Farm Fresh Blog

Let me preface this adventure by explaining that I began showing dogs in 1984 BOH (Before Other Half). I did conformation, obedience, tracking, schutzhund, flyball, agilty, and in the late 1990's, I began Search & Rescue work. By 1999 I had quit showing entirely and focused on cadaver and mantrailing work. Now, except for the police dogs, all our dogs are either retired working dogs, or working farm dogs. 

Enter Other Half - all his dogs have been either hunting dogs, police dogs, or working farm dogs.  He is completely unfamiliar with Show Dogs.  Last year I took him to his first dog show.  It was a giant 4 day show - lots of dog sports, lots of shopping! I was in Dog Person Heaven.  He was overwhelmed.  One of the first things he ran into was a woman carrying a dog in a front-papoose.  The dog was in baby clothes and was wearing little puppy dog booties.  Other Half's eyebrows crawled to the top of his forehead. I was embarrassed. But then again, perhaps he needs to see things like that.  He believes that I horribly spoil Border Collie (I do!) but seeing a dog in baby clothes being carried like an infant sort of puts Border Collie and I in a different light.  ('nuff said!)

Anyway, his first trip to a dog show opened his eyes to a whole 'nuther world of dogs.  So I dragged him again this year!

I am trying to open his eyes, broaden his horizons! Unfortunately he ran smack into this:

Apparently the poodles were not being shown last year when we were there.  Other Half was stupified. Having worked with standard poodles in the past, I know they are smart and delightful creatures with a working dog heritage and tried to explain that to him.  He couldn't get past the hair cut.

The world according to Other Half:

  Real Dog

 Not a Real Dog

Since Other Half is more about Tactical than actual "tact,"  I kept him away from the poodle people.  Thus, I steered him toward Flyball and Agility.  He really liked watching the Border Collies in Flyball.

  Just take my word for it . . . this is a Border Collie doing Flyball.

He enjoyed the Agility too,  (Since this is my favorite I got too caught up in the action to take pictures!)

I had a blast at the Dog Show.  It was a trip down Memory Lane, and it made me a bit wistful.  On several levels, I miss being in that world.  Other Half may as well have been a National Geographic Explorer in that world. I think he enjoyed seeing what people did with their dogs,

 but Other Half still has his own ideas about working dogs . . .

I told him that he shouldn't be such a Working Dog Snob.  He should lighten up a little!  Have FUN with his dogs!

I wonder if they make these in Border Collie size?

This weekend we were leaving a Gun Show (a whole 'nuther story) when Son announced "Dad, Justin wants your job."

His father works for a large agency with long arms that give him state and federal jurisdiction. Son's friend, Justin, works for the same large police department that I work with and it's ripe with opportunities for young officers, so I said,

"A lot of people want your father's job. Aside from the big paycheck, what is it exactly that he wants?"

"Oh, he wants to travel and do all the special weapons and operations stuff."

"That is precisely the part of your father's job that I DON'T like," I said. 

Since I was the only female in the truck, I didn't get any agreement. From a young man's point of view, Other Half has an awesome job - cool toys, the element of danger, state and federal jurisdiction, travel, a great paycheck, and a certain amount of freedom to get yourself into trouble. What's not to love for a testosterone-ridden American Male?  From the point of view of the woman at home - death and an empty bed come to mind, but then, those aren't the kind of things that men think about.

While Other Half does come with a certain set of unique skills that make him handy to have around in a war, or if the zombies attack,  I rather appreciate his other skills more:

 * Always answers his phone or immediately calls back to let me know he's safe!

* Appreciates good horseflesh!  Bonus: comes with cowponies! (read: High Noon )

* Knows how to pull a calf out of a cow and knows when to wait   (read:  Swinging Calves )

 * Will drive all the way across Texas in one day to get me the puppy I want  (read: On The Eighth Day )

  *Can stitch up injured sheep (read: Miss Hardy)

  * Can butcher a wild hog (read: Easter Ham )

* Will rescue any animal with a Hard-Luck story (read: Cowdog )

  * Knows how to milk a cow and a goat (read: Milking A Goat )

  * Can fix farm equipment when it breaks

* Would rather drive REAL horsepower than fast cars! (read: Driving Drafts )

* Doesn't hesitate to come on-duty to bring me a Dr Pepper, a Butterfinger, and a hug if I'm working a really bad scene

 *  Will spend all day putting up a hotwire fence in the rain, and then not stroke out when I announce that the sheep and LGD will not be allowed in that pasture because the dog was just shocked by the hotwire and freaked out   (read: Justice? )

 These are just a few of the skills that Other Half possesses which do not include weapons and special tactics.  When the zombies come, I'll probably be very happy for those fancy weapons skills, but until then, I can appreciate these skills more.  Big guns, cool gear, and Ninja skills don't make a real man.  A big paycheck doesn't make a real man.   Blood, sweat, tears, hugs and patience, make a real man.

