Working Dogs

Reba loves to work, however she doesn't quite know what work is. All she knows is this compelling urge to chase things and run circles around them. In August Reba had her first taste of working sheep. She was so excited she grew a foamy saliva beard! She literally froths at the mouth when given the chance to work.

The trick with a young dog or puppy is to shape their behavior without turning them off the stock or putting so much pressure on them its no longer fun. A balancing act to be sure. Slowly and carefully I've been giving her opportunities to work. Short training sessions, always positive.

The goal is to let her learn about action - reaction, sheep behavior if you would, without her getting into a situation she can't handle or scares her. The hardest part of working with her is getting her stopped. A few weeks ago, while trying to get her stopped I ended up riding the sheep. The sheep clustered so hard around me my feet left the ground. Reba continued to run at them and as the sheep herd moved I was an unwilling passenger. Think body surfing. All I could hope to do was regain my feet. If I were to fall to the ground the sheep would trample me. Not fatal but painful. Adrenalin shooting through my body I twisted, used the sheep's backs for support and worked my way out of the herd. Shaken and with few minor sprains I survived.

The time had come to apply more pressure to the baby. I needed a stop. Cord in hand the lie down training came into effect. In working dog language Reba is biddable. This means she's highly trainable and wants to please. After four session I had a lie down that was mostly reliable. What more could a girl ask for?

Flint

When Tessa went out of commission, I had six sheep, six sheep who were not dog broke.  While lovely for Tessa to tune up her skills, not so lovely for starting Reba in a controlled manner.  The difference between dog broke sheep and normal sheep, is dog broke sheep will run toward you and have figured out being close to you is a safer place to be. Normal sheep will run all over the place, scatter and not necessarily want to be near you. 

After a conversation with Ken, I discovered he was busy and wasn't using Flint.  A gleam developed in my eye, and some sweet words later, Flint temporarily became mine.  I was keen to get started and wasted no time in putting my new project on sheep.  My sheep who had been worked a little by Tessa, were not so keen.  In front of my astonished eyes, I watched them scatter and hide.  Literally hide.  They would run into the tall, dead grass and lay down.  The dog would then loose them in the grass.  Some of them ran into the dry slough and lay down in the depressions.  Clearly dog breaking the sheep was going to be slightly more challenging than I had anticipated.

After much running, sweating and yelling, Flint managed to get five of the sheep into the corral.  Poor Flint was out of shape and huffing pretty good at this point.  Normally you would take the herd of sheep to the loner and collect up, however, afraid I'd never get them back in I chose to leave the ones I had in the corral.  Realizing I was running out of dog, we took a water break, then went after the final sheep.  Wanting to save my dog, I brought my trusty grain bucket.  Nope, not interested.  Fine be that way.  Sending Flint, we encountered a problem, this sheep had it's fight on.  It faced up and proceeded to refuse to move.  Deciding some artillery was needed I gave Flint his bite command.  Bang!  Right on the nose.  Still no movement.  Again, and again.  Still no movement.  By this point the sheep is bleeding and I'm realizing nothing is going to get this thing going.  But I don't want it to win the battle.  The last thing I want it to figure out is if it fights then it doesn't get worked or gets to do what it wants.  

Back to the barn Flint and I go.  Rope in hand I go back to the sheep, place it around it's neck, send Flint to the hind.  I tug, Flint bites.  And no movement.  Until the sheep lies down.  Flint is wiped, I'm tired and aggravated.  So I leave the sheep.  Not great training but sometimes you need to know when to quit.  I could have fought until the sheep died but then all I'd have gained was a dead sheep.

I've had Flint for around a month now.  And I'm pleased to announce that my sheep are kinda, sorta dog broke.  Enough that I can work Reba, with Flint waiting as back up for any bolters.  Which is all I need right now.  

(P.S.  Flint is for sale...)

