I don’t know why I seldom write about my working dogs. Maybe it’s precisely because they are such an integral part of my life. It would be like writing about the sun coming up in the morning—a common miracle. When I do stop to reflect, I’m amazed all over again at the way my dogs and I can forge a bond through work that transcends the seemingly insurmountable barriers separating two different species.
My first border collie, Luke, came into my life in 1989, and there is a through line from him to my current kennel of four: Pearl, my 10 ½ -year-old mainstay, her brother and sister Joker and Blaze, and Pearl’s daughter Jax, who is 9. (Jax was a whoops! baby.)
From left: Pearl, Joker, Flynn, Janie, Blaze, with Jax in front.
Along the lineage are Pearl the Elder, Oreo, Mac, Flash, Bear, Janie, Chance, and host of other beloved working dogs.
From left: Oreo, Flash (in back), Pearl the Elder, Mac, Sis, Bear, Luke
Most of them worked until they were 12 or 14, a few died young, all were indispensable partners in the 3-species business of managing sheep. Some had lots of “eye”, and could use that to intimidate sheep into moving. Others were freer-moving dogs who used their presence—their “power”, and the occasional nip, but almost never a bark, to move sheep. Mac, in particular, had incredible power. He didn’t have to make a point of it, the sheep just knew—Mac is on the job, time to get moving!
Mac on left, and Chance moving the flock up out of Waterfall Gully.
When I moved to Australia, I had three separate breeding lines, all related to US and UK champion border collies, and great ambitions to sell these wonderful dogs to farmers and dog-trialers in Australia. It quickly became apparent that the characteristics I valued—big paddock gathers and lots of power—were not on the agenda here. It wasn’t hard to give up my ambitions in the end—I was happy to keep the dogs I bred and only give the occasional one away to someone who I trusted to care for it the way I would.
I took lots of flak for my heated kennels (still happening!) and for my focus on exercise and kennel hygiene, not to mention my approach to dog nutrition—rolled oats, herbs, mince, and a few dog biscuits for garnish. Even before I became friends with my sheep, I was best friends with my dogs, and tried to put myself into their paws—to imagine what their experience is and how to make it as happy and healthy as I could.
All of my dogs have been people-friendly. If your working dog has to be a grump, and left strictly alone, in order to be good at his job, I really believe you have the wrong dog. Work is joy for my dogs, and through them it’s also joy for me.
Janie resting up during an early shepherding day. Janie and Chance (brother and sister) were the first dogs I re-trained for shepherding.
Which brings me to the (slow) changing of the guard. Pearl the younger has 2 or maybe 4 working years left, after which she’ll have a great retirement continuing to boss all the other dogs in the kennel. She and the other two girls are too old to have pups safely, and I made the conscious decision a few years ago to stick with the generation I have, trusting the universe to provide me with a new working dog when I needed it.
Pearl (the younger). When she was born, her head was pure white, like her namesake great-grandma. Then she went cinnamon, salt and pepper!
My good friend and occasional assistant stockwoman Karen Fish has two dogs whose personalities I just love: Annie, a working dog bitzer, and Gus, a border collie. After a few unsuccessful tries (Gus figuring it out and Annie having fertility issues) we have a litter, and I’m 4th in line for a pick. The pups are 4 weeks old, and I’ve made my choice, a little girl, who doesn’t yet have a name. She will be the first dog in my kennels without that through line to Luke, but I think the universe has done well by me.
The new girl, in my right hand. Good omen.
It’ll take a couple of years to get the new girl up to speed. I’m really looking forward to her training, as I actually do know what I’m doing now, which is quite different from the style of work I was taught. Shepherding, going slow, giving everyone in the picture time to decide to go in the direction you want them to go—all of these things take a different style of training. The younger Pearl’s initial training preceded shepherding, so she and I both had to retrain. This time, we should be able to go in more or less a straight line to the new style of managing sheep.
So, watch this space. I think having a puppy around will provide lots of material for future Yarns about working dogs!