BorderSmith Stockdogs & The Real Time Canine

Dance of the Cockleberry

2012-01-30T15:32:00.000-08:00

Ruh-Roh

After I worked the dogs yesterday, I took them all down to the creek for a swim. Nell went in and came out like this. Cockleburrs ev-er-y-where...

...can't quite...get...it

They were in her armpits, behind her ears, under her tail

Argh!

She had 'em stuck to her feathers, between her legs, on her chest

I think...I got it

I let her work on 'em for a while before I started on the ones she couldn't reach

Nasty...li'l...buggers!

As we walked back to the truck, she pulled and pulled one after the other.

Yech!

She got all all she could reach, and, resorting to scissors, I cut out the rest when we got home

What just happened?

Nell's a Tom-Boy. If there's dirt, she finds it. If there's trouble, she starts it. Now with a few less feathers.

Campaigning

2012-01-23T14:36:00.000-08:00

No, not that kind. Not the Republicans and the Democrats kind. Frankly, I'm not politically inclined at all, and could not care less. It just seems so beyond my reach, if you know what I mean. That, and it feels so fixed and phony. Somebody, somewhere has money, power and influence. I believe that will trump any passion I may have almost every time. Oh sure, I may win the small battle here or there. I may get a bone tossed my way on a rare occasion, but eventually, the coin will land face up where the power brokers are concerned.

Or, maybe that's just all a big fat excuse. Anyway, it's not what I'm referring to in the title.

I am referring to this!

I am referring to health and fitness, and the fact that I attended my very first pilates class today, private, of course. I'm referring to arthritis and my desire to ~~conquer it~~ ~~fight it~~ ~~postpone it~~ live in greater comfort despite the fact that I have it. I will not give in gracefully to this process called aging. I will go down fighting, kicking and squeezing my glutes. At least that's what I did today.

I am campaigning against the aging process, and all the aching pains that go along with it. I feel like I'm starting to curl up like a fallen leaf, and I'm none too happy about it. It hurts! And people keep asking me why I'm limping. Am I limping? Maybe I should make some changes. Maybe I should shake up and streamline my routines. Maybe I should commit to creating good habits.

Drum roll please...the Reformer!

Brandy, my pilates instructor, has blue hair, and I'm talking Marge Simpson here. Does that matter in regards to her ability to show me the ropes as it were? Not even a little bit. She was great. She made me lie down on a styrofoam roll resembling the cotton roll your dentist uses to stop bleeding...only bigger. Apparently my spine is twisted like a corkscrew, however, because she kept telling me to lower this, tilt that, expand, compress and engage. I felt like pelletized feed going through the extruder.

I cannot do this

Just laying on the giant Tootsie Roll was difficult. It was not soft. I did manage to stay on long enough to get through the stretching, but looking back, I'm wondering why we couldn't have done that on the mat? I guess it has something to do with balance, which did take a bit of muscle. Tone the core you say? OK...onto the Reformer.

I did not feel the way this woman looks

The Reformer is a bench that slides using weights and pulleys to create resistance. There seems to be an infinite variety of ways to work muscle on this thing, and I only scratched the surface. What I experienced beyond that was some incredible stretching. Just what I was after, and it felt really good. In fact, once I got past being seen in workout wear by another human, the entire experience was wonderful. It's been a while for the workout wear, and I always worry that I'm wearing something stupid for the situation. I don't why I do that, but I always have. Brandy didn't care. Why should I?

So, step 2 in my plan to anti-age is underway. Step 1 being my bicycle, which I'm riding 3 or 4 days a week. Hmmm...what next? Yoga? Definitely! How about a good, healthy cleanse? That information might be better suited for Twitter, but I think yes, and on a regular basis. I considered a colonic irrigation, but my friend, Jan the chemist, said that was voo doo, so I'm tabling it for now.

My women's blogging group, BlogHer, has a great post about looking your best. I encourage you to give it a read! May as well leave a comment while you're there. We love that stuff!

Please visit the Life Well Lived Sweepstakes starting on January 26^th and enter for a chance to win a Kindle Fire and a $50 Amazon Gift Card. What could be better on a cold winter's day than an instant book on a free Kindle? Hmmm? Well, maybe a nice romp with a guy who looks a lot like Bradley Cooper, but that's not likely in the cards now is it? CLICK HERE to enter the sweepstakes...but NOT until January 26th!

See you on the campaign trail!

So, how was your day?

2012-01-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

Please don't breed or buy while shelter pets die

3 Dogs Right, or Snowbirds - 2011

2012-01-02T11:59:00.000-08:00

There aren't many sheepdog trials around the country that will allow you to enter 3 dogs. There's a good reason for that. The more dogs entered, the more work to be done. Competition days have to added, more sheep must be brought in, volunteer and paid help is stretched thin, and it's a lot of before daylight until way after dark. And yet, Jennifer and Ron Ewers of Canines and Ewe Border Collies do it year after year...

Star runs out

This year the trial ran over 5 long days and went off like buttah. That's what experience and good help will get-cha. There were 2 opens over 4 days, 2 nursery classes and 2 Pro-novice on Sunday. In total, something in the neighborhood of 250 runs were made possible. That's a lot of set-out, running, judging and exhaust. Speaking of which, I was fairly exhausted and beginning to fray by Friday, and all I had to do was show up and run.

My dogs were brilliant this week, I have to say. Mirk was solid as solid could be, and at his ripe old age of 8 years, I can finally kick back and have fun with him. I count on him now. He will listen, he will stop, he will go, and depending solely on my ability on any given day, he will finish well or win most of the time. 84 dogs in each of 2 open divisions, and he placed in both on efficient work and a calm, capable presence. He has risen through my ranks, and sits solidly atop the pile now. He is my #1 dog.

Star is oh-so-cool at the pen

After a rocky run in the first open, Star rallied on Saturday. He was unsure of the lambs and a bit too cautious at first, but he had things well in hand in the 2nd go. He looked like his old self again. I encouraged him at the top to lift stompy Suffolks set on hay, and quite happy to remain buried there. After that it was simply a matter of maneuvering his very precise power-steering. I'll say it again...he is the most exact dog I've ever run, and he gives me that on my very softest whistles.

In the shed he had to hold 2 lambs that moved apart after I called him through. It gave me pause, which wasn't necessary. He had them cold. This time out, he shined at the pen, giving me his softest steps and slightest leans to smoothly and calmly complete the task. With plenty of time to make the single, it was my poor judgement that caused us to time out there. No fault of the dog. Quite honestly, I fell apart, and I have no idea why.

It wasn't nerves, I was calm. It wasn't the weather, which was glorious. It wasn't the dog that just needed to be summoned. I think Jennifer Ewers had it right when we discussed afterwards; "aw, that just happens sometimes." 13th place is laudable without a single, but, damn it! Another 10 points would have catapulted us easily to the pay window. Jennifer and Ron pay a lot of money to the first 3 places.

Very nice

The latest acquisition to my kennel is Buff, and he's not even mine. Thank heavens for that, because Amanda, the lady who owns him, could not have found a more perfect dog for her and I. Good luck finding a 4 year old dog that will place 8th with me in a huge open, then turn right around in the pro-novice and assist a first-time trialer to an 11th place finish out of 33 dogs! Yeah! Good luck with that! I never noticed it before, but his halo appeared brightly at the end of pro-novice day. What a nice dog! Seriously, I love him. He deserves to sleep on the bed.

He can run out a bit wide, but just a toot turns him in to fly around at the top spot on balance. Yeah, you might lose a point on the outrun, but he's sure to make it up. Like operating a remote-control car, all I did was steer and change speed around the course. We hit every panel, made the shed look choreographed and the pen look big. I'm telling you, he's one helluva dog. We timed out at the single for 8th place, and the 2nd time he's accumulated USBCHA points for me in the slight 6 months I've been running him. Oy! He's a keeper.

Buffy the wonder-dog

Here's some names you want to remember the next time you put on a dog trial; Jennifer's mom and both dads. They just make the day brighter. Tricia Guidry, who will do whatever is needed at just the right moment. Leon Harrison, who rocked as course director. And I've saved the best for last; Dianne Deal, who judged every, single run...over 250 of them covering five grueling 10-hour + days. Sheesh girlfriend, where did you find the fortitude? And, she did it with unfailing good humor, and no lunch break.

Dianne Deal gets the sheepdog Purple Heart

And yet another Snowbirds on the Border Sheepdog Trial is in the books. The competitors this year were an unusually great group for the most part. How nice is that? I saw no chest-thumping, and didn't hear a single Tarzan call. Of course he wouldn't allow Cheetah to come without him, so it was just a really good time.

Ron and Jennifer...Good job!

Puppy Class

2011-12-29T16:15:00.000-08:00

My friend, Bridget, is in town for Snowbirds on the Border dog trial. She stayed over at my house last night, and since she was idle today, and I just ran Star, I came home early for puppy class. We both have youthful innocents to train, and decided to give 'em a go on the sheep. It's always fun to watch the youngsters.

At 5 months, Bridget's Rainey got the most face time. My camera was drawn to her like cops to donuts. Adorable, don't ya think? She circled, she balanced, she trotted purposefully to her sheep, and she called off beautifully giving us a brilliant demonstration of her "off" button. When not playing with the sheep, she played quietly by herself while we worked the others.

Here she's saying; "my turn?" Either that, or "mom, I love you more 'n my luggage."

"No worries mom, I got this." "It's me and you, right?" "That is right...right?"

Only his 3rd time out, Tam moved from the round pen to the medium field. Small, the round pen. Meduim, the 3 acre field. Large, a hundred and twenty acres. Each time I've worked him he's improved and I'm so happy to report that today was no exception. He's a listener this one, and so very fast. Bridget cracked up when he awkwardly stopped himself hard on a dime with an expression that read; "what did I do that for?" Gotta love those pups...

No pictures of Nell today, but she came out of the round pen too. Her breeder, Vergil Holland, called her mother " the girl gangster," and this apple didn't fall far from that tree. She loves the move I call the scoot and grab, and she executes with intention. I surely can't fault her enthusiasm, and at this stage of the game, I'm quite happy to see it!

Peace on Earth

2011-12-24T18:03:00.000-08:00

Good Dog Fergus

2011-12-23T10:13:00.001-08:00

So why doesn't anyone want them?

2011-12-18T10:11:00.001-08:00

A few of the lucky ones...

Lucy

Oscar

Levi

Dexter

Please don't breed or buy while shelter pets die

The King

2011-12-12T17:46:00.000-08:00

It's good to be ~~King~~ Mirk

Pardon Me

2011-12-10T15:40:00.000-08:00

My Foster Dog, Lucy

Dexter has shown me the light as far as my love for Miniature Pinschers goes. But, I would never dream of buying a pure-bred when there are literally thousands of them in shelters and rescues all over the country. 20%-30% of those are pure-bred anyway according to the ASPCA.

I don't know what possesses me to do these things, but for reasons I'll never understand, off I went yesterday to the San Diego Animal Shelter to adopt and foster Lucy. And here she is, all energy, love and light filling up my livingroom, and my heart with her irrepressible spirit, her love of anything ball, and her joy. Lucy needs a pardon from the unfortunate life she's led thus far.

Institutionalized for months, Lucy is darker and slightly bigger than 6lb Dexter. Her tail was left behind (sorry) unlike his, which is missing. It's the characteristics they share that endear me to this type of dog. I have had her for little more than 24 hours, and already she loves absolutely nothing more than to be held in my lap, arms wound tightly around her undernourished body. Just like Dexter, she is a complete snuggle-dog.

I don't know her history, and it's better that way. I prefer to remember her how she is today, and the dog she will become. I'm feeding her dog food topped with soaked flax seed 3 times per day to get some weight on those bones. She loves treats too, and has already begun to understand the meaning of "cookies?"

Just spayed 2 days ago, Lucy is also micro-chipped and current on all her shots. A few benefits of adopting from a county animal shelter. They were having a sale on dogs with any black on them. Lucy has a few black hairs, and one small black dot on her tail. At $25 for the package, she was a bargain. She's all set to go to her forever home. Are you lucky and smart enough to have her? Will you grant her pardon? Do you know anyone who will? Any prospective adopter will have to be vetted just like Lucy was, but if you're interested, please let me know. Since I couldn't, I don't see how you can resist.

Timing

2011-12-02T22:43:00.000-08:00

Christmas isn't the best time to bring home a puppy, but it's always a good time to think about adoption and rescue. Don't breed or buy while shelter pets die.

Little Dog Monday

2011-11-28T18:05:00.000-08:00

Oscar, Dexter, and Juno

Any of you who visit often have met Dexter before. I adopted him from a MinPin rescue that rescued him from a kill shelter. Here he is flanked by his friends, Oscar and Juno who belong to repairer of everything BorderSmith, and dear friend, Jeffrey. This is what happens when you rescue mutts. You get pictures like this one that bring a smile to your lips, and sheer joy to your heart.

I rescued Oscar from a kill shelter in Norco, CA after falling for a tear-jerker pet food comercial that aired during a televised dog show. Sometimes I am irrisistably drawn to the macabre, and find myself flipping over to ogle what's happening in the breed ring.

Faces of hopeless shelter dogs were shown in a slide show presentation, and my heart broke (again) when I was reminded how utterly doomed they are, and how many we kill every year in this country. I went immediately online to find the least likely to be adopted from a shelter near me, and found Oscar. With the intent of fostering him until a suitable home could be found, I drove off the next day to retrieve him.

Jeffrey has had Oscar for years now, and they are inseparable. Have you seen the paw-shaped car magnets that say "Who rescued who?" That's the story of Jeff and Oscar. And then along came Juno. She was the last puppy from a "designer-dog" litter produced by a misguided backyard breeder who thought she could make a buck, and Jeff caved in the moment he saw her.

It was almost 80 degress here in sunny, Southern California today, and the little dogs were in rare form. Maybe it's because their size makes it hard to retain body heat, but small dogs revel in the sunshine. All 3 stayed busy hunting lizards, digging up gopher holes, and lounging in the sun while Jeff and I fixed things that needed it.

All day long we called each other's attention to the antics of one small dog, then the other. We're so blessed to have 'em. You can be too. With the holidays approaching, folks might be tempted to buy a puppy. The ads say this season is a bad time to add a dog, or puppy to your life, and I agree. But, if you have to do it, please consider adoption first. Then go take some adorable pictures of your own.

Good Dog Nick

2011-11-28T16:33:00.000-08:00

I saw this on You Tube, and thought you might enjoy it as much as I did. It was made by Disney in the 50s, and there was quite a bit of creative license taken with the capabilities of a Border Collie. That only served to increase my enjoyment. Like watching Lassie, you know it's make-believe, and it's irrisistable none the less. Enjoy.

San Diego Dogs

2011-11-07T13:15:00.000-08:00

Please don't breed or buy (your next pet) while shelter pets die. 3 million a year are killed in our country alone. Come on people. We can fix this.

While we're on the subject...

2011-10-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my friend Jan for making my point abundantly clear.

The Rough String

2011-10-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

Indie, Tam and Hank-bottom to top

Lucky me! I have 3 talented youngsters in my kennel at the moment to train, all at different levels, all with very different temperments, all loads of fun, all good dogs. In the past 10 years or so I have had to place 3 or 4 puppies that I realized were not a good fit for my program after I raised them. It takes careful selection and a bit of luck to acquire good prospects. It quite often takes some trial and error. To have 3 all at once is very good luck indeed, and I'm having fun with them.

Only 1 of the 3 above is owned by me. Tam, in the middle, I purchased on my way back from the National Finals this year. He is a son of Eileen Stineman's Don who has been used a great deal and has so far produced a Canadian open, and nursery champion, and a US Nursery champion along with an impressive string of other very nice dogs. Now just 7 months old, Tam is showing to be very keen on stock, and a lovely dog to have around. He's a big, goofy puppy right now, but just you wait. I really like him.

Indie is shown at the bottom, and belongs to a very dear friend of mine. As mentioned in a previous post, she got off to a rough start, but is overcoming her difficult beginning and making a very nice individual. She is 15 months old now, and I hope to be trialing her in the nursery in the near future. Maybe as soon as Snowbirds on the Border held over New Years. After settling into my training routine, Indie is coming on quickly.

At the top of the photo is Hank, who came to me from Montana for 3 months of training while his owner is on holiday in Italy. A brash, young individual with lots of speed and little else when we began, he is settling into an obediant, willing youngster that is intently keen, athletic and intelligent. Hank has a nice feel for his sheep, will stop on a dime, and can run like a scalded cat. He's very quick, and will make a nice trial or ranch dog, as his owner sees fit.

Introducing my rough string. Aren't they grand? We're working hard, discovering each other's style, and finding that sweet spot where everyone is productive and happy. I'm so glad to have 'em.

My Sentiments Exactly!

2011-10-21T20:01:00.000-07:00

I try, I really try not to be political on this blog. Frankly, it's not good for business. But some causes are just too meaningful for me to pass on. Puppy mills, selling live animals in pet stores, and shock collars are 3 of those causes. Thankfully, I don't have too many more.

I read a quote the other day that went something like this; "If you've never made anyone angry, then you've never taken a stand." Well, believe me, I've made lots of people mad, and my life sometimes seems like it's been one long, continuous stand, but buying puppies, instead of adopting our country's homeless dogs, is one I will never back down from.

We kill upwards of 3,000,000 dogs in this country each and every year, and that's just the dogs. Let's repeat that together; "3,000,000 dogs killed in this country each and every year." In far too many cases, puppy mill operators commit "breeders" to interminable suffering, filth, sickness, and tragic death to satisfy the pet trade so Billy can get a puppy for Christmas, and the cycle continues.

Don't breed or buy while shelter pets die.

I can't stand it and I'm speaking out. Don't expect me to quit any time soon...