The Sneak Attack

Bella, my Maremma, turned one year old on November 19. The Maremma is a breed that originated in Italy and has been bred for centuries to protect livestock from predators. When I purchased Bella the intent was to keep the cougar and coyotes out of the yard and away from the sheep. When she was five months old, she chased two coyotes out of the corral, through the field, until they turned on her and began to beat her up. She didn't quit and run back. My dad, hearing her cry, ran out with his gun. Only when he called her in did she back off and return to the barnyard.

Bella was bonding fabulously until the I purchased the sheep from hell (Sheep Escapades). These sheep ran away from her and beat her up when she went out to be with her. Needless to say these sheep didn't last long. Hopefully residing in someone's freezer now. My new sheep are used to being with a guardian dog and tolerate her, just as she tolerates them. Bella was doing a fantastic job hanging out in the field and with the sheep. When to my dismay she went into heat.

I was not interested in having "ooops" puppies. This meant Bella went into jail, only to be released when supervised. Poor confused Bella now thinks the yard is what she should be protecting. So I've begun the sneak attack regime.

Bella is terrified of my old lunge whip with a plastic bag on the end used for sacking out colts. When I catch her near the house, I run out and madly shake the whip, shouting "Get back to your sheep!" Bella always takes off as though someone goosed her. Bella is a very intelligent dog. She's figured out when my car pulls into the drive to take off, or when the door opens to take off. So I've begun setting my watch for half hour intervals. Every half hour I sneak out of the house, grab the whip and go looking for her. If she's in the field I sneak back to the house. But if she's somewhere the sheep aren't I jump out at her and shake the whip at her. This strategy is strangely effective.

I'm sure people driving by think I'm slightly nutty. Whatever works...

Attack of the Skin Ickies

Every fall, without fail, Whiskey develops skin ickies. I Betadine, Virkon, and Lysol everything in sight. I've had the vet out only to be told after extensive labs that they don't know why or what they are. She gets fed crushed flax seed, vitamins. Nothing seems to work.

Stella, the baby and latest addition, has developed ringworm on her face. Never having had a horse with ringworm I had the vet take a look to confirm the infection. Sam (the vet) said she was likely carrying the infection and the stress of the move brought it out. (Stella tolerated an eight hour trailer ride to get here.) So now I have two horses with skin ickies. (Nice technical terminology.)

But I have a plan. And I hope it works. Really hope it works. Tonight while at the vet for Tessa's splint and bandage change, the vet techs mixed me up some "special" stuff for the skin ickies. It's called Imaverol and is supposed to be super powerful. I'm looking forward to trying it.

Saturday is T-day. The sheep and outdoor dogs will get dewormed. The horses will get inspected and treated for skin ickies. Should be a good fun day and with a little luck my skin icky curse will disappear.

The Bully

With shock and dismay I watched my two year old gelding, Buddy, beat up my sweetheart of a mare, Whiskey. Having always been blessed with good natured horses who get along with everybody and everything I was slightly taken aback. Considering the fact that Buddy was the younger new comer to my little herd it was unusual to see.

If it was just Whiskey Buddy beat up I'd chalk it up to herd dynamics and let them work it out. Out working sheep in the field I couldn't help but giggle when a sheep made a break for it and Buddy chased it down the fence line. Picture this: ears pinned, mouth agape, neck extended, rearing and striking, sheep running in sheer terror. While it makes me snicker it is not a desirable trait to see Buddy display.

Buddy is a bully. If he thinks he can dominate it, he'll try. From pinning his ears at me, to chasing anything that crosses his path, he bullies. Buddy and I have had a number of discussions regarding his unfortunate choices. These discussions usually involve me hucking a bucket at him and chasing him around. Dominating him if you will. He's not allowed to come to his feed if he pins his ears. Period. This means I'll chase him off time and time again till he approaches with a nice attitude. He's in an isolated pen which he hates preventing him from bullying. But I'd love to have him be able to hang out with any of my animals and not worry about him hurting or killing something.

My friend's mom is a wizard with the Parelli Horsemanship stuff. I'll be calling her for help. Buddy needs to learn to get along with not only me but everything. And I'm at a bit of a loss of how to accomplish this. I know he knows I'm the boss of him. But I also know he does not know how to play nicely with others. Will having another bigger bully horse help? Or will it just compound the problem?

