THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

I took Will to a friend’s to work him on different sheep in a new environment. I’m getting to the point where he and I don’t have too much more we can do at home. My small flock is so tame that Will has to be within a few feet of them to move them, unless I split out a few and force them away from the main flock. Then they are flightier (and more challenging), and I’ll do that more and more, but don’t like to stress the ewes and lambs too much when the lambs are young. Either way, it’s still the same sheep in the same place, and Will needs to learn how to work lots of different types of sheep in different places. (So do I!) We are used to working in first gear, when most sheep work in done in 4th.

I wish I could show you a video of how he did. We were at a gorgeous farm where Will has never worked, and three things happened that made me so happy I could have carried him home myself, all thirty miles.

1) I sent him on a long outrun, two to three times as far as he’s ever gone (perhaps 250 yards? I’m guessing). He did a perfect outrun, and I don’t have the words for what it feels like to watch your dog get smaller and smaller as he runs away from you, curving out at just the right time to go around the flock and not disturb them until he gets to the back. As I think about it, I should  NOT qualify it as a “perfect” outrun, because no one was holding the sheep in place, and they were moving long before he got there and were close to the edge of the field. So, was his ‘lift’ perfect? (That’s when the dog gets around to ‘twelve o’clock’ and first makes contact with the sheep.) I can’t say, because the sheep were moving long before he got there (not because he was too close), he got them stopped once he got around them, he turned on balance and brought them straight to me. We’ve never worked on such a huge field and it makes my heart full to work in a place that open and free.

2) He’s got his flanking whistles down. Down pat. What’a boy, I’m so pleased. Here’s a synopsis of the process:

a) We work on his flank whistles for 2+ weeks, looks like he has them nailed.

b) Week three everything falls apart, I realize that once I thought he “had” them I tested him by asking him to change directions a lot. I begin to suspect he thought that both whistles meant “change direction.”

c) For 2 sessions, I go back to the first steps, having him run around and around, clockwise or counter clockwise as I repeat his whistle over and over, using the movement of the sheep and visual signals to keep Willie moving. I tested him a few times in a different context, and it seemed he wasn’t making any progress on which whistle meant what.

d) The next time we worked I send him on an outrun and he runs around to twelve o’clock and keeps going. And going and going. He runs an entire 360 degrees around the sheep, ignoring my signals to stop. It takes me a second outrun to realize he had interpreted Step C not as whistle training, but as training to run in mindless circles around the sheep.

e) After realizing this, I sat down and laugh out loud in the wet grass and asked Willie for a kiss. Willie obliged, then peed on a bush, then looked for sheep poop to eat.

f) I stop using his flank whistles for a few days (used verbal), then gradually added them in on occasion, no longer having ‘flank whistle training sessions,’ just using them when I know he wants to go that way anyway. Gradually I start asking for them when he’d prefer the other direction, and with very few corrections (a verbal no), Willie starts getting them right.

g) I take him to Peg’s (where Redford is) and he gets his flank whistles about 19/20 times.

h) Willie not only took his flank whistles every single time at our last outing, he listen beautifully, even at 200 yards. Bless him.

3) Willie came to me as a puppy pathologically afraid of other dogs but was great in the field with a guard Pyrenees (more on Willie and other dogs in other posts, and probably and eventually a book.) We’ve worked on it for three years, and he’s been improving leaps and bounds. My friend’s sheep were guarded by a working Great Pyrenees, described as a “big galoof” who loves all dogs, but still, I was thrilled that Will and he had two perfectly reasonable greeting encounters. At one point Will would have run away in terror, at another he would’ve attacked. This time Will briefly greeted him before going to work the sheep, and then left my side the instant I said “that’ll do” after working sheep and ran to sniff the other dog some more. I won’t say there wasn’t a bit of tension there, but nothing serious and easy to manage. Just being able to have Will around unfamiliar dogs is a joy, especially a big, guarding male.  More to come on that score, as I said, but back to herding for a moment:

Mind you, Wilie and I couldn’t score well in a trial now if our life depended on it. He behaves completely differently if anyone, anyone at all is watching (I know, I know, is it me, or is it Willie?) and he is easily intimidated by sheep. He’ll lose contact with them, take the pressure off when he shouldn’t, get rattled if there’s any stress and if he is confused, but lordy he’s trying incredibly hard and I love him to pieces. And me? Oh dear. I have no ability at the moment to work fast moving sheep… I simply can’t make decisions fast enough to get flighty sheep to stay on a perfect straight line on a drive, but then, I’m trying hard, too. Willie seems to forgive me for it, or at least, he can’t talk and tell me what he thinks…