Dirty Little Secret

2011-10-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

This is Indie, and she was a victim of abuse. After being with me for a month or so, she will just now walk into her kennel without coaxing, jump into the truck without being leashed, and enter her crate without food offered.

I suspected she was abused with a shock collar the first time I saw her on sheep. Her stop was just too mechanical, her expression too wary, and she gave ground to my pressure out of fear. I knew who had started her, a San Diego County, so-called dog trainer who is notorious for shocking dogs. The owner called the abuser, and confirmed it after I shared my suspicions. She made this excuse: "Indie wouldn't mind me." Indie was 12 months old at the time.

Now 15 months old, I tried to get Indie to sit up for these pictures, but she is far too submissive for that. It is an accomplishment just to have her jump on the rock. Previously she would have run to hide if she thought I wanted something from her.

Her owner is not responsible for this. He had no way of knowing what would happen when he put her in training. Indie was sent home, with the explanation that she was just too soft to be a sheepdog. She is a daughter of Alaisdare Macrae's Nap.

My experience with Indie is that she is a keen, stylish bitch who is afraid to use her talents. As much as her instincts tell her otherwise, she is more concerned about me than determined on her stock...but she's changing. My experience with her abuser is that Indie was too much dog for her, so she shocked her into submission to make the job easier. In other words Indie was abused out of laziness.

As I work Indie, we do lots of walking, and wearing sheep with much shushing and encouragement from me. She is beginning to come right, but it will be a slow process. I love to watch her run out, because that's where she is least afraid, with plenty of speed, style and scope. Indie is learning her whistles, off balance flanks, and has just been introduced to the concept of an inside flank. I have to be so careful not to scare her.

It may take more time, more patience, many more steps, more sheep, different fields, but there is always, always a better way. Do NOT stand by and watch dispicable individuals abuse dogs, not your dog, not anyone's dog. Do not turn a blind eye, and convince yourself that it's OK. How could you?

Shock collars are what one successful sheepdog trainer refers to as "the dirty little secret," and they are the one exclusion in his return policy on dogs he sells. If you use a shock collar on them, he will not take them back, and he can always tell.

My Summer Vacation - 2011

2011-09-29T12:56:00.000-07:00

Create a free slideshow

Aftermath, 2011

2011-09-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

Unlike last year, It was too hot to take pictures as I traveled home from the finals. I turned South from Carbondale to pick up a puppy from the Holmes' at Geri Abrahms' Free to Be Ranch in NM. After spending a night there, and one in Lordsburg, temps climbed to 109 in Tucson, and I was never so happy to see Jacumba, CA and 99 degrees in my life. The Arizona desert was one long, hot motha.

Thousands of miles later

The bad news is that it's not much cooler here. My patio thermometer read 90 at mid-day, and clearing out my trailer has been accomplished in fits and starts with lots of shading up in the house. I've almost got it finished now, and I'm down to the heavy lifting of unloading dog crates to be cleaned, starting the laundry, and washing out the black tank. Definitely chores for the cool of an evening. Tomorrow I'll worry about jack stands and getting the truck washed.

Introducing Tam

How do you like my new pup? He's adorable, don't you think? What a happy boy, and no worse for wear after 2 grueling days of heat and confinement. Bred by Eileen Steinman off her prolific Don, out of a littermate sister to Tricia Macrae's Alba Cap, named Lynn, he comes to me at a time when I'm looking for a future replacement for Mirk, that will be 8 next month. All the Don pups I've seen look pretty good, and I'm looking forward to giving mine a try.

The spoils

Looking back on the trials, my dogs ran pretty well. Star was over matched at the finals by replacement yearlings that just did not want to track, but he surprised me at Meeker. Missing the semi-finals by 3 points that were every last one my fault, he won the "Cowboy Lift" award, and the nice collar and leash above, for Friday's preliminary running. Out of some 40 or 50 dogs, he impressed the set out crew more than any other, to receive the prestigious award. I retired when he couldn't shift his sheep at all on the open field at the finals, and joked that I should receive the "Cowgirl Lift" award for making the best dog retrieval.

Mirk making me look good

Mirk was either on fire, or cold as ashes, finishing 12th in the double lift at Meeker with good placements at almost every other trial we went to throughout the summer. His best run came in the semi's at Meeker, but his Sunday run at Steamboat, pictured above, was one that I will long remember as well. He can always move the sheep. I never worry about that. Sometimes it's how he does it that's deflating, and his preliminary run at the National Finals is a case in point.

Photo by Maureen Robinson

Strang Ranch

My time on the Strang Ranch was remarkable in every way. The kindness, generosity, hospitality and grace of that good family has made a difference in my life. Never have I been treated with more warmth, and acceptance than when I was in their company. It was suggested that while there, I should pretend I'm a
Strang. Too big a stretch for little 'ol me. The best I could do was pretend to act like one, and, try as I might, I fell way short of the mark. I'm very blessed indeed to call Mike, Kit, Bridget, Laurie and Scott my friends. Scott's wife, Judy, and Kit's brother and sister-in-law, Tam and Sue had to put up with me too. Many thanks.

Finality

No matter which dog trial I go to, and how long or short I'm gone, it always finishes with the laundry. Somehow it's very satisfying to get it all cleaned, folded and put away. Between my ears, doing the laundry, mothballing the trailer and getting the dogs settled is how I prepare for the next one. I've almost got it done. Speaking of which, when is the next trial? What have you done for me lately you shaggy mutts? When are we leaving?

Terminal Dust

2011-09-20T07:48:00.000-07:00

First Snow of the Year

Referred to by many as "terminal dust," I took Carbondale's first snowfall as a sign from God for me to go home. I'm writing this from Mountainair, New Mexico, and I'm on my way. Stopping to look at a puppy, I've taken the southern route, and gone about 10 hours out of my way, but it's cheaper than shipping him.

Yesterday was bittersweet for me. After just short of 3 months living in the RV, I'm ready for home, but I left behind a lot of awfully nice people, animals, and places that I came to love dearly over the summer. Carbondale, and the Roaring Fork Valley have a sparkle and glow that will linger with me for some time, or until I pull into my drive and experience finality.

I pulled out past sheepdog central, where I stopped and gave an abreviated goodbye to Max, Sonia, Kit, Ellen, and of course, Bridget. I'm not good at goodbyes, and it's only "so long," as I'll see them again sooner than later. Tears would be shed, so I kept it brief and hit the road with an addition to the dog roster, and a total of 6 on board. I've taken Hank to train for 3 months, and headed out to add dog #7, the pup I mentioned.

Going Home

The last job I helped with this summer was loading the trial sheep. Bridget started them down the lane early, then, together with good dogs Treat and Rosie, Ellen, Bridget, the truckers and I drove them through sorting pens and onto the truck. After Meeker, Ellen's sister, and Meeker Trial Director, Maym Cunningham, was quoted as saying, "the day after a big trial is like having a really bad hangover." That sentiment exactly reflects my feelings while loading those girls onto the truck. I imagine Bridget was glad to see them come, and glad to see them go. She was in charge of them all week long.

It's been a whale of a summer, and it's not over yet. I have about another 800 miles or so, which I'll spend a couple days covering. Hub and Allison are here in Mountainair with me. I'll be looking at their pup shortly, then heading out once again. My plan is to be home by Thursday, when the real work begins. I'll need some time to recover from this once-in-a-lifetime summer and settle in back home.

Spirit of Volunteerism

2011-09-16T09:41:00.000-07:00

Sonia, Tom Hoeber and Ellen Nieslanik

I don't know the number of volunteers recruited to make our National Finals go around, but it's many. There are a myriad of jobs that I would never have dreamed needed doing until I saw them being done by generous, smiling souls this year in Carbondale. I will manage to credit only a few of them here.

Andrew (very funny) and LuLu

Linda, Terry and Lisbeth, Hand's camp, vendors, hand's camp

There are over 900 head of sheep on the ranch for the trial and practice fields. Watering, feeding, moving, setting, arranging, organizing and returning them is a massive undertaking and has gone as smoothly as you could ever hope for. Bridget is in charge of the sheep, and, with the help of Coleen and her talented Kelpies, they're all present, accounted for and on their feet.

Sheepdog central, Francis Raley, Barb Ross and Hub Holmes. Where's Tolly?

If you've ever wondered who is responsible for all the paper work and how it gets done, your answer is Francis Raley from Crawford Texas. How is the finals reconciled, the scores kept straight, the entries accounted for, the rules kept track of, scores posted to the website, and so much more? Francis Raley and at the finals, she does it with help from Barb and Tolly. She's on her own for the rest of the year. Hub collaborates with Francis throughout, but he is our fearless leader and is really good at his unpaid job. Just for the record, Francis has been the HA Secretary officially and unofficially since 1985, when she also provided the field, the sheep, and cooked the hand's dinner for that year's finals. There would have been no finals in 1985 without her, and from my view, things haven't changed much.

Allison and Hub Holmes

Kit Strang, our most gracious and generous hostess

Norm Close judging the open field

I don't know all involved in the Hand's hospitality tent, Cathy Baliu for sure, but it is well stocked with every delectable thing. I have eaten breakfast and lunch there every day, and was even served once after one of my disappointing runs. Miss Geri from NM said; "you sit right there, and I'll take care of it." That's the spirit I mention in the title of this post. It's fun to be here even in the face of disappointment, for me any way. Judging is a thankless, tedious and monotonous job. Norm Close, Warren Mick, Frank Cashen and Peter Gonnett have traveled thousands of miles in each case to sort the runs. They're doing a great job, and don't let anyone convince you differently.

Kristi and Sonia

The Vanna Board

There are men and women running around everywhere doing every little thing. We have electricians, phone answerers, judging scribes, Kristi is running the horse business, Sonia exhausting and watering stock. There are score runners, set out crew, folks in golf carts ferrying spectators and hands alike, and Lord, lets not forget the parking crew. Thanks Bernie! I don't know who hatched the "Vanna Board" idea, but beautiful women parading scores almost immediately after each run adds the touch of levity that every finals should include. This is dog-trialing, not life and death no matter how serious some people take it. The "Vanna" girls are fun.

My national finals is over this year, my dogs are put up, my disappointment assuaged, and my smile firmly in place. My dogs ran well to get here, and I campaigned as hard as I could all year. This was decidedly not my year for the finals. That's OK... "that's dog-trialing" as they say. I'm remembering what my dogs did right, I'm carrying a lot of great memories, and I'm already making plans for next year.

Wrapping Up the Beginning

2011-09-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

Hand's Meeting, Meeker Finals

Confused by the title of this post? I didn't know how else to combine the Double lift finals at Meeker with day 1 of the National Finals. If you do, please let me know. Yesterday was a big day for me. I ran Mirk in the 6th spot of the double lift, hooked up my trailer and pulled out immediately after the awards ceremony that I was absolutely blessed to take part in. I headed for Carbondale and the National Finals.

Currently, it's 8pm, and I'm sitting in front of a laundromat-liquor store doing my laundry after a full day of running the practice pens on Strang Ranch. I've been up since 5:30am, and my day was light compared to Bridget and Ellen. Their laundry is likely still sitting in a moldering heap somewhere.

The double lift. I'll make this short and sweet. I need international shedding lessons, a lot of them, and quickly. I looked like a monkey f'ing a football out there, and my score of 87 reflected that. As for Mirk, well, he needs to study up on a right-hand look back. I talked with a friend before my run about the possibility it would be problematic, and he suggested that I "pummel him back there." That's exactly what it felt like, and the points were flying off. Hey look, I made it through the prelims, semis and most of the double lift course minus the shed, pen finish. After 4 years of running my dog with little and no success, believe me when I tell you; "I'm OK with that." What a road it's been with my Mirkie!

Price-less volunteers

Look at my old-man working his heart out at the ripe old age of soon to be12 years old. In the close quarters of the practice set out pens, he was my best dog for the job, and worked beautifully all day long. Love that dog. Price and I were in charge up there with the help of some tireless, good-natured volunteers, Leslie and Jill. Thanks Women!

So people started arriving yesterday on Strang Ranch, and together with 850hd of trial sheep, 85hd of practice sheep, vendors, HA Directors, judges, and the like, we kicked things off in style. The grounds are beautiful, the hand's camp seems to be working, and everyone appears pretty happy. But then it's not even day 1 officially yet. Running starts tomorrow on the open field at 8am...or maybe it's 8:30. I'm short, and I was on the outside of a big circle of competitors that made up Hub Holmes handler's meeting. Anyway, I'll get there early just in case.

My Buddy, Octavio, mowing the shed ring

I run Mirk 19th tomorrow, and I'm counting on him not to have peaked at Meeker. He got the day off, a big breakfast, and the extra-large crate with the soft cushion. He'll be rested anyway. Honestly, I haven't even looked to see when I run Star, but it has to be either Wednesday or Thursday, with the nursery final on Friday. The open is a big course. It's not the biggest outrun I've seen at a finals, but it is every bit of the biggest drive I've seen, and the field itself looks grand.

Hub's handler's meeting

Uh-oh, the Econo-wash is closing soon, I'm running low on battery, and this excruciatingly slow I-net connection is making me crazy, so I'll write more when I have time. Yeah...that's going to happen. And, here's some random shots from today to tide you over. Cheers all. I'll report back later.

Beautiful volunteers at the practice pens

Volunteer lunch at the big house

Allen Hickenbottom and ??? Help me out here.

Joann Zoerb with Dick and Cheryl Williams

I'm In!

2011-09-10T19:29:00.000-07:00

'Da Dog

Mirk was my guy today, my big dog, 'da man! After a bit of a rough start in the semi-finals at Meeker, the dog hardly put a foot wrong. We managed the shed, pen, marked single finish without too much fuss, and I'm guaranteed a pay check tomorrow. Long story, short, we're running 6th tomorrow in the double lift finals.

The cut off for the double lift was 70, but I didn't know that when I went to the post. As it turned out I bumped Emil Ludecke's 70, and the cut off became 72 after my score of 80 was announced. 30 dogs ran today. Mirk finished 9th.

The day started with an RT and 2 DQs before the 1st score was obtained. Some familiar faces won't be seen this year, and I'm sorry to report that after qualiying 2 dogs in the semi's, we wont' be seeing Scott Glen tomorrow. Did I mention what a good sport he is? After his 2nd DQ he was heard in the grandstands making up words to a Dutch song to be played on the bag pipes..."I lost my wooden shoe in Amsterdam..." Berhow didn't make the cut with Pete and Mike gripped off at the pen. Good hands such as Dale Montgomery, Jim Swift, and Barbara Ray just didn't make the cut on ewes that would flight or fight depending on their feeling towards the dog.

Temps were cooler today, and the sky clouded up late this afternoon, just before my dead last run. As Mirk and I were greeting our supporters coming off the field, big, fat raindrops began to fall. I felt, rather than heard lightening while out at the post, and the thunder had begun just previous to our run. Good timing all around. Good time of day to run, good timing on the thunder and lightening, good timing on the rain. I couldn't have scripted it better.

I've hit the semi's a time or two, but it's been a while since I made the final cut. Price-less was 6th in 2007, and I lost a year here and there to circumstance after that. To come back with a different dog leading the way is a wonderful thing. I'm happy to report that Mirk and I have finally hit our stride together. It only took 4 years give or take. James Brown sang it best: "Ah feel good!"

Facing Meeker

2011-09-09T21:49:00.000-07:00

Price-less

This dog trial is a trip down memory lane for me, and I realize just how long I've been around when I come here. These are my people. The ones I've argued with, lost to, lied about, laughed and drank with, and loved every step of the way. It was Price that brought me down this road, so I'll begin with his funny face.

Stormy Winters and Kate

Because it's Meeker's 25th anniversary, it was a nostalgic day any way. There was tribute at half time to Red Oliver, given by the dog Trial, with fellow long-timer, Bud Budreau doing the honors. It was worth well worth the price of admission to see the two of them together at the post, microphone in hand, reminding us how lucky we've been to have had Red around for so long. They repeated the ceremony at the hand's dinner and asked anyone who's been coming for 20 years or longer to stand. Red Oliver, Stormy Winters, Bud Budreau, Bruce Fogt, and Amanda Milliken got a thundering round of applause. Just for the record, 2012 will be my 10th year.

Terry Warner and Chris Jobe looking good in hats

I have yet to look at the scoreboard. Mirk's 72 was likely to put us through to the semi's and did, but I refused to fret over it. Others obsessed and I stayed in touch by eavesdropping. They take the top 30 back, and turns out Mirk was 15th, I think. I still haven't checked the scores. In years past the semi-final run order was drawn at the hand's dinner, but it was made after the running today. Unaware, I missed it, and whoever was drawing for those not in attendance drew me dead last. I'm good with that. Unless it rains, as it has been in the afternoons, the weather should cool by the time I stroll out. I'm channeling Linda Fogt, who sat around all day one year at the Bluegrass to run last and finish second, as I remember. Waiting around isn't easy. Waiting around to lay one down is even harder.

Red Oliver and Bud Budreau

Little Star man shone brightly today and missed the semi-final round by exactly 3 points, all of which could have been avoided had I handled better. I walked to the post expecting to have to walk a bit further to retrieve my dog sooner than later, assuming he would be overmatched by sheep as he's never encountered.

I think he mistook boulders for sheep and tried to cross most of the outrun. I just managed to hold him out until he spotted his sheep, when he cast out beautifully. I blasted him a walk up expecting the sheep would stall, but his lift was dead on. The merino cross ewes leaned on him all the way down the fetch line while trying to run off to my right, but he took every flank and pushed right back to make the fetch panel, after which they tried another tactic, faced him and stomped. He just kept coming, made a nice turn and caught them trying to run off up the drive line.

