Nick and Linc's Excellent Adventure - part 4 (a dog installment)

(photo by Dan King)

Ok, funny time is over. I didn't want to risk boring anyone (hah, if I've not already lost everyone) to tears by scary-to-me chicken stories ad nauseum. So I thought I'd do an update on some of the really amazing work my dogs did this past weekend.

Nick actually didn't get a whole lot of work as I thought this would be a good chance to give Linc as much practical work as possible. Linc was my go-to dog for everything, with the minor exception of rounding up the renegade sheep in part 2. However, on Saturday Lauren and I met over at Robin's to work dogs, and she held out for me some. I have been working with Nick on the concept of "you can go around objects like ponds and such on your outruns". It took a bit of reminding, but I had him going around Robin's pond nicely. I was quite proud. I also worked on reinforcing him taking his whistles a little further out. He's been stonewalling me (all, "I can't hear you!!!" and though we have learned at a BAER test that he doesn't hear normally in one of his ears, at this distance I KNOW he can hear me). It was good!

Nick also got lessons on... not being #1 all the time. It was a lesson for me too. It is SO hard to do that... leave my best dog up while I slog through chores that take longer because I'm teaching a young dog to do them.


(photo by Robin French)

Linc... was a superstar this past weekend. We worked on cross-driving (Robin's hill is great for that) and I had a MAJOR epiphany on Sunday. Here it is: He's danged fast. I thought I was having trouble on the cross drive because he was overflanking. Nope. Turns out I've been under-stopping. Or over-stopping. Whatever. My timing has SUCKED, and I wasn't stopping him soon enough. He was overflanking, and it was my fault. As a result things kept getting squirrelly, and then he would barrel in there because we're both frustrated with each other.

Duh Laura.

I gave him the whole flock up on the hill, and stood there READY to do my part. It was amazing. We freaking cross-drove. As I had previously reminded him to stay out, and was stopping him sooner on his walk ups (creating more distance between him and the sheep), stopping him correctly on his flanks, AND because he was keeping nice pace and not cranking on his sheep... it was lovely.

We also did some shedding work with the whole group, some flanking between groups, and some catching sheep when they're trying to get back together type stuff. Boy did he LOVE that. In the past I've not been able to do these kinds of things with him much 'cuz all he'd want to do was bite stuff when he'd come through. But wow. He had a cool head, and was trying really hard.

Dink-man managed to do Open length outruns, blind outruns (though he was a tad uncertain on this, but he did it!) and for the first time lifted carefully and thoughtfully. He was just working thoughtfully in general, which was a huge epiphany for him I think! He worked at a distance navigating sheep around the pond, and I was putting a LOT of pressure on him there and he not only took it but seemed SO proud of himself. I was proud of him too.

He worked *with* me all weekend - putting ewes and lambs in and out of the pen at Julie's, helping to get up the lambs that got stalled out... and helped tend as we let them graze (Sunday was a much better deal) and he did a fabulous job teaming up with Nick to hold sheep off of the feed bunks twice a day.

My little silly black dog is growing up, and all three of us were happy.

Nick and Linc's Excellent Adventure - part 3 (a chicken installment)

Did you know that in order to collect eggs from the chicken coop one must actually physically go into the chicken coop?

Saturday afternoon I found myself in the chicken coop with what seemed to be a million chickens milling around my feet. It had taken me all afternoon to work my nerve up to go back in there (after the morning chicken/back belly flop episode) but I was determined to collect eggs. Spoils of war, baby! Nevermind that I had about four or five false starts where I'd almost go in there and then turn around and walk away (quickly, of course).

I finally went in, and thought to myself, "I know! I'll give them more food so they'll stay away from me!" While this did work to keep the ones that were in the coop already away from me, it also worked to bring all of their little friends flapping and squawking in through the door to get in on the action. I hadn't really counted on that. I also hadn't counted on the fact that Nick was out there and he was doing his part to bring me chickens.

I tried to explain to Nick that it wasn't really necessary to bring me more chickens, but mostly I was only able to stand in place (uh... frozen in fear?) and squeal... and scream out "No flapping! NO flapping!!", though I don't think the chickens were listening. I didn't even have the breath to bring out a voice of doom "LIE DOWN"... I mostly just concentrated on not having a coronary. It occurred to me that if I actually died in there the chickens probably would eat my body. Can't have that.