Lassie terrifies Trisha: Yesterday morning I woke up mildly surprised. In five minutes I was in terror. It was 6:15, and Lassie always, always ALWAYS wakes me up between 5 am (sigh) and 5:45 because she has to go outside to pee. In general, I haven’t set an alarm since we stopped taping Calling All Pets over a year ago (when I had to get up at 4:30 on Wednesdays). But now, it’s 6:15 and Lassie is sound asleep. No worries, I pad over to her doggy bed and gently touch her shoulder. “Lassie,” I say quietly, because she often startles when awoken because her hearing is so bad. Nothing. Lassie is soft and warm, but immobile.  “Lassie” I say, and press with my hand a little harder, shaking her shoulder back and forth. Nothing, and no sign of her chest rising and falling either. This time I push forcefully into her, saying LASSIE now with real fear in my voice. I’m so loud and clearly scared that Jim peeks over the bed, worried himself. Nothing. Not a twitch.

It’s amazing the thoughts that run through your head when you’re in crisis. I remember, very clearly, thinking that “she must have died recently, because she’s still warm and there’s no rigor mortis” and “how sweet that she died in her sleep and presumably didn’t suffer.” These were cognitive thoughts, generated by my cortex, when my amygdala and hippocampus was screaming OH MY GOD LASSIE IS DEAD. I remember the thoughts and the emotions of terror and panic as being parallel, but completely separate from one another.

The panicked part of me shook Lassie one more time, this time shaking her hard and yelling her name with pure terror in my voice, and as I did she slowly raised her head and licked my face. I burst into tears and sobbed like a child, kissing her muzzle and saying her name over and over again. This morning she woke us up around 5:30, and at first I thought, “Oh Lassie, just a few more minutes!” and then…. was overwhelmed with gratitude that she’s there to wake us up at all.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, during the sweetest spring weekend you can imagine. Here is a picture of the yard that Jim took yesterday:

In this next picture, I love the different postures of Will and Sushi: Will is chewing on his Sunday bone, Sushi is practicing her “lion on the hunt” look.

And here’s why Sushi is now stuck inside for the next few days: This baby robin flew/fell out of the nest on top of the porch light this morning, along with two others. There are also Chipping Sparrows in the bush by the living room window, wrens nesting in the exhaust vent from the bathroom (which no longer works, although for years when you turned on the bathroom fan you’d  hear cheep cheep cheep cheep… now it doesen’t work at all and I’ve just given it away to the wrens), a PeeWee nesting on top of a down spout by the porch and barn swallows nesting in the garage. [added note 6/10: an alert reader suggested it was not a PeeWee and she was absolutely correct! I watched carefully the next day and saw the typical tail flick of the Phoebee and heard their typical song. A PeeWee is nesting close by because I hear it often, but not on the house.} That’s four nests attached to the house…. and all with babies about to fledge. Sorry, Sushi!

What a difference a day makes. Here’s what happened late last week between Will and Redford:

Yep, that’s Willie running away. He ran back about five feet, then turned and walked back toward Redford, with me encouraging him.  For reasons I don’t  understand, this time Redford turned and walked away.

And here’s what I really don’t understand. After that, every time, Will has won every interaction. Will walks forward with confidence, and Redford turns tail (now you know where that phrase came from!). I simply don’t know exactly what transpired between the two of them, but Will’s posture is now one of confidence as he approaches Redford. Only once, a few days later, did Redford turn to face Wilie and challenge him, and Will stood his ground, opened his mouth and snapped at the ram’s face. (Wish I had a photo of that!) That’s been all she wrote since then: Will stalks into the barn like Clint Eastwood, and Redford turns and walks away.

I’m not sure where Will’s confidence came from, although I do believe that being allowed to move freely when he felt threatened helped him gain some courage.  I didn’t correct him (Will) for running away at all, simply encouraged him to get back in, and I wonder if having the freedom to protect himself helped. (Although he’s always had that, I’ve never corrected him for running away when he was frightened.)

I am fascinated by the power of his increased confidence, and equate it with what we often call ‘presence’ in a human. People with ‘presence’ have so much power, but it is a quality that is hard to define and quantify, isn’t it?  And yet, hard as it is to quantify or identify, it seems to be something that is physical, a kind of physical manifestation of a self contained confidence in one’s self. I’ve seen other animals besides humans and dogs that I’d say have ‘presence,’ I’m thinking mostly of horses. And cats. Of course, cats! (Who could be better at it?)  Any one else? I’d love to know what you think.

Meanwhile, it’s brutally cold here. Beautiful, but cold. Two below this morning when I did the chores. I do love so much about winter, a cold, snowy day has an ethereal quality that is almost other wordly. There’s a purity and simplicity to it that is moves me in a way that is hard to describe. I’m reminded of the folks in Antarctica who talk about becoming addicted to the beauty of the place, when they’re taking about a place that is flat, white and black. Period. Sounds horrible… but, I think I understand something of what they feel; something about the primal nature of such purity that gets to you.