Thinking they were through, I turned him and them just in front of the panel. Another missed opportunity to make tomorrow. The cross drive was a series of catch their eye to stop them from drifting high, then flank back to let them move off, and that panel was hit on an angle. With over 2 minutes to finish, I took a silly shed and went to the pen with 1 minute 14 seconds. I only had 29 seconds there with Mirk! What can I tell you? I needed another 20 seconds, and we timed out, but boy was I proud of that good young'un today.

Chuck Riley and Emil Ludecke keep track

It's Mirk's day tomorrow, and Sunday, with hope, then Bone-dale here we come!

Meeker Time

2011-09-08T12:28:00.000-07:00

From the Hand's Camp

From 49th on the wait list for the Meeker Sheepdog Trial, I made it into the running on the very last day possible, just 1 day before it began. I still can't believe my luck. After the Steamboat dog trial, I drove back to Carbondale to help with last minute preparations for the finals, and get over my dissapointment. On Tuesday morning I had an email from Meeker Director, Maym Cunningham, and here I am, parked on a hill overlooking the trial field, having just run Mirk, my first of 2 dogs. Star runs tomorrow second to last.

Dexter feels the love

Meeker began on Wednesday, but I stayed over in C-dale Tuesday night, and helped a little. It rained, and I was told that getting into the hand's camp was nearly impossible. On Wednesday, when I arrived, I simply put my foot in it, and powered up the muddy slope into camp. Once on the grass, it was slow, but easy to find a near-level spot, and I'm in the front row! After watching a few runs, it was apparent the sheep were different that what we usually get, so I asked the shepherdess, Julie Hansmire; "why the change?" "They're fat," she said from a lot of Colorado rain, and they're happy.

Scott Glen sheds, Jenny Glen shoots

The sheep were better yesterday, I think, because it was cooler. Scores were uncommonly high for here with an 85 leading, an 83 and a bunch of 70s. Not so today. Temps climbed and sheep disposition fell. They detected any dog weakness at the lift, and more than a few runs have been lost to the clock. Scott Glen with his US Nursery and recent Canadian Open Champion, Don, had the high score today of 85 when I broke for lunch after my run with Mirk. With 29 seconds on the clock, he completed a stellar pen. He is ice-man.

Looking upfield

Mirk was a 72 on very clean en-bye work and the odd set with a leader who tried him all the way down the fetch line, and all around the drive. Mirk nailed her a time or two, but efficiently held her in check for pretty nice lines, and almost enough time to finish.The only place she proved handy was in the shed ring, where she zigged from one side to the other, and created a hole. We timed out with the pen rope in my hand. I have no frame of reference whether my score will put us through to the semi's. They've never run this high in all the years I've been coming here, and I refuse to look. Why get my tail in a wringer? I'll just wait, and then I'll just see. Little Star man runs secon from last tomorrow afternoon. Bad time of day to run, and I'm concerned that he'll be overmatched by these wiley Merino-cross yearlings who clearly lack sufficient respect for the dogs. At Meeker, the sheep make or break you, and that is all.

Steamboat Two

2011-09-06T09:03:00.000-07:00

View from the top

Steamboat concluded with the open ranch running twice on Labor Day, but Sunday marked the 2nd running of the open. Mirk finished 6th on poor outwork, and an otherwise sterling performance. He listened, he flanked cleanly, he saved us at the pen, and took a slick single that brought cheers from the crowd and my contemporaries. I was happy with him and feel good about Meeker and the finals.

Emil and Spot wow the crowd

Star man struggled late in the afternoon on wisened sheep that were hot, hungry and stompy. I retired on the cross drive realizing it's better to maintain confidence than perservere on a losing effort. His outwork was spotless, but after a nice lift the sheep became unwilling. After frosty mornings, the weather turned off hot, in the 80's, and it effected the running, and the runners.

The Yampa River

Bridget came over after the running was finished for dinner at the Schreeder trailer, and we had grilled flank steak after cocktails and appetizers with friends. Larry and Joella came to watch Star, and joined us along with the Swifts, Chris Jobe and newcomers Missy Parker and Sue. The food was excellent, the company hilarious, and then we recevied an impromptu violin serenade from Lise Anderson after dinner that brought tears ~~of joy~~ to my eyes.

Pah-tay Schreeder

Unfortunately this trial may be no more. Marianne Sasak is tired of fund raising, and I understand that. With hope, the town will rally behind a well-written newspaper article explaining her reasoning, and offer some much-needed help. After my first trip ever to Steamboat, and inaugural running at the trial, I hope she gets it. The field was extraordinary, the weather was stunning, the sheep were excellent, and the atmosphere was all about the fun. I would come back again...and again. Hope we all get the chance.

Ron Burkey, Terry Murray and Laura Hanley find shade

Steamboat One

2011-09-03T20:06:00.000-07:00

Mark and Sean setting out

The running here is about what I expected, except for my own dogs. The course is very straight forward, and the fine wool ewes started the day moving off the dogs beautifully and working well. They tired mid-day, some ran off, some stomped a little, but all in all they worked consistently well. I only saw a few sets put back and no bad draws to speak of.

Spectator Hill

I woke up to frost this morning, that is after I ran the heater for 20 minutes. I left the "dog window" open last night, but won't let the warm evenings fool me again. It got cold overnight. Once the sun gained "Sleeping Giant" mountain, it warmed up and temps hit the 80's this afternoon with almost no wind at all. Surprisingly, the heat didn't effect the running, but Dexter was pretty disappointed that I hadn't faced his window into the sun when I parked the RV. I forgot all his clothes at home and it took him a while to warm up.

Mr. Peabody's coal train

I had dinner last night at a place called Bistro CV with friends who summer in Steamboat. We passed around what the restaurant calls "small plates" of duck prosciutto, lamb tar tare, oysters, and some kind of spectacular mushroom in a warm vinaigrette sauce. I just managed to leave room for my other small plate of a BBQ flavored chicken pot pie ensconced in a corn bread covering that made me linger it was so good. Leave it to Larry and Joella to know just where to eat. Thankfully their excellent taste trumped my desire for a cowboy bar with sawdust on the floor, country music and a steak. With the food, the wine and uncommonly good company, I had a blast.

Mountain Boyz

I had funny entries at this trial. I am running Mirk Saturday and Sunday, Buff today, and Star tomorrow. That was the only way I could get all 3 dogs in, and I vacillated between running 2 dogs twice and the way that I did it. This trial counts for next year's finals in Klamath, OR, and Mirk needs all the help he can get. Buff is on this trip to trial, but Star needs to prep for the nursery finals. I don't know if it's right, but neither Mirk nor Buff accomplished much today. Mirk never put a foot wrong from the lift on, but skewered himself once again on the outrun. I'm just glad there's only 20 points to lose there, and I'm sure he lost them all, running completely out of contact by the distant set-out for some stupid reason.

Buff was DQ's before he even got started. On a left-had outrun there is a steep, grass-covered bank that leads up to the highway, and he took to it almost immediately after I sent him, A horn blast from the judge's truck put an end to the scoring, but refusing to stop or recall, Buff brought his sheep smartly down the field anyway. That debacle put an end to Buff's summer trialing, and he's just along for the ride from here on out.

Pah-tay

Hostess, Marianne, had this great idea for a photo shoot with all the hands, and all their dogs. Some came 4 and 5 in hand. I chickened out and just brought Price and Dexter, but it turned out OK, and the photog was snapped. Afterward we adjourned to mid-hand's camp for appetizers and BYOB. It was very kewl to visit with folks I haven't seen, in some cases, for years. Gerald Bunney hasn't aged a bit. Marianna and Nancy Schreeder are such fun, Terry Warner is always good company, and I refer to Mike and Terry Warner as the Mike and Terry show. The Texas contingent is here in part, and I love Emil Luedecke, in case you're wondering, but newcomers Gary and Stephanie Payne, and Chuck and Vicky Riley are right up there with one of my all time favorites, Ron Burkey. He's really funny btw. Laura Hanely added cheese to my crackers for the hand's pah-tay, and I had a nice visit with she and Mike today at the trial. It's OK, Mike. Dexter will recover from the minor bike incident.

OK, so tomorrow is another day, and I'm running my first string. Mirk and Star run late, and I don't expect the ewes to improve through tomorrow's running, but both can hang, so it's OK. Anyway, I gave up taking this stuff too seriously a long time ago, and it's hard to go wrong surrounded by beauty in a place like this.

Here They Are

2011-09-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

I love pictures. I want to see what you see. Words just aren't enough, so here are the pictures of the Steamboat Springs trial site that I wanted to post yesterday. I don't like blogs without pictures, so here's some pictures with little blog. Enjoy!

Out early

Out my front door

Trial field towards set out

Mornin' girlz

The hay meadow

There's more, but I gotta run. Hostess, Marianne, needs a ride to town. More later...

Alpine LA

2011-09-01T21:52:00.000-07:00

Mirk not in Steamboat

I'm in Steamboat Springs for the weekend at Marianne Sasak's dog trial on the Stanko Ranch for the first time evah. This setting rivals the Wooler Estate in England for grandiose beauty, and is one of the most gorgeous places I've ever been for a dog trial. I am camped in a hay meadow next to world class trout fishing on the Yampa River, but my view of the mountains is what takes my breath away.

The accompanying photo was not taken in Steamboat, and there are none as yet, because my camera, (such as it is,) has died. It's OK...there's a WalMart in Steamboat, and that's the only bad news I have to report. The striking photo above was snapped of my Mirk by none other than a Nat'l Geographic published photographic talent, and my friend, Maureen Robinson. It's a stunner, isn't it? I can only hope that Mirk is half as good this weekend as Maureen makes him look in this photo.

The trip over was blissfully short. I made it in about 3 hours, even though the first part was a little dicey. The engineer for Hwy. 131 along the Colorado River North of I-70 apparently doesn't go in for guard rails. You can easily break an axle in the bar ditches around here, but the sheer cliffs encountered at the beginning of my trip North would put an end to any mechanical worries forever. I drove slowly.

The big ranches, and big, fancy homes began popping up just South of town, and they are everything and more than you read about in those glossy ranch real estate mags. You know, the ones that make you daydream about marrying for money. Vast enclaves overlooking the river with hay meadows, massive wrought-iron gates, and views. But there were too many of them, and they began to give way to condos...then more condos, then the ski hill, overbuilt commercialism, and whatever happened to downtown? There's a WalMart here and "Los Angeles" popped into my head. What must this place have been like 30 years ago?

A left turn near the industrial area on the North end of town brought me to a hay meadow on the Stanko Ranch, and site of the dog trial. They just finished haying this field, and a guy on a tractor was picking up the last of the round bales as I arrived. It's like camping, and competing in a park...with a world class view of 10,000 Mt. Werner, the ski hill and bits and pieces of town. Now I understand why this trial has so many fans. It's a fairyland from my vantage point.

I'm not at Soldier Hollow this Labor Day, because they invited me with only one dog. Who to run? Well, why not all 3... at Steamboat? I wish Mark and company another trumpeting success. They've always been my staunchest supporters, they work hard, and deserve all the success they can have. Here I have the luxury of running all 3 dogs, Mirk in both opens, Star and Buff in one each. There was a wait list and I was on it for a time, so I couldn't have run all 3 dogs in both opens, but this is the next best thing with sanctioning. I had one last practice this morning before leaving ~~home~~ Strang Ranch, and all the dogs worked well.

Price and I took in the trial field this evening after an unfortunate encounter with a ~~common bully~~ ~~kick-turd~~ neighboring camper. His girlfriend is such a lucky girl. I could never do justice to the beauty of this place. A low-lying hay meadow, it backs up to the river with a view from the top that could stop a clock, and wreak havoc with small time pieces. Had a glimpse of the sheep this evening as they moved across the higway. More on them later with pics. Alpine LA has a Walmart afterall.

Closing In

2011-08-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

Bridget and Star going places

With the finals just weeks away, we're getting down to the finer points here in Carbondale, and in the midst of a big push to finalize everything. Fund-raising continues, so if you have not sponsored a dog, bought a hat, a jacket, or otherwise made a donation of some kind to your finals, now is the time.

Star in class

Volunteers are still needed for lots of jobs from exhaust to backup scribe. Check out the website for more info on that. Star, Bridget and I were at the Roaring Fork High School yesterday demonstrating how much fun a sheepdog trial can be, and trolling for youthful help. They put us on the soccer field, and I could have demonstrated in bare feet. We used 20 kids to make 2 sets of panels, and the Principal for a post. With a little variation, Star hit everything, made a nice turn, and they liked us!

Work to be done

The hay is off both trial fields, and work there has begun in earnest. Snow fence is going up at set-out, panels are arriving for exhaust, and the committee has begun charting placements. I am on more than 1 schedule for pickup and delivery of trailers, and generators, and work has begun in the area of the practice field. Thank goodness for Octavio, ranch hand extraordinaire. He sneaks around and gets a lot done when no one is looking, and he is one helluva nice guy. If you spot him running around on his Gator or ATV, I recommend you take time to say thanks.

A line at the Movie

Did I mention that we are still raising money? Bridget took a risk and rented the movie, Sweetgrass, to be shown at the Crystal Theatre in old town Carbondale. I'm happy to report that it paid off, and we almost sold out for both showings. The beautifully restored venue only seats 120 or so, and it was gratifying to see the town turn out and fill all but a handful of seats each day. The townsfolk are good people, and they're clearly excited about our finals.

Omnipresent

I showed up yesterday at the theatre to pass out finals programs, while Bridget worked the window. Theatre owners were raking it in hand over fist selling popcorn and drinks, and were quite happy to be our hosts. This was a innovative idea, and I was glad to see it bear fruit. Preparing for a jumping clinic at the ranch today, Bridget did the high school demo in the morning, readied the clinic, then sped off to sell movie tickets. The girl is a whirlwind of activity, and I just manage to trail behind.

I'm on my way to Marianne Sasak's Steamboat Springs Sheepdog Trial this weekend, leaving Thursday. With hope I'll have cell service and i-net capability. If so, I'll check in with you. It's my first time to this one, and I'm looking forward to it. I'll be thinking of my friends over at SoHo, and I wish for them another hugely successful trial, and for us good weather. In the meantime the work continues.

While the Sun Shines

2011-08-24T09:28:00.000-07:00

Haying

I've heard it said that all you have to do to grow alfalfa is water and stand back. From what I've seen this summer, that's true, but not quite that easy. First you have to have the water rights, then you have to move the side roll sprinklers at least twice a day, depending on how efficient you want to be.

Before I left for the Nicomodes Trial in July, I was practicing on a soon-to-be first cut alfalfa field. When I came back a week later, it was too tall. That's what plowing, plowing, plowing, fresh planting, fish fertilizer, and water will do for you. You should have seen it. It grew tall, thick, lush, green, fragrant, and then it flowered. I found it hard to look away.

A couple days ago ranch manager, Max, drove down the lane with the swather, a great mantis-like apparatus that mows hay, and I knew summer was drawing to a close. It took Max almost an entire day to mow the alfalfa field, and every bit of another to mow the meadow. He cut the high meadow, and the homestead, (nursery field,) a week ago. There is alfalfa curing everywhere, and the smell is heavenly.

Finished Product

Alfalfa must cure, or dry with a certain moisture content before it can be baled. Depending on the weather curing can take no time at all, or weeks. It's another matter altogether if Mother Nature brings rain. You can either use an instrument to determine readiness for baling, or years of experience, like Max does.

Next comes the baler, picking up loose hay to compress it into bales of a pre-determined size. In this case a small size, because around here it's mostly women who handle them. This is high-quality, leafy, green stuff by the time it makes it into the hay barn. Completely unlike the stemmy, dry, 4th and 5th cuttings we pay exorbitant prices for in Cali.

Last comes the stacker. This handy piece of machinery scoops up bales in rapid succession, stacking them neatly on the platform to be pushed off in sections that become those huge, tidy stacks you see surrounded by barbed wire fencing to keep the deer out. It's an efficient process, but it takes hours of monotonous labor, and timing is everything. Knowledge and experience as well, because sometimes you have to add a step called raking if the hay is green on the bottom, or gets wet. That extra step adds cost, so, with hope it's unnecessary.

Hay is curing, days and nights are warm and dry, but early morning has a crisp in the air. I can smell fall, and it smells like freshly cut alfalfa. With just 3 weeks left until the Finals, I'm wondering about home, my thoughts propelled by late summer rituals. The sprinklers are still turning here on the ranch, but now they're watering the landscaping.

Taking Shape

2011-08-18T19:08:00.000-07:00

Work Party...Where's Emil?

I've never put on a National Finals, but I am witnessing the birth of one first hand, and it's an awfully big job. Yesterday this hearty bunch of women, Sam Nieslanik, and Emil Ludecke, worked all day long and did everything in their power to bring you the very best National Finals possible. I am in awe of the amount of work that was completed.

Found him!

Almost 20 volunteers showed up at 9am and immediately set about filling ankle-twisting badger holes, removing old barbed wire fence, widening gates, installing borrowed snow fence to keep wayward dogs off the trial field, and generally toiling under high altitude sunshine to do whatever was necessary. No whining, no complaining, no snipping, just getting down and dirty, and making a job of it.

Bridget builds a boulevard

Truck loads of rock and sand were delivered to smooth out a rough ranch road, and improve ingress and egress for RV'ers. Careful consideration is being given to handler parking, and every effort has been made to accommodate the biggest rigs, special requests, weird requests, silly requests, stupid requests, and make room for what is the greatest number of trailers ever brought to a finals. At last count there were almost 90 heading this way.

Linda and Lisbeth map it out

Hard at work, Linda and Lisbeth have drawn a map to scale and marked off RV parking spaces for those many campers. They have made the 10-hour round trip drive from Ft. Collins, hoteling it overnight, at least 2 times to complete this important task. Watching and listening to them, all I can tell you is that we are very lucky they volunteered for this particular job. I couldn't even have begun the logistical nightmare, and my opinion is there aren't many who could have done it so well. You might want to give them an atta-girl when you see them. Or save time, and send them an email. Lots of work, thankless job.

