semblance of control. I later learned that this type of action is managing mistakes rather than actually handling a dog. Obviously, this is not what is intended. It is intended to tell your dog to lie down and have it actually do as you ask. That said, I know Data doesn't do as I ask and I DO have to manage mistakes with him in order to compensate. Yes, that is an excuse.

In any case, Data was really trying hard to be a good dog and we both knew it. Next came the turn at the post. It was going to be unusually difficult but this is the one place on the course that I feel confident. Things weren’t pretty going around the post and in my fervor to do things on the course ‘correctly’, I didn’t let Data do what was sensible given the circumstances. I gave him a wrong flank and we were done. Humiliated once again. Worse, I let my dog down after he had tried so hard for me.

I suppose that after five years of apparent floundering in this sport, I really should have quit but I keep going back for yet another taste of humble pie. Year after arduous year, I go back. I go back because regardless of my success, or lack thereof, I love this sport. I love everything about it. Including those humbling moments.

The Elegance

Adjective: Pleasingly graceful and stylish in appearance or manner.

I suppose there are many things that are elegant in the world. A beautiful woman in a black dress; a well-choreographed dance; or a piece of music. Watching a sheepdog and it’s handler execute a near perfect run is one of those things that, for me, defines elegance. The moments when I really am in sync with my dog, when everything goes as planned, those are the moments that make me come back for more. They are few and far between for me. Often I am left feeling humbled and demoralized, but that one moment when everything seems to go quiet, when I am unaware of anything but my dog and the sheep and the field. Those are the moments that push me. The moments that cause me to endure the endless hours of training, the humiliation at dog trial after dog trial.

The love and connection to my dogs is one I have never experienced before.

To watch some of the best hands in North America run their dogs in competition is a sight to behold. To watch the dog respond to the whistles, to see the sheep trot around the course, holding my breath when dog and handler execute a perfect turn back, the ballet of a perfect shed. Pure elegance. Elegance in the execution, elegance in the partnership between the dog and handler, elegance in the smooth flow of the sheep. Breathtakingly beautiful.

One of the most memorable of those moments was at the 2007 National Finals in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Daybreak, the final day of competition. The double lift. The sun was cresting over the horizon, an almost surreal mist was rising off of the field. Handlers and dedicated spectators gathered at the trial field to watch the first run of the day. Alasdair Macrae and Star. There was none of the usual chatter, it was dead silent as Alasdair walked with Star to the handlers’ post. He sent Star out on her first outrun. The silence was broken only by Alasdair’s stop whistle, followed by a slow quiet walk up whistle. The sheep lifted their heads, turned toward the post and started to walk. A more perfect lift I had never seen, and may never see again. The remainder of the run was almost equally perfect and ended up being the winning run. Alasdair and Star made it very difficult for anyone to beat them that day although Tommy Wilson came close.

Aside from the beauty of the actual sport there are so many other things that have inspired me, made me take pause and marvel at the beauty of it all. Traveling across Ontario primarily, and into the United States occasionally, I am given the opportunity to see some of the most beautiful countryside. Mountains in Virginia, the changing of the leaves in the fall, snow stuck to the trees silent and still. Stars in the sky, without a city light to tarnish their exquisiteness, continue to make me stop and marvel. I have witnessed, many times over now, the birth of a lamb. Something that never ceases to instill in me a level of admiration for nature that I don’t think I would have were it not for these dogs.

One of my favorite things has always been walking with my dogs. Getting up when the sun is just rising at a dog trial, letting my dogs out and when there is a field to walk in I always enjoy that time with them. Tirelessly running with reckless abandon, stopping when something catches their eye, or their nose. They always seem to be filled with sheer glee no matter what. They inspire me to embrace the joy in my life.

Lie Down doesn't mean Lie Down - or does it?

In Schutzhund and obedience, when we told our dogs to lie down, they hit the dirt.

The first sheepdog trial I watched I saw handlers telling their dogs to lie down. Often the dogs complied but sometimes they didn’t. I was aghast. How can the dogs not lie down? That would never be me; my dogs were going to lie down. Fast-forward five years. A recent lesson with Data was a lie down lesson. After all of my initial pontification about how my dogs would always lie down, Data was barely stopping.

Back to the beginning. As I embarked on my sheepherding journey, one of the first questions I asked was about the dogs not lying down when they were told. The answer was, lie down doesn’t necessarily mean lie down. Alright then, if lie down doesn’t mean lie down, what does it mean? It means stop. Ok, so lie down means stop. Got it. Fast-forward again to my most recent lesson. I told Data to lie down and he stopped. Can you imagine my pride? My teacher, asked me why this was acceptable to me. After much humming and hawing searching my repertoire of excuses, I had no reasonable excuse. At least not one that I felt he would find even remotely believable. My answer was more like ‘uhhhhh’. He then said ‘A stop on the feet invites a cheat’.

