The Tale of the Giant Sheep and Why the World has Mountains

Way, way back in the world long ago, before man walked the earth, the world was covered in snow and ice. This frozen land was walked by flocks of sheep so large they looked over the tops of trees. There were millions of these colossal animals, wandering far and wide. The giant sheep covered the frozen land like bison on the American plains before the railroads came. As the flocks traveled they followed their traditional paths, marching in columns through the deep snow, great cloven hoof after great cloven hoof trampling the snow down to solid ice. The world was cold and the snow continued to fall and each fresh snowfall was trampled to deepen the ice on these ovine passages. And as the sheep traveled they dropped manure, which was also trampled onto the traditional paths. And so it continued, with each layer of snow and each layer of manure being trampled by great cloven hoof after great cloven hoof, packed to a dense base that grew in altitude with each journey of the great beasts over the trails. The sheep were pleasing to the gods of the icy past, who provided the flocks with abundant hay so that they might flourish. The sheep, being sheep, squandered some of the hay, which fell to the trails to be trampled along with the snow and the manure, pounded down as layers by great cloven hoof after great cloven hoof, slowly building the paths higher and higher. And the snow continued to fall so that these paths built of layer upon layer of ice and hay and manure were lower than the deep snow. Indeed to step from the paths was dangerous as the sheep would sink in the softer surrounding snow. So the sheep stayed on the paths, and the paths became ridges, the ridges grew to mountains, the mountains stood tall and continued to grow to great heights. But the great heights to which the paths rose were obscured in the greater heights of the surrounding drifts.

Whether the gods of the icy past grew bored with a white earth covered with sheep, or whether they were perhaps replaced by gods who preferred a warmer climate we don’t know. But the world began to warm up. The drifts surrounding the paths began to melt, and they melted, and melted. Each day the world was lower and the paths began to rise above. And the drifts still melted and melted. It seemed the world might melt away, but finally there was earth instead of snow. Towering above the newfound soil were long ridges, some reaching greatly into the sky. The paths of the giant sheep would not melt. They were formed of ice and hay and manure, insulated and dense. The grass began to turn green and the birds sang and the world began to fill with other animals. Yet the mountainous ridges built by the sheep remained, hammered to strength by great cloven hoof after great cloven hoof, like iron forged by a smith.

The giant sheep are no more, but their ancestors remain, tiny creatures by comparison, each hardly the size of a single cloven hoof from their colossal predecessors. Though they have changed greatly in stature, their nature is the same. They continue to travel familiar paths, trampling deep snow, paving the way with manure and squandered hay, pounding it to a dense roadbed with small cloven hoof after small cloven hoof. And as each spring comes, the end to the abbreviated ice age of winter, the drifts around the paths melt. The ground is rediscovered, the grass turns green, and the great manure covered ridges remain to tell the tale of colder times.

Maybe she’s born with it…

Maybe it’s training.

Training sheepdogs is mostly about bringing out the natural style and abilities of the dog. In some cases the inherent style of the dog is not workable in some area. Perhaps the dog is tight flanking, does not cover well, etc. There are no perfect dogs. Generally if the dog’s method is effective in getting the job done without undue stress on the stock I try to work with that style. I do this because that which the dog does naturally is a much more durable behavior. When you train a dog to work in a style that is counter to a dog’s natural way of working the results are less reliable and maintaining those results is high maintenance.

My Belgian boy Dare has had a fair amount of training in protection work. Dare has what is called a ¾ bite. This means he puts his jaws well around the sleeve on the bite, but does not push his mouth on so that the item he is biting is pushed to the hinge of his jaw (deep or full bite). From a functional point of view a ¾ bite and a deep bite are equally effective. Shallow bites (just getting front teeth on) are not that effective and often indicate a tentative approach. In Schutzhund a full bite will usually get higher points than a ¾ bite. So folks breed and train for the deep bite if they are doing Schutzhund. I worked with an excellent trainer and we got a deep bite on Dare, but the trainer said that in a hard fight he would go back to his natural ¾ bite. Other aspects of his bite training were simply honing his natural style and thus would be durable under duress.

The same applies in stock work. Under pressure the default style comes out. When things are quiet and organized you can keep the dog performing the way you trained it to work. Default behaviors are not the early behaviors you see when training a pup, but rather the tendencies you see as they settle into the job. Virtually all pups are tight but by setting the situation correctly you allow them to mature into their natural style. Look at the choices a young dog makes as it faces new situations. In particular look at the choices it makes after the early attempts have not been very successful. Green dogs often try to solve things inappropriately. What tells you about the dog is what they come up with on successive attempts.