Ellen Nieslanik delivers the goods

Speaking of lots of work...Ellen Nieslanik! While Bridget is busy pulling it all together on the ranch, it is Ellen who rides point, makes the calls, reins in the factions, and is works 'round the clock as we near the end game. From my vantage point, this woman is a managerial mammoth, and she makes it look easy, but I absolutely know better. Ellen has a grasp on the big picture, every single detail, AND, you should see her coil rusted barbed wire!

Sam Nieslanik, Nancy Penley, & Bert Nieslanik filling holes

All the while, there is a thriving horse boarding and training business going on here. Without exaggeration, there are probably 20 kids, plus amateurs, who ride here regularly, mothers in and out, not to mention Pony Club, clinics and horse shows. In a stunning display of support and loyalty, boarders, students and parents have pitched in to help with our National Finals. They've been selling dog sponsorships, tickets to a finals fund-raising showing of SweetGrass, the movie, as well as rolling up their sleeves at the work party. The spirit and bon ami' of the Strang Gang is a testament to the quality of the Strang Ranch.

Kate, mother of Emily

In the middle of all this is Bridget Strang, whose idea this was to begin with. In the face of nay-sayers, warnings, unwarranted criticism, some of the stupidest, most unfounded, long-distance complaints you can imagine, bad ideas, great personal effort, long hours at now 2 jobs, and very little hands-on experience, she simply moves forward. From her I am learning to rise above with a smile and a purpose. Plus, I sneak over to the ring now and then trying to learn anything I can watching her teach riding lesson after riding lesson after riding lesson, and still she finds time to load up, haul out, and work dogs with me at 5:30am!

More hats?

The 2011 National Sheepdog Finals is rapidly approaching. In fact, it's less than 30 days away. After 2 years of planning, fund-raising, anticipating, preparation, and sweating the minutae, we're down to the short hairs in Carbondale, and this dog trial is beginning to come together. The community is behind it without a doubt. There have been demos 3 times at the local rodeo, and last night at a Chamber of Commerce mixer. 1 more is planned at the high school on 8/29. There are table tents in every restaurant and business that would have them, posters everywhere we could hang them, ongoing newspaper coverage, and a radio interview. Big posters will go up soon, and the hype continues.

Pulling it together

I hope you'll be pleased. I hope your dogs run better than you wish for, and I hope this finals exceeds your expectations. I wish you safe travel to and from, and nothing but happy memories when it's over. I recommend broiled meatloaf at The Pour House, (be sure and thank Skip for his unflagging support,) and if you're looking for a house or condo to rent during the event, please tell Lyn Kirchner at Amore' Realty that I sent you.

I have Barry's card if you need one fine mechanic, call Monica at Sudio 2 to get your roots done, and I can't wait for you to meet Mike and Kit, Bridget's parents, and our unimaginably gracious hosts. I hope you sincerely appreciate the efforts being made here, and that you successfully avoid any badger holes we missed in the hand's camp. Don't worry about that one too much, because there's another work day planned soon.

Riding the Crystal

2011-08-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

Towards Mt. Sopris

There are bike trails all over these mountains, and every age, shape, and size of bicycle rider on them. It's great to see. It seems everywhere I go around here, I see a bike trail that I want to explore, and the best thing is that many of them are inter-connected. As far as I can tell, I can leave the truck in downtown Carbondale, and ride in just about any direction as far as I can stand it.

Hay Fields

This morning I drove to the Roaring Fork High School, parked the truck and headed out along the Crystal River. This well-known trout stream runs out of the pass that takes you to Redstone, Paonia, and farther on to Hotchkiss and Delta, but I only spied a couple anglers. Starting around 9:30, I was probably too late to catch them fly fishing, but the weather was perfect, the trail uncrowded.

Amazing light and sound

I'm not sure of the distance, but it's not a long trail, ending at an RV campground where the pass begins, and the highway narrows. Much like interval training, there was lots of up and down, which was really good for me. I rode for over an hour, mostly beside the river, over 2 wooden bridges, beside farms, ranches and the Crystal River Fish Hatchery. My simple pictures could never capture the beauty. The morning light sparkled as much as the river, and the air was fresh and scented with pine.

Towards Home

Where to next? This ride was so beautiful I can't help but wonder what I'm missing. I've heard the trail around Reudi Reservoir near Basalt is breathtaking, and Skip, owner of finals sponsoring Pour House Bar, suggested that I catch the bus to Aspen, and ride back down the mountain to Carbondale. That sounds like a great adventure, and I love the "down the mountain" part.

Security Detail

2011-08-12T09:24:00.000-07:00

Head of Security

Until very recently I was extremely proud of the fact that I am as old as I am and could honestly boast that I knew absolutely nothing about llamas or donkeys...or mules for that matter. It's not easy to be around livestock for as many years as I have, and be able to make that claim. Quite an accomplishment, actually. As much as I would like to, I cannot include buffalo in my ignorance. I once had to load, then haul one. That's OK, nobody's perfect.

We will be receiving 800 head of sheep for the National Finals very soon, and unfortunately we had a breach in security the other day. Coyotes killed a practice sheep, and something had to be done. Enter Emma-Llama, sung liltingly as Emm-aaa-Llamm-aaa when I call her, which I do now twice daily, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Fist I had to retrieve her from her former post.

Bridget informed me that she had made arrangements for a Llama, and would I please pick her up. "A llama? But, I don't know anything about llamas. What if she won't load? What if she won't unload? Maybe you should send me with a huge syringe of acepromazine." That last sentence was spoken with much hope. Bridget just laughed and said there would be a guy there to help me. Great...a guy...I was reminded of a lesson I learned from Linda Greenlaw's great read; The Lobster Chronicles. "Volunteers are people who didn't understand the question."

Forrest clearly had the experience with llamas that I successfully avoided all these years. He spoke to her gently, and moved around her with calm detachment. I, on the other hand was jumpy, especially considering the huge dual talons that appear at the end of all 4 feet. She could kill me from any direction, and I've heard they spit when they're mad. "I'm your new best friend, Emma," I thought to myself. "At least until you're turned out," you great shaggy beast. She looks like something conjured by Dr. Seuss.

Forrest roped her, and she hated that. Then he snubbed her loosely to a post and haltered her. That seemed to calm her, and I began to relax. Wait a minute...she leads, then walked straight into the trailer. Go figure. I wondered briefly why anyone would halter-break a llama on purpose, and we were off! As an aside I'll note that she rode very nicely in the trailer and walked out purposefully, sniffing, head high, eyes wide under impossibly long lashes. Did Horton hear a Who?

In her incredibly disjointed fashion, she glided serenely down the alley towards her woolly charges. She looked at the sheep, made a nasally noise that I can almost emulate, some throaty clicking sounds that are lost to me, and then surprisingly plopped straight down to her neck in the ditch water. Apparently, it was bath time. Anyone for Green Eggs and Ham?

So, now I can add llama-wrangler to my resume, and I'm making a job of it. She goes out in the morning, and reluctantly comes in at night. On either end, I talk, I nasal, I cajole, I sing, I grain, and I try to get close and pet. Tricky that last, but at least I'm no longer fearful. She's quite gentle, actually, and we're beginning to "join up" as they say in the strange, but oddly popular land of horse whisperers. Oh the places we'll go!

Unless you are, or would like to become an unfriendly, you might want to think twice before calling me a llama whisperer. The finals will end at some point, I'll return to blissful camelid ignorance, I will lie, and I will vehemently deny that any of this ever happened.

Horse-Ladies Who Lunch

2011-08-06T14:37:00.000-07:00

Release Signing

The group responsible for the Susan G. Komen Foundation puts on bike races, foot races, walks, and any number of fund-raising activities in the good fight against breast cancer. I learned today that Ms. Komen's sister founded the effort in her name after she died from the disease at just 36 years of age. I gained that information at lunch today after a benefit trail ride near here.

On the Trail

Kit Strang, Bridget's mother, made a donation for she and a friend to ride, but the friend was unable to attend, so I was invited to come along. Routed through an up-scale subdivision of mostly ostentatious 2nd mountain-top homes on acreage, we ascended to 9,000' in elevation during the ride lasting 2 hours or so. The view from the top was breath-taking even though I had viewed it a couple weeks ago when I moved cattle with Max immediately next door on the ranch he manages. It was no less impressive the 2nd time around.

My Group, Sue, Rosemary, Laura and Kit

Carol Dopkin of mega-successful, Dopkin Real Estate, was our hostess for the event, and we were grouped into small bunches and set off on a staggered start. Good idea that, because there was every manner of horse, training and skill level involved. You wouldn't want to bunch 'em all together. We rode up through scrub oak, then Aspen trees, past some very impressive real estate that seemed to either be for sale, or shuttered. At one time the Strang family had leased the former ranch to graze cattle, and Kit was very familiar with it even though she hadn't been on it in years.

Lunch

It's not often, (read never,) that I am included in a social event like this one, but I felt right at home. Maybe it's the mountain air, lack of oxygen, or the horse connection, but I found these beautiful people to be that way inside and out. We unsaddled after our ride, and walked to the Weiss family home where food was served on a patio overlooking 2 reflecting ponds, manicured gardens, lush hay meadows, and a signature view of Mt. Sopris. I rode for a good cause, and spent the day in grand style with nice people. How lucky am I?

Kenna

2011-07-31T18:39:00.000-07:00

Main Street

Midway between the hard ranch towns of Roswell and Portales, New Mexico, deep in Southern New Mexico near the Texas line is a wide patch of mesquite and cholla, a few scattered buildings, 2 or 3 homes, the cemetery, and a ghost of a town called Kenna. It is the place, in 1918, where my mother was born, and in 1991, where I buried her between her mother, who died in childbirth, her Scottish immigrant father and the step-mother she didn't enjoy.

Shuttered

Yesterday I traveled about 150 miles East of the dog trial to pay my respects. It was only the third time in 12 years that I’ve had the opportunity, and it is very much as I remember. I didn’t remember Highway 70, which bisects what’s left of the town, as being divided. 2 lanes each way speaks more to the growth of Portales 40 miles East, than it does for Kenna, which has changed only by becoming even less descript than I remembered it.

Community House

Gone was the huge, wooden sign, faded by the prairie over many years that read: “Home of PRCA World Champion Steer Tripper, Sonny Davis.” He too was born in Kenna, but unlike my mother, Sonny remained, and became a world champion in the PRCA. I had heard the story of the Sonny Davis rule that states ropers must trip their steer to get a score. Apparently Sonny had missed the trip, but got down the rope and flanked his 700lb steer to make the tie anyway and win the roping. He was a big man in more ways than one, but his sign is no more.

Baptist Church

Gone too were the post office and water district, closed in the case of the post office. The water district building was missing completely, probably moved somewhere and converted into housing. That is the case for one of the few homes located on what could be called Main Street, if there were such a thing in Kenna.

Resting Place

The place calls to me and leaves a mark with every visit. Even as a child it held sway. I heard my mother’s stories of a hard-scrabble up-bringing on a barren cattle ranch, then a house in town, and I wished to have experienced some small part of it. There were pictures too of my Uncle Mack “fanning” a wild donkey, my mother with 2 or 3 others on a big, skinny, black horse named Klondike, and a bunch of scrawny kids climbing on a water tank. Unfortunately, it wasn't until I buried her there that I saw the town for the first time.

Rest in Peace Ma

It was 92 degrees when I blew into town today, with not a blade of grass as far as I could see in any direction. It was and still is a tough place to make a rancher's living. With experience gained through living, I translated the environs to my mother’s conservatism, her stoicism, her grit, and honesty. She was strong and quiet, and stayed the course, just like the town from which she came.

Day Three Free to Be

2011-07-29T17:02:00.000-07:00

Look at my handsome boyz

Today we moved to the South side of the ranch where the open course was smaller, but more deadly, I think, on a couple different levels. Running out, the dogs were lost in a large swale, which swallowed dogs and sheep on the way back for what seemed like a very long time. It pulled many dogs in on their out-work, but of my 3, it was only little Starman that needed the re-direct...then another, and 1 more to be sure. With a barbed wire fence close in, he would be feeling the pressure.

Patricia Macrae's Cap for 3rd place

4 sheep today, with a single - pen finish, and generously 12 minutes on the clock. The overnight sheep pen directly to our left set up a nasty little draw that punished many on the left hand drive all but straight towards it. The dogs had to block sheep on the drive-away, then shove sheep on the cross-drive, then hold sheep for the single. I assume due to their background, the yearlings loved to walk in the pen, and those of us who got that far were most assuredly glad for it.

Train at the top

There was an element of "drawing contest" to today's trialing, and poor Mirkie drew the short straw...or the worst set that I saw. He had one sorry yearling that was fairly determined to run off all the way around, and, if at some distance, her buddies were quite happy to toddle along. He did his level best, and for the first time recently, took every command I gave, smartly ignoring the ones that were wrong. He finished 10th, and I appreciated him today very much.

Buff won my "most improved" award, running out well constrained by a fence, lifting smartly where others couldn't and listening intently. So intently, that we timed out in the shed ring leaving 20 points with which to clean our clock yet again. That's OK, now I understand. Our Irish judge, Dennis Birchell, knows my Irish dog, having judged him at the Irish Nat'l a few years ago. I knew my away-to-me whistle wasn't right, and after the trial, Dennis helped. He also promised to get the "pull in" whistle he assured me Buff has at this year's Irish Nat'l from Seamus Gallagher, the man who trained him. I'd buy him a drink for all that, but smiling brightly, he assured me that he never imbibes.

Running at the end of the day, Star and I let it roll, and had some fun. We missed every panel, missed an attempt at the single, and missed the pen on the first pass as well, but we had fun. Even with all that, in 8th place, he was my highest scoring dog. What a happy guy he is. So calm and content before and after his run. He looks around aimlessly before, then stands at attention when I tell him to "look." Afterward, a nice long drink, then off from hand to hand looking for the praise he's sure he deserves. At this point, I'm instilling confidence, trying to make him feel 10' tall and bullet-proof on the road to the finals. We were all of that today and more. That dog is growing on me.

Yesterday's monsoon weather hung with us today, and it was cool, cloudy, and just perfect all day long. At one point this morning, I even slouched into a fleece. The storms are still swirling around us even now, and it's been very peaceful in my little trailer home watching nature's trunk show and the trains roll by. This part of the country is wide open with nothing but prarie, distant purple mountains and sky as far as I can see in every direction.

Day Two - Free to Be Ranch

2011-07-28T15:40:00.000-07:00

Gerine L. Abrams

Storms threatened us all day, and finally this afternoon the prayers were answered. Rain came in a torrent, but I'm sorry to report that it is far too little, and far too late. Better than any fireworks show, this little dust up brought huge strikes of lightening, booming thunder that sent Price scrambling, and a thick coating of dirt from high winds. It is so peaceful right now, as I write this, and the air is cool and fragrant.

Headed our way?

Not unlike many of the handlers that turned up here, this country is brown, dry and hot. Temperatures have been in the 80s to 90s, and more than a few folks came up from Texas for a respite from month-long temps reaching well over 100 degrees. They're really suffering down there.

Lise Andersen and Piper

The trial itself was much the same as yesterday with the Macraes once again making it look easy to take our money. Names changed in 3rd and 4th, the 2 other money spots. Tina Leplatt with Keeton's York daughter, Tess, took 3rd with a great go late in the running, and Wilda Bahr with Liz, using my good-luck crook, carried 4th place. See if she ever gets her hands on that thing again.

Tina LePlatt and Tess for 3rd place

My dogs? Middle of the pack with uneven runs that made me want to cheer or jeer depending on the moment. I messed up at the pen with Mirk during what was a decent run from him. The pen gate rests on the ground. One has to purposefully lift to open and close, and while doing so I allowed the sheep to escape around the high side without sending the dog to cover. No fault of the dog, and the points that were surely sent flying may have helped us in the long run. 7th place was all we could manage with what was left.

Photo credit Patricia Macrae

Mirk in progress

Star struggled to move lethargic, hungry yearlings, but finished, and made a job of it you'd expect from one so tender. With something like 12 or 13 dogs from 31 that retired or disqualified, I really can't complain, and I'm not. He is the one shouldering the burden of paying our way as far as I'm concerned, and it's a lot to ask of a not quite 3 year old pup.

I had such high hopes for Buff today. After a long heart-to-heart with him early this morning, it was to be our day...but no! We timed out at the pen, on a shed, pen finish, but his en-bye work was spotty and his outrun once again over-wide. He knew where the sheep were, and it is his eye that sends him spiraling out of contact. I called his name to reel him back, and he finished with a flourish at the top. After that it was over-flank, then no flank, then flank for no reason. We are clearly not on the same page, and he definitely does not like my away-to-me whistle. I've had him a grand total of 6 weeks. We're working on it, and there's greatness coming.

I have no clue what's going on at the nursery, open ranch, novice field. It's far removed from the open territory, but on the same side of the ranch. In any case, it was called for a time due to weather, and then resumed when our hostess, Geri Abrams, drove through camp, horn blaring. She was so insistent, I was looking out my window for a tsunami wave.

Prairie sweet prarie

We move across the ranch tomorrow to a new field, new challenges and, I hope, similar weather. Today was perfect. High clouds, low temps, gentle breeze, all day. Anyone would love this side of New Mexico, aside from the snakes.

