Today was a good day: nice outruns, calling off the top

Last sheep rental, I wasn’t feeling so good about things. I was really frustrated with Rippa’s outruns – it seemed like she just didn’t want to come in easy on them but dive right in, and that once she did that, she didn’t want to bring them to me – she’d just kind of coast along behind them and the natural size of the pen brought the sheep to me. I was feeling kind of down after all the progress we made.

Today I did two things really differently: I brought the husband (who video taped me), and I remembered the green flag that Stephanie kept telling me to try using. I didn’t think my dogs respect it so I never really used it, but so far, everything Stephanie has told me to do has been right, so might as well try this.

It also helped running across this article Terry Martin did for Ranch Dog Trainer: The Aussie Style and Outrun. Reading this article made me feel less like a failure. Why couldn’t I get Rippa to just get out and get around? Because it’s NORMAL for her to want to dive in and then get them. She’s doing what her instincts say.

And it made sense why our last session was a downer for me – I spent most of it really trying to obedience her to the outrun – I wanted her to turn out away from me and the sheep and then go in. That’s not going to work.

So this session, I decided to quit doing that and go back to slingshot outurns, thanks to another article I found on Working Aussie Source: Fixing the Outrun.  And based off the instructions there, with the flag as an extra powerful visual that a stick (even with a bottle on it) can’t compare to . . . we got this:

The video covers a lot of random stuff I’m doing – the outrun work, just giving her mileage on sheep with me leading, and then some calling off the top work. This is the baby step toward teaching her to drive the Kathy Warren method. Stephanie, as I said before, has a different way, but I have seen enough dogs start with KW’s method, I am going to do that first, because I understand it best.

I think next time we go out (tomorrow), I’ll take a lesson with Stephanie and we’ll go to the arena. At this point I really want to work on that gather/outrun and get some mileage walking around. We’ll go back to the calling off when I feel like I have those two things under control with less fence pressure. Wish me luck!

(Oh, and PS? The mouth breathing? It’s because it’s cold and I have allergies that make me snuffy. Problem solved.)

Zen Comes in the Form of Horsemanship

So, this blog has taken a new tack with the advent of me starting to work sheep regularly again, as I’ve said. It’s now not just about what I’m mechanically doing and what my dog is mechanically doing, but I’ve learned that to move forward and make myself a lot more whole, it’s a venue for me to explore the spiritual connection of my own self and that of the partnership with my dog.

I had mentioned this to Stephanie when she was sorting sheep for me last lesson and she told me that I really should pick up The Nine Secrets to Perfect Horsemanship by Don Blazer. So I did. And in the last two days I found time to get through it and . . . the whole time I was like, “Yes! This!” I got through chapter 3 and realized I needed to take notes, because this wasn’t something you read passively, but something that needed to be engaged with and shared.

Here are some notes from it that I loved:

The secrets are these:

1. Accept your and your horse’s creative potential. (IE, understand that you have unlimited potential within your physical and creative abilities and that this is your guiding light. It could be the angel that sits on your shoulder, or it could be the universe. It could simply be the true essence of your soul, or whatever you want it to be)

2. Let your heart decide. This is a hard one for me because I was taught to judge my value on my extrinsic value to others. I am getting better. I really loved how he tied this into setting goals and not taking or seeking criticism, but letting your own intrinsic knowledge be your guide. I feel like this blog is a record of me doing that. I’m not openly seeking criticism, I’m just recording my experiences.

3. Practice non-judgment. When I saw this I was definitely sure it was time to take notes. Blazer is speaking my language here. I truly feel that the whole world would be a lot better off if we stopped judging people according to how we think is the best way to live and just let things be. This also means, however, that we have to stop judging ourselves and even our animals.

4. When you no longer judge, you can give. Give opportunities, give space to choose the right behaviors.

5. Make conscious choices about how you respond.  Don’t let your emotions rule. Ask “why” and ask mentors. Continue evaluating your answers and being open to changing tacks.

6. Everything is exactly as it should be. Things go wrong so that you should learn. The young, green animal tells the trainer every day how he is progressing. Calm, mild acceptance of lessons means he is ready for more. If there’s a battle, try giving, but sometimes a showdown is needed, too.

7. Create the future through your intentions and desires. Visualize your perfection and go where you need to in order to learn the truth. When you name your intentions and desires and begin your quest, you don’t have to defend your choices. Do not hear criticism nor ask for it. Follow your inner heart.

8. Accept uncertainty and give up your search for security. Know yourself and believe in yourself to get beyond fear. Give up attachment to specific outcomes and expectations. If you feel insecure, do something differently and see how your will will help the outcome and that you have within you all you need.

9. Find your talent and then use it to benefit others. That means not staying on the track of success you pick in the beginning unless it feels right. It’s right if it comes easy to you (even if it’s hard work). Redirect if it becomes joyless.

This, and so much more. It’s advice for life, partnership, horses, and dogs.