When you “train” dogs with good natural flanks to flank and outrun you are just molding what is coming from the dog. They have the priority to cover, the core initiative to control the stock. They are thinking about where they want the stock to move and how they need to be positioned to accomplish this. You provide them with opportunities to refine their skills and create situations so they can develop their instincts, learn how close or how far to be. You add commands so you can influence the work. My Levi had a great struggle to hold a single yesterday. Pretty rough work, but I know that Levi covers, has decent flanks, and is attentive to the job. Next time I expect he’ll be a little slower and/or give some more space on the flanks. Now I think of Fina. I’ve spent a lot of training time on her flanks (particularly the come by) and covering. It will always be a work in progress as her natural tendency to bear in on the flanks will always be there to erode my training. The come by flank is very high maintenance and still mediocre. Though I may get some nice come by flanks, I have not awakened Fina’s natural style, I’ve suppressed it. Thus keeping the quality of the flanks is high maintenance. On the other hand she has a lovely walk up, direct and attentive, plenty of push but aware of the stock. I spend very little training time on her coming straight onto the stock as it is a natural and durable behavior.

My Rhyme was a challenge to train but fun and rewarding as her moves were lovely and she was intensely engaged in managing her stock. This also meant that it was a battle to get Rhyme to give up the pressure. Rhyme’s current person Angie spent the entire month of March working on getting Rhyme give up the pressure side after Rhyme marched her sheep against the pressure on the drive almost to the set out at a trial. The training paid off as Rhyme took every command and placed both days her next time out. Keeping Rhyme flexible to take a flank off the pressure is a maintenance item. Another example of a strong natural behavior is my Cato shedding. At a shedding clinic with Bev Lambert the exercise was getting the dog to come through cleanly, not looking to either group until directed. With Cato’s very strong eye Bev and I agreed this was not a good use of training time for him. Yes, it could have been done, but would have taken many hours of training time and been extremely fragile. Better to look at what Cato’s natural style was (he was already starting to hold whatever sheep I was looking at) and use my training time to make his style work for me.

People keep saying that Fina is a different dog this spring. She is not. She is much improved but the nature of the dog does not change. She can do brilliant work, but the top of her outrun is naturally tight and fast and her come by flank naturally bears hard on the stock. Keeping moderation on her top and a better shape on her come by are maintenance items because I want them performed in a way that is not natural to the dog.

Add to this the brain on each dog. Some dogs thrive on trial pressure and work at their best. Others are more fragile, affected by the trial environment in a negative way. For dogs that do not relish the trial environment, that which they have learned must be very strong and well patterned for them to be able to pull it off outside their comfort zone. Those behaviors that came to the dog naturally will stand up to the pressure. Some trainers and handlers are brilliant at evaluating what their dogs can do, building on those strengths, creating clear patterns, then managing the runs so as to keep the dog where it is strong and comfortable.

How can you tell if a trained dog is naturally strong in an area or very well trained? You see the natural ability of the dog when there are challenges. Sheep that are leaning or bolting or breaking or fighting, difficult terrain, portions of trial fields where the stock and dog are out of sight all will put pressure on the dog, inviting the natural style of the dog to come out. These challenges will also point out whether the dog is a good thinker under pressure. Clouding the issue is the question of whether the dog has had any experience with things going wrong. There are some folks who train in such a controlled environment that the dogs (and handlers) have little chance to experience the adrenalin surge from things going awry.

Creative or Clueless?

I have a ewe in a headgate as she rejected her lamb. Each day I turn her loose for a bit to move around the barnyard while I clean the pen she is in. After I'm done I use a dog to bring her back into her stall. I'll usually pick up the lamb first as he is devoted to his uncaring momma and stays tight with her. She will gladly tromp right on top of him. Naturally the ewe does not much want to come back to the stall. The gate I need to get her through is right next to another open shed which she would like to duck into enroute to her prison. This second shed is a small quonset hut style metal building, with a single small lambing pen set up inside along the wall. The lambing pen creates a pocket in back so sheep that go in can get into the pocket where a dog can't well get around them. Indeed a ewe truly determined to thwart a dog can then squeeze into the narrow slot between the curved shed wall and the side of the lambing pen, which is exactly what this girl did. There she stood wedged in the narrow slot where I'm storing a couple bales of straw.