The lambs are doing incredibly well. Full, fat bellies all. I’ve been supplementing with goat’s milk, but the twins are becoming less and less interested. Snickers must be in full milk production, because they are thriving now, even in the cold.  I still can’t help but worry a bit; tomorrow it is expected to be 19 below, and that’s without the wind chill factor which is supposed to be dangerous because the winds are predicted to increase. Man, it’s cold enough now just at zero or so with a barely perceptible breeze.

Too cold for many photos (the camera battery froze before my fingers did, but it was a close call), but here’s one from this morning. Willie is getting the sheep up so that I can walk in with hay without getting run over. As he gets closer I’ll open the gate and spread their green, leafy hay out on the fresh snow. He’ll hold them off for me while I get it spread around, and then I’ll say “That’ll Do” (yes, Babe fans, we really do say that!) and we’ll both go back into the barn. He’ll sit at the gate to ewes with lambs while I freeze my fingers off smashing the ice out of their water buckets. I would never let him in with the ewes and lambs now; the ewes would be forced to attack to protect their lambs, and what’s the point?  So Will waits outside impatiently while I bottle feed and refresh the water buckets. Wish we could work the main flock more though… too much snow and oh yeah, too cold!

xx

xxxx:

This morning I tried to get a good photo of Redford confronting Will, but failed miserably. That’s great news… I couldn’t get the photo because every time Will walked within twenty feet of Redford, the ram turned and walked away. I did take a few photos, but my battery died so I can’t upload them for you. I’ll send some before the end of the week, of Will and sheep, and hopefully, of Snickers new lambs, if she ever, finally, gives birth. (We are calling her Explodo-Ewe at the moment.)

Truffle’s little white lamb is filling out like a champ. He’s got all the milk to himself and is growing like crazy. He has started what I call “popcorn” play, which is pretty much like it sounds. First there is a lamb standing still, then there’s a lamb leaping straight up into the air. Except in this case, the lambs twist their bodies a bit, land, run a few feet and do it again. It’s lucky the weather is warm (in the 20’s!) because it’s hard for me to leave the barn, he’s so much fun to watch.

I wanted to write more about Will, the ram and “power” in a herding dog, because it was herding dogs that taught me about ‘body blocks’ and ’space management’ in dog training. (See Other End of the Leash or Family Dog Training.) There is no question that different dogs have a different effect on the same sheep: some dogs seem to take charge from a long way away while others have to get much closer to get the same effect. If a dog has what handlers call ‘power,’ the sheep will look at the dog, turn their heads looking for the best route away from the dog and leave, even if the dog is a good distance away. Other dogs have to get much closer to get the same effect, or can even cause the same sheep to stand their ground or charge forward. When I first got into herding I thought the difference in the dog was in it’s posture… the more extreme the stalking posture, the more intense the effect? But it soon became clear that wasn’t it.

The biggest difference that is obvious to us is vector of the dog’s energy. Is the dog standing still but leaning forward, standing square over its 4 feet or leaning backwards, even an eighth of an inch or so? Biologists call movements and postures that always preceed an action “intention movements” and there’s no doubt in my mind that sheep can read where a dog is ready to go next: forward, to “take the space,” or backwards, to protect itself and get away. I show a video in many of my seminars that show 3 different dogs working the same group of cattle, and the difference in the reaction of the cattle is amazing. One, clearly fearful dog (tongue flicks, looks back to handler often, ears back, body leaning backward.. ready to run away) ends up with the cattle walking right up to him and sniffing his nose. The most confident dog walks forward with what can only be described as presence, and the cattle take one look at him and turn away. Dogs are brilliant at sensing these movements too, which is why we all need to be thoughtful about how we move around our dogs. You can use them to your advantage (teaching stay for example) or get into trouble by leaning forward toward a dog who is nervous around strangers.

Intention movements going forward or backward are just one factor in the interaction between sheep and dog. Some dogs are so strong that they worry sheep and can’t be used in small areas. Other dogs seem to take charge easily without scaring the sheep. Ideally, a dog is calm and confident, neither overly reactive but ready to win a confrontation if necessary. Some dogs seem to love confrontations, it makes other nervous. All of these things seem to be read by sheep, which makes a lot of sense if you think about it. Many prey animals in the wild behave comfortably around predators who are not hunting, but then immediately go on alert when the predators, lions for example, decide it’s time to stop lazing around and go hunting.

Willie clearly is nervous about direct confrontations. He tongue flicked a couple of times and ran back into the barn as soon as I said “that’ll do,” even though Redford never turned to challenge him.

Okay, he’s not the bravest dog in the world, but the fact that he tries as hard as he can and tries to work through his fears makes me love him even more. Besides, Redford apparently decided that he’s not worth challenging, at least not this morning, so I am pleased and proud that things are going in Will’s direction…

Now, if Snickers would just, PLEASE, have her lambs tonight!

