Farm Fresh Blog

Obession has a name and it is Border Collie. Although I consider myself a relative newcomer to the breed, their quirky behaviors don't surprise me a bit. I've had Belgian Shepherds for many years and am used to high-drive, creative dogs. 

Most of that time I cautioned the casual observer that they did NOT want one of those dogs unless they were able to devote a great deal of time to them. With the Border Collie, I must add this though:  "You must be prepared to live with someone who has all the creativity of a 5 year old child, without the thumbs." 

That's it!  If my Border Collies had thumbs, they would be dangerous. (Or . . . very, very useful, I haven't decided which.)

Quirky is the word that most aptly describes them.  Lily's intelligence is scarey. In my past life, before I went into police work, I taught middle school for ten years, and I can assure you, Lily has more focus than the average 12 year old child. If she had thumbs, there is no doubt she would be building Science projects in my living room while she watched the Discovery Channel.

Instead, when she is not working livestock, she is coming up with creative ways to entertain herself and help around the farm. (A Border Collie really would re-wire the light fixture when asked to change the light bulb!) Part of the problem is that her idea of help is to dominate every other breathing creature under her watch and force them to tow the imaginary line of rules that she sets forth.  She is "the Fun Police." Lily is that child in the classroom who asks the teacher if she can "take names" when the instructor steps out.

While many of you already have Border Collies, to those of you who are thinking about taking the leap, look closely at this:

Look at the boards in my barn. Yes, it looks like a child playing with a chain saw whittled at them. 

 They should look like this:    

Our suspect is pacing back and forth under her artwork.

When she was four months old, she leaped up at a horse's face, stuck her skinny little leg between the boards and fell. Her leg broke in two places.  Okay, THAT took the wind out of her sails for the next 24 hours. But later, after she sported a little pink cast, she was back in business!

We unwittingly create obsessions:

I taught Lily to close the gate. I stepped back and proclaimed "This is good."  But it was not good enough for a Border Collie as unfortunately now she cannot pass that gate without closing it . . . again . . . and again . . . and again.

While I was at work one night, Other Half sat in the recliner and watched eight (8!) hours of Band Of Brothers. During that time, he encouraged Lily to hunt "Nazis."  Unfortunately, Lily had no clue what a Nazi looked like, so she ran around searching for a Nazi, confident that God would reveal a Nazi to this humble little hunter.  That's when she saw the Barn cat on the porch. Suddenly the Lord had revealed to her the true identity of a Nazi.  (groan . . . ) 

Other Half thought it was funny.  He demonstrated his new Nazi Hunter when I got home from work that evening.  I was not amused.  Neither were the Barn cats.  Neither was the House Cat. An obsession was born.

Cowboy cannot ride in the pick-up, the 4Wheeler or the Mule without reaching out and snapping at passing cars, passing tree limbs, or shadows.  Since he is a rescue, we have no idea where this obsession sprang. If you scream at him for slamming into the window when you're driving down the road at 60 mph, he will sulk for a moment and then begin to lick the windows instead. Ohhhh. . . grossssss . . .

Now people argue that Border collies without jobs create these weird obsessions, but I cry NAY!  (neigh!!!!)  My Border Collies have jobs!  (well, Lily does, because of his back problems, Cowboy is just a Truck Dog now.)  Lily works livestock; she has constant mental and physical stimulation, and she is STILL a nutcase!

But I love her, and wouldn't have her any other way, because with a creative dog, you are only limited by your imagination and their lack of thumbs.

There is a giant chasm behind my barn. It's a drainage swale that runs the length of one paddock and measures about 2' wide and approximately 1' to 6" deep.  (Yes, that's inches - 1 foot to 6 inches) But if you are an equine of any sort, be you horse, mule, or donkey, this is a giant chasm and must not be crossed lightly.  (Goats however, will plough through this with no problem at all.)

Wednesday morning Ruffy conquered the chasm.  Why he chose to run in wild abandon escaped both me and the rest of the herd, but it was beautiful to watch. 

(We've all quit asking why Ruffy does the things he does . . .)

Nevertheless, something crawled up Ruffy's behind and he decided to race back and forth across the chasm.  I captured the proof of his bravery for all to see!

  "Hey Everybody!  Watch THIS!!!"

  The Approach

  The Gather

 Airborne!

  "Watch me AGAIN!"

(Yes, that little bitty shadow of a ditch IS what he's jumping!)

 BIG Approach!

 And . . . LIFT-OFF!

  "Eat my dust, Suckers!"

"Hey! Ona!  Didya see THAT?"

(For more on the chasm, read: The Chasm )

Yes, we know Ruffy is fat. He gets one carrot a day and is forced to live in a paddock where the sheep have mowed down all useful vegetation, and yet . . . our little Dunkin' Doughnut still maintains his rotund figure!

Ruffy runs!

After working a murder call for over 10 hours, I got in at 3:30 AM last night. Now I ask you, if this little fat pony can run . . why . . . after almost $1000 spent . . . is my air conditioner NOT RUNNING?!!!