At one point he says: ""If you have thoughts about devoting less than 100 percent of yourself, don't choose to be a champion. . . Dedication can also be defined as sacrifice. Your friends will praise the thought and labor you put into reaching your goal. Yet the same effort will be derided by those you surpass. Your qualities of honesty, loyalty, and persistence, will suddenly become stupidity and stubbornness to critics you have just defeated in competition, or to those who believe you have failed them by not providing them as much time and attention as they expected. If you are willing to make sacrifices, then you re willing to accept the glory of achievement. To gain, you must give away. By giving away, you will receive."

I can tell you this: I will never, ever be a champion because I am too much of a perfectionist for this to be healthy. I’ve had to give up the part of me that wants to be #1 at everything a long time ago because I know that I can’t stand the pressures that take over when you vy for that spot. I simply want to be good. I want it all, but I don’t want all of it perfectly and so have disappointed people in the past. Yes, I do have unlimited creative potential, but I have so many other competing interests that it would never be a reality for me.

Kudos to the people out there who are willing to make the sacrifice and receive the rewards.

Minding your Breath

Well, this lesson went really well. We took everything I gained from Monday’s class, applied it consistently, and I had myself a lovely fetching dog.

It went so well that I felt comfortable taking phone videos while getting mileage on Rippa.

Basically, as I said, I had a couple goals for this lesson: keep teaching her how to pick sheep up nicely, keep myself calm, and work on her flat go-by. We did all of that.

This time, I started Rippa by putting her in the round pen and just hanging out with her, hoping she wouldn’t just get this emotional charge if she learned that entering the pen didn’t mean going to work right away (again, a nice thing about sheep rental and not lessons).

Unfortunately, this is what she did for fifteen minutes:

This, friends, is not a relaxed dog pose. Had I taken a video, you’d also see that she is shivering a little. That specific pose is what I call the “Don’t make me leave, I am just a torso with no feet” pose.

She learned it from her mom:

This is to let us know that now that they are in the driveway, it’s a good decision to take us along for a ride or walk, but they can’t go back in the house because, clearly, they have no legs.

Anyhow, so that was not the most effective plan to teach her to be chill. I’m not sure if I’ll keep doing it in hopes she calms down eventually, but whatever.

So, I started by getting Rippa to “out” and turn away from me in the direction she wanted to go toward the sheep to get them and that resulted in a nice, wide, and easy outrun, where I would have her balance the sheep up and just stop. Rinse, repeat.

Her go by side is harder for her, both in the “get out” phase and when she picks them up. This is because since it is harder for her, I tend to put more pressure on her, which stresses her out. This, in turn, makes her charge the sheep harder than she should, which freaks the sheep out, and then it makes her harder to cover the go-by side and point them toward me.  We did a couple drills and then worked on plain fetching and back to that again and by the end of the lesson, stuff was looking pretty good. I am pretty confident that she can keep control of her sheep if she’s not got the pen holding them in at this point, though she does occasionally get too close and that causes the sheep to spaz and her to want to grip. Just mileage, I think.

So, we did some mileage and then to see if I could get her go-by side less flat (and start teaching her a drive), I started having her do outruns around me. Strangely, I had an easier time of getting her to run around me on the go-by side than on the way-to side. She was clearly confused, but she would get up at the top and turn in at 12:00 nicely, so that’s looking good.

At some point, I felt like everything was going casually enough that I could video some of it to talk to you about, so here’s the video:

Perhaps the first thing you’ll notice (at least I did), is that I appear to be a mouth breather when I’m working stock. This is an interesting phenomenon to me because I’m not a mouth breather and walking backward like this should not make me tired enough that I need to open my mouth. I am SERIOUSLY going to start wearing a heart rate monitor because if I’m that winded, I’m either doing it wrong or I’m stressing out for no reason.

Next, my timing on commands is kind of off but she’s going off my body language so I let it be because that’s my problem to fix, not hers. She’s absolutely right.

I’d really prefer to be quiet when I do stuff like this, but Stephanie notes that Rippa needs to learn her commands at this stage and to label it as much as I can without having too many expectations, and I think that’s fair.

Toward the end of the lesson, I took the pressure off her and just had her play follow the leader with  the sheep, which she did marvelously with no oversight needed from me.

Now we just need to get that outrun solid so that I can feel comfortable that she’ll control and cover in the arena and it will be time to give that a go again. I think it’s a couple weeks of training out, though, but I feel really good about where we started and where we are today. A lot of that is thanks to Stephanie having a really good outlook about everything and me learning to not panic if stuff doesn’t go well on her sheep.

That breath thing does bother me though. Part of the practice of meditation can be watching your breath. So your breathing goes, so your mind goes. If I have a hard time being calm, that heavy breathing is a sure sign of me not being calm.

So, goal next week is to knock off the mouth breathing.

Zen and the Art of Sheep Moving

I’ve always been a student of spirituality, though it took me a bit to accept it. In grad school, as an avowed agnostic, my Christian friend told me one day that I was the epitome of “Spiritual, but Not Religious,” and for the first time, coming from her, it didn’t sound like some kind of weak cop out.

I think no matter what banner I fly overheard, I’m probably a lot more that than I realize, and I’ve spent a long time learning from spiritual masters of all ilk, looking for the secret to a quiet mind and open heart.