Last night around 10 o'clock I had a knock on my door. I was hoping it was a handsome cowboy in Wranglers that fit just right, and a big, black 20X...but, but it wasn't. Outside was Linda from Texas with a light elastic-banded to her head pointing at a big non-rattle-snake, and holding 3 dogs by the collar. She was convinced we should relocate the 4' speciman away from all these people and dogs. I shined my flashlight on it apprehensively, and stated flatly; "OK, I'll hold the dogs"

I Love New Mexico

2011-07-27T16:43:00.000-07:00

Welcome to New Mexico

You know how sometimes brides walk down the aisle on flower petals? In hollywood luminaries stride into the award shows on a red carpet? Well, that's how I felt yesterday traveling South from Carbondale to Mountainair, NM. Why you ask? Because I followed the storms. Amost the entire length of the 10 hour, 500 mile trip, I was preceded by a monsoon-type downpour. In other words, the roads were wet, the sun obscured by high, cooling clouds, but me and my truck stayed dry. It was heavenly. Well, at least as heavenly as a trip over 9,000' Battle Mtn. Summit, through every backwater Colorado and New Mexico town, and right through the middle of urban Santa Fe pulling a trailer can be. Hey, it could have been hot!

Only 31 entris here at the Free to Be Ranch Trial. Seems that more than a couple trial hosts are trying to last-minute qualify some dogs for the finals, and timed their attempts to coincide with this country trial. Some stayed away that would otherwise have been here, so it's small, but still mighty. The outrun is 580 yards, and just what I was looking for in my continuing quest to prepare for the finals. Plus it's hot, then windy, then cloudy and stunning. I do love it here.

Irishman, Dennis Birchall, is judging. So, picture a consummate Irishman in the arid deserts of New Mexico...sporting a brand new cowboy hat. It looks good!

Star man was 4th on perfect outwork. *happy-sigh* Mirk had perfect outwork for the first time in a while and one of only a few that made the fetch panels. Unfortunately, it was downhill from there, and he gripped off after the drive-away. That dog is just a comedy of errors sometimes. Buff got lost on the outrun, but honestly, who wouldn't? There are acres and acres of pasture in which to go wrong. Check out this picture:

Welcome to Free to Be Ranch

And he wasn't alone. Some dogs, like him for instance, turned into the Energizer Bunny and just kept going and going. Let's see if he remembers the way tomorrow. The Macraes are here, Trisha and husband, and outclassed me and third place by a mere 15 and 10 points for 1st and 2nd place. Mrs. Macrae won this one, with Mr. moved to 2nd while cheering her on. Note to self; be grateful that they only beat you with one dog each.

I'm here for 3 days, 2 more opens, 6 more runs. Me with my failing RV batteries, and frustratingly slow I-net connection. Oh yeah, and the bugs, did I mention the bugs? I gave up last night while reading when some kind of soft-shelled, slow-flying beetle crashed into my pillow. Hey, it's better than a flat air mattress, right? Raise your hand if you remember those?

Glorious Work

2011-07-23T19:49:00.000-07:00

The Start

It began simply enough. Load up a few horses, trailer 4 miles up the road, move a couple hundred steers farther up the mountain to new pasture. Max has worked for the Strangs for 30 years, and it was on the ranch that he leases from race car great Jeff Gordon where we worked. 30 years is a long time, and he's been on that lease ground for just as long. He knows it like the back of his hand.

Bull Elk in the Reservoir

Bridget's sister, Lori is visiting from her home and horse training business in California, so we loaded up with her daughter, Kit, and headed out. It sounded like fun, nostalgic for me right down to the steers. The terrain and breathtaking, mountain scenery was very different from what I am used to, but nothing about moving a bunch of steers was different at all. They don't like to go up hill, they do like to duck off into the brush, and for some reason completely unknown to me, they don't like to line out on the road.

Canadian Snow Geese

Fortunatly, these were not the wild and crazy variety that run off as soon as look at you. While it was a long way 16 miles up and down the mountain, the steers were well-mannered for the most part and we managed to get about half of them situated. We climbed about 2,000 feet in elevation topping out on the mesa around 9,000 feet. I thought Amelia-ville had spectacular views. From the top, they were indescribable, and pictures don't do them justice.

Slow Elk

Max has some pretty good help in the form of 2 ranch dogs named Nala and Mowgli, a Border Collie mix and a Kelpie. These dogs have clearly made the trip several times, and put out a lot of dog tracks following us all day. I had tried to help Max with his dogs a couple years ago when I was in town for Meeker, but we quickly came to the conclusion that they were useful on the ranch, and we left well enough alone. Good assessment. They are useful.

Max with Nala and Mowgli

Past the reservoir, we angled up sharply and the steers angled just as sharply back the way we came. It was steep, and they hunted and found a way to double-back. It was the only time the steers gave us trouble. Beyond that it was just up and up, and more up through thick stands of Aspen, over countless downed trees, springs and creeks, through thick oak brush along a fenceline and across a bog or two. We started around 9am, and were no where near the top at noon.

Meadow-lust

Once we put the steers through the last gate, we stopped for lunch. I would just as soon have stopped for a nap, and to tell the truth, my idea was fairly popular with the outfit. We loosened our cinches, had a good rest, and let the horses blow. It was an extraordinarily beautiful day, warm, but at 9,000', not hot.

Is He on the Phone?

All in all, we had spent about 6 hours making the round trip. With nearly 150 head at the beginning, we counted 134 through the last gate, so we had made a good day of it. Max and signifigant other, Sonia will be back up there tomorrow gathering the rest of the steers for the trip up. Me, and Monkey, the horse I used, are each taking 800mg of Motrin and the rest of the week off.

Finish Line

Where's the Sheep?

2011-07-20T11:44:00.000-07:00

Bridget's good dog, Rosie, was spotted near the top of Mt. Sopris the other day gathering the trial sheep for the 2011 National Sheepdog Finals. By the time she got down the mountain, it seemed she was missing a few. Word spread, and within hours there were sheep sightings all over Carbondale. Some fast-handed locals grabbed their cameras and and captured it on digital. Here's what's been reported so far:

Opening an account at Alpine Bank

Check-up at the Carbondale Vet Clinic

Western Wear purchase at the Co-Op

Main Street Barber took a little off the top

At KDNK Radio for an interview

Stopping for lunch at the Village Smithy

At Mason and Morse shopping for a ranch

And after all that, the poor dears were tired...and parched. So, they headed to Carbondale's favorite watering hole, The Pour House.

For a shot and a beer

We'll see you around Carbondale for the 2011 National Sheepdog Finals

My Dogs Suck, or Nicomodes Part Deux

2011-07-18T20:01:00.000-07:00

Bridget watching the action

Not really. My dogs don't suck, but they certainly sucked wind this weekend. Literally and figuritively. Star tried, he really did, but the sheep got the better of him. The good news is that every time he meets these strange new creatures called "range ewes," he gets stronger. Building up to the finals, (and his 3rd B-day,) this means that I'm right on schedule, and my ~~fiendish scheme~~ plan to ~~take over the world~~ have him fit and tuned is working. Buff was confused, but I've had him with me for about 3 weeks now. Truth be told, I'm the one confused...how to run him effectively. He's a nice dog, I'm reasonably intelligent. We'll figure it out. Mirk did what Mirk often does. He sent flighty sheep flying, never a good combination. And while he ran out of oxygen Friday, on Sunday he settled in and ran solidly mediocre while taking all of my flank whistles on the head of a pin and giving me his very best imitation of a steady whenever I asked. His outwork has gone South. I have no idea why.

Moving the Mob

On Sunday they gave us 8 head, and 12 minutes to move them around. They also reversed the drive, I'm guessing, in an attempt to mitigate the stomping and fleeing. It worked well, and most hands had a much better day. I say most, because my day was different, but not necessarily better, let alone much. After the outwork, it was a 4-4 split, put them through a chute they did not at all want to navigate, then re-gather in the ring and single. I saw some beautiful work, just not up close and personal. To finish was an accomplishment and the closest I came was timing out at the chute. Yay for me!

The Fetch

I'm going with cumulative scoring for my dogs. So, if I take Mirk's score and add it together with Star's score, I was 2nd on the day. That's the way I'm choosing to look at this, and as always, only remembering what we did right. Mirk was keen to listen. Star had the gorgeous outwork that I've enjoyed growing used to, and Buff...well Buff is recalling better than ever.

Great trial, genial hosts, good group of hands to spend time around, pretty scenery way up in the rockies. I highly recommend Nicomodes Gulch, but bring your ready supply of humility 'cause it ain't easy.

Trial by Fire - Nicomodes Gulch

2011-07-15T17:34:00.000-07:00

Out My Front Door

Do not be fooled. I'm here to tell you that this bucolic setting is completely at odds with what is taking place on the trial field. There it is mayhem, pandemonium, hell-fire and brimstone, and when you send your dog, there is some place deep inside you that hopes he doesn't find his sheep. This dog trial is one-tough-mothah.

Irrigation

The outrun carries beyond a few bunches of specimen trees, either through a slew or past the exhaust depending on which way you send, and around a nice set of horses working the top. Don't know for sure, but I'll bet there wasn't more than a run or 2 that didn't require at least 2 re-directs. When I left this afternoon, there had only been 2 pens and not all that many completed sheds. My Mirk needed 2 or 3 re-directs, Star only 1, and Buff a whole conversation, but he still crossed over. That is how tough it is. It took me 3 dogs to accumulate a dismal 36 points, and those all came from the one dog I'm running that I don't own. Good dog, Buff!

Trial field beyond irrigation

Mirk required an ATV to remove him from the field. He got all the way to the shed ring, but it was such tough sledding that, when I saw him take a bad step behind, I walked off, called for the ATV and as quickly as possible immersed him in the irrigation ditch up to his eyeballs. The elevation here is 7,400'. Mirk ran out of oxygen, but survived the ordeal, and is just fine now. Buff and I (read mostly I) got confused on the long, tricky outrun, or he would be right in the thick of it. As it is, he finished mid-pack showing his mettle in the spots where the sheep did everything they could to escape. For a dog from Ireland who has never in his life seen sheep like these, he worked 'em well. What a nice dog he is. I keep saying that, don't I?

Irrigation at Dusk

Please visit the Real Time Canine FB page for the scores such as they are. I don't have them all, and the sheep got good late in the day. I didn't watch the last few runs, but either Jim Swift with Zac, or Chuck Riley from Texas with Moss would be leading it with nice runs coming late. I'll post the scores I have, and you'll have to wait until tomorrow for the winners, and the rest. It wasn't me, I can tell you that much. Go to the RTC FB page, click on discussions, then Nicomodes. Mirk isn't the only one who ran out of oxygen. I'm beat, see you tomorrow.

Road to Nicomodes Gulch

2011-07-14T17:12:00.000-07:00

Bridget said it was a beautiful trip, and most of it was. I left Carbondale this morning about 9am deciding against precipitous, 12,000' Independence Pass, which limits vehicle length to 35', and narrows to 1 lane despite being part of the State highway system. Instead I grabbed I-70 from Glenwood Springs and shot across to the Eagle/Vail turnoff and the pass over Battle Mountain. 2 lanes, 30-40 mph, breathtaking scenery, and rivers running in what seemed like every direction.

Highway 285 is a designated "scenic byway" and rightfully named "Top of the Rockies." Surrounded by mountains on all sides with names like Notch and Princeton, they tower up more than 14,000. Driving through the towns of Minturn, Leadville, Saguache and Villa Springs was a step back in time with every old-timey storefront having been turned into something almost irresistable to drive past. Oh the antiques. Oy!

Once over the mountain, I dropped into high valley farm country, and we're talking really high here. Monte Vista, the site of my current dog trial, is almost 8,000' in elevation, but it's deceiving because it's a desert region. Where the huge pivot sprinklers stop the desert begins, and it's very reminiscent of Imperial Valley, CA in that way. Desert is a wonderful thing, just add water and grow anything.

So, here I am parked beside a fast-moving irrigation ditch a couple of feet deep. I imagine it's carrying water to thirsty alfalfa and potatoe crops growing in abundance around here. The trial field is a flat, green pasture and the camping is near-level and not far away. Nice site with pretty scenery, but the water brings trouble in the form of swarming mosquitos. I had a feeling what was in store when I spied our trial hostess, Tina, pronounced t eye na, sporting a hat-covering of mosquito netting. Her greeting of "the mosquitos are kind of bad this time of year," was a dead give-away anyway. No problem, I have Deet. Just hope I have enough.

Something to look forward to on the way home.

Ranch Dog

2011-07-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

Morning Chores

My dogs have been busy. Instead of training for our summer trials, though, they've been busy doing chores. Besides tending the practice sheep, there is a commercial flock of Suffolk ewes and lambs that go out in the morning and back in at night. They are beyond knowing the way, but can be tempted by nearby hay fields, or spooked in route by a tractor or loose dog, so it helps to have an extra set of legs on the job.

What's Next

The practice sheep also go in and out of an overnight pen, kept that way, because Boo, the guardian dog lives with the Suffolks. Fending for one's self isn't prudent for a ewe in this country, so they are protected as best as possible in a secure pen at night. Every morning they go out to a big pasture to hang for the day in grass to their bellies and ditch water in abundance.

All Finished

We're managing some training, usually first thing in the morning for a short time, but this is a commercial horse training facility afterall. I have witnessed horse shows, pony summer camp, lessons and horse training from daybreak to dark, and that is certainly the priority around here just now. Having grown up in a similar atmosphere, it's very nostalgic for me. In the meantime, the dogs are biding their time, running to train, and doing what they can to help out around here. All I can tell you is that it's our pleasure...our pleasure to be here, our pleasure to help.

Legging 'em Up

2011-07-10T09:23:00.000-07:00

Buff and the ATV

This time of year typically finds me running my dogs with my bicycle on dirt roads that wind through hay fields near my home getting the dogs in shape for the finals. It's always hot and dusty, and requires loading up bike, dogs and water before heading out on a few miles of focused run.

This morning, I simply stepped out of Big Barbie, (my RV,) unleashed my dogs, retrieved the ATV, and took off. Mirk is from Wales, Buff from Ireland, where most distance is covered beside an ATV. On a cool, damp morning like this one, they both reveled in the run and the weather. Both dogs brightened measurably at the sound of the engine. It was all new to Star, but he followed the other dog's lead and outpaced them with his long, athletic strides, loping easily beside me all the way.

The practice sheep are about a mile away, and our first stop to turn them out for the day. From there we looped over the sod farm on a wet, dirt track, through tall grass and across the irrigation ditch. We turned back on to the main road, and hit another gear to finish strongly with the dogs running flat out.

Legged Up

I am a far cry from the dusty hay fields back home, but the intent and the process are the same. The dogs get out, and cover as much ground as possible to become conditioned and fit. The fact that everybody involved loves it is a just icing on the cake.

Pedaling Upstream

2011-07-07T10:16:00.000-07:00

There's more to life than flitting all over the West, having the time of my life, and going to as many dog trials as I can possibly afford and manage to get to. I took out on the bike yesterday.

Stretching 41 miles rom Glenwood Springs, through Carbondale, all the way to Aspen, there is an abandoned railroad corridor that a consortium of local governments transformed into a hiking, biking, horseback riding trail called the Rio Grande Trail. Not only does it run alongside the thundering Roaring Fork River, but it bends around onto the Colorado through Glenwood Springs.

So, the scenery is breathtaking, seconded by the quality. It's paved, in good condition, with an elevation change over the entire length of just 2,120 feet. It's just enough to make you work, but not enough to wind you.

The town of Carbondale is a village really. There is a commercial area, and an old-town district complete with dress shops, galleries, trendy restaurants and inviting bars that you would expect. From the park in the center of it all, I made my way to the trail deciding to go until my legs got tired. I kept track of the distance with handy-dandy mile markers posted trail-side.

This is a popular trail. Along my route I met walkers, joggers, recreational bikers like myself, and a handful of the well-indoctrinated who were far too absorbed to waive at a geezer like me. "I'm going 30 miles to Aspen" was written all over their intense expressions. Everybody else just smiled and waived.

According to the mile-markers, I rode up 5 miles. The fist leg being up, I wasn't worried about getting down, and, in fact, kept stopping on the return trip for irresistable pictures. Next time I'll go farther, or maybe start downstream from another point. My legs never tired...I headed for home when I got hungry.

I spotted this trail driving by on one of my first sojourns into town, and couldn't wait to get on it. Today I saw resting Canadian Geese, carefully placed bluebird houses, every manner of eye-candy flora, and gorgeous homes and ranches along the river bank. Initially, I couldn't wait to get on this trail. Today, I just can't wait to go back.

Ameliaville

2011-07-05T12:02:00.000-07:00

I have arrived. I came across from the Kelly Creek trial in Huntsville, UT, and am now encamped on the Strang Ranch for the summer. Set up near the house, I have all the comforts of home, water, power, and wifi. Add to that a world class view of 13,000 foot Mt. Sopris, gorgeous pastoral vistas in every direction, a copse of pines outside my front door, exceptionally good company, horses to ride, sheep with which to train dogs, and what I really have is a once in a liftime summer home. Thank you Strang family. Your kindness and generosity are timely blessings in my life.

Ameliaville

I banked out of the mountains around Huntsville, Utah yesterday landing on the hard-pan, desert town of Green River where temps hovered around 99 degrees. Good road, Hwy. 6 saved me having to go all the way to I-70, so I set the cruise control on fuel-conversation and shimmered through the heat like a mirage. At Grand Junction, I could see thunderheads in the distance, but there was no respite for a while yet. We caught up to them in Glenwood, and just as I pulled onto the ranch down came some big fat rain drops.

The view from Ameliaville

So, here I am. Rested, repaired and ready for a nice long summer. In two weeks we go to Nicomodes, and in the mean time I'll be right here teaching lessons and training my own dogs on fresh white-faced ewes obtained for that purpose. Welcome to Ameliaville.