Note: after calling Other Half (who is in an air conditioned hotel room!) to report the latest development in the lightning-strike saga, I heard him turn to the dog and say, "Uh oh, Oli. We better stay here. It's not safe to come home yet.  Mommy is a Bitchy Bear."

It's the little things in life that make it just so much more pleasant - perks like electricity and air conditioning immediately come to mind.  (Particularly if you live in Texas during the summer.)

"I FINALLY HAVE AIR CONDITIONING AGAIN!!!  WOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

I'm sure the dogs and House Cat appreciate it too.  (Thank you, Lord!)  Other Half is at K9 training again and thus hasn't been able to share in our joy.

Speaking of little things . . .

The breeder sent new pictures of Trace.  Little Dude is not missing any meals!  He is a major chunky monkey!

Does this little Beast look familiar?

It's a Lily-Gator!

She used to be a chunky monkey ball of fuzz too! She was all fur and teeth!  Now she is my most spoiled top ranch hand.

BUT . . . (warning!  Blackmail photo!)

I am not the only one who spoiled Lily  . . .

I give you State's Evidence 1:    

Note the pillows stuffed between the bed and the night stand so little people don't fall off the bed. Shhheeesh what a lucky pooch!

I was sweeping the floor yesterday when I spotted this:

  EEEEKKKKK!!!!!  When you're moving quickly and the room is dark, this looks like a giant spider!  (shudder)

Then I remembered this:

  Rugback sheep

When I sheared the rugbacks, I tossed the rugs on the floor in my study. Every time Border Collie gets into my office, she picks a little bit of the rug off and carries it around like a toy. 

Satisfied that this monstrous "spider" was a actually a stray piece of stringy wool, I reached down to pick it up. But something, . . . Something . . .  made me pause.  Thomas Magnum on Magnum P.I. used to call it his "little voice."  Well just as I was about to snatch up that piece of wool, my little voice of caution screamed, "Wait! Turn on the light first!"

So I did.

                                                     Oh . . . My. . . Gosh . . . 

That does NOT look like a piece of stringy wool!  It looks like a giant crunchy spider!

It IS!  IT IS!!!!  It is a giant spider!!!!  And a little one too!  and some dog hair . . . .  .  (Please ignore the dog hair.)  I almost picked this up with my bare fingers!!!!  The very thought of it made me shudder and do the "spider shuffle."   This is a move whereby the shudder starts at the tip of your fingers and like a giant wave it moves up your arm to your shoulder where you then begin flicking your hands and dancing in place saying "Eeeewwwwww! 

You are welcome for that mental picture.  Have a nice day.

The moral of this story is . . .  turn on the lights when you sweep!

One of my readers (Peg!) asked me if Penny and Ice were the same dog.  She went on to point out that since most of the dogs have stage names it can be a little confusing trying to keep everyone apart.  I realized immediately that SHE WAS RIGHT!!!!

So the first thing I did was fire off an answer to her that "No", Penny and Ice are not the same dog.  They are both Kona's sisters, but Ice is his littermate.  Kona and Ice are from a repeat breeding of Penny's litter.  The breeder liked Penny's litter so much that she repeated the breeding and got another nice working litter.  My mother had three old dogs die within a year apart, leaving her dog-less (shudder!), so Kona's breeder sent her Penny.  Penny's owner had died and Penny needed a loving home.  It was a match made in Heaven.

  This is one of my favorite pics of these two.  What a yard-workin' team!  (Union Mandated LoveFest Break!!!)

I also put some thought into the problem that many newer readers probably need a playlist to figure out our Cast Of Characters, it would help if I actually gave readers a "Cast of Characters!"

So I did!  In the About Us sections I just included photos and names.  I'll add to it later, but I hit the main cast.  Go have a peek and let me know what you think!

Oh dear . . . Deb just wrote to inform me that I needed to add the horses to our Cast Of Characters.  I'll start adding them . . .

If you have livestock of any kind, one of the most important tasks is getting hay.  Unlike square bales which have to be picked up out of the field and immediately stacked in a protective barn, large round bales can stay outside.  The rain rolls off the top and down the sides.  The exposed hay provides sort of a protective thatch covering for the good hay inside.

  See?

It looks yucky but underneath all that straw yuck is nutritious yum!

Yesterday we had to haul round bales.  Because we need to go down a county road, Border Collie and I followed behind in the Mule to supervise and provide highway assistance.  (jumper cables in case ancient antique Ford tractor dies!)

 So we loaded up and down the road we went!

  Few things stir the heart of country people like hay in the field. Note the thunderheads forming in the sky.  Not only was the sun going down quickly, but the storm clouds were brewing.

  Storm is coming!

There wasn't much for Lily and I to do . . .   

except follow and make sure the traffic didn't run over the tractor.  I'm not sure what we were supposed to do if the traffic ran over us . . .

  The storm passed us by . . .

 . . . but we couldn't escape the setting sun.  