So, after the last session I had, I suddenly began to understand that I could use stockdogging to that end, as well. Moreover, I probably needed to.

So, after a couple weeks off after the sheep’s owner traveled to border collie trials, I returned today with really only one major goal: a pacific mind and a quiet voice.

When I woke up this morning, I was a little nervous about if I could turn that on and wanted to sit down and read this blog because that’s the point – me thinking and getting it out really seems to be a way for me to remember it for good, and reading it again can provide insight.

BUT I DIDN’T.

I didn’t because of something in a book I used to teach college students: in it, the author makes a statement that we read a science book and we don’t constantly need to refer back to it and study every word like people do with the Bible or any great religious text. My take on that is this: you may know what it says in that religious text, but you constantly need reminding of it because you live and think so in opposition to it just because that’s how the world works. It’s easy to understand and work with gravity. It’s harder to deal with complex relationship and mind stuff.

I intellectually knew that my goal today was to simply be pacific in mind and body, and I didn’t need to read what I did last time that worked because I KNEW, I KNEW, like I know gravity, that if I maintained that practice, things would go okay. And if I didn’t know, I didn’t have any business with that as a goal.

So, when we got into the round pen, I checked my mind-body connection and felt peace. I connected to that, and I think, showing that to Rippa, I sent her to fetch the sheep and . . . it was fast because she was excited, but it was also fine. No sheep bowling or inappropriate behavior.

But as I asked more and more of her, I could FEEL my body losing it’s peace. I had a talk with a naturopathic doctor who had a booth next to mine and at an event yesterday and she said that the panic state of mind is a constant today for us, and it wasn’t like that before, which is why we have all kinds of odd and troubling diseases.

“Back in the day, people couldn’t work all the time or form overly complex relationships and plans. The fire went out, you went to sleep. And your adrenaline would only kick in when a bear came into camp and you’d have to run from the bear.

“Today, however, we’ve got complicated relationships, intense work, money troubles, etc, etc and we are always running from the bear. Our adrenal glands never give up and we get into this habit of freaking out easily. It’s so bad.”

So I am standing there and I can feel my body telling me a bear is running. I always think I am calm, at ease, not stressing this stuff, but I can feel it, like a cowbell vibrating in my chest.

So it’s time to call a break (this is why renting sheep is awesome). I pull Rippa out of the pen, go get my phone, then go back in and sit there with Rippa, doing email and seeing what’s going on for Facebook. It’s good for Rippa, too, as she finds out that sheep can just hang out. Then we just sit some more until I feel pacific again.

And it starts over. And with me being like that, instead of focusing on the wrong, or even the right, I’m starting to see what Rippa sees and feels and it’s pretty obvious that Rippa doesn’t understand some of the basics of this game: like that she is supposed to quietly lift the sheep up and bring them to me. Or how, exactly, to do that.  She does mostly fine when we’re in a moving fetch, though she’s flat on the go-by side, and I’ll get to that in a second.

So, now I add something else to “be pacific” – which is – teach Rippa how to pick the sheep up quietly and just bring them to me. I determine that the best way to do that is to start over and get right up close to the sheep and send her on an outrun, verbally telling her to get out (but quietly) and giving her space to get around them. It works. I think I have to do a lot more of that before I start trying to slingshot send her – which turns into sheep bowling – because I think she just isn’t getting that particular part for some reason. Maybe she forgot it.

Anyway, in general she’s really good on the way-to side, but not the go-by side. Way-to, I get a really excellent square corner, where she’ll turn away from the sheep and move perpendicular to them until she’s just out of the flight zone before turning in. Go-by, she’s a lot more slanty. It almost looks like the photo above, but it’s enough that she’s slicing off the flight zone of the sheep and they just can’t get balanced to me with her there.

I think, “Man, I really want the long stick.” And then, pacific mind says, “No you don’t – Rippa is softer than that, you need finesse.”

So we know that my usual method of chasing her out of the flightzone is scary to her, and we know that Rippa doesn’t know that when I send her, it’s to pick them off the fence and bring them to me or she wouldn’t sheep bowl if I wasn’t there to babysit her. It’s probably a likely thing that she doesn’t know she needs to square her go-by corner.

So we do some half moons. That works pretty well, and when she looks good and square, she gets her sheep. When it doesn’t look like she’s going to balance up, I skip ahead to some pre-cursor drive training and teach her to “get around” the sheep, all the way around me and the sheep and back to 12:00 and try again. All of this falls apart after a couple laps around the round pen, but I think if I keep it up, she’ll get it pretty quick. The instinct and stock sense is there, but I just see some holes in Rippa’s understanding of what we’re trying to do.

Anyway, so we just did some laps around the round pen with her balanced up and getting praise for giving me nice square corners and here we are.

Once I know she understands things, I think we’ll be able to move into the arena and work on things there, but I don’t expect it will be soon. She’s had way too much time off and obviously, I’ve got a lot of mental training to do myself.

Anyway, it’s definitive: a quiet mind makes for happier herding. Ohm.