Sorry no photos, battery is charging as I write!

I was working on my new book, coming out from Dogwise in early November, and found a section that relates, I suspect, to the cancellation of my radio show, Calling All Pets. The book, coming out from Dogwise, (Tales of Two Species) is a collection of my columns from Bark magazine. One of them is titled “Pet Peeves.” In it I write about our country’s ambivalent feelings about our pets. On the one hand, many of us love them, treat them like family and can’t imagine life without them. They are as important to our well-being as is literature, music and art. (For some of us, I’d add food, water and oxygen.) And yet, look at how often we hear people say, demeaningly, that an animal is “just a pet.” Here’s an excerpt from the essay:

“Just a pet.” How many times have you heard someone say that? Perhaps it was a conformation breeder who observed, “This pup doesn’t have a good top line, so he should be sold as just a pet.” You’ve probably read the phrase in articles about how much we love our companion animals: “It is remarkable how much money the American public spends just on pets.” And companion animal owners use it—ask any veterinarian, who too often hears: “We just adore our little Cocker Spaniel, she’s the greatest joy of our lives, but we can’t afford to spay her because she’s just a pet.”

Part of the problem, I suspect, is the derivation of the word “pet.” It began as a reference to a spoiled, over-indulged child and only recently has been used to describe the dogs and the cats sharing our homes. “Spoiled and over-indulged” are not words designed to engender respect or importance, now are they? It seems that the American psyche is highly ambivalent about our companion animals… either acknowledging how much they add to our lives, or dismissing them as trivial things, something akin to children’s toys. Nice to have around, but not really important. I wrote about this at length in the afterward to For the Love of a Dog–trying to explain why those of us who love dogs so much are not neurotic or socially challenged, at least not any more than the rest of the country. One of my favorite books about the bond between people and dogs is Pack of Two, by the late (and amazing) writer, Carolyn Knapp. It is a beautiful, beautiful book, and if you haven’t read it, go get a copy right now. I deeply regret that she died, tragically, before she was able to grace us with more of her writings (and, selfishly, before I was able to meet her).

I am curious what others have found. Do you also wonder sometimes if the world sorts into two groups? Group one includes those whose love for animals informs each and every day of their lives (in this case I mean companion animals, but there’s much to say in later writings about the importance of our connection to wild animals and an understanding of their behavior). Group 2 includes people who can take them or leave them, being indifferent to pets at best and those who love them, or at worst demeaning the bond between people and animals as an example of social ineptitude. Of course, I’m oversimplifying, but I’m curious what others experience.. do you often feel like you have to justify your love for your dogs, cats, horses? (ferrets, cockatiels, rats, etc…)

Meanwhile, it’s a gorgeous fall day here. My digital camera broke this morning, or I’d show you more pictures of Will working the lamb flock. I am busting out of my britches with pride for him… he is blossoming every day into a wonderful working stock dog. This morning the biggest ram lamb (probably 100+ pounds) turned to face Will down, ducking his head and threatening Will with a charge. Will held his ground (they were face to face, about a foot between their eyes) and stayed cool (I was saying ‘Stea-a-a-a-a-a-dy’ in my lowest and most soothing of voices) and the lamb finally turned and went where Will told him to. A few months ago Will would have exploded at the lamb, not biting but charging forward. That was okay for a young dog; the dog has to win in situations like that (sheep are not stupid, they learn very fast if they can beat a dog) even if the process isn’t elegant. However, it’s much better to keep things calm and quiet. A year ago Will would’ve backed up and the ram lamb would’ve won unless I came in to help (which I would if necessary.) Will just recently turned two, and it is a beautiful thing to watch him grow up and learn to control his emotions, and take charge when he needs to.

But still, really, Wll’s primary value to me is as a companion dog. I guess that means, when it comes down to it, Will is ‘just a pet.‘ Like Lassie, he adds love and light and joy into my life every day. What a gift.

Here are some photos from the last few days. The first shows Willie moving the lambs a few days ago into the orchard pasture (from which they escaped, got in with the ewe flock and probably bred their mothers. sigh.)

This is Lassie digging in the grass (a favorite activity for her) behind part of a huge dead elm clump that had to come down. Cutting it up into firewood and making the rest into wood chips for the garden will take up most of this coming Sunday.

The last photo is of a Katydid.  (who I originally identified as a Snowy Tree Cricket until graciously corrected by a reader! Whoops….) As common as Field Crickets and Katydids are here in Wisconsin, Snowy Tree Crickets are also common, and can tell you the temperature (no kidding). Just count the number of their chirps in 13 seconds (okay, I’ll admit, you often have to record them and slow it down to count!) and add 40, and you’ve go the temp in F. This photo was from a long courtship between a male and a female, all on the side of the house.