Over the years, I have worked with several people all of whom have said that the dog needs to stop. Quotes like “Without a stop you don’t have a dog” or “Janet, he’s not stopping, make him lie down!” or “he’s not happy stopping, you have to make him happy about stopping”. One after another they all told me to stop the dog. Notice how stop and lie down are used interchangeably? To me, this reinforced the lesson of lie down means stop. A few of these trainers went so far as to actually show me HOW to get him to lie down and for a while at least I had a dog that did lie down – on his belly. So what happened? My brain happened. Once I got my dog to lie down, I had to tell him to do something else, anything else. Come bye, away to me, walk up, and do it quickly. My brain needed time to think about which direction come bye or away to me was. I had to be sure that if I gave a direction, he went the correct way. So I let him lie there while I thought. While he lay there, the sheep would wander off. Letting him lose his sheep, his Shangri-la, his reward for doing the right thing, convincing Data that I was a bone fide idiot. Ultimately, Data’s utter belief in my idiocy convinced him that he knew better than I did, and lying down was no longer an option, unless I ran up the field at him yelling and screaming like a fool. Now, perhaps I really am an idiot, but I prefer to think that I am not that daft. It is my firm belief that this is a common mistake we novices make. We need to act quickly and we need to think. Some of us more than others I’m sure, but we all need to think about the directions. We want to do it right, and in our zeal to learn and compete and train our dogs, we inadvertently do it wrong.

Five years later, I am working on lying my dog down, on his belly, 100% of the time. Rather than having to wait for my brain, I just shush him immediately after he lies down and it really doesn’t matter which direction he goes because I didn’t ask for one. If he makes a mistake, I just take the sheep away from him as opposed to letting the sheep get away. I’m just putting an appropriate amount of pressure on him for making a mistake. The behavior I want from the correction is not for him to lie down, but to acknowledge that he made a mistake. As soon as he concedes the point, I shush him around the sheep – his reward. I’m not running or yelling. Data is happy about lying down, and I’m not frustrated.

We still have a lot of work to do and, provided my mentors keep me in check, Data and I should enjoy the remainder of our career together. What I feel was most important for me to learn was that lie down really DOES mean lie down – at least as a novice. Sometimes in competition, all you need is a stop on the feet and then a quick flank, but that is a different level than I am at right now. Most importantly, I have learned a couple different ways of HOW to make him lie down.

James Bond

James Bond, Bond for short, was born in May of 2008. He is so very different from Stella when she was his age. She was the Whirling Dervish and Bond is more like the secret agent he was named after. Although his namesake tends to trash a lot of really cool stuff during his missions, this version of Bond has ruined nothing, although I am still waiting.

I got Bond in July of 2008 and immediately took him on the road with me. We went to several trials together and the young lad became wonderfully socialized to the entire scene. When he was just a wee babe, John would let him tag along to help with chores and John would pick him up so he didn't get trampled. Bond helped us with moving electro-net he became quite accomplished at not getting tangled up in it. When the grass was too long to come along he would just hang back and wait. He went for walks at trials with whomever was walking their dogs. He became quite well known to Viki and Carol as he was often trying to load himself up into Viki's van. Viki's van looks an awful lot like mine. Those weeks on the road made Bond think that we actually lived in the van, or at John and Cynthia's farm - he wasn't quite sure which. Once we got home, Bond settled into day to day life here in the city. He and Stella were fast friends. Data's hate for stupid puppies was evident, once again, from the get go. Data and Bond have since resolved their differences, Bond insisted on that, and they are good friends now.

Late last year, Bond had a small lump on his lymph node that became an enormous lump in very short order. After a few hundred dollars at various vets and a hefty round of antibiotics, he is a healthy pup.

I have had him on sheep a couple of times. Once when he was 11 weeks old at Grass Creek Park. He was a brilliant 11 week old. At present he is very keen albeit a bit youthful still. I am planning a trip south to take him to his birthplace for a visit and a further introduction to working sheep.

As always, I am ever hopeful that he and I will be stars.

Stella Continued

As I said before, Stella has always known she and I were meant to be together. She hasn't always known that she and I were supposed to be partners though.

Through the initial stages of her training, which got an almost too late a start, she was nothing short of intense. I had no idea how to train her. This sheep-herding thing made smoke come out of her ears. Almost literally! I struggled. She would dive in and bit. I would yell and stamp my feet and she dove in faster and harder. I tried to get between her and the sheep, she went faster with more and more smoke coming from her ears and her feet.

When she was about 15 months old I took her to Dal and Kate's for a lesson with Scott Glen. I had entered her in their trial but was still not sure if I would pull her or not. I was struggling with the aforementioned smoking problem but also was struggling with getting her to get up once I got her stopped. Scott helped me get her up on her feet and she started to show a bit of sense. I was still waffling with whether or not I would put her in the trial.

The day of the novice novice competition came around. I watched a few of the runs and knew that after our lesson with Scott, Stella would be capable of doing the work except the outrun which was too far for her. I decided to enter her. I went to the post with Cynthia. Cynthia held Stella's leash while I walked closer to the sheep. Then I yelled "Let her go!".