  (sweet Arabian Stallion)

 Guess who I found in the paddock with the stallion when I came home from work last night?

    Who? Me?

(evil Miniature Horse)

Guess who wriggled his fat ass through a goat-size hole in the fence to get into a pasture with a stallion WHILE there is a mare in full-blown heat in the next pasture?

  Who? Me?

Guess who made a hole in the fence big enough that a FAT MINIATURE HORSE COULD SQUEEZE HIS AMPLE ASS THROUGH IT??

  Who?  US?

I am very thankful for the sweet nature of a certain ancient Arabian stallion . . .

                                . . . . who did not eat a certain little fat pony . . .

  Who? Me?

 Fortunately this morning Briar appears to have recovered from her trauma.  We turned the livestock out and took a nice walk in the pasture (with the hotwire OFF!)  Since Briar's confidence is more valuable than the goats (5 goats are simply not worth losing a good LGD for!) the hotwire will be off EVERY time Briar is in that paddock.  The goats will get training in the paddock when Briar is somewhere else.  Briar's primary responsibility is to protect the flock of sheep.  The goats may have to fend for themselves.

Had Briar been a criminal, crawling or leaping out of the fence, then I wouldn't have a problem with her getting zapped. But the reality is that she is a 9 month old giant baby who has been doing a splendid job of guarding both the sheep and the property.  She was building the confidence to go along with that big bark. Although she was rather melodramatic when shocked, nothing good can be accomplished by telling her to "man-up."  If SHE thinks something horrible happened to her, then it did.  I'm sure me holding her and crying didn't help either, but I got so upset by her performance that water-works were inevitable. Poor Other Half was left standing there watching me sob as I held a sobbing dog.  After working all day in the rain to get that fence up, it was probably a toss-up who he wanted to shoot more - the goats, or me and Briar.   

But alas, what is done is done.  The dog appears to have recovered and I'll be more careful in the future about her sensitive feelings. Other Half stopped short of calling her a weenie. (It wouldn't have been a wise thing.  I was still crying over traumatizing my puppy.)  Police dogs should be raised to never lose.  They always win. These dogs must have a tremendous amount of self-confidence to do their job.  A LGD needs more.  Briar is alone with the sheep. She has to have the confidence to take on whatever lurks in the dark and she shouldn't have to be afraid that the fence will bite her.  The goats are about to lose their bodyguard. I will not jeopardize the confidence of a dog who can protect an entire flock of sheep for five felon goats!

  Sometimes there is just no justice in this world.  Want proof?

  Goats & Sheep

 In order to foil the goats in their near constant attempts to leave our property to sample the exact same foilage on the "other side of the fence,"  we are adding hotwire to existing fences.

  A solar unit was employed for the big pasture and has worked like a charm.  I got the bright idea to put hotwire around the front paddock so the sheep and goats can spend their nights outside instead of being locked in their goat prison.  So we spent the day laboring in the rain to get a hotwire up.   The problem however, was that I was in such a hurry to shock goats that I didn't think about the OTHER victims in the pasture.

 One of my favorite ewes tottered up to the fence and I held my breath. 

   The sheep escaped without as much as a spark, but the real victim was poor Briar who rushed over to bark at some cattle and a few cowbirds.  She was zapped.  There was much screaming and crying.  She ran to me.  There was more screaming and crying.  (That was me.)  I felt horrible.  Poor baby Briar . . .Poor Briar who has never climbed that fence . . . Poor Briar who guards the ungrateful goats as well as her beloved sheep.  Briar ran out of the pasture and hid in the shed.  I was in tears.  (I cussed my own stupidity!)

Blue Heeler climbed out of the back yard and climbed into the pasture to help Briar. He peed on the fence.  Guess what happened.  Poor Blue Heeler . . .  

While I was consoling Blue Heeler, Briar continued to hide in the shed.  Blue Heeler decided that it was in his best interest to leave the pasture - through the fence.  It got him again.   While my attention was focused on poor Blue Heeler (who only had Briar's best interest in his heart when he climbed into the pasture to save her), Briar came out of the shed and sat down to scratch her butt - and leaned against the fence.  There was more screaming and crying.  That was me too.  I pulled ALL the dogs out of the pasture and locked them in the back yard.  Then we returned to the pasture.  This is what we saw . . .  

This little bastard (YES!  I said it!) walked right up to the fence and touched the insulator with his nose! 

 "HEY!  I think somethin's up over here."

I was in shock!  What happened?  Two innocent dogs were zapped badly (wet dogs) and the worst culprit walked away scott free!  Where is the justice in this world???

