Dogs on the rag and trusting what you know

Rippa came into heat this week. People talk about how dogs go “off” or what have you because of this and you know, as a woman, I get it. Sometimes you just feel awful. And heat lasts a solid month – yup. Cranky.

This time last year, Rippa completely quit ducks, and almost quit sheep. People blamed her heat and I thought it was her and . . . soul searching and what not, I thought – no, it’s totally me.

Well, she’s in heat again and it’s not TOTALLY me.

She was great on cows yesterday though started to give up toward the end – but these are not short little sessions at this point. The dog is working a solid hour or so with short water breaks or what not most of the time.  I’m fairly tolerant of her getting over it because it’s not doing a chore for an hour, it’s being messed with for an hour. It’s cool.

But today, I went out to sheep and my friend Roland was there. Roland was as excited to see me as I was to see him so we kind of chatted with eachother while I worked Rippa. Rippa did NOT have patience for that. And I figured that out right away.

We also had a lamb that would break off and not stay with the group, and she had very little patience for that, too. Normally that would mean she would go harder on the lamb and teach it a lesson, but today?

Toss your paws up in the air and say “Eff that lamb, I’m not working it.”

We stopped trying to deal with said lamb and just went to fenceline fetching and take pens and holding pressure and such and that made Rippa happy. Gathering that errant lamb? KRISTIN, I HAVE CRAMPS. WHERE IS MY MIDOL?

I took her and the Fury over to sheep after, and The Fury is doing just awesome there. Her leg is great and she’s giving to the pressure of the ducks and taking flanks, it’s awesome.

Rippa, however? SCREW YOU, LAGGING DUCK.  Where she’d normally back off and be patient, she literally scooped the duck up and dragged it forty feet before I was able to stop her and let her know, “Heck no, we do not do that!” And quit her.

Looks like Rippa’s fuse is short today. She and the Fury got into a tussle twice in close quarters and now she’s laying on my bed groaning. Ehhhh . . . cramps, man, what you going to do?

In other news, I entered another trial in March. My husband says that despite me not liking to trial, he feels it’s a good investment to get me to stop freaking out and be good at it. The Woods might go for support and to check it out (and the huz, too) but I don’t expect anyone to.  I feel pretty good about this trial this time because ever since I stopped worrying about how it looked and her obedience, we’ve found our rhythm.

I have been doing not a lot with Rippa on cows aside from outruns and fetching and let her feel out how they work. She’s quit trying to take body shots and cheap shots and is pretty dang good at hitting the nose and poll to stop them. She’s also not taking shots at all and patiently waiting for them to move under pressure. Shannon says we both look a million times better and as Rippa gets to feel the cows out, she’s getting way better in the biddablity department, too.

Same with sheep. Roland was like, “Wow, night and day” (just like Maxine promised) and “Wow, I like that little dog.” She is balancing and working and being honest. No cheap shots because she has control.

It’ll be different in a trial situation for sure, but now I “get it” where I didn’t before. And by that, I get that “I know what is best” for my dog and I need to stay true to that. I think I’ve said it before, but this is a huge weakness for me in life. Other people trust their instincts, their guts, their feelings – I don’t. I completely mistrust them – I need to gather opinions and logic before I act a lot of time. It makes be a pretty good leader/team player because of that, but it paralyzes me in the face of adversity or accusation. Stockdogging is super good for your personality quirks.

And finally, I wish I had a video of it, but Roland was separating one lamb out and working just it with his border collie, Jessie. It was a thing of beauty. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone try to deliberately do what he was doing, or if I have (because I can think of a few times), it was never so impressive. Jess was working them like a person would. She’d work slowly, methodically, watch the sheep – try something – adjust to whatever it caused . . . and all Roland asked for was a “there” or a “bring her.” No commands, just pure thinking dog, and it was a thing of beauty to see her hold that lamb’s pathway despite a billion other draws.

It was just . . . stockdoggy perfection.

The line between instinct and self control: we have found it.

My view on the way to Stephanie’s.

