The Trouble With Magpies

After our usual morning greeting I left four of the guardian dogs each with their respective bowl of food while I went off to feed the fifth who is situated with the rams. When I returned I watched with some amusement as this scene unfolded.

livestock guardian dog with magpie birds

It just so happens that the dog in the photo is named Birdie; a name that has nothing to do with Magpies by the way. She’s a terribly picky eater and skips as many meals as she eats, which has nothing to do with her name either. As such she will often lie down nearby while other dogs eat and then leave to catch up with the sheep. But whether or not she wants to eat it, one thing that annoys her is Magpies diving in for her food.

The trouble with Magpies is their persistence.
The trouble with Magpies is that I like them. The guardian dogs do not share the sentiment.
The trouble with Magpies is that once you get to know them you kinda have to admire them. They’re wickedly intelligent and equally determined and they have become a dependable presence in this prairie solitude. They have raucous call that drives me nuts when there is crowd of them. Then again it’s a marvel how silently they fly and how effortlessly they float on the wind or glide into a landing. In the winter they are quiet for the most part, as though they hold some regard for the hibernating state of the place. On the contrary in the summer months I’m often pleading at them to be quiet already. More often than not a gang of Magpie’s hopping about in the air in the distance is the first indication of a death that we see. With their daily presence Magpies act like a constant reminder. A reminder of how you said you would do a thing and you haven’t yet done it.

I don’t recall ever paying much attention to the birds in my youth, or even in my adult years prior to moving here. Perhaps the noticing of birds is a measure of how deeply I’ve grown into the solitude here and the length of time I have been living it. I’m now a bona fide feeder of birds throughout the winter season. I believe it all started with Magpies.

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A Dog’s Game

The flock has moved onto stockpiled forage. Where they graze is not fenced however recent snow limits how eager the ewes are to travel afar. Each evening I move them into a smaller paddock for the night.

With the limited forays of the flock and the night penning the guardian dogs have it pretty easy right now. There is a great deal of barking going on each evening but otherwise the dogs seem bored. The flock is also close to the yard at the moment and Sox, the young fellow has taken up the habit of joining the Kelpies and I for walks. He and the cream Kelpie have become quite fond of each other.

When he started showing up I was torn about letting him continue but I never did put a stop to it like I have for other guardian dogs. I prefer guardians not come for walks with us and its definitely not allowed when they are pups growing into their role, however he’s a two year old and he’s a Kangal cross, a super athlete of the guardian dog breeds, and the workload is slow right now. With dogs every choice is made on a case by case basis and in his case I prefer he expend energy running with Kelpies rather than playing with or killing sheep. He always returns to sheep and I know he’s an active guardian at nightfall so we seem to have a good compromise going.

All in all we seem to be settling into winter’s pace. The flock still feels so very small and it will take me some time to adjust to that. Outside of sheep and dogs there isn’t much that draws me away from the ranch right now. In between morning and evening chores I’m content with doing the tasks required to take care of home and person and otherwise settle into the studio to see what can be done there.

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The Long Deep Sigh

One of the most expressive sighs comes from one of my Kelpies. A long and strong whistling exhalation through his nose every time he settles in to a favourite place. A sigh of deep expression, it is this sigh that most aptly suits the mood here of late.

Have you ever noticed that once a decision is made you get on with doing and carrying it through, but making the decision in the first place is the greater stress. Another group of ewes left last week, bound for their new farm in southern Saskatchewan. Between last Fall season and this one a good number of ewes have been sold and the flock sits at one third of its usual volume. The decision to sell ewes was spurred on by serious dry conditions and lack of winter feed. With steep feed prices purchasing feed was an unaffordable option unless we wish to take on debt again, which we don’t. We’ve been doing this debt free for too long to want to go back into it. Once the decision was reached it was carried through by a realization that drought is a good time to shift to a core nucleus of a flock again. And that it’s okay to let the prairie, and myself, take a breather, even if we don’t know what is coming next. And there is the sigh of deep expression.

The flock feels so very small and so very easy now. I am currently moving the flock home every night so that the ewes get water from the winter water bowls. Natural surface water is nonexistent in the majority of the pastures and smaller hoses and floats that are needed when hauling water freeze up overnight. Typically we’d have snow to rely on by now, but there is none. Moving the flock has never felt easier though, although I still expect to see more sheep and the Kelpies keep looking for more work.

A side affect of downsizing the flock is that my deeper appreciation for sheep has returned anew. I was worried my love for sheep was worn too thin but I love this tidy flock. I like that shearing day next April will be simplified. I appreciate that only five guardian dogs are needed rather then eight/nine, so there is less panic to replace the three dogs we lost this year. And I am grateful that with less mouths to feed the prairie will be able to take a breather and to emit its own deep sigh of expression.

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