Kelly Creek Dog Trial

2011-07-03T21:43:00.000-07:00

2010 Nat'l Champ, Patrick Shannahan at the post

Kelly Creek is a sheepdog fairyland with winding paths, bubbling brooks, grassy fields, deep, green ponds and a mountainous, snowcapped backdrop straight out of a Hollywood epic. Developed by an architect, and his now widowed wife, Patsy, it was masterfully designed for dogs. The sheepdog trial is several years old, and I have always heard good things about. The field is small, but challenging, with a short outrun, and a long cross-drive that simply laid us bare on day one. I ran 3 dogs, which means I had 6 attempts at the panels over 2 days. I think I was successful about 50% of the time. It was tough sledding, and it was hot.

Angling for foot-long cut-throat trout

The weather was a factor. It ranged from the mid 80's to the mid 90's, but the sheep seemed to feel it more than the dogs. We ran on fine-wool ewes that were strong, and unafraid to stand up to the dogs. Those touchy girls, the precipitous cross-drive and the heat made for low scores with 85 winning both days followed distantly by 70's and 60's that made up the top 5. Hats off to Shauna Gourley for trouncing us both days with her wee bitch Keli. Solid runs and repetitive scores of 85 took the big money, but she had to settle for 2nd place in a tie with Rob Miller and Rex on Sunday. The going was rocky except for those 3 runs.

Viewing Area

As if the trial wasn't good enough, Patsy arranged a band on Saturday nite, and we all kicked back in Adirondack chairs while the band played on, and uninhibited people showed us how to line dance. Not a bad way to spend an evening. A glass of grape, a recliner, some sing-along and fantastic company.

Very Entertaining on Saturday Night

Someone turned up the heat on day 2, but the sheep settled into the gig. The drive was reversed meaning that you cross-drove into the now familiar exhaust, and no matter how well the low side was protected, the ewes shuffled just in front of the panel, and juked us. At this trial, the trick was to get around without making too big of a mess, and finish. Shed, pen on the 1st day saw very few pens. Pen, single on the 2nd worked better, but not all that much. Out of 6 runs, I completed 1 with Mirk on Sunday, and it felt so damn good!

Likewise Entertaining (our Hostess Patsy in the sexy black dress)

Fresh from finals preparations on her family's Strang Ranch, Bridget came over and stayed with me to run good dog, Treat in the nursery and got his 2nd, finals-qualifying nursery leg. Our judge, Lyle Lad spent the weekend in a treehouse, I mean platform suspended off the ground against a big tree. I kept looking for Tarzan to offset her Jane, but Lyle said she'd settle for Cheetah. That girl's an awful lot of fun to have around.

Bridget Strang & Lise Anderson entertaining Hawkeye, a Beagle puppy

I was pleased with all my dogs at one time or another throughout the weekend, which is really saying something. At this trial I was triple-entered running my Mirk and Star, and a student's dog named Buff. Star was 3rd on Saturday with Mirk and Buff finishing 5th and 8th on Sunday. After years of running lone-dog, Price, I cannot tell you how much fun, and how tiring it was running 3. I would just sit down after one run, and someone would say, "do you know you're up in a few?" I liked it, and developed a real appreciation for hands who are always known to run multiple dogs in multiple divisions.

Mirk cooling off outside the exhaust

When Kelly Creek was being developed I came up to work dogs one day with some friends. I came early to Salt Lake that year on my way to Soldier Hollow. What is now the trial field was the only thing completed at that time. From a hot shower in the barn to the fast-running ditch water for dog-cooling outside the exhaust, this place is ideal, and I hope they'll let me back in some day.

Day One

2011-07-01T19:30:00.000-07:00

100 Degrees in the Mohave Desert

It was a long hot drive to the first of my dog trials. I got a late start, and got through Las Vegas about 6 O'clock. It was an even 100 degrees. My plan was to stay at my favorite KOA in Cedar City, and be in Huntsville, UT by noon today. So much for my plans.

Cedar City was still almost 90 degrees when I got in around midnight. I saw a decent, dirt parking spot across from the Loves Travel Center, and opted to sleep with the truckers instead of Paying $30 for the KOA. Good decision. I slept perfectly, and there was much more space to walk dogs.

Big alfalfa South of Cedar City

My trip up to Huntsville was slow, steep and windy, and there was road construction South of Salt Lake, which slowed me down. A 4 hour trip took 6, but here I am all set up, the dogs fed and walked, kicking back with a glass of cheap red wine. What can I tell you. I'm gone for 3 whole months, and I'm on a strict budget. I have good wine on board too that I won at Sonoma, and another bottle from Mandy, but I'm saving those for the special occasion when I win the Nationals...or something like that.

I had a tremendous visit with the judge, Lyle Lad, just after I arrived. It would be hard to find a nicer, more competent judge, and holy moly can she run a dog. Did I just write holy moly? We start at 7, and I'm running all 3 dogs, Mirk, Star and Mandy's Buff. I'll let you know how we do.

Encamped

I Love These Guys

2011-06-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

About a million (read 30-some) years ago, there was a group of us who hung around together, partied like idiots, made lots of trouble, drank too much, slept too little, and had a blast doing it. All I have from that time are the distant memories and this picture, which Bruce, (2nd from left,) sent to me recently.

Justin Ogata, another of our group, passed away recently, and this picture was taken at his funeral. From left to right are my friends, Gary, Bruce, Joe A., Joe P., Paul, Ivan and Mike. Why they're all dressed for a Carnival Cruise, I don't know. I can only remember them in shorts, but I still see them as the rowdy, long-haired, hard-partying, riotously funny bunch I knew after high school.

Bruce once bought an ancient, army, step van, and took it on a Colorado River run. You had to bump it off to start it, and sometimes he forgot, parked on the flat, and we all had to push. It weighed a ton! I took Joe skiing for his first time, and while teaching him, was laughing so hard that he started yelling at me to go on without him. I couldn't leave him, or stop laughing. Mike had a crazy Irish Setter dog named Whiskey that used to escape over 6' backyard fence. We went hiking to Tenaja Falls, and Mike became unable to walk from severe blistering. When Whiskey went over the falls we watched him slide about 1/2 mile downstream, then everyone else went after him while Mike stayed in camp to nurse his feet. In a time of American prosperity, Joe P. remained on unemployment for so long that we marveled at his talent for avoiding work. Gary was famous for his anatomy, his motorcycle and his stereo system, Ivan left us early for a stint in the army, and Paul always was, and still is one of the nicest guys.

Where are the women you ask? I was silly not to attend the funeral, but I'm right here, and surprisingly there weren't too many others. All these men had girlfriends, but they weren't really part of the group in the way that I was, that Chris was, that Sue was. We weren't girlfriends, we were fellow revelers. Chris dated Joe A., Sue dated Gary, Bruce and I, and Mike and I thought about it at different times, but we were always best as friends. Sue was lost to me many years ago, despite my efforts to reel her in, and Chris died from cancer after a lifetime of heavy smoking. I miss them, all of them.

I wonder if I could get everybody on a hike up to Tenaja again...

$285.00

2011-06-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

Nose in Question

Violent sneezing was the first indication, then I turned to see which dog, and Price added wild face pawing to the telltale signs of a dreaded, aspirated foxtail. UGH! Trouble, pain, and expense. Also deadly if not dispatched quickly.

Oh, the timing! Why now? NOT now! I was on my way up to Orange County to give lessons, and I was late already. Maybe he sneezed it out....yeah right. By now Price had quit sneezing, and had begun snuffling, wincing, and winking his right eye. I felt that sinking feeling as I began to guess at the vet bill.

Oh, the timing! I'm leaving in 7 days for 3 months of dog trialing, and my budget is skinny, so skinny. Yes, I have money stashed for the trip. No, I don't want to spend it on a vet bill. OK, I'll leave him until I get back and see how he's doing. I'm sorry big dog, you're going to have to tough it out once again.

I brought him in for the night as always, and sometime early heard Price sneeze rapidly 3 times. That's it. No more sleep for me. I carried him to the vet who rubbed his sinuses and gave me "the look" when he winced. "But I can't afford this," I cried. "Let me see what I can do," she answered resignedly.

Yes, it's bloody

Agh! I hate foxtails. They are nothing but trouble for dog owners everywhere. So I mow, I comb, I spray with Show Sheen to repel, I avoid areas, I warn people, I fret until the season passes. And still I get bit by them almost every year. Last year it was Star with one buried in his ear. Who will be next?

The deadly, barbed spore shown above was pulled from deep within Price's nose while he was anesthetized. He was groggy when I picked him up, but in the way only dog lovers know their dogs, I could see that he was relieved. So was I. I am still recovering from the hit to my wallet, but what can you do? Love the dog, that's all.

Needle Point

2011-06-14T21:10:00.000-07:00

Antique spinning wheel

That's the way it was explained to me. Women who participate today in the women's crafts of spinning, dying, weaving, knitting and crochet represent our female fore bearers. We are just the tip of the needle pulling a thread of continuing traditions that date back hundreds of years in this country alone. Those who are furthering these arts have a big responsibility to get it right, and a lot to live up to.

A Cotswold ewe

I have been playing with processing the wool from my sheep since I sheared them all last Spring. As I became in touch, (literally,) with the resulting fiber, I began to cast about for someone to show me the ropes. Of course, online, I found any number of tutorials about washing, picking, carding and spinning wool, but I was looking for something more. I met lovely, amazingly talented women, both in person and online, all of whom had a slightly different take of how and what to do with wool. I bought books and magazines, learned a lot in a relatively short amount of time, and I began to tinker.

Wool on a set of hand cards

I washed wool, I picked wool, I bought some hand cards and I made rolags, cigar-shaped bundles of separated wool fibers that are ready to spin. I even sold some wool online through Ravelry, a website for spinners, knitters and crocheters. But, I knew I didn't have it right, and I still wanted a good teacher. I found a very nice lady who spun beautiful yarn, and had some of the right equipment, but her studio was her tiny livingroom, and she seemed disenfranchised to me. I picked up some good tips, and kept looking.

From Handspun Yarn

I bought some ewe lambs from a friend, and she told me about a talented fiber artist who was teaching her to weave. Karen gave me her business card, I called the number and Pat and I talked on the phone for an hour. I had a good feeling. Pat hosts open houses for her students a couple times a month in her sprawling hilltop home, and invited me up. Suddenly I was in an airy, high-ceilinged room with a view surrounded by mature, confident women who were spinning, knitting and talking about sheep, wool and fiber art. I was in the right spot.

Pat's first love, and my interest is wool preparation. I want to learn to take raw wool, literally off the sheep's back, and process it into clean, separated wool fiber that can be used. I want to dye it too, but I'm getting ahead of myself. As I was talking to this 50-year fiber artist, the similarities between us became apparent, mainly a shared passion for perfection, and doing things the slow way, which is so often the best way. Pat takes no shortcuts to her finished product, and it is very clean, very soft, incredibly uniform wool for which there is great demand. From experience, I understood immediately that learning the basics her way would be the cornerstone on which I will build my way. It had been the same with my mother and her approach to business. No shortcuts, no nonsense, and in 1975, no pants in the office. I chafed under my mother's tight rein, but was admired by future employers for doing things well.

Pat is extremely talented at her craft, and this beautiful woman is excited to teach me. Apparently, there's lots of women who want to learn to spin and weave, but not that many who want to wash and pick. I want to get my hand's dirty, and can't wait to work by her side. While she showed me around, we talked about her equipment, the Pat Green Studio Carder, and Picker in her studio. Of course we talked about wool, we examined it, handled it, and talked about sheep breeds. She talked to me about lost traditions, and the differences between artistic expression, and craftsmanship. I've never considered myself artistic, but as Pat explained it to me, I would very much like to become a craftswoman.

Hot Girlz

2011-06-09T16:49:00.000-07:00

There are some really Hot Girlz to be found in the world, if you know what I mean. You might see them at the grocery store, striding majestically with head, and everything else held high, proud for all the world to see in their push-up bras and low-cut blouses. Maybe they're slinking through the mall, in tight jeans, strappy sandals, the latest fashion accessories tied and slung on various body parts, makeup perfectly applied with the obligatory tatt peaking out from somewhere. God knows you'll see them at the beach, near the beach, and lounging in the sand, bathing suits barely there, slathered from head to toe in whatever, plugged into a Nano and perusing Cosmopolitan. Yup, there are lots of Hot Girlz out there all right, and most of them have variously a dopey love slave, or a macho gunslinger guy attached to them somehow, or lurking about trying to do and be...something for these ladies.

Those Hot Girlz are not that of which I speak, however. I'm talking about this type of hot girl:

And more...

These are the newest addition to my flock, five 3 month old Border Cheviot ewe lambs, which you will occasionally read me refer to as kittehs, because of their flighty demeanor. They are just as edgy and kewl as any vixen to be found at the Hard Rock on Saturday night, and every bit as wily. More wily in fact...definitely more wyly. They don't need fingernails that shine like justice, and would simply trot off from a dirty martini. No spandex, no Louis Vuitton, no D & B for them. Oh no! They make wool look sexy.

OK, so not everybody will share my view of these hot girls. But those that don't are from group A. The ones who stand in my livingroom and look aghast at the hunting mounts on my walls, the sheep fleece on my couch, the horse manure in the door yard. The ones who ask me where I'm going on vacation, and stand silent, head's tilted with that "huh?" expression when I tell them Porterville.

Group B is all about the sheep. They own a stomach tube, an emasculator, and write "Niiiccce" under my Facebook announcement of the hot girls arrival. They're the ones who immediately understand when I say BFL/Wens x, and they don't mind that ruminant smell on my jeans. Honestly? They like it, and so do I.

So, I picked up 5 Hot Girlz yesterday...I mean hot girls, and they are grand. Right now they're out working, picking their way around the pasture, bulking up with muscle and fat, growing into bred ewes this Fall, ewes and lambs by Spring.

I mean really? Who needs Yves Saint Laurent when you have cloven hooves?

Sentiment v Corian

2011-06-06T11:21:00.000-07:00

My friend, Stephanie Summers who owns a fab little sheepdog store called Operation Sheepdog Herding sent me the Corian shepherd's whistle on the left in the photo above to try out and give a review. Hey, Steph, thanks. I'll review your wares anytime. Last time she sent me one of those kewl graphite stock sticks that I just love. So hardy, lightweight and easy to flick about if that's in your repertoire.

Oh, so what did I think about the Corian whistle? First a story.

I have a close friend, named Fred, who I've known for a very long time. About 315 dog years. He was married to Leslie, a girl I grew up with, and just like anybody who ever met her, Fred and I loved Leslie with all our hearts. She was one of those special people who are filled with light and love. A beautiful, willowy blonde who was just as pretty on the inside.

Fred and Leslie were in the cattle business, Leslie trained horses, and Fred shod them. Leslie had discovered sheepdogs long before I did, and was out in the pasture working hers one day. At the tender age of not quite 30 Les simply laid down and died for no reason that the doctors could discover, and the whistle on the right had been Fred's gift to his wife before she died. The Rockin' FL brand has been Fred's forever. Can you imagine the sentimental value it has for me? I hope so, because I could never find the words to truly convey it to you. When you see me at a dog trial, it will be Leslie's whistle around my neck, for luck and in her memory.

Sorry, whistles, and remembering Leslie go hand in hand for me.

Now, the Corian...I worked a student's dog with it today, which was a good test, because Buff is unfamiliar to me, so I have to be more deliberate. I focus on which whistle command is which, and try harder to duplicate those of his previous owner. What I discovered with the Corian is that it has a big sound. It carries well, and was easy for me to modulate decibel and strength. It's lightweight too, and with that faux-granite finish, very pretty, which is always a plus. It comes in a multitude of colors. Honestly, you could pair it with an attractive lanyard, and have yourself quite a dog trialing fashion statement.

I didn't like it's size. It felt bulky and thick in my mouth, and I found the Corian to be slippery, which is problematic, especially when the action heats up. I can't tell you how many times I've nearly spit out a whistle having to physically hold it in place when I needed rapid-fire results. Just like every other whistle I've ever tried, I'm sure I would grow used to it over time. I will buy a lanyard for this one, and make it part of my collection. You can't have too many. I put them in my truck, in my RV, and have several hanging from my hall tree all from different materials, in different sizes and shapes. I recommend that you give the Corian a try. No two whistle-blowers are alike, and you know you need another...

Stupidity Cure?

2011-06-04T15:07:00.000-07:00

So, here's my normal routine. Each night before I get ready for work, I feed my animals and bring the ewes up from their pasture to an overnight pen secure from coyotes. Last night I was not normal, forgot the secure portion of that routine, and stupidly got a ewe lamb killed with 2 more severely injured.

No, it's not the coyotes fault, and as much as I want to be, I can't even be mad at them.

Of the 2 still standing, this little girl got the worst of it

I love my sheep, and I work hard at keeping them healthy and happy. I don't name them, and I don't consider them pets, but I have a great deal of respect for them, bordering on admiration, for their tenacity, toughness, utility and stoicism. Yes, they're stoic. They just take what life dishes and continue to thrive. So, when something like this happens, and not only was it completely my fault, but 100% avoidable, I plummet to the depths of deep emotional sadness, which is what I'm feeling right now.

A deep bite wound all stitched up

I just want to bring them in the house, wrap them up in a blanket, put their heads on pillows and help them heal. Of course they're much too reserved for that, and are far more comfortable out with their friends, lying in the shade.

Prefering to doctor my self, I rarely call the vet. Today I called. I couldn't stand to see them so miserable. And I knew, if nothing else, he would have the really good drugs, ketamine and 6-day antibiotic. Not just the banamine and acepromazyn in my humble medicine cabinet, but the good stuff they deserve. Plus, they both needed stitches in deep wounds that, in the worst of the two, left bone exposed. I can stitch, but not layer upon layer.

Not only did the coyotes kill a ewe lamb, but my best lamb, of course. The very lamb that was to begin my transition from a meat flock to one of fiber and meat production. You see, I keep sheep to work the dogs, so I might as well diversify their income potential. Meat production will remain, but with the addition of long-wool fiber animals, there's more opportunity. Today, though, there is one less...