Just prior to us walking to the post, Cynthia and I discussed whether or not she should drop Stella's leash or take it off entirely. I said to just take it off.

Cynthia unclipped Stella's leash and off she went. I waved my stick a little at Stella when she started to come in too short, and Stella bent out ever so nicely. Around to the top, and I asked her to stop. She did. "walk up", she did. I repeated the "Lie down" followed by "walk up" all the way down the fetch. It was beautiful. My babydoll looked gorgeous. Stylish and controlled. In my enthusiasm I decided to push her farther than I knew she was capable, just because. We started to turn around the post and then that calm cool collected little sweetheart turned into the whirling dervish right before my and everyone else’s eyes. The chase was on!

Stella doesn’t like it when I laugh at her, but I continue to tell this story. That day my little Derv smashed head first into a tree. The bark went flying, and it didn’t slow her down one iota. Dal jumped on his 4-wheeler while I ran, screaming of course. Oh, just before I started my run to catch my little sweetheart I heard the judge say ‘thank you’. With Dal’s assistance we caught Stella and tied a farm leash on her, a piece of baling twine. I got her to the tub and left the field. Later that afternoon I was sitting in the handlers’ tent watching the other novices run their dogs and heard someone talking about the dog that ran in the morning who took the bark off the tree with her head. I turned, smiled and said, “that was MY dog!”

Dog #5 - Miss Stella

I waited so long for her. From the moment I met Clare, her mother, I knew I wanted a daughter from her. Data, Clare's brother, had placated me for a few years while I waited for Louise to breed Clare. I wanted a smooth coated, tri coloured bitch. Finally, in February of 2006, my shining Star, Stella, was born. The name Stella literally means Star.

As you know by now, each of my dogs hold so much promise when I get them and I imagine that we will be stars. This time I named my dog Star. There was no choice, no turning back. We are going to be stars.

The moment she was born Louise knew her and greeted her with "hello Stella". Stella has always known she and I were meant to be together. When she was 5 weeks old, I was giving her a cuddle and saying goodbye to her. As I went to put her on the floor so I could leave, she chomped on my ear lobe as if to say "NO! I'm going with you." I assured her she would come with me but she had to wait one more week. Begrudgingly, she complied.

The next week she came home. On the ride home she cried and whimpered for about half an hour and then fell asleep for the remainder of the drive. We got home and I put her crate beside the bed, kept some paper in the front of the crate for her to pee on if she had to go during the night. She took to her new raw diet rather greedily. To this day she is anything but genteel when she eats. She was the sweetest little thing. I took her everywhere with me. At the time I was doing a lot of work on site with a client so she stayed in a crate in the car. I introduced her to everyone, let them hold her, play with her, walk her.

As she grew those legs of hers, she also learned how to use them to run. FAST. I remember going for walks with Louise and all the dogs, one of them was Stella's littermate L'il. We put long lines on Stella an L'il, and often we would just hear the whir of the lines in the grass. The two of them ran so fast we often didn't see them, just heard the whizzing lines. Stella got wrapped around a tree occasionally, and when she was stuck she would bark until she saw me. That doesn't mean that I could see her though. Often I would search for her wishing she would bark just one more time, telling her to 'use her voice' to no avail. She could see me so it would just be stupid to keep on barking. I eventually found her, untangled her, give her a pat and she was off again. Stella seemed to have two speeds, red-line and asleep. She ran everywhere, sailing over gates and fences like a gazelle. Louse dubbed her 'Gazella' and ultimately we started calling her 'whirling dervish'.

I taught her to 'spit' that out and then when it came time to teach her to 'sit' she would open her mouth trying to 'spit'. I realized that I would have to come up with a new sit command, which became 'park it'. If anyone were to ask me HOW I taught her to spit it would be difficult for me to explain but she knows how to spit. It's quite humorous to see. Louise knows she has a spit word and asked Stella to spit from across the room. Stella happily spit whatever she had out making Louise laugh right out loud. Stella is really good at 'park it' too.

At 8 weeks old she noticed the sheep for the first time. The way only a Border Collie notices sheep. I remember it clearly because it was comical. She was outside going to the bathroom. The sheep walked by and while she pooped she pricked up her ears (the only time both of her ears ever pricked) and tipped her head. I dubbed the moment "Border Collie Shangri-la".

After experiencing Data's issues with water, I was determined that Stella was going to like the water. At the Kingston Sheep Dog trials, Louise and I went for a drive and took the pups with us. We found an isolated(ish) boat launch and took the puppies out on the dog. Stella, not realizing that the dock ended, just kept on walking right into the water. I had her on a line and helped her back onto dry land. She walked back onto the dock and literally dove into the water. My concern was completely unwarranted.

As Stella matured I started to put her on sheep. Although Stella always knew she and I were meant to be together she never quite understood that we were supposed to be partners. She lived up to her whirling dervish name....