THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

Some wonderful things to report today. The first is that I had a restful and relaxing vacation. I saw lots of friends, gardened, cooked and got back to working sheep with Willie (more on that soon). I took an entire three weeks off, which felt terribly indulgent, but also desperately necessary. The last two years have included many wonderful things, but they’ve also included some major challenges, including Jim’s snapped bicep, surgery and recovery, my badly smashed knee, a summer raising a puppy who was (and is) better off another home, the death of Jim’s sister, moving his mother to Madison three weeks later, the out-of-the blue death a month later of Jim’s brother, Willie’s shoulder injury, surgery and year-long recovery, and a raft of my own health problems that I’ve been fighting in 2012. Among some other issues, I’ve been lame with an “about to snap” achilles tendon since January, and have worn the infamous “boot” for far too long. Living in hilly Southwestern Wisconsin in an old farmhouse with steep, narrow stairs is not ideal for healing an achilles tendon, just in case you were wondering. So it was truly glorious to take the time off, focus on my own rehab and be able to start working Willie again. Now I’m back in the office, excited about the new website we’re working on, getting back to writing a memoir and working on a series of fund raiser speeches for shelters this fall.

But enough about me. Willie is the one who deserve the attention here. Last weekend we entered our first sheepdog trial since his injury a year and a half ago, outside of Pigeon Falls, Wisconsin. In a way it was his first trial, since the only other one we went to was a “Fun Trial” in fall of 2010. So it’s our second attempt at working in a competitive environment, although both events were low key and very relaxed (and yeah for that). Willie did very well in the first fun trial, but he lost a tremendous amount of confidence after his injury and long period of restraint. Like many sheepdogs who have big, beautiful outruns and are easy to handle, Willie hates confrontations. His injury and endless period of inactivity just exacerbated it. Even at the fun trial in 2010 he refused to take the flanking whistles I gave him on the fetch, clearly preferring to follow the sheep along and not put himself in a position where the sheep would put a lot of pressure on him. This spring my flock leader, Barbie, chased Willie a good twenty feet when we first started working again. Gradually, over the last 2 months, I’ve been trying to build up his confidence, but even recently there have been times when he wouldn’t “cover” the sheep (meaning he wouldn’t move to where he could stop them from going in one direction or another.) But he loves to work, lives for it really, and I love working with him.  I will never forget Willie’s physical therapist saying to a vet student after his surgery: “We’re working on increasing Willie’s shoulder stability so that maybe someday he can work sheep again.” I blurted out “Oh no. That’s not what we’re working on. Willie WILL work sheep again, it’s just a question of what we have to do to make that happen.”

Life doesn’t always work out that way, but it did this time. He here is, working sheep again. As I’ve said before, I have accepted that he’ll never be truly sound, but I can manage him so that he can work sheep with little or no pain. Yes, our sessions are short, and yes, I wince when he slams to a stop on a downhill, and yes, he’ll need exercises for the rest of his life. But so what? I’m not in such great shape either, so we’re in it together.

Jim video taped Willie’s run, here it is for you to watch. For those of you don’t know sheepdog trials, a ProNovice course is as follows: The sheep are set out and held by a person and dog from about 200 to 600 yards away, depending on the class. (About 250 yards in this case, we ran in what’s called ProNovice.) Once the sheep are settled (as best as possible anyway), you send your dog to the left or right, your choice. Ideally your dog runs in a big, wide semi-circle that keeps him away from the sheep until he gets on the back side. Then he does the “Lift,” which is the point in which the dog makes “contact” (not physical!) with the sheep and takes control over them. Next is the “Fetch,” in which the dog brings the sheep straight to the handler, through 2 gate panels called the Fetch Panels. The sheep are then to be wrapped around the handler as close as possible and then driven away through the first Drive Panels, about 100 yards away. After going through those panels (theoretically anyway), your dog begins the “Cross Drive,” moving across the field to the second set of Drive Panels. You attempt to get the sheep through them, then straight back to you and into a free standing pen. Most trials are won or lost at the lift and fetch: Your dog needs to put just the right amount of pressure on the sheep to take control of them, but not panic them. Lots of trials are lost by dogs who go too fast and create wild, out of control sheep.

Willie couldn’t have done much better at managing some pretty difficult sheep. They tried their hardest to push to the left and get back to the barn, but this time Willie covered them perfectly. You’ll see we were working Suffolks, famous for not flocking and confronting and fighting the dogs, so I was extra happy about his work here. He made one major mistake in the outrun: he stopped about twenty yards out and looked backwards and then at me. I think, just guessing, that he was looking at sheep behind him, asking “Don’t you want me to get those sheep?” He’s a very strong-eyed dog and its hard for him to leave sheep close to him. But that’s just part of trialing and part of being an experienced dog. I said “Come By” again, and off he went. If you’re trial experienced, you’ll see that Willie did a lot right, and made very few mistakes. On the other hand, I can name several mistakes that I made, but I’m not beating myself up about it. It’s only my second attempt too after all. And I learned a lot, had a wonderful time, and left feeling so much love for Willie that it’s practically embarrassing.

