It’s a winter scene here. The rams, cows and horses have been moved home, the ewe flock is still out grazing though. The portable water stations have not been in use for some time as cold weather put a stop to those.
The first cold always seems the most harsh, not because it’s particularly cold but because I am never quite ready to embrace the chores and challenges that snow and cold bring. It takes me a bit to settle into the cold and I wonder if it is the same for the flock and the dogs or if their finely tuned senses of all things natural allows them to glide into the seasons with relative ease and knowing.
Normally at this juncture of winters arrival I’m well set into a slower paced creative routine and embracing it wholeheartedly. But this has been a full Fall season with work on our house taking up a good deal of our mental energy and weekend/spare time. We are not living in the house just yet however the cold weather put a damper on doing concrete pouring for counter tops and staining of baseboards outside. Needing a warm space for this work drove the decision to move my studio space out to the house to make room for a work area in the shop we still live in. So it is that my art table is now set up in a small dormer space of the upstairs loft with a gorgeous east view of prairie land. When I sit in this space I feel rich beyond measure.
The change of place has unsettled my creative routine, but in a good way I suppose. It’s exciting to be in the home you built and that excitement has me fluttering about like a moth around an evening lamp. Having a small string of commission work that needs to get done is a hidden blessing as it forces me to stay on task and being active with the task of creative is what spurs the ideas for future artwork of the subjects of this land and livestock life my existence revolves around.
This week required sorting a few Clun Forest types from the flock for private sale. Allen is away the whole week so the task fell solely to myself and the Kelpies. I decided to sort a sub-group and then let the individual pick the few sheep from the smaller group rather than trying to pick a handful from several hundred.
Coyote Mic was my choice of dogs for gathering out on pasture and getting them home. We headed out in the morning and came upon the flock still loosely gathered and not yet headed off for grazing. We both started at the rear of the group and just our presence there started the flock moving off from us. We pressed on them a bit and then retreated, letting them string out. I figured I could split the group while out on pasture and just take a portion of them home to sort further.
We start with a beautiful and frost covered morning.
Back on the Ranger I moved up to the midst of the column of sheep and split the bunch. I took the front bunch further along and figured the ewes left behind would slow up and stay put. Not a chance. They came along behind us. I put Mic on the ground again and we attempted to encourage the rear bunch to turn around and go back. They went far and wide around us and sped up to catch the front group. It twigged on me that the ewes figured this was a pasture move; no one was going to be left behind.
So instead, we took the whole bunch to the gate and once there I just let what I thought was a reasonable number go through then stepped in a cut the rest off. Those not allowed through the gate were dumbfounded! Having Mic on board allowed me to get through the gate without more streaming out. The ewes let out were already moving well ahead and beginning to spread out, exploring the new-old pasture. Mic and I picked them up and took them the rest of the way home. At the yard we turned them into the barn paddock and from there Mic handled bringing them up the hill to the building with ease.
At the yard. Mic bringing the group up the last hill to the building. Rams in an adjacent pasture look on.
Typically the hardest part of flock work is getting all the sheep into our alleyway along the building. Perhaps it was the lesser number that made it seem easy this time. I was pleased, Mic was pleased – and she sure there was a lot more work to be done, and slipped under the gate in an attempt to convince me to let her have at it.
Turning sheep into the alleyway alongside the building.
I was tempted, but really wanted to give this job to BlackJack. He’s been getting a fair number of the ranch jobs this summer and while he completely made a mess of one or two of them, he also stepped up in unexpected circumstances. BlackJack is a pup out of BJ and like his mom he works tight and is more than willing to come forward and force.
Our raceway is located inside the building while the wider alley leading up to it is located on the outside. The outside alleyway curves around the end of the building, enters at the back and narrows into the raceway. This means that when I have to run the sort gate located along the raceway there is no way to see out or manage what’s going on in the alleyway. It means I have to leave the dogs to work as they will, and rely on their work.
When I work right alongside the dogs I bring an expectation of how the work should go and how the dog should carry out the work. This expectation stems from a learned, stereotypical approach to working border collie and kelpie type stock dogs. When being directed on how to do the job the training the dog has is heavily relied on and can often override his default approach to the work. The expectation presses on the dog somewhat even when I determine to not let it. But I’ve had enough of these solo work situations now to appreciate there is a difference. When I’m not directly alongside the dog yet in need of the help, the expectations are not adhered to – indeed, the lack of them is not even seen/known. Now the dog works in his default fashion with whatever training he’s had to aid him and I have to trust that. The job has been set up but no one is telling him how to do it. This latter situation is much more like working with another person. Here’s the important distinction about our work this time around – BlackJack didn’t do every thing perfectly, I didn’t do everything perfectly – far from it in fact. But BlackJack and I got through that job together and we got through it honestly, and I was so genuinely pleased to have the dogs help on a big job and he was so pleased to have helped. I knew it and he knew it, and that type of knowing transcends expectations.
I used to write a blog post every third or fourth day and I’m not sure I can pinpoint what pushed that out of the way but it is amazing at how quickly habits can be shed – and how tough they are to put back into place, even when your Self seeks them.
I’m possibly one of few people who still checks into blogs. For the most part I find blogs far more relaxing and a little more personal. Where social media interaction is like being on the Interstate highways blogs are taking the exit and having a break at a great rest stop location.
You can stay at this one as long as you like. I recently updated the artwork page if you’d like something to look at while you’re here.
The weather is nippy, I’m dressing in layers already and the steel camera body is cold on the fingers. No matter, I still take ten minutes and see what the ewes do. Which is typically not much – and yet they steal my attention anyway. How is it that it is so soothing to watch an animal travel? I never wish to join them really, just to watch. Maybe to follow if they are wild ones, just to see if I can.