So I'm standing there with her lamb in my arms trying to figure out how to extract her. Levi, who was trying to get around her when she stuffed herself into this final tight spot, is also exploring his options. He quickly flips out around the pen to where he can be in front of her, but immediately realizes that the pen prevents him from getting close enough to move her. So he returns around the back of the pen, comes in behind her, jumps over her and lands on a bale of straw in front of her. He spins to face her and drives her out. This all happened in a matter of seconds.

How does he think of these things? I've seen Levi jump a bale of hay landing between the llama's legs to lift a ewe in tight quarters. I've seen him launch himself onto the backs of the sheep to get the front sheep moving when they hit deep snow and stalled. He has hopped into the fenceline feeders and trotted along in the metal tray when the sheep were pushed up too tightly for him to squeeze in otherwise. Do farm work with Levi and you get these fairly regular shows of very unusual work. I do not consider him to be an unusually talented dog, nor particularly bold or determined. He's plain as dirt in his work style. Yet he has this free thinking mind that is always engaged. I don't know that he'll ever be much of a trial dog. He's my best dog for most farm work despite his difficulty stopping and staying put. I just like him, like his mind, like living with him, and like doing the farm work with him. I suspect he'll stay regardless of his future as a trial dog. I don't think I could part with him.

War Ponies

I trimmed feet on all un-bred sheep yesterday. There are 9 sheep in that little group, 6 yearlings and 3 older wethers. Song had a delightful time holding them in a corner for me so I could catch each one, flip it, trim the feet, and then mark it so I knew who was done. I was using a piece of red marking chalk that had fallen to the storage shed floor then been swept out with the leaves. I spotted the red lump sitting in some ice and decided to use it up. The chalk was fairly well saturated with water and rather crumbly so I marked up the front of their faces rather than into the fleece. The color came out extremely strong with the wet chalk, a rich red stripe up between the eyes of each animal.

This morning I went to feed and had Fina push the sheep back as always while I put out the feed. This little group was eager to dine and as I was working they came back towards me, stopping about 15 feet from Fina who was parked between us. They stood there, heads up, proudly defiant, but not quite ready to actually try to get past Fina. They were arrayed on a little knoll above me, and looked like a group of war ponies. Heads up; ears up; war paint on. About half of them are Clun mules so they even had speckled faces like Appaloosas. I almost expected them to shake their heads and snort.

Mud vs. Faux Mud

I’d like to announce that roughly 10% of my barnyard is now mud. This required close inspection to be sure that it was not the faux mud that comes from 2 inches of liquefied sheep shit on top of ice. This year I’ve tried the solution of scraping the manure into piles. On the really wet days it is quite easy as the vile slurry slides nicely on the ice. Of course with a bit more melting another layer of ice disappears and I find another inch or two of shit, again on top of a slick base of ice. It is like one of those cakes with many layers of chocolate cake and raspberry jam, except there is nothing pleasant about these layers.

Yesterday I stepped off one of the well worn and manure carpeted winter paths and sunk into snow above my knee. So I've a long ways to go before I can actually work dogs. However the weather is persistently warm and the melting continues. And I've got a couple lambs born yesterday, the first of the season. Boys, but healthy boys with a good momma who has lots of milk. They should grow up big and tasty.

Initiative

There is a section about SAR work with dogs on the bottom of this linked page (Dees Dogs/Nancy Lyon). It has a great description of developing canine partners who are persistent problem solvers. It also shows a great appreciation of the partnership, with full respect for the abilities of both parties.

Working dogs on stock has similarities to SAR work in that obedience of the dog cannot come at the price of initiative. Training dogs for these jobs is as much about developing the dog's natural instincts, problem solving skills, and most importantly the dog’s confidence in their own ability to handle the situation on their own as it is about training the dog to accept our leadership. In the end a tremendously obedient dog with limited skills and/or no confidence to apply those skills without constant direction is not a valuable partner. A dog with tremendous skills and confidence in the chosen job but of a less cooperative mind is indeed more valuable though likely frustrating to handle.