It was a small trial, but there were some good competitors, and I’m truly pleased with how we did and what we learned. We even would have gotten first if (ah, those “ifs!”) I’d gotten the pen gate closed one second earlier, or they hadn’t changed the allotted time from 7 to 6 minutes partway through the runs. Being able to say you won is fun, but what mattered far more was me and Willie having a great time. And my good friend Donna and her lovely little dog Shae won the Novice class, so we all drove home happy and glad we had gone.

Balance is a term used by sheep dog handlers, but I find myself thinking of its value in so many other contexts related to dogs.

In sheep herding, “balance” refers to a dog’s ability to place itself exactly where he or she needs to be to take control of the sheep without frightening them. It refers to two things really. One is the distance between the dog and the sheep. Too far away? — no control, no pressure. Too close? — forces the sheep to run away in a panic, or to turn and fight. Just right? Exactly at the point at which the sheep will turn and move away from the dog without panicking.

The other aspect of balance is side to side, left to right. For example, does the dog stop at exactly the right place on an outrun to move the sheep directly toward you once he begins to walk directly toward them? Novices tend to believe that a dog should always stop at 12 o’clock, but that’s not always true. If the sheep want to go to your left (as you face the dog and the sheep), then the dog needs to stop at 1o or 11 o’clock, not 12.

Dogs can learn better balance, but there’s little more valuable than a dog who just “has it,” and early in training, finds for him or herself that perfect position to manage the sheep. The perfect position is different for every flock, in every context and even at different times of the day, so it’s not easy at all. It just looks that way when a dog is really talented, just like great dancers and ice skaters make it look effortless.

But easy it’s not, it takes skill and experience. And while thinking about balance (see the photos below), that finding it in many other contexts isn’t so easy either. That’s as true in dog training as it is in sheep herding (not to mention the rest of life). And as with sheep dogs, some balance is innate and some can be learned. Over twenty three years of working with aggressive dogs helped me find a balance between reinforcing good behavior and practical, humane ways of inhibiting ‘bad’ behavior (often just management, but if we’re talking about biting people, the word “just” should be deleted).

Here’s another example: I’ve learned that Willie needs a balance of quiet time and exercise, more so than any of my other dogs. Too much fetching, for example, not only hurts his shoulder, but it makes him overly aroused, rather than relaxed. Too much stimulation (for example, leaving him loose to bark at noisy trucks passing by when I’m gone) makes him crazy; too little makes him fearful and neurotic. Granted, Willie will always be my special needs dog, but I think this general concept applies to all of our dogs in some ways.

I also need to balance my voice with Willie. Sometimes Willie needs me to use my voice to quiet him down, and so I speak with a low voice, either quiet, long words like “Slooooooooow” or “Eaaaaaaasy”. Other times I need to speak sharply to stop him (“Whoa!”) because, well, he’s being an idiot and about to get himself hurt. Other times, he needs encouragement, and I’ll use a completely different voice, higher pitched, more modulated and often short, repeated notes.

What about you? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this: Take the word balance and play with it awhile: What have you found you needed to balance with your dog? Yourself? Your methods? Open ended I know, but sometimes that leads to the most interesting conversations. (And if you have figured out the whole “work-play balance thing,” let me know how you found it.)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The unseasonal heat has left (yeah) but now the frosts are back a few nights a week. It got down to 24 F last week, low enough to cause some serious damage. But it’s lovely even in the rains we’ve had lately, and feels very spring-y indeed. The lambs make it even more so, here’s Rosebud’s triplets a few hours after birth. I’ve just dipped their umbilical cords in iodine, you can see them still attached:

And here’s Willie (if he’ll forgive me for advertising his error), illustrating a glitch in the balance I was talking about. I sent him around to the right to bring the flock to me. This was the first time I’d worked him on the flock since they lambed. I don’t work a dog on the sheep for the first 2 weeks after lambing, the ewes are understandably too protective around their lambs and it causes fights that I think are unnecessary. The ewes below have lambs over 2 weeks old, but are still willing to give Willie a hard time. He knows that, and in addition, Willie has lost confidence on sheep since his injury, surgery and lack of work for over a year.

Is that why he stopped short here? I don’t know, but you can see that he did. I sent him and waited to see if he’d pick the right place to stop and walk in on the sheep. He didn’t. He stopped short; see how the sheep are still heading toward the left? Some have turned their heads at least, but the dark one in the  middle, Lady Godiva is still facing left, and she and Barbie are the 2 leaders.

I stayed quiet, and Willie balanced himself, moving counter clockwise to get into the correct position. You can see how some of the sheep have already begun responding.

And here’s where he choose to walk in again. This time it was perfect. See how the sheep are facing me head on and walking directly toward me now? Good boy Willie.

You might have noticed that 2 of the sheep have their heads down grazing. That’s because I asked Willie to stop so that I could get a photo. His stopping took the pressure off, so they put their heads down to eat. Always a good choice (eating) as far as I’m concerned. Time for me to go do that now! As always, I look forward to your comments.

