And On The Eighth Day God Created Border Collies….
…. Or so Border Collie enthusiasts would have us believe. I’ve trained sport dogs and working dogs for well over 25 years. Sometime in the 1990’s a friend told me, “Sooner or later, you’ll break down and get a Border Collie. Anyone who is serious about competition does.”
The problem was….. I just wasn’t serious enough about any kind of competition to buy a dog just to win at a particular sport. Then I discovered goats. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again, goats are like cocaine. They take over your life and turn it upside down. What started out as a way to weed-eat my fence lines has grown into a business. I can buy a goat for $40, keep it for a while, and then re-sell the same goat for $140. On paper that sounds good. But it is a sad fact of life that raising goats could make Mother Teresa cuss like a sailor.
…. Or so Border Collie enthusiasts would have us believe. I’ve trained sport dogs and working dogs for well over 25 years. Sometime in the 1990’s a friend told me, “Sooner or later, you’ll break down and get a Border Collie. Anyone who is serious about competition does.”
The problem was….. I just wasn’t serious enough about any kind of competition to buy a dog just to win at a particular sport. Then I discovered goats. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again, goats are like cocaine. They take over your life and turn it upside down. What started out as a way to weed-eat my fence lines has grown into a business. I can buy a goat for $40, keep it for a while, and then re-sell the same goat for $140. On paper that sounds good. But it is a sad fact of life that raising goats could make Mother Teresa cuss like a sailor.
I needed help. And On The Eighth Day God Created Border Collies. Those words are golden to anyone who has ever tried to work livestock by themselves. I needed help. I needed a Border Collie. I found Lily in a feedlot in North Texas. Her parents were working cattle dogs. I picked her out, picked the ticks off of her, and proudly drove back across Texas with my first Border Collie.
That was six months ago, and now I cannot imagine how I ever got along without her. I know she’s young and shouldn’t be working stock yet, but I also realize that I can’t do a lot around here without her, so unfortunately many times I have to ask a first grader to do college work. This isn’t about titles. This is about coyotes. On my farm, if the young stock isn’t up at night, it’s eaten.
The rains have returned to South Texas. Dry pastures are now flooded. Lily and her goats are about the same age. None of them have experienced heavy rains and flooding until tonight. The heavens opened up and in a very short time the pen with the young females was under eight inches of water. Three inches of water filled their barn. The goats were standing on a shelf. I had to move the females into another pen on the far side of the property - three pastures away. It was getting dark and it was still raining.
At first I tried the practical approach. Open the door. Call the goats with some feed. They hollered back, but had NO intention of wading through floodwater to get to me and higher ground. “Don’t MAKE me get the Border Collie!” I shouted at them. Apparently they didn’t believe me.
Border Collie was only too happy to oblige. She stalked inside and they hustled their little asses out into the rain. Then we began the laborious trek to the south side of the property, to higher ground. Young Border Collie was forced to push grumpy goats across high water. By now it was so dark that I could only see the goats that were white, and the white of Border Collie’s ruff. (note to self: always have a dog with some white on it!)
We were doing well until the little beasts squeezed through the wrong gate and ended up in the stallion paddock. Border Collie could have stopped them, but I called her off because I didn’t want her running goats over Stallion. Goats crowded into Stallion’s stall. Stallion crowded in behind goats. The stall was flooding. I tried to get goats out of stall by myself. No way, Jose. “Don’t MAKE me get the Border Collie!”
Again, they were not convinced. I held Stallion while I asked Border Collie to move in. As soon as she slithered her little black and white self along the wall, the goats began to file back out in the rain like school children. Stallion stood in the corner, wondering what just happened.
Small creek had become raging current. Border Collie had to convince goats to jump water. By now I hated goats and didn’t care if the coyotes did eat them. But Border Collie had much more confidence than I did. In short order, she had all the goats over the creek and back en route to the south pen. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped. It was raining harder and I could barely see the dog.
By the time I got there, Border Collie had all the goats by the gate. She held them while I opened the latch. My next problem was making sure that none of the goats inside the pen ran out while Border Collie moved the young females into the pen. I called her over. She glared in the pen at the other goats. They fell over themselves to back away from the gate. Then Border Collie made a quick circle and picked up the females who had already began to wander off in the rain. (Did I mention how much I hate goats?)
Little Black & White Pup (aka Kung Fu Panda) marched those idiots right back where they belonged and I locked the gate. Then she stood in the rain and shook herself. I got down on my knees and hugged her. We high-fived and had a party in the rain. She was quite pleased with herself.
In a perfect world, a dog her age would never have to do what she did this evening, but tonight I was so thankful for the generations of shepherds who bred a dog to go out in the rain, and get the job done.
On The Eighth Day God Created Border Collies
That was six months ago, and now I cannot imagine how I ever got along without her. I know she’s young and shouldn’t be working stock yet, but I also realize that I can’t do a lot around here without her, so unfortunately many times I have to ask a first grader to do college work. This isn’t about titles. This is about coyotes. On my farm, if the young stock isn’t up at night, it’s eaten.
The rains have returned to South Texas. Dry pastures are now flooded. Lily and her goats are about the same age. None of them have experienced heavy rains and flooding until tonight. The heavens opened up and in a very short time the pen with the young females was under eight inches of water. Three inches of water filled their barn. The goats were standing on a shelf. I had to move the females into another pen on the far side of the property - three pastures away. It was getting dark and it was still raining.
At first I tried the practical approach. Open the door. Call the goats with some feed. They hollered back, but had NO intention of wading through floodwater to get to me and higher ground. “Don’t MAKE me get the Border Collie!” I shouted at them. Apparently they didn’t believe me.
Border Collie was only too happy to oblige. She stalked inside and they hustled their little asses out into the rain. Then we began the laborious trek to the south side of the property, to higher ground. Young Border Collie was forced to push grumpy goats across high water. By now it was so dark that I could only see the goats that were white, and the white of Border Collie’s ruff. (note to self: always have a dog with some white on it!)
We were doing well until the little beasts squeezed through the wrong gate and ended up in the stallion paddock. Border Collie could have stopped them, but I called her off because I didn’t want her running goats over Stallion. Goats crowded into Stallion’s stall. Stallion crowded in behind goats. The stall was flooding. I tried to get goats out of stall by myself. No way, Jose. “Don’t MAKE me get the Border Collie!”
Again, they were not convinced. I held Stallion while I asked Border Collie to move in. As soon as she slithered her little black and white self along the wall, the goats began to file back out in the rain like school children. Stallion stood in the corner, wondering what just happened.
Small creek had become raging current. Border Collie had to convince goats to jump water. By now I hated goats and didn’t care if the coyotes did eat them. But Border Collie had much more confidence than I did. In short order, she had all the goats over the creek and back en route to the south pen. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped. It was raining harder and I could barely see the dog.
By the time I got there, Border Collie had all the goats by the gate. She held them while I opened the latch. My next problem was making sure that none of the goats inside the pen ran out while Border Collie moved the young females into the pen. I called her over. She glared in the pen at the other goats. They fell over themselves to back away from the gate. Then Border Collie made a quick circle and picked up the females who had already began to wander off in the rain. (Did I mention how much I hate goats?)
Little Black & White Pup (aka Kung Fu Panda) marched those idiots right back where they belonged and I locked the gate. Then she stood in the rain and shook herself. I got down on my knees and hugged her. We high-fived and had a party in the rain. She was quite pleased with herself.
In a perfect world, a dog her age would never have to do what she did this evening, but tonight I was so thankful for the generations of shepherds who bred a dog to go out in the rain, and get the job done.
On The Eighth Day God Created Border Collies
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