That ba&%ard dog of mine just kept bringing chickens. Those ba$&ard chickens just kept flapping. I realized I was cornered, and to try to walk through the see of bodies would mean more ruckus. So I did the only thing a girl could do... I started collecting eggs. In my shirt. 'Cuz I'd forgotten the egg basket.

I had this strange - and admittedly unreasonable - fear that a chicken would somehow peck my belly. I know, it makes no sense, but I couldn't help it. I kept my shirt sort of over my tum while still holding eggs... but not crushing them. I'm special like that. I sang a little song in my head about collecting eggs, only occasionally punctuated by a squeal when a chicken would flap.

I got to the last nest box and there was a chicken in it. No way was I putting my hand in there. Ever. She even looked pissed off. Like she was some sort of... devil chicken. No, not really, but give me some credit... I'd been wading in a sea of chickens and hadn't run yet (or wet my pants).

I walked slowly, quietly out of the coop, with my spoils of war quietly nestled in my shirt. I took them in the house and carefully put them in egg cartons. I then danced up and down while screaming "EW EW EW" and spinning in tiny circles. Then it occurred to me that I would have to do this again the next day.

I figured I would need a new plan if I was going to avoid death and having my body pecked over.

Nick and Linc's Excellent Adventure (part 2 - a sheep installment)

There aren't a whole lot of seriously major rules in farm-sitting. However, one of them would be "don't let the sheep run away". You know, don't let em in the road to get killed, that sort of thing. One of the things Julie said to me, before she left, was "Don't let the sheep go to the neighbor's house." Apparently this neighbor doesn't like sheep in her yard. Why ever not? I cannot even fathom. At any rate, to give you guys a mental image, this is the general area:

After the "great chicken adventure of certain Laura death" I went over to Robin's and worked Nick and Linc. I got back to Julie's, and as she'd requested that the sheep be let out of their pen to graze if I felt like it, I decided to let them out. I was basically just to not let the sheep run away, and not let them go to the neighbor's house. Easy peasy. I'm the farm-sitting queen. I'm on it. Whatever.

I put Nick away, and took Linc over to scoop them out of the pen (the blue box, with a sheep next to it in the picture above). I was also charged with not letting Maia out of the pen... as SHE would run away. Maia is the Guard Dog, whom I could not catch to tie up, by the way. At any rate, Linc brought the sheep out just as pretty as you please. I learned something very exciting in this... Linc works lambs.

Unfortunately I had one lone lamb that didn't make it out the gate with the rest of the flock. The flock was running around the yard all willy nilly, screaming JAILBREAK!!!!!!!!! The lamb was running around the paddock all willy nilly screaming, MOOOOOOMMMM! I was in the pen with Linc with my back turned to the flock trying to let the lamb out but keep the guard dog in (a delicate balance to be sure). I thought maybe we could just... pop it out. Yeah right.

I just happened to turn around to see that the troublemakers were in the little garden. Julie had warned me that they like to graze the garden, which is but a few steps away from the angry neighbor lady's house. Bad. Grazing the garden is bad. Garden leads to angry neighbor lady, so no garden grazing. So I pulled Linc out of the pen, shut the gate (oblivious to the lamb screams in this moment) and sent Linc over to bring back the troublemakers.

He brought them back (good dog), and I finally got a little smarter and had him bring some of the flock up to the gate. I then sent him back into the pen to lay quietly, and he and I made it so that the best choice for the lamb was just to go out the gate and hang with his friends. Good lamb. Good for my ears too. I almost lost Maia out the gate, but I managed to push her back and shut the gate at the last second. Whew.

Sheep were out to graze, Maia was in the pen, and Linc and I could go chill and watch. So the first picture I took up top was when Linc and I were peacefully watching the sheep graze from the back porch. The wind was blowing, the sun was shining, and we were both in our happy Zen place until.... until I realized I was short some sheep. I had been sitting there for probably 10 minutes or so, and I didn't actually know how many sheep I had for sure, but it didn't look like enough.