Today, it’s all about the farm. I had a blog written about the effect of acoustic environments on us and our dogs, some new products available for us to use to calm our dogs, and some new results of “calming” music that Katie and I have seen with our dogs. And then I erased it all with one key stroke. I’m sure that has never happened to you….

So I’ll save that topic for later (and promise to catch up in the next month or so on other topics I’ve promised you, like exercises to calm the sympathetic nervous system, and the methods of the clicker versus no-clicker study ). Right now I have to get home to the dogs and work on the talk that Karen London and I are giving at the Interdisciplinary Forum on Applied Animal Behavior next week in Phoenix. So here’s the second half of the blog, which I somehow magically managed not to erase:

BEST. NEWS. EVER. Willie worked long and hard in an unplanned emergency sheep herding session at the UW Stock Pavilion last Tuesday, and he came out of it none the worse for wear. I’d been easing him back into herding with 3-4 minute sessions and easy work, but had to quit 2 weeks ago when I sprained my Achilles tendon and couldn’t get up my own hill to work sheep. I tried to find friends to help with the sheepdog demonstration I do for my University of  Wisconsin class (“The Biology and Philosophy of Human/Animal Relationships”) but none could bring their own dogs. So I planned to do a shorter than usual demonstration with Willie to ensure that I wouldn’t set back a year’s investment in getting him sound again.

Everything went according to plan (famous last words) until it was time to put the sheep back in the truck. There’s no loading ramp, so this is not the easiest of maneuvers. You have to get the sheep right up to the truck bed while preventing them from going under the truck or squirting out the sides. A good number of students stayed to help, but I had put Willie in the truck to protect him from over-using his shoulder.

Long story short: After loading 2 of the larger ewes into the truck (not so easy without Willie to help), Rosebud and her lamb Oreo escaped between the fencing and the truck. Oh shoot. No way could we get her back without Willie, so I let him out and we set to work again. Even with him working hard, it wasn’t easy; Rosebud had little interest in coming back toward the truck and the students surrounding it. But finally we got her in the truck (I say “we” in the sense of nurses saying “It’s time for us to take our medicine again” — Jim and some very helpful students hefted her into the truck while I and my stupid ankle stood by uselessly). Whew, okay. Four down, one to go.

Now the only sheep left outside of the truck was Oreo, who promptly jumped the fence like a Dutch Warm Blood. And now I had a single, panicked ewe lamb in a dirt arena surrounded by cement bleachers. Not good. Single sheep are so frightened they are unmanageable; and it was clear that Oreo was considering a Mission Impossible suicide run up into the bleachers. I once watched a demonstration in which a single, panicked ewe died when she ran herself into a cement wall and broke her neck. Not a good image, but a good reminder to never, ever, ever try to work a single sheep who is truly panicked. Leave it alone, and go get the rest of the flock to pick her up like velcro.

With that in mind, Willie and I managed to cut off Oreo’s consideration of a Tom Cruise like escape, and keep her on solid ground.  Once we had her stopped, I yelled to Jim and others to “Let Rosebud out of the truck.” Believe me, “Let Rosebud out of the truck” is a figure of speech. At this point Rosebud had no interest in leaving the rest of the flock, so after the understandably stunned reaction of “You want us to WHAT?”, Jim lept into the truck and pushed poor Rosebud back out. As expected, Oreo ran right to mom, and calmed down considerably. But it took a tremendous effort from Willie, who was then joined by Jim and students to get the two back toward the truck and back inside.

The entire time my heart was in my throat. If a sheep was badly injured or killed I’d probably never do the demo again, and the students tell me it’s a highlight of the course. I’d never forgive myself if a student was injured. But Willie? Willie was cutting right, cutting left, working like a quarter horse to keep Rosebud & Oreo coming toward the truck. They’d dash one way and he’d have to counter, none of the rest of us was fast enough to stop her. It seemed to go on and on… was all this work going to set him back? Once we finally got everyone loaded, I drove home with my stomach twisted into knots.

Willie, on the other hand, sat in his crate on the way home with what I can only describe as a face radiating joy. His tongue stayed bright red for an hour after we got home, but his happy, happy face stayed on all night long. And I won’t say all that hard work didn’t affect his shoulder: he was reluctant to do his stretching exercises that night. But no limp, no favoring, no hiking of his shoulder, and the next day he stretched his leg out like a gymnast. He looks great, strong and sound, and he’s never looked happier.

I’ve got my dog back. My dog has his life back. Happy Dance.

Here’s a photo that shows Willie and the Stock Pavilion. Class hadn’t started yet, Willie and I were putting the sheep into the pen for safe keeping.

The truck is out of sight to your right. When we went to load them up Jim backed the truck up to the pen’s opening. The fence that Oreo lept over was the back of the pen. She ran to the other side of the arena, and stood on the right, eyeing a break in the railing that led up to the bleachers. The railings weren’t a barrier anyway, she easily could have gone under them.

Here’s the group during the demonstration: Rosebud is in the front, and her ewe lamb Oreo is the pinto in the middle, with the black forequarters and white hind. I’m thankful that they all seem none the worse for wear as well. They are all due to lamb at the end of March and early April, so I’m especially glad that they seem to be doing well once home and settled at the farm.