I had originally chalked his bullying behavior with the sheep as cow sense but I can't take him to a competition and have him try to pummel the cow into the ground. This is frowned upon.

What to do with Buddy the Bully?

Simple Pleasures

Perhaps it's the seasonal change. Perhaps its the fact that after a week off I've had to return to my "real" job, but I've been feeling very reflective. I live far enough north at this time of year we lose sunlight at an alarming rate. This means my morning chores are completed in the dark. And my evening chores are completed in the dark. In order to arrive at work on time I need to leave the property by 8:00 in the morning. Chores take 30 - 40 minutes doing the bare minimum. Meaning I have the pleasure of doing chores by yard and flashlight. When cleaning the dog kennels (that at this point don't have a light), I hold the flashlight in one hand and scan for poop. Next I maneuver the laden shovel and flashlight out of the kennel to the poop drop spot. All this time the dogs are cavorting about around me, waiting to go for their "run" in the field.

I find the routine of my chores strangely soothing. Everyday I do the same things. You would think I'd get tired of it all. I will admit to taking an animal hiatus for a few years. I had one dog and put the horse in a barn. This freed up an astounding amount of time. But was not nearly as rewarding. I missed the welcome I receive. When I go out in the morning or when I come home from work the animals are enthusiastically waiting.

There is a special kind of purity in watching the dogs play in the field. Having a dog lean against your legs for a pet. Seeing the horses prance and blow with their release into the frosty fields. It makes me smile. It some days makes my heart feel like its going to pop out of my chest with love. Animals present such unconditional love. All they ask is that you take care of them. Spend some time with them.

My animals help make me a better person. A person I'd want to know.

Guilt Trip

My Queen of the Universe, like any pampered athlete seems to get more severe injuries than those who spend their lives sitting on the sidelines. Tessa has one speed. Hard and fast. She can't just trot or walk to her toy sitting across the room, instead such an action requires a pounce or dash.

About a year ago, my dad was dog sitting. When I came home I discovered a dog with a mouthful of broken teeth who was lame on one foot. My dad tried to tell me she ran into a gate. (Whatever!) I personally think she got into a conflict with a cow or horse and lost. Off to the vet we go. She ends up having a bunch of her teeth including a canine surgically removed. The paw we decided had soft tissue damage and a possible fracture. Fair enough. Tessa lived the good life until she was feeling better and then resumed her prior activity level.

This summer we were at a trial when she fell into a hole on the field. She didn't stop working, yelp or limp so I didn't think anything of it. Animals are surprisingly tough. That week she was extremely lame. I in my infinite wisdom thought she'd pulled a muscle or had some soft tissue damage. After having her be kinda lame to really lame off and on for a couple of months I took her into the vet. X-rays then revealed she had a pretty major break in two of her foot/paw bones. On a human it would be the bones in between the wrist and knuckles. My vet who understands Tessa's personality and activity level didn't think we'd be able to get a strong enough knit with just a splint. This was because she had broke where she had the fractured bones. We were then referred to an orthopedic surgeon. Yes, just like people there are animal doctors with some specific specializations.

Appointment made, financing in place, we made the guilt trip to Calgary. The entire drive I was berating myself. How could I not know my dog had broken bones? What kind of a crappy, irresponsible owner was I? Tessa didn't care. She still loved me.

After a successful surgery we came home. My high end active dog is now on the equivalent of bed rest. The prima donna gets carried up and down stairs, has attractive head gear (cone head), a sock and modified saline bag to protect her splint from getting wet when on potty runs. Which are pretty much her only outside excursions. She gets to visit the vet every two weeks. Which she loves! Not so much.

Thursday is her six week check. We're battling pressure sores so she's on antibiotics. We're also battling cabin fever so she's also on Chlomicalm (think doggy Prozac).

My Queen of the Universe is queen of this universe these days. Sigh.