I figured I'd best go count, go look, whatever. I counted eleven. I felt sure I had more than eleven adults (and a ton of lambs). As I started to walk around the house towards the front I ran almost headlong into a woman... a neighbor from across the street. She'd come over to tell me that there were sheep out... and they were near the angry neighbor's yard and headed for the road. In a panic (and more than a little bit PO'd) I turned and hauled buggy back to the van.

I put Linc away in a rush and grabbed Nick out (I wasn't really feeling like risking a training moment). The neighbor lady (very nice, very pretty, but she startled me and I almost had to go change my drawers again) was following along yammering something about coming to watch as she'd never seen this before. I was on a mission, though, and couldn't tell you what she actually said. She seemed nice.

As far as I was concerned both the sheep and I were in BIG trouble. I was playing the Imperial Death March in my head. Yes, really. I was going to get those naughty sheep. They were going to come home, and they would LIKE IT.

I came around the corner, and sure as shootin' they were in the neighbor's yard - or close to it. They were on the other side of the gardenish thing on the edge there, just skirting the trees. They didn't appear to be really headed for the road... they appeared to be more like kids in a candy store. They were running amok, and it was my fault. The ram was the ring leader, and I KNEW he'd been in the garden crashers group, just as I knew I'd brought him back. So somehow or another he'd made an end run around the quarterback, and had ended up over there. He'd taken friends to the party.

I was irate.

I sent Nick out there, and didn't say a word when he gripped one of the ewes who turned to look at him, and then proceeded to bring them just a bit faster than necessary.

After the nice neighbor lady left, I turned to the sheep, and said, "That's IT! Grazing privileges are LOST."

All I could keep thinking was how the ONLY directive about the sheep Julie gave me was don't let them go to the angry neighbor's yard. And what did I do? I let them go to the angry neighbor's yard. They probably pooped in it. A lot. Yeah, making friends here. Not only that but I was terrified that maybe I hadn't gotten them all back. Turns out I did (get them all back) but it was worrisome.

The next day I would think long and hard about whether or not I'd even let them out again. They don't do what they're told, and they don't stay where they're supposed to stay, even when I'm right there! Sheep that don't do what they're told get grounded. I would relent, eventually, and then I would find out on Sunday the level of sneakiness involved. Oh yeah. Very sneaky sheep. But I fear they underestimated MY sneakiness.

Nick and Linc's Excellent Adventure (part 1 - a chicken installment)

This past weekend I loaded up all of the dogs and headed out to farm-sit for Julie while she was setting sheep at a dog trial. We had so many adventures that I'm intending to break this down in parts. My apologies in advance as I don't have pictures (maybe one) to illustrate, so words will just have to do.

I know this is the part you've all been waiting for, so I'm making part 1 the first of my chicken installments.

Friday night when I got there I closed the chicken coop with no issues. Saturday morning my first job was to open the chicken coop. Most who know me (at least in a farming context anyhow) pretty much know that I'm a little afraid of chickens - quite specifically the squawking and flapping. Ok, terrified. Phobic. Freaked out. Skeered. Pall of death. You get the idea.

If they'd just sit there quietly and not move or squawk I'd probably be able to touch them. Maybe.

But I digress. Julie had warned me that they'd come flapping and squawking out, so I was armed with a plan. I took a bucket of corn (she'd told me this was part of the routine) and sprinkled it NOT in front of the coop, but slightly up the hill... in the opposite direction of where I was going to stand. I steeled myself while standing behind the door (down the hill) as I slid open the latch. I took a deep breath, grabbed the rope handle, and pulled.

Chickens everywhere. But that's OK. I was ready for them, and they were flying AWAY from me. I patted myself on the back for my ingenuity and resolve in such a potentially harrowing situation. Surely I had escaped certain death. Or at least certain scream.

I waited... and waited... and I when no more poured out I went to remove the baby gate that was wedged in the doorway (an additional measure to keep dogs out during the day) so that I could put out feed and change the water (uh... the feed and water bucket were in the coop, with an additional water pan outside). As I leaned over to unlatch the freakin frackin stuck baby gate the last chicken on earth squawked, and flew over me - hitting my back and thumping me with her wings on her way out. She was big, loud, and literally I think she belly-flopped across my back.