And THIS is why I didn't get my yard mowed or my house cleaned last night!  I finally got the yard mowed this morning. Now I must tackle the house.  I have an air conditioning repair man coming over this afternoon, and my living room still smells like a Bloodhound.  (for those of you who aren't familiar with that odor, it is a fragrace best left outside, but alas, it is hot, and she is old . . . so we make sacrifices.)

   I had a reader write me yesterday to ask about Ice.  Janie writes,  "... what is Ice's story? I know she is Kona's sister, but is she a retired police dog as well?"

Well Janie, yes and no. Yes, she is a former narcotics dog, but no, she isn't one of our retired dogs.  Her story goes like this:

When Kona was four months old, I took him to a Cadaver Dog seminar.  The instructors giving the seminar were so impressed with him that they asked about getting a puppy from that litter.  There was only one puppy left - a shy, black female. So they got her, and they turned her into a Narcotics dog. Unfortunately she was a timid soul and narcotics scenes tend to be chaotic.  They are in strange places with strange people.  Ice couldn't handle it.  The only thing they could do with her reliably was locker checks in schools - same environment, no chaos.

These people had other working dogs, and Ice's limitations soon had her shuffled to guard dog status in the back yard.  Unfortunately she took this job seriously.  Their home bordered a hiking trail.  Soon joggers were complaining to authorities about "the black wolf."

So they called me and asked if I knew someone who may be interested in giving Ice a Forever Home.  At the time, I just had Kona, (Ice's littermate), and Alice the Bloodhound who was already infirm.  Alice was not in the least bit interested in entertaining and young and virile Kona.  So I agreed to take Ice.  Her only job would be as her brother's friend and playmate. They hit it off immediately and I spent many hours sitting in my hammock with a glass of wine after work while I watched two Belgians play WWF at my feet.  And she remained his best friend until the day he died. 

At first she was lost without her brother.  She's always clingy, but she became desperately so.  In time, she has loosened up a bit.  In fact, she has even managed to rise to the top and has claimed her brother's throne as Top Dog in the pack.  Surprisingly, Lily the Border Collie (who is meaner) and Briar the Livestock Guardian Dog (who is bigger) still bow to Ice's authority.  I find it amusing that the two dogs most concerned with taking control of the pack are Ice and Ranger the Blue Heeler.  Both dogs are gentle spooks, but they have decided that "someone" has to lead the pack so "they" might as well step up and take the helm. Ice is a better candidate than Ranger because he tends to "shoot first, and ask questions later." He means well, but he views everyone as "the bad man" until proven otherwise.  This includes Grandma, Son, and Other Half if he comes through the wrong door.  (Blue Heeler really is nuttier than a fruitcake!)  Kona kept Ranger from making some stupid decisions. Ice doesn't have that kind of control over Ranger. 

So to answer your question, Ice hasn't done anything resembling real police work since she came to live here.  And even though she no longer has a real job here, she will always have a real home here.  She is my black wolf, my Florence Nightingale, my egg bandit . . .   

Egg Mystery

A Sister

Ice and Kona play in the morning dew (Nov 2009)

Kona died of kidney failure eight short months later. I never had a day's regret about bringing Ice into our home. They were littermates, they were best friends.

Many of us will take a moment today to remember where we were on that fateful morning.

I was off-duty.  I had called the office and no one answered the phone.  Since police work is a 24/7 job, I found this disturbing and called the cell phone of a friend who worked dayshift. She told me that everyone was clustered in front of the television sets.  I flipped on my television - and watched the tower fall - and cried.

Then I drove to work.  The air space above the city was clear except for the fighter jets that zoomed above to protect us.  I shall never forget the image of those jets over the skyline.

I got the answer to the "Why me, Lord" question yesterday. Sometimes God puts Little Angels in your path so that you can help them along the journey to where they belong.  I didn't need a kitten, but I never overlook the fact that at a very dark time, God sent me four little blessings that brightened my life.  (read: The Littlest Angel )

Initially I wanted to find this kitten a home, any home, as long as it wasn't with me.  Given a little bit of time to think though, and I remembered what a ray of sunshine a kitten can bring. And I knew someone who needed some sunshine in her life.

My Mom's dog is dying of cancer.  She is young.  Ironically she is The Enforcer's sister. Her cancer popped up shortly after his kidney failure. Every day Mom is faced with the prospect of losing her beloved Penny as she watches the tumor grow. It sucks. I know what she's going through. I faced it each day during Kona's kidney failure. 

But that's where a little ray of sunshine comes in . . .

   It is impossible not to smile when you hear her purr with her little motorboat engine . . and feel her claws kneading bread.

 and smell her butterfly kisses!                    

 Brother is still young and likes to play.

 And now he has a little friend!     

So when your spirits are looking low . . . .

  Never overlook the charm . . . .

 . . . of a Homicidal . . 

Psycho . . .    

. . . Jungle Cat!   

(I think Mom has decided to name her "Blossom.")