Stitched up with a drain hole

Coyotes are magnificantly evolved for killing. They hunt in packs, and the sheep in the picture above demonstrates their method beautifully. With several puncture wounds around her neck, 1 gaping hole in her butt, and teeth marks on her belly, you can visualize the order of things. A coyote stops her in front, while another drags her down by the haunch. The next step is to rip out her belly, and let the feast begin. The dead lamb's carcass showed the process from start to finish, and there wasn't much left.

Today's routine is still far from normal, and with some serious nursing in my future, abnormal will be around for a while. Firstly, it will take my wallet some time to recover, and sheepdog lessons will remain on hold until everybody has recovered sufficiently. Before paying Dr. Walker's bill, I asked for the same ketamine injection he had given the sheep. What I really should have asked for was a cure for stupid!

Scoured, Flicked and Teased

2011-05-29T14:16:00.000-07:00

Nope, I am not describing my latest internet dating experience. Firstly, because if it went that badly, I would nevah admit it, and secondly, because I've never had one. No, I am describing the processes by which I am preparing wool for spinning. Recently I made the executive decision to learn to spin. It calls to me, even though I am not in the least bit "crafty," or artistic, or patient. There is just something there that intrigues me.

The idea of sitting quietly, mindlessly running home-grown, fiber through my fingers while rhythmically treadling a spinning wheel seems like an altogether pleasant experience to me, even though my first encounter with a wheel was far south of satisfying. In fact, it was altogether frustrating, but I could sense a peace about it that I look forward to acheiving.

My circumstance of raising sheep for dog training results in loads and loads of raw wool laying about, and is something others can only dream of. In the meantime those same others are spending big PayPal dollars buying up fiber from the 4 corners of the earth while I have big plastic bags of it, open, of course, to let the fiber breathe instead of mildew. Eventually, I'm hoping to attract some of those PayPal dollars myself. I even bought a used book on how to start a cottage wool business. Don't you just love Amazon?

There is a vibrant culture that exists around spinning, weaving, knitting, crochet and felting that includes swapping, buying, selling, processing, creating and communicating all things fiber. I have just stuck my big toe in by joining a few online forums, visiting a local group, and meeting some incredibly talented fiber artists who fortunately live nearby. Lucky me! On my way to fiber fulfillment, here's what I've accomplished so far.

I've bought a must-have-hat from an incredibly talented fiber artist named Janice Rosema

The Hand-Knitted Rasta Hat

I've bought Blue-faced Leicester & Wensleydale ewe lambs from Namaste Farms. Wait till you see next year's wool clip!

BFL & BFLxWensleydale ewe lambs

I've scoured (read washed) 3 fleeces given to me by Jennifer Ewer's at Canine's N' Ewe Stockdogs

Scoured Rambouillet wool

I've flicked, (read brushed) to separate and further clean my wool

Flicked Cheviot fleece from my flock

I've teased, (read combed) the cleanest locks

The good stuff. Cheviot on the left, Rambouillet on the right

And I've bought a used set of Hand Cards, for the next step, creating roving.

Ready-to-Spin,dyed wool Roving

My hand cards have not arrived yet, so no picture, and I haven't summoned the courage for dying, but I honestly can't wait to get my hands in a dye pot. Of course, I've shopped and lusted over every imaginable fiber tool, all of which are completely out of my current financial reach. These handy inventions include a spinning wheel, a wool picker, (danger! danger!) and a drum carder. Someday...

In the mean time, you can find me in the gargage picking away with a dog brush and comb, edging ever closer to my holy fiber grail, a finished skein of art yarn. Everybody's gotta have a ~~goat~~, I mean goal.

"Girl in Translation"

2011-05-20T14:16:00.000-07:00

#BlogHerBookClub

I read this book, then I reviewed it for the Book Club of the BlogHer Network to which I belong. I don't know if they count, but except for book reports in grade school, this was my first review, and I thoroughly enjoyed the process of writing and then interpreting my feelings. I wanted to be honest, and fair, and accurate, and unafraid to disseminate what I didn't like as well as what I did. Will you read the review and let me know if I accomplished any of that? I'd love for you to critique my critique.

As for the book, 99% of it is a riveting tale, and I enjoyed it immensely. It made me ponder, consider, and day dream. All good, depending on whether you have the time. Although, I think you should always find room for a good day dream now and then.

Semi-autobiographical, this is the story of Chinese immigration the hard way told with grit and nuance that only one who survived the ordeal could possibly possess. The author, Jean Kwok, made me feel what she felt through Ah-Kim, her 12 year old main character, and that's no easy feat. The woman can write.

And you can read, so please do. My review, first, and then the book. It is a story well worth the price of admission.

The Aftermath

2011-05-14T14:23:00.000-07:00

A friend sent me this picture

I just love this dog

Feeding the Fire

2011-05-10T18:36:00.000-07:00

Photo by Jan Elliott

Yucking it up with Mirk

I love my dogs mightily and I am particular about their care. My daily routine includes cleaning kennels, brushing dogs, working dogs, playing with dogs, hauling dogs around in my truck, and of course, most importantly, feeding dogs. So when BlogHer and Purina asked me to review a new line of dog food, I jumped right on board!

Purina Pro Plan Selects Formula dog food is a new offering that is designed for people like me, who are meticulous about the care and feeding of their dogs. I have been feeding it for about a month now, and am very pleased with the results. I love the dogs, the dogs loved the food. Perfect. Now here's where you get involved.

BlogHer is offering a $100 Visa gift card for simply reading my review of the dog food, and leaving a comment to the post. Please go HERE to do that, and I wish you the best of luck. There have been 73 comments so far, so you have a very good chance of winning. The contest ends on May 31st, so there's only a couple weeks left to enter. Go now, enter to win, and start a fire of your own.

Coffee with My Mother

2011-05-08T14:55:00.000-07:00

I want to have coffee with my mom. The trouble is, she died in 1992, and she took a bunch of really good stuff with her. Looking back on my life, I apparently don't know near enough, and she apparently did. She knew how to forge a career from sheer hard work and determination, and she really knew how to stick with it. She knew how to deal with pain and betrayal privately. She just plain knew how to deal, and I need information!

Yosemite...I was 4

Mom grew up in the depression, and she knew how to make do. I grew up in the land of plenty, now there ain't enough, and I'm having a hard time here. My mother knew how to play bridge. I've always wanted to learn. She knew how to play bridge really well. I know how to play blackjack, but I'm way too cheap to gamble, especially now.

With Tiny, my 1st horse. Tiny was old

I don't think my mother and I ever had an in-depth discussion about anything. Even the basics were cut short. She attended the movie about menstruation with me in the 6th grade, but afterward, we didn't discuss it. She went to her closet, handed me a box of Kotex pads, and walked away. That was fine by me until I started my period, and was scared out of my wits that I had cut myself down there!

Swimming lessons. Megan was 18 months

When my daughter, Megan, was about to enter high school, I patiently explained that boys would try to stick their hands down here shirt, and to kick them where they live when they did. After the recoil, I further explained that they'd go for her pants too, and that's when I knew I had her attention. All I ever got from my mom was the admonition that I would get a reputation. I wish she had told me it was OK to say no, because I never saw that one coming.

Loving her grandaughter more than life itself

So, here I am bumbling through life wondering what her brother, Curtis was like. He died when I was a baby. I can only imagine growing up on a dusty Southeastern New Mexico cattle ranch in the 30's, and I would rather have the facts. Hell, I didn't even know she'd been married twice until, as a teenager, I rummaged deep into our hall closet one day and found my parent's wedding invite. Who was Black? That wasn't my mother's maiden name. Wha?? A drunken cowboy from Portales?!?? No kidding...I know nothing. We need to talk...over coffee, and I really have no idea why I didn't feel the need when I had the chance.

Mother's Nature

2011-05-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

This little bird

Built a nest inside this planter

Where she is successfully raising chicks on my patio table

Not 5 feet from the back door

Isn't motherhood the most amazing thing?

Makin' Changes

2011-05-03T15:56:00.000-07:00

I bought 3 ewe lambs a week or so ago, and picked them up today. 2 are Blue Faced Leicester, one is a Blue Faced Leicester/Wensleydale cross, and all 3 are lovely. The ram pictured here sired 2 of them. Very handsome, don't you think?

This Blue Faced Leicester ewe is mother to one, and I love her intelligent eyes and bright expression. That's a jacketed black Wensleydale behind her. His fleece is being protected for hand-spinning.

This is the mother of the other Blue Faced Leicester lamb and is standing in front of a Blue Faced Leicester/Wensleydale cross wether. He was a triplet, and I have his full brother standing in my pen. He was never castrated, and I plan to use him, not only on my Cheviot ewes in the Fall, but on the new BFL ewe lambs as well.

And here are the new arrivals. The 2 lambs in front are the Blue Faced Leicester lambs, and the one behind is the BFL/Wensleydale cross. I have segregated them for now to ensure they're good health and that they settle nicely. Eventually, I'll have them out with all the ewes grazing tall grass in the big field.

For me, sheep are a bit like crayons in a box. When I was a kid, I always had a favorite color or two, and that would change to something different over time. I have gone through many breeds of sheep trying to find the right combination of what works in my climate, what works for dog training, and any other utility that I can incorporate. Leicesters and Cheviots are my favorites for adaptability and dog work, but I am getting more and more interested in fiber production, so I'm making some changes. It's a process...

Oh Lord...Here We Go...

2011-04-28T14:10:00.000-07:00

They're back...Here in sunny So Cali the rains have abated, temperatures warmed, flora has dried, and the foxtails are out with a vengeance. This picture of my shoes was taken after walking 2 times through my sheep pasture. Argh! How I hate them.

Just like my shoes, the deadly seeds creep into every orifice imaginable on our dogs. All too often, once in, they can't be found and may do unimaginable damage to tissue, organs, and extremities, which can result in pitiful suffering, permanent debilitation and death. Nice, huh?

In a couple months they'll be gone. Once they have dried completely, all it takes is a good wind to move them on their way. Thank heavens! And we all breathe a sigh of relief. If your dog is stricken by one of these nasty buggers please be sure and ask your vet to look everywhere, not just the known sight of invasion.

I once took Price into the vet with a foxtail in his butt. Can you imagine? But, it was worse than I thought. When I picked him up later that day, my vet showed me 2 foxtails, 1 from his butt, and one from inside his sheath at the base of his penis. Oy! When I asked her why she had looked there, she explained that since she has to anesthetize anyway, she looks everywhere. Her efficiency certainly saved him unimaginable pain, and maybe his life.

This site gives good descriptions of symptoms related to foxtails in dogs. Be careful out there.

Old Habits

2011-04-27T12:14:00.000-07:00

There have been very few times in my life when I have not owned a horse. I picked up the habit very young. After badgering, pleading, bartering, promising, and negotiating, I coerced my parents into buying Tiny, my first horse, when I was 7. That was a while ago, and I've pretty much perfected the art of owning one between now and then.

My feeling is that if I didn't have to get up and feed in the morning, I wouldn't know I'm alive. Lately, I've taken to getting up, feeding, then brushing. Brushing Alley Cat, my horse that is. Well, my teeth first, and then Alley Cat, and after that, sometimes I brush my dogs that really need it this time of year. Both the dogs and the horse are blowing their coats in the recently lengthened daylight hours. No, it is not heat that causes animals to shed, it is daylight.

Alley's been with me a long time now. Alley is a rope horse extraordinaire. He is good in the box, fast to the hip, is honest as the day is long, would never duck, and Alley can pull like a frieght train. If you don't understand any of that team ropin' shorthand, I'll translate for you; Alley is a very good boy. We won one of the first ropings I entered on him, and I had never roped with my heeler before. In fact I had never even laid eyes on him. A happy roping memory.

Warmer weather and longer days cause me to envision long, relaxing trail rides through the mountains with the dogs by my side. I used to do this almost daily in the course of ranch life and work, but now it would only be a simple trail ride. On the ranch, we were much too ~~important~~ busy for such silliness, but now it feels like a necessary indulgence. I'm finding that an appreciation for simple pleasures comes with age, which is a entirely new concept for me. Age and simple pleasures.

I am one of the lucky ones. I grew up on a horse. Some of my most pivotal, childhood experiences occurred in and among horses and the horsemen and women who love them. I wouldn't trade it for anything, but I bet I could sell it if such a thing were possible. An old, very dear friend of mine liked to tell us that he'd been following these nags around all his life. I feel the same. It's a long held habit that I have no desire to break.

Pacific So Cali Time

2011-04-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

In other words...it's Springtime. Enjoy!

Roses, Cactus and Poppies, oh my!

Lavender in the foreground

Blooming aloe

Mix Match

Succulent radiance

Hey! How did Buff get in here?

To BEE a Keeper

2011-04-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

I've always had a vague dream of organic farming, raising grass feed beef and lamb, pasturing chickens and keeping bees. So, when I watched this trailer, I wasn't really amazed, but the thought occurred to me that, hell, we should all keep 'em!

I Love Caps

2011-04-07T13:23:00.000-07:00

I love hats, I love the 2011 USBCHA National Finals, and I love, love, love working Border Collies. If you do as well, then allow me to suggest that you buy one of these great looking ball caps and support all 3 at once! That's a great idea! Oh yes...yes it is.

OK, ball caps may not be your thing. There are so many ways to get involved. You can sponsor a dog, you can buy a gorgeous, framed canvas of the official finals photo, (which I took, btw,) you can volunteer, you can simply attend, or, best of all, you can do all four.

I was asked recently what might be a good job to volunteer for, and I said "parking." Normally I wouldn't say "parking," but Bernie, who handles parking at the Meeker Championship Sheepdog Trial is in charge, and I can guarantee you a good time working with Bernie. He's very kewl.

OK, so maybe parking isn't your thing. There's many ways to volunteer. How about logistics? I don't have any idea how that job relates to a sheepdog trial, but I know the committee can help us out with that one. Concessions and hospitality are other ways to get involved and there are many more. Check it out!

The date for the greatest gathering of working Border Collies Sheepdogs in North America is the 13th through the 20th of September, to be held on the breathtakingly beautiful Strang Ranch in Carbondale, Colorado. I know that seems like a long way off, but the finals ticker on this blog says only 158 days from right now, and that seems like no time at all. We better get busy! Come on...support the finals, buy a ball cap. You know you wanna...

ASPCA Kicks Butt!

2011-04-05T11:42:00.000-07:00

For the 2nd year in a row, the ASPCA is rewarding shelters for saving more lives with cash awards to be used to save even more, and all you have to do is vote. It costs nothing, so, for nothing more than a few minutes on the computer, you can potentially gift a hundred thousand dollars to the folks in the trenches of animal welfare. Everybody wins, especially dogs in need like this one...

Rescued by the ASPCA along with 349 others

The idea of the contest is to reward shelters that are the best of the best, and encourage other shelters to join those ranks. The first ever ASPCA $100K Challenge took place in 2010, aimed to help shelters save more lives in the short term and increase the potential to save many more in years to come. This is what the ASPCA has to say about this year's contest:
What's New in 2011?

The goals for the 2011 ASPCA $100K Challenge remain the same. Here's what's new in our second year:
•The ASPCA is offering $300,000 in prize money in 2011, including:
◦Largest increase in lives saved: The contestant that saves the largest number of additional cats, kittens, dogs, and puppies beyond the minimum 300 wins the $100,000 Grand Prize grant!
◦Second place: The contestant that saves the second largest number of additional cats, kittens, dogs, and puppies beyond the minimum 300 lives saved wins the $25,000 Second Place grant!
◦Largest increase in lives saved in each region: The contestant in each of five geographic regions that saves the largest number of additional cats, kittens, dogs, and puppies beyond the minimum 300 wins a $20,000 Best in Region grant.
•This year we're introducing a qualifying heat in order to help you get your community behind you right from the beginning of the Challenge. During the qualifying heat, your community members will vote online to send you to the Challenge. The 50 agencies with the most votes will be the official contestants in the 2011 Challenge.

We have a local California shelter in the running, and we are asking for your vote. Please visit this link, and click on the Ramona shelter in California to vote. The contest allows you to vote every day from now through the 15th of April, so please save the web page to your favorites, and vote every day, so we can send Ramona to the challenge. That's exactly what I am doing, and simply putting 5 minutes towards saving lives and animal welfare is a great way to start my day.

Buy that Dog!

2011-04-03T16:03:00.000-07:00

Mandy and Buff

It's just not something you will hear me say very often. "Buy that Dog" carries with it a great deal of responsibility, and weight. If I utter those words, I am suggesting that someone take on the care and training of a life that may or may not be well suited to its' new home. I am putting someone in a position of making a commitment that I can only hope will be honored over time.

On rare occasions a student, or others, will ask me to help them find a dog. This is not a task I take lightly, nor one that I would undertake under anything approaching questionable circumstances. Be warned! I must be sure that the person wishing to acquire a dog is suitable working-dog-owner material, then I have to be as sure as I can be that any dog I refer is valued appropriately, and will suit that individual's needs, and skill level, and that's not easy.

Typically what I do is find a dog that may be right, then say to the prospective buyer and seller; "here you go, now you guys work it out," leaving the individuals responsible for their own decisions. Not so with Buff who was owned by a friend, Joyce Geier, and referred to me by another, Carol Campion, who knew he was for sale. I took one look at a video of the dog working, called Mandy, and said emphatically "buy this dog!" To her credit, and that of our friendship, she stepped up, did just that, and boy am I glad she did!