I screamed, danced in place for a second, and then fell back on an old favorite... I ran like a little girl. I almost fell over a stump, and I think I wet my pants a little. This was definitely NOT one of my finer moments.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I actually died for a few seconds.

I eventually worked up my nerve to walk back over there, and peered cautiously inside (one eyeball at a time). I completed my mission - fed and watered, and then got the heck out of Dodge.

THAT was my early morning wake up call. I looked over at the sheep and said, "You girls will have to wait. I need a drink." I stomped back in the house, made coffee, and played "Cityville" on Facebook while waiting for my heart to stop racing and for my hands to stop shaking. Good morning to me!

Weekend Dog Working and Vertigo

Weekend Dog Working

Last weekend I went out to Robin's to hang and work dogs (and to do some trial prep, but I was off helping Julie unload Ewes with newborn lambs that she'd taken back to her place and I missed the work part). I took everyone with and Zippy was quite the wildman - having zoomies all over the place. He almost face planted into the fence a few times... he just doesn't see all that well these days. He tickles me.

Anyway, I worked both Nick and Linc. Linc managed to actually do the Open outrun, and had his good boy listening ears on. He was working really nicely - we worked on his cross driving skills a bit, and I was pleased to find myself in my happy zen place working him. Even better was with the pressure I was putting on him he only had one little minor blow up. All in all it was very good!

Nicky learned a big lesson too. He learned that he COULD GO AROUND the pond off to the right to do an appropriate outrun to the away side. Then we switched ends of the field and he learned that he COULD GO AROUND the pond to do an appropriate outrun to the come bye side. I put quite a bit of pressure on him and he took it well - and figured out what I wanted of him. He kept wanting to eek around to the inside of the pond (and I'm sure he would have kicked out on the other side) but then once he figured it out he actually ran a bit wider and landed a bit deeper than he has been lately - which was precisely where he should have been.

It was a good weekend with friends - Pam came along and worked Rogue (little Linc) and Rachel and her daughter Gwynneth came up for the day. It was good to see them!

Vertigo

Last night, in my attempt to lose weight, I was doing some crunches. Just to tell how long it's been since I've done crunches I don't think I've done them since Linc was a baby puppy. Anyway, so I'm crunching away, and he's lying on the floor next to me... and he's licking my elbow as it goes past his face. Ew. I hate elbow lickies. Bleurgh. So finally I stopped, rolled my head to the left, and told him to knock it off.

Wrong move. It set off my vertigo.

I finished up my crunches (yeah, I am that tough) and I went to the kitchen to start dinner. The room spun. I almost barfed in the kitchen sink. Yes really. Not that I let a silly little thing like the room spinning wildly and crazy bad nausea stop me... I took my Meclizine and ate dinner anyway.

This morning, I got up, and the room is still all wobbly on me.

Crunches are banned.

That is all.

Shoofly Farm Sheepdog Trial - March

Come join us for the Shoofly Farm Sheepdog Trial, on March 19-20. The trial is near Oxford, NC. Entries are now open, and spots are going fast. For entry forms please click here. It's going to be a lot of fun. To see the Shoofly Farm blog, go here. Hope to see you there! If you come I'll let you see Ginger's ears unfurl in person. See? Great trial, Ginger's ears, what more motivation could you POSSIBLY need?

Irish Potato

The other night I was weighing myself when the Small Dog wandered into the bathroom. I thought, "Hey! I should weigh him too!" So I picked him up, blah blah blah. I'm not really sure exactly how it happened, but I suspect that the vertigo I've been dealing with this week had something to do with it. As I started to put him down he started paddling at about 1-1/2 feet off of the ground. I dropped him right on his Irish Potato (my Papaw pronounced it more like "arsh tater". We've discussed this paddling thing many times, and he still doesn't seem to understand that doing that might get him dropped. Well, it finally did.

He made a noise like, "YEERRRRK!" and then got up all puffed up. He was going to Kick. My. Behind. 11.4 pound Zippy was going to throw down on me. Never mind the fact that he came up three legged lame - hopping around holding a front leg up in the air - he was going to put the Smackdown on me. He meant business, and he was one pissed off fluffy dog. I should have run for my life. Instead, I laughed.