Now I must try to convince my Livestock Guardian Dog that it's safe to go back in the pasture. I feel like such an idiot!  I feel like such a meanie!  Poor poor baby Briar . . .

 I couldn't hug her enough.  I know. I know. I shouldn't coddle her, but darn it!  I couldn't help it.  It was so unfair.  I felt horrible.  Where is the justice in this world?

 Like the little ant in the story of the Ant and the Grasshopper, we must toil each summer to put up enough hay to last us through the winter.  The spring rains brought good hay this year. So it was time to gather the troops and the bottle water, and head to the field.  (This is why farming families of Old had LOTS of kids!)

  The hay pops out!

 The boys throw and stack.

The lucky people get to drive the trucks!!!!!

  It takes BIG muscles to toss the hay.

  Big Big muscles!

 Big Big Big BIG MUSCLES!

  The Supervisor counts the bales.  (well.... not really)

  Border Collie counts the bales!

Cowboy the rescue Border Collie is working out just fine.  He has become Other Half's best friend. Even if all he is doing is feeding the cows, I feel more comfortable when Cowboy rides out there with him because: 

1) cows are big

2) cows aren't smart

3) anything that big and that stupid can be dangerous

Therefore, I always ask that Other Half either takes Blue Heeler or Cowboy with him when he does anything with the cows.

There is a bull with this group of cows.  He is a nice bull but he is, nevertheless, a bull, and I don't trust him.

Cowboy makes sure he is a well-behaved bull.

Cowboy insures all the cows are well-behaved.

He supervises everything from his throne.

So everyone is safe.

And when he's done . . .

Such is the life of a ranch dog.

The rains have finally stopped and the sun came out again. Yes, I am certain now that we live in The Everglades. There are mosquitoes as big as fighter jets just waiting to descend upon any warm-blooded creature unfortunate enough to find itself stuck outside.  Despite my "anti-chemical" campaign, tonight we will break down and fog the barn.  I hate to poison every bug in the stable, but the mosquitoes carry diseases and are large enough to carry away a good-sized horse.

Well, maybe not Ona . . . .

          But definitely Ruffy!

So this morning after our chores were done and the dogs and I retreated back into the safety of the house, I told them, (because sometimes you have to point these things out to people who eat off the floor)

"Now Guys, we all need to take a moment to say, "Dear Lord, thank you for providing us with a home that has air conditioning."

As the mosquitoes peeked through the windows, the dogs said their prayers.  In fact, Alice has been in deep meditation for most of the morning.

Other members of the family are not as fortunate . . . .

           "May we come inside the house, please?"

While On Duty, Briar can be a very serious dog.         

When she is Off Duty, she is still a giant puppy who enjoys playing with the other dogs.  Border Collie is her favorite playmate. (Mostly because she is so big that no one else wants to play with her!)  She is quickly outgrowing Border Collie too and because of the size difference, I do not allow them to play by themselves.  Lily is 34 pounds.  Briar is a LOT bigger than that!  Briar has no clue that her rough play could seriously injure her Little Buddy.  Lily is aware of the danger, but feels that since she is a Border Collie, then she is Bullet-Proof and Invisible, and no harm can come to her. 

Because of this, I supervise their play.

  At first the play is fun for both of them.

  Briar likes chasing.

  Lily likes being chased. 

  Up to a point . . .  

There always comes a time in the play when Lily looks up at me and suddenly stops playing as if she switches On Duty.  I'm not sure if she really is On Duty, or if this is the canine equivalent of "I think my Mother is calling me now."

  Briar always ignores the fact that Lily has stopped playing.

  Perhaps if I bite her tail she would play again.

  And here it is . . . The Look.

The Look that says, "Bitch, let go of my tail or I'll tear your ears off your head."  Briar never fails to completely miss The Look. 

  In fact, Briar escalates the problem by hooking a big hairy arm over Lily's back. At this point, I'm sure Lily is well aware that she weighs only 34 pounds.  It is time to drop the camera and rescue Lily from her rambunctious playmate, and rescue Briar from herself.

"Good thing Mom stepped in.  I mighta had to open up a can of Whoop-Ass!"

Heavy storms continue to move through the area.  The livestock take advantage of the lull between the storms and head out to the pasture again.

  Briar supervises as the sheep and goats file out.

                                                             Do you think dogs can count?

  Roanie looks back for her dog.  "Ya comin'?"

     Yea, Briar is comin'.

 The sheep immediately settle down to the serious business of grazing.

 The goats immediately try to climb through the fence.

Everyone looks forward to a break in the rain so chores can be done.

Everyone that is, except Alice The Bloodhound.  Alice has better things to do on rainy days . . .