Buff was trained and trialed in Ireland by Seamus Gallgher, who hails from a long line of good dog men. Joyce saw Buff there and bought him for herself. After bringing him home to the states and trialing him for a year or so, she realized he may not be the best dog for her. Because I've done it, I know that it takes guts to make that admission, and in so doing, you are allowing someone else to find the dog of their dreams. It happens. It happened, and my student, Mandy has done just that.

Feeling the Love

I met Buff today for the first time, after his arrival last Friday from New York. Mandy brought him out to test him on sheep, and we threw him in with some lambs. Not the best choice for transitioning a dog, but all I have to work at the moment. Buff surpassed every expectation I had for him, and more importantly, he surpassed Mandy's. The first time she sent him on a little gather in the small field by my house, her hands flew to her face and a look of unbridled joy appeared as she watched her talented youngster square up and speed off on a stunningly beautiful flank to accomplish the task. And then it got better. If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll admit the truth; it made me cry...real tears of joy for the dog and for Mandy. You can ask her...I cried.

"Buy that dog!" Will I use it more liberally on the heels of success with Buff? Absoultely not! If anything, I'll be even more careful, because matches like this are so rare, that what are the chances? All I know is that we got this one right for the best possible result. Joyce has an opportunity to find the the dog of her dreams, Buff has an idyllic home, and Mandy can finally acheive her working dog goals. It would all have been OK anyway, because if, for some reason, it hadn't worked out, I would have been standing in line to buy that dog!

One Less

2011-04-02T15:33:00.000-07:00

Mr. Olympia

Back before Arnold was ordained "Governator," he was simply known as 6-time Mr. Olympia, or as some of us thought of him, a muscle-head. I once read a quote taken from this time in his career which was his mantra during training work-outs. "One more rep, one more dollar."

For some reason, this Arnold-ism came to me today while I was putting 6 more miles on my bicycle, riding uphill straight into the wind. But I had to make it my own, and I can't help wonder whether Arnold would approve...

"One more ride, One less dimple on my ass."

The Sale Barn

2011-03-29T19:19:00.000-07:00

Gene O'

This venerable old gentleman is Gene O'Brien, and I've known him for 20 years, give or take. Haven't seen him for at least 10. Gene is the reason 7-time world champion team roper, Clay O'Brien-Cooper has a hyphenated last name. Gene is Clay's step-dad, and Clay did it out or respect. We used to rope together before a horse fell on him 10 years ago while working as an outrider on the race track. Gene's 80 now.

Receiving

When he was still ropin', Gene was a director with the United States Team Roping Championships, and had the enviable job of assigning handicap numbers to people like me, who never roped as good as the number Gene gave me. He assigned himself a 2, and I don't care if he was 70 at the time, he always roped that good, and that number was a license to steal, which he did all the time. I reminded him of that when I saw him today, and he reminded me of what he told me last time I roped against him, lost, and complained about my number; "you'll just have to rope better, Amelia." It wasn't like he needed the money. He retired as a wrangler in the movie business and gets a pension from the race track as well. All that money he took out of team roping was just for fun I guess. And because he could.

Goats, ever popular at the sale

Where did I run into this vision of cowboy-dom from my not-too-distant past? At the Chino auction barn, (where else?) where I had gone to sell some sheep. I heard they were bringing astronmical prices, and boy did I hear right! I sold 5 ewes and 1 ram for $1,040, but wasn't really happy to be going before I ran into Gene, and before I got the check in that order.

The preview

After off-loading the sheep, and getting my paperwork, I parked the truck and trailer around back and passed Gene's truck on the way to the sale barn. I knew it was his by the old dented, primer-rusty horse trailer he's been pulling forever, and by the sign on the truck that said Gene O'Brien Livestock.

I was at the USTRC finals one year when Gene won a roping, a bunch of money, and a fancy new gooseneck stock trailer. He sold it before the ink dried on the title. When I asked him why, he said it wouldn't hold up bouncing across the pasture back on his ranch. Made sense...take the money while it's new and fancy.

My day was definitely looking up. I stood in the doorway of the tiny barn scanning the risers for that familiar, old face, and there he was just 2 steps up. I was looking near the top, but he's 80 after all.

Peacocks in the ring

We talked over old times, we laughed, told some lies and remembered funny stories. I met a few of his friends, and then I told him he had to buy me lunch. To my surprise, he said OK. Gene's cheap! Then we were warned that the food place at the auction is notoriously slow and expensive, so I hailed a guy selling plastic grocery bags full of peanuts. He took $3 off Gene for a $5 bag and said "don't tell nobody." Time doesn't change everything.

It's All About the Ride

2011-03-28T16:33:00.000-07:00

I don't work dogs every day

Some days I ride my bike

My life slows down a bit

Even though I'm peddling as fast as I can

I appreciate gravel, every incline, stop light, and speed bump

I meet people who fascinate me

I never carry money

And I always learn something

Sonoma on Sunday

2011-03-25T16:41:00.000-07:00

Tree-dee Construction

On Sunday morning it was still pouring, and mother nature had brought on the wind over night. I was woken by it a couple times, and mentally kissed my pop-up goodbye after leaving it trial-side to shelter competitors. Bridget and I were one of the first to arrive at Sandy's about 6:15am, because Star ran 2nd on the hill field. We were the first to be stopped directly behind a massive live oak that had blown down straight across the Milberg's driveway and major thoroughfare, Calistoga Road. Sandy's tree guy was already working even though it was pitch black, a fire truck was there, with the County Road Crew and CHP in route. Bridget had warned me on the way down to drive carefully because of the possibility of downed trees. She could have said inevitability, and been even more correct in her assessment.

After a couple hours of watching, helping and mostly staying out of the way, the show went on. Water everywhere and it was still raining. There had been precious little let up on Saturday and Sunday promised more of the same. The hill field resembled a slip and slide with water pouring off it in tendrils, and one big stream. The pen area had become a bit of a bog. Ireland's Frank Cashen with scribe, bless their hearts, were perched under a surviving pop-up with make-shift sides. A tiny propane heater at their feet, they judged and notated in completely inhospitable conditions with a smile on their lips. True die-hards those, and the set out crew was still at it.

The Hill Field

Just above the field Sandy's driveway winds to her home. Across the road is a deep pond that was now spewing vast over flow through a large culvert down a rock-lined incline that bisects the field. On Sunday it was a rushing river for the dogs to either cross on the outrun, or not. It had to be crossed on the way to the post by hands and dogs, and on the way to the exhaust by hands, dogs and sheep, and I waded carefully, ankle deep for fear of landing on my already wet enough ass. Another small, but deceptively tricky course that starts with a blind outrun, progresses to a hazardous fetch down the face of the hill, then turns to a drive requiring that you not only make panels, but 2 huge oak trees marked with orange tape beyond a left turn after the drive away panel. It's such a releif to gain the shed ring, marked with sopping bumps of shavings that could have come from the downed oak, but didn't.

Sandy's Raffle

The sheep had been flipped from one field to the other on Sunday, and were working surprisingly well. There were the odd sets that gave a fight, but for the most part, they moved easily with steady pressure from the good dogs. I saw some beautiful runs on Sunday including Mandy Harley's with Jackie who finished 2nd. Both of my dogs ran well here as well. Mirk had an awkward ewe that had to be continually stopped and returned to her peers making his lines a bit wobbly, but his split, pen, single finish was effortless and workmanlike, even if Frank didn't like my selection on the single. My bad, no fault of the dog there. He showed unusual patience around the course, and I was happy with him.

Little Star man showed maturity way beyond his 2.5 years, got lost of the outrun requiring a re-direct or 2, but was steady-Eddy everywhere else with only 3 off a demanding little drive and a pretty stand-up finish. I can't seem to buy a finals qualifying point on Mirk, but added 4 or 5 more to Star's big bunch. He finished 6th garnering a lovely 2004 bottle of Clos du Bois Merlot and a check! Thanks Sandy. And wouldn't you know...the sun broke through just as the awards were handed out. Agh!

Grapevine in Winter

Bridget and I packed up and left that afternoon, hoping to get across the always-challenging grapvine without interference from mother nature. No luck. It was closed by the time we got several hundred miles south of the trial, so we stopped at my all-time favorite stopping place, Harris Ranch and crashed...again. Instead of staying in one of those oh-so-plush rooms that I just love, we just parked in the lot and hunkered down in the RV looking foward to breakfast after missing it for a few days. CHP was having breakfast there too, and told us that the grapvine was open but cars were being escorted across. The escort was gone by the time we got there, but the rain was still falling, and it had snowed heavily on the mountains.

Dexter as Fashion Accessory

I'm home now, and it's still raining. I can't complain when it rains at a dog trial, because I am trialing after all. Sandy and her crew did a bang up job and worked their tails off harder than usual so I could have some fun with my dogs and my friends. I appreciate that mightily. Can't wait for next year.

Sonoma on the Flat

2011-03-23T17:09:00.000-07:00

Flat as compared to hill

The flat field is so named, because as compared to the hill field, it is. The pro-novice and nursery ran here on Friday, and I became part of the cheerleading squad while Bridget ran her good dog, Treat, in both nurseries, and her other good dog, Rosie, in the pro-novice, which was combined with the first nursery. Mirk was 3rd up in the open on Saturday morning, so we ate dinner in the trailer Friday night and crashed early.

The weather was nice on Thursday, and not bad on Friday, but all hell broke loose on Saturday, and it was wet and cold. Mirk, my Welsh import, liked it so much that just before our run, for the 1st time that I've seen, he got the zoomies. Pretty funny, really. It poured and then it hailed, but it was the set-out crew who had it bad. While the rest of us could huddle under assembled pop-up tents, or warm up in trucks, they just stayed out all day and took it. Hat's off to that hardy bunch, Amy Coapman, Derek Fischer and Sandy Anderson among others that I never saw close enough to identify.

Cuddling, I mean huddling, I mean puddling

The flat field is deceivingly tricky. It looks small, and, well, flat, but there are pitfalls, obstacles and hazards all along your route. The exhaust pen is in direct line beyond the drive away panels, as is the set out pen beyond the cross drive panels. Depending on when you run, these are more or less of a pull, but this year it was the water that made all the difference. It ran, it pooled, it streamed, it muddied, it beat on our heads and it effected the sheep either good or bad depending on your particular group. Mostly it stalled sheep that might otherwise have moved off nicely, and it was easy to tell the dogs with presence as oppposed to others.

Our judge, Virginia's Barbara Ray, remained ensconced in her truck all day, signaling an accepted shed, time out or DQ by honking the horn instead of rolling down a window to give the customary "thank you." Who could blame her? She ran the engine, and the heater in between most runs. At the handler's meeting that morning Barbara had thrown a curve. Historically, the finish on that field has always been a split, pen. Ms. Ray likes to mix things up and declared to the consternaton of many, a pen, single, off the back on the nose. I loved it, and walked away smiling before I got griped on.

Photo credit: Gloria Atwater

With Mirk at the pen in the driving rain

It's a good thing the sheep were fit and healthy. Just shorn as Sandy Milberg likes them, they worked beautifully as they always do at this trial, and, not surprisingly, held up well under miserable conditions. Kicked out of their pens during a mandatory lunch each day, they grazed outside while we grazed inside Sandy's closed up barn. With propane heaters turned up high, we were served tri-tip steak, hamburgers or hot dogs while Sandy and the Healdsburg FFA, for whom it benefits, held the annual raffle. That raffle is a good deal, and $20 or $40 invested will just about assure you of some of the best wine the world has to offer. Well worth it and a good cause.

Sandy's raffle

My dogs ran well on that field and I was in the thick of it for a while with many good dogs left to run. Tomorrow would bring weather challenges nobody saw coming. Back at the trailer, Bridget and I hung up just about everything we owned to dry. Towels, coats, gloves, hats, everything, everywhere on every available hook, corner and door. It looked like the proverbial Chinese laundry. Too late for wine tasting, Bridge and I settled for a meal at the Hydro Grill in Calistoga where I enjoyed for the 2nd time that weekend a great glass of grape called Tractor Shed Red. Buy it if you get the chance.

Next up, we move to the hill

Sonoma at its' Best

2011-03-22T12:24:00.000-07:00

Preparing for the onslaught

Traveling with best friend, Bridget, we knew the weather was as good as it was going to get when we arrived at Arthur and Sandy Milberg's on Thursday before the Sonoma Wine Country Sheepdog Trial in Santa Rosa, CA. Sandy's top-notch crew was assembled for lunch with lots of head shaking, worried looks and weather warnings on their lips. There was a sense of forboding, more than justified as it turned out, and they were deep in preparation. None of us had any idea how really bad the storm would be.

Ready or not...The Trial Sheep

Bridge and I got to the Calistoga Fairgrounds RV Park around 4am after a blessedly uneventful, overnight trip that found us ready for a nap before venturing out. After setting up the trailer, it goes quickly between 2 experts, a stop at the trial site, and a long dog walk, we went in search of a meal and a world class glass of grape. Hoping our mud-spattered outerwear would be overlooked, we chose by name a place off the beaten path in St. Helena, called Cyndi's Back Street Cafe' looking for simple fare. Not simple. I was treated to a mouth-watering selection of thinly sliced Ahi drizzled with wasabi sauce over udon noodles and told to drink a particular red blend wine because "it's good!" Oh...it was so good, and after being seated at the back of the restaurant in a room by ourselves, we got away before offending crowd trendy too badly with our sheepish appearance.

Castello di Amorosa Winery

We were determined to wine taste and knew that Thursday would be our only opportunity. After perusing the wine map, we decided on an architectural edifice that would satisfy both our tourist and wino sides, and we were not dissappointed. At first look I thought; "oh, it's just some creative designer's whimsy," and then I read the guide pamphlet. The land has been in the Sattui family for 4 wine-making generations and construction began in 1993 after decades of researching medieval castles in Europe. Encompassing 121,000 sq. ft the 8-level castle was built with over 1 million blocks imported from Tuscany that date from the 14th century. No whimsy this, it was a multi-year labor of love. We toured, we ogled, we photographed, and then we tasted.

Great Hall at the Castle

For $5 dollars more you can add chocolate to the $17 wine tasting experience, and who could resist that? We were expertly served a flight of 5 wines starting with a Sangiovese and culminating at Cabernet with 2 stops for chocolate along the way. As it turned out, the 1st two wines were my favorite, but none good enough for me to invest, and I got out of the castle relatively unscathed. Bridget bought only olive oil, so she did OK too, and with a dazzling array of product available in the gift shop, it wasn't easy.

Bridget and the wine guy. Notice the ceiling.

Next up, "The Flat Field"

Change as a Constant

2011-03-05T15:01:00.000-08:00

Kensmuir Star

I am going public over at The Real Time Canine, (RTC,) the training blog I have been posting every week since November, 2008. For the past 2 years, the weekly journal was emailed to subscribers only, with excerpts published on the blog and The RTC FaceBook page. It is now available in complete form for everyone and I will continue to publish every Sunday with a complete breakdown of Star's progress and how I acheived it.

The RTC was originally conceived as a subscription-based way to help others start and train their own dogs. I am often asked how I train my dogs, and learning by example seemed the best way to go. I began writing about Star's progress from the tender age of 10 weeks on the very day I picked him up from the airport, with how to introduce a collar and leash occurring in the first few minutes of our introduction. From there I moved on to crate training, learning to tie out, walk on a leash, a good recall, good manners and becoming respectful. Occasionally, I got sidetracked with things like my feeding preferences, vaccination protocols, and life on the road, so there was something there for dogs of all types and ages.

At 7 months old, Star was introduced to sheep, and since that time, I have documented the ups and downs of training a successful stockdog. If you want to know exactly what it's like to go out almost every day and work with a young border collie on sheep, it's all there in the RTC. I have left out nothing, including my mis-steps as well as Star's and how we overcame them. From here on out it is available for everyone with my thanks for taking time to have a look. Over the last couple years, I have enjoyed my readership more than I can say. I have made new friends and been overwhelmingly encouraged. I appreciate that very much. Most recently Janet Beale has this to say:

" The Real Time Canine blog spot is the best training article I have yet to come across.
If you have anythng to do with the Border collie or indeed any breed of sheepdog, whether you work the dog on stock or not. You should visit this site and read it over and over, just wish there were video's to accompany the great dialogue. Well done... Amelia."

OK, so that felt good and pushed me to my decision of writing for everyone. I know I won't please everybody, and that is certainly not my intent. I suggest you do what I do; take what you like and leave the rest. I sincerely hope I can impart something of value that will help you and your dog. It is my way of giving back to the community who has been so forthcoming with me. I would still be struggling needlessly if not for those that are smarter, more experienced and talented than I, and I thank those folks endlessly for their time and trouble.

Cheers all!

Z Faces of Zamora

2011-02-26T13:13:00.000-08:00

Besides reveling in the glory of our incredible dogs, the things I love most about dog trialing are the people.

Beautiful Joella

We all possess an overpowering love and appreciation for the working Border Collie Sheepdog, and are drawn together in the most unlikely places to share the joy.

Barbara Spencer, kind lady, good dog

We are a unique group, made up of individuals from all walks of life, varied socio-economic levels, all different ages, skill levels, and talents.

2010 Meeker champs, Suzie Applegate and Buzz

We are small in numbers, but bound tightly by the spark captured through the dogs.

Amanda Milliken and Roz keeping it real

We don't always agree, or even get along sometimes.

David Soppe with his unlikely best friend

But to a person, we are all captivated by the dogs, and keep coming out to watch and learn and enjoy.

Our judge, USBCHA 2010 National Champion, Patrick Shannahan

We drive long distances, expend vast sums on lodging and meals to test our training methods, our breeding programs, and our own handling skills.

Dexter finds the warmest spot

Sometimes the best I can do is not be too dissappionted, but sometimes my preparation is appropriate, the dogs working well, and I find it within me to demonstrate patience and timing and insight.

Dexter, Larry, Joella and Amanda find the 2nd warmest spot

And that's when the magic occurs.