Early training on stock is all about developing a dog’s abilities. My early dogs were quite confident that they could do the job and eager to take control, certainly no lack of willingness to take initiative. I was able to focus on commands while the dogs capitalized on every opportunity to work out problems for themselves. These were dogs who naturally focused on the objectives, interpreting my commands as information about where I wanted the stock as much as instructions to execute a specific move themselves. Since then I’ve had some more sensitive dogs that have been wary of making mistakes, wanting explicit instructions, lacking the overriding initiative to control the stock. One of these dogs, my Song, was eager to take responsibility, but any correction left her worried about being wrong and reluctant to try again. Since her behavior was not egregious and the stock was not overly stressed I allowed her a large amount of freedom in early training. Eventually she matured to a point that she could recognize corrections as information from me to try another method. From that point she trained up extremely quickly. Fina, who was bounced around a bit for training and handling when young, is extremely sensitive. I have had to work harder to get Fina to take initiative and do what needs to be done to control the stock. She worries about being wrong, doubts her ability to solve problems on her own, and thinks of commands as simple instructions as to her next move. She does not naturally think in terms of objectives, where I want the stock. I’ve spent some time this winter doing farm work with her, denying her specific commands, and holding her responsible for the job. We had a few uncomfortable sessions, with her wanting to wait for specific commands and instead getting a sharp bark of her name when sheep took advantage of her. She struggled, unhappy with the lack of instruction, but she kept thinking. Then after a few rounds she began to understand. She realized she was responsible for putting the sheep somewhere and keeping them there while my back was turned and I was doing something else. She realized I had little interest in her specific moves, as long as the job got done. She got the chance to work the moves out on her own and SHE LIKED IT. This newfound sense of objectives and responsibility is fragile as she is a sensitive dog. I’ll need to be careful to foster her new abilities while reminding her that she needs to work to my objectives.

How much responsibility rests with the dog? That depends on the handler. Some folks like a dog that is infinitely and immediately biddable. I prefer a dog that will accept my objectives, but be willing to disagree with me on the method. I’ll accept non-compliance if I feel they are still working to get the job done. If I know I’m giving a command that the dog will find unwise I’ll insist by using a stronger voice or whistle. In this way I tell the dog that I am overriding their responsibility for this move.

The balance between obedience and responsibility for the stock takes work to maintain. The more we tune our dogs for the immediate compliance required in trials the more we eat away at their initiative in controlling the stock on their own. Time off from trialing with some farm work helps to keep the dogs focused on the objectives. My Cato dog was easy in this respect as no matter how much we trained it would be a cold day in hell before he relinquished control of his stock. Yet he was from the beginning willing to partner with me and allow me to define the objectives.

Fun with Farm work

My paddocks are a mess of partial lumpy paths, deep snow with a harsh crust, some ice and some small broken up trampled areas. It will be a long time before any training happens, but it is handy to have a dog to put feed out. I'm afraid my sheep think little of my opinion unless one of my canine friends is around.

The first job is keeping the girls off the feeder so I can put out some grain. Not so easy as there is 32 feet of fenceline feeder, now so full of snow I have to fill it from inside the barnyard. The barnyard is small with no room for the dog to push the sheep well off, thus leaving the flock well positioned to try to skirt the dog on either end to get to the grain. Each of my 3 dogs has worked out a different method and style of moving them back and holding them quietly. The sheep have learned that even if the dog is at the moment pushing the other side of the flock back, and they are only 20 feet from the feeder and 30 feet from the dog, they will not make it to the feeder in time.

Another job is "bale dog". I just lay the dog down beside the main bale while I disperse the hay. Talk about boring! But with no dog at the bale all sheep will converge on it while I'm spreading flakes, then when I walk back they'll all bolt off through the bale, trampling it nicely.

This morning the sheep had eaten their grain and almost all were up at the hay I'd just spread. Several had remained in the barnyard, searching for those last few bits of grain in the snow filled feeders like pigs after truffles. Levi had been a very patient "bale dog" so I decided to let him bring those girls up. A couple were ewes that will cling to the llama to try to avoid the dog. One in particular almost fuses herself to her tall friend. Some of the sheep just trotted up towards me as soon as Levi got back behind them, but these two girls ran and clutched to the llama, who was eating another bale I had waiting to be spread, all this up against the gate by the feeders. Levi came around to lift on the narrow path through the deep, crusty now. He was confronted with a broadside bale, llama tight to the bale, and ewe almost under the llama. He jumped the bale, landing between the very surprised llama's legs and nose to nose with an appalled ewe. She recoiled from Levi's shockingly rude greeting and briskly made her way up to join the rest of the flock. Eventually I stopped laughing.