Is it wrong that I laughed? I think maybe the whole three-legged-lame thing makes it pretty wrong. Is it wrong that I fussed at him for being an idiot and making me drop him? I have to wonder if there's a REASON why I have no children, and that is because I'd drop them on their heads and then laugh?

Had it been one of the border collies they would have slunk off determined I was orchestrating some insidious plot to kill them. I would be untrusted for at least a few hours, maybe more just in case. Not Zippy though, he gets up all plucky. He doesn't get scared. He gets mad.

After a few minutes he was again walking normally. However, I really do think that maybe he could have seriously beat me up. He definitely believed it.

Big Linc, Little Linc, and Nick

Yesterday I got the royal trail tour from Pam. I have lived here most of my life, and I am just now learning of these places? The dogs cannot believe I could possibly not know this. There are trails here. There are lakes. There are trails and lakes. There are trails that lead to lakes. Lakes = swimming. Does it matter that the water is like 10 degrees F? Apparently not. There were miles upon miles and miles of wooded awesome rocking trails, and tons of water access. I had the greatest time, and so did they.

Witness Big Linc, Little Linc, and Nick. Swimming. In North Carolina. In January:

OK, so it is a cell phone picture, and it's awful. Up front is Linc, in the middle is Nick, and see waaaaay back there, that other black Linc-looking thing? That's Rogue. He's an Aussie. His registered name should have been "Auntie Laura's Puppy". He's not a Border Collie and I really don't care. He's pretty darned cute on sheep (has a good bit of go-around in him, and that cute little fluffy wiggly black butt just kills me). He wants to come live with his Auntie Laura. He's like a little sweeter Linc that listens. Want. Unfortunately, so far Pam refuses to cough up the puppy. I even tried to make an even trade, and no go.

For the sake of keeping it real, though, here is a true confession. I took this picture here...

'cuz I thought it was Linc.

Dogs Update

I think I'm very much overdue on the dog updates. There have been some recent changes here. I finally came to the very difficult decision to send Moon back to Robin. The biggest reason for this is that she just needs more than the casual sort of work I can give her. Now that Julie has moved away I certainly won't be able to work my dogs at much, at least not until I can change my circumstances. So I've cried a lot of tears, and feel like I've done the right thing.

Linc... Linc is growing up. He's in a place now where he's still a bit rash, and a tiny bit silly, but finally at least on the trial field willing to listen. I've been working on opening his flanks back up some, letting him be a bit more natural (now that he's less of a bonehead) and reinforcing his stop. Well... more like sort of trying to reinforce his stop. I really appreciate the motor in this dog - and really appreciate his stamina, but dang if he would just STOP when I tell him to... we'd have a lot less of a mess to clean up sometimes. He managed to place at Montpelier in Pro-Novice, and I'm toying with the idea of moving him up to Ranch if I can get enough work on him to make it reasonable. He's getting his whistles, and growing a brain. Good boy Linc.

Then, there is Nick. I can't remember what I've updated but he placed fourth in Open both days at Montpelier. This was our first time placing in open, and our first points for the finals. Neither of those runs were our best, but they were good, solid runs. On the second day we sat in first place ALL day... but there were a few really great runs in the last 7 or so runs. They were really nice runs, and ours was only good. It worked out the right way!

At Rural Hill the first day he crossed over at my feet, thus DQ'ing us. He had set himself up to go left... but right as I was about to send him he started leaning to the right, HARD. So I flipped him around to my right side. Then, the second I sent him, he crossed over to the left at my feet.ARGH! I could have choked him. I was trying SO hard to set him up right, knowing beforehand he might have issues with the horses at setout. Well... he did.

The second day had issues again on his outrun. He *really* didn't want to go around the horses. After a couple of redirects (which he ignored) he ran out to the left STRAIGHT up the side of the field - no real bend, so that he could squeak in between the horses and the sheep. He then proceeded to bugger the sheep all of the way down the field - straight as an arrow, about 50 yards off line, despite my very ardent protesting. Did I mention that it sometimes makes me happy when he flips me the doggie bird? This was not really one of those times.


