Humble pie for three, please.

So, I have still been looking for opportunities to work Rippa (and Fury, too). Unfortunately, I think “my own sheep” just fell apart with some unforeseen business failures, but there are many opportunities to explore. Thank God for living in a rural area . . .

So I have been working on a 14,000 acre ranch, and kept seeing these sheep everywhere and they recently put them on a reservoir to mow the grass down. I had given up on trying to use the cattle and sheep on the ranch because I am pretty sure the cattlemaster just thinks I’m a yahoo, but the owner of the ranch told me the other day that I could work the sheep on the ranch so long as I don’t run them into the fence. Deal!

So yesterday, I had an opportunity to do just that. My last episode with the gal with the goats and the cows had me break ALL my stock sticks in brush and what not, so I got a long plastic pipe and headed out to the reservoir.

I should describe the layout of this reservoir. It’s artificial, and on the north end is a pump system, along with some flat areas that go along it, but it’s got big elevation with a road that goes around it. This is not really the spot to teach outruns or anything, but I figured if I can start the stock on the fence, I can get Rippa to pick them up and walk them along the road or at the flat that goes around the reservoir. Here’s a photo of the spot so you can kinda see what I’ve got to work with. This is a reporter telling me he approves of an obstacle we set up for a mud run there. It’s still there. Yup. That wood is milled from downed oaks on the ranch.

Anyway, so my huz and I pull up with the dogs in the truck and the goats and sheep (there’s both – maybe six Barbados sheep and a bunch of black horned goats of some persuasion) are up in the pump area. They see us (just me and the huz) get out and take off. I get Rippa out of the truck and my pipe and we go up on the road and look for them.

And look for them.

Finally, I see huzzy pull his truck out of the gate and it’s spooked the stock up onto the road, too. These are LIGHT stock.

Okay, so I keep walking, hoping to corner them somehow. They all spread out along the fence and at this point, knowing Rippa has a tendency to group, decide that I really have no choice but to see if I can get her to stop them.

And she does, sort of. But the Barbados were in the lead and while the goats are there with me, they are escaping. And Rippa, who cannot handle such things, takes off, totally ignoring me yelling at her to cease and desist.

By the time I decide that this situation is not in control (.5 seconds), I start back up on the road, leaving my nice herd of 20 goats, and running all the way around this 5 acre reservoir, while I hear Rippa periodically barking and see a couple sheep pop up from the fence and then not. Oh, and there she goes.

When I get to where everyone has ended up, I am righteous mad, but somewhat impressed. Somehow she has got them all in a group in the shade on a flat area (despite them all spreading out when she went hells bells on them) and is just entertaining herself by moving them around and letting them split off and putting them back together. She’s heeling them lightly and the sheep are more annoyed than anything.

But I am REALLY annoyed, both at myself and at the dog for not coming when calling so I toss my stick at her to get her to stop, grab her, and . . . hey yah, what’s this? A truck goes rolling by. Oh man, I am in SO MUCH TROUBLE. I mean, she didn’t run them into the fence, but I was so clearly not in charge here.

Anyway, but the time we regroup, the sheep are gone so I work on Rippa’s obedience and head toward the gate (and toward the work we really came to do, taking apart epic obstacles from an event a month ago). The sheep and goats have all conveniently squared themselves up in the gate, which is a pretty ideal place to set up a fetch, so I lay Rippa down and work on getting in between her and the stock. I get maybe 100 feet and they go from mild interest to full blown panicked running down the fence line and I know I’m done. Get Rippa back and call it a day. Them’s some light sheep.

As I’m walking back to the pond where my husband is, I’m just kicking myself. I need some heavy sheep until I can get a good outrun on Rippa – if I could send her and know she’d stay out from them, I could fetch, but I can’t send her yet. And if I’d had Fury, she could have done that, but being that she’s been off stock for over three years, and she lately is the naughty one that hassles cows on runs, I don’t trust her to do a decent fetch.

So then my thought is this – what an idiot am I that I think I have any idea what I’m doing? Yeah, it’s all well and good when you’re in an environment like Kathy’s with carefully managed sheep and spaces, but actually trying to let my dog do what she was meant to do? Sheep ranchers probably didn’t train in the same situations I do now. What a tourist. What a yahoo. The cattlemaster is right.

I feel like I’m missing a huge opportunity to really learn how to train with these sheep and this situation – if I can get it under control, I have FOURTEEN THOUSAND ACRES to do training in. But noooooooo . . . I can’t even get them fetching or call my dog in.

It reminds me of a time when Kathy told me to send Fury to bring in all her sheep and I was terrorized that it wasn’t all clean and pretty. “Trust your dog” she said . . . and I wonder what would have happened if I had done that with Rippa – would I undo what I’m trying to do, or would her instincts kick in with a herd that big after she settled down and would she do “good enough work” and learn something?

I am just so scared of doing it wrong and ruining the opportunities that people present me with by disrespecting their animals that I don’t want to take a chance with it.  Much less creating a situation like I did with Fury. Back in the day, before I know what I know now, I sent Fury into situations just like that and she DID do fine – got sheep out of brush and out of hillsides, maybe not pretty, but she did it.  But I also broke her pretty badly, so I don’t know what’s right to do here.

That’s why I’m back to thinking I need my own sheep . . . because then at least they’re mine and I won’t be constantly worried about messing it all up. Too bad my work situation is not looking very promising for that.