I gave him an earful as he went around the post, and we got it together on the drive - to a point. I was surprised that the sheep pretty much forgave him. Then we had a little shedding lesson. I do a pretty good job of setting it up, but sometimes have trouble closing the deal. I need Robin's shedding lesson #2. BUT, we got it, with 9 seconds left on the clock. I don't even know why I did it, but I ran laughing like a lunatic to the pen. The entire crowd was roaring with laughter. I ran to the pen not saying a word to Nick, and as I turned with the gate open he was cramming those sheep in the pen... right as the timer went off. I'm guessing the sheep were just grateful. So yeah, we sucked it up bigtime at Rural Hill, but we at least offered some sort of crowd entertainment.

One of the conclusions I've come to is that part of our problems are just me being a new Open handler, and Nick being a new Open dog (with an inexperienced handler). The other big problem is that my dogs are just not getting enough work to make any of us happy. The housing market still sucks so much I don't want to sell my house yet, so I'm going to look into the possibility of renting some pasture.

In other dog news, June is good, Ginger is good and Zippy is getting old and doddery.

So far, for this year, I'm planning to work at Robin's March and April trials, but beyond that I don't know. I do know that the CrazyMobile is probably going to have to be replaced soon. But I plan to drive her until her wheels fall off! Rattletrap Power!

So that's it. Back down to my five dogs, and I think at this point I'm going to wait before I have another pup. At the moment I am really enjoying just having five. I wouldn't even mind getting down to four. Yeah, I'm sure that's going to happen.

Date? Isn't that a fruit?

A few weeks ago I posted Online Dating Decoded . The story behind that is that one day I was bored, and thought I might enjoy surfing around on match.com. It turns out you can look for free, but you have to make a profile. So I made a profile, and entertained myself looking at profiles. Then... then these guys started emailing me. It turns out that I have this nosiness problem. I could not bear the thought of not being able to read the emails. I think, too, that my nosiness problem is fairly well known. I don't want to tell anyone really what I know, I just like to know, and see.

So I signed up. I now, after two months of chatting on the phone and by email, have a first date.

What do people even DO on a first date anymore??? I mean, seriously? It's been ten years since I've had a first date with someone that I didn't already know pretty well. My first date with CR (remember him?) was "hey, why don't you come see my farm". Plus he already knew I had tons o dogs and was a little crazy. My first date with my ex-husband was sort of a "hey, we're already hanging out after this ball game lets go get food" sort of deal and I'd known him since I was 7 or 8. Well, then there was this first date with this cute sort of neighbor dude that was a total bust, but we already knew each other pretty well. Suffice it to say that he loves himself a lot.

I digress. So the issue at hand is, what in the samhill do people do on dates these days? I know, I need an emergency out. Who wants to sign up to be my emergency out? Then again, once he sees the CrazyMobile he might just drive away in a swirl of dust and barely concealed disgust (not to mention terror). doG forbid he stick his head in my car. Yep, that's why today, just in case, I've been vacuuming out my car. Most women would be getting manicures and shaving their legs before a date, and what am I doing? Vacuuming out crates and uh... taking in the towels that the crate full of chickens had been on.

What on earth am I going to wear? Well, I have two choices - farm clothes or work clothes. I don't have sexy going-on-a-first-date clothes. I'll never forget balling my eyes out the night before my wedding because I didn't have any sexy honeymoon panties. I'm afraid my situation hasn't changed much. I hope I still have some good manners left. After years of eating alone most of the time I hope I still know how to chew with my mouth closed. Besides, what DO people who don't do dogs and livestock talk about? This guy doesn't have either, though he does occasionally take his Mom's dog home for a sleepover. That's redeeming, right?

So we shall see. This dating thing is hard. Even the whole getting-to-know-you thing is hard. I hope I'm not all wilted and past my dating expiration date.

Ohmygosh, I hope I don't get to talking about taking sheep to the butcher, or the whole thinking about Julie and I killing chickens escapade.

Maybe I'll play it safe and talk about... uh... football. Or... uh... maybe I'll get lucky and he'll talk a lot. I tend to babble when I get nervous, like the first time I had to take my boss for a ride.


But on the upside, my crates smell bleachy-fresh.