An interesting thing has happened with Rippa that hasn’t happened with Fury. When I started training Fury again on sheep and ducks, Rippa and Fury worked a lot a like in terms of how they were reading and the control that was happening. Granted, I was giving Fury slack for bad handling mistakes of the past and not working in a few years, but I felt like they were kind of in the same spot with training.

Rippa has utterly surpassed Fury in the last few weeks and the contrast is making it really obvious to me. It may be mileage, but I think it’s more to credit our work on cows than anything.

My dogs have a lot of drive and instinct to DO SOMETHING with animals. It has felt, with both of them, that I have a lot of raw energy that I have to keep under control with my handling, but something has definitely shifted with Rippa.

We’d been working roping steers the last few weeks and they have a way different dynamic than the older cows and the calves the Woods now have. There was this one steer that was a bully to the other one and made it really hard to control the whole herd. Rippa quickly ID’d that steer and wanted to work him and sacrifice the group because she was so annoyed with him (I assume – I felt the same way handing him). But with the careful, patient prodding of what to do with that situation from Shannon, I’ve been handling Rippa different and putting more obedience on things. When she goes to pick them up, I drop her just before her adrenaline takes control and she goes too hard to control them. I call her off the steer, etc.

It, in turn, has given her space to make decisions and think, finally. Our last session on cattle was really nice because she was doing that. A lot of the reason we’re not killing it at this point is that I’m still bad at handling and reading the situation, but Shannon had a nice thought on that: “You’re worried about what your dog is going to do. Keep worrying about her until you don’t have to, then you can worry about what you’re doing.”

But this all really came together on Stephanie’s sheep last time.

She has a LOT more sheep than when we started now because lambing season’s over (though there are some late lambs in the mix) and everyone’s all together again instead of separated out. That means I have a bigger herd to sort from and it’s a little harder because if I try to sort out of the pen she keeps them in, the light ones stay to the front and the heavy ones to the back, so I have to let them all out and then go over to this small, weird shaped pen with a point at the back and sort them into there because the leader sheep go first.

But, never overfill your pen, ESPECIALLY if it has a point at the back that they can get stuffed in.

It’s happened before and it happened again, I had one of the rams in there and when Rippa went to move them out of the pen, he wasn’t having it. Backed up and faced her, stamping, ready to charge. That kind of thing in a little pen isn’t good so I tried a couple things to fix the situation (like sending her on the outside of the pen, but he just rammed the fence), so I ended up putting her on a down and dragging him out by his horns. He was still being a jerk and backed himself into a corner and wouldn’t move. I tried backing Rippa’s pressure up with my stick but he wasn’t having it.

Rippa’s frustrated, but patiently waiting for me to do something. She doesn’t want to walk up on him because he’s going to charge her so she wants help. She literally says, “I don’t want to start a fight with him, but I don’t know what to do.” This, the dog that was bite first, ask questions later six months ago.

So, I told her she could hit him. She did a lot of yelling and feinting to try to make her point, but finally decided he needed some hits, so she would hit, reasses, hit again, reassess. This happened a few times, great shots to the poll until he still wouldn’t move and she hit him in the ear. That worked. For a bit. 

We had to have a couple gos with him, and I got some sheep out to get him moving nicely again (she had to heel the sheep to get them to move out of that little point, which was a bummer – not what I want her take pen experience to be like)– putting him away quickly, but the key was that even with Rippa hitting him, she didn’t let her instinct and stress get the best of her. It was hit, reassess, warn, hit, reassess.  She didn’t get him fixed with the hits, but I really don’t know what she was going to do because he would rather get bit by her than just run and give to the pressure.

Moreover, that would have had her all emotionally charged for her work the rest of the time, but she settled into the basic working jobs just fine . . . penning, working on calling off the top, driving.

I’m still sucking at the driving thing still – I can do fine with it along fencelines, but neither I nor Rippa feel like she’s got control on the drive away from them. It’s fine. I’ve been working on getting better responsiveness before we move on to that seriously.

And talk about giving to pressure – we have a cat who hates the dogs. Fury cannot help herself but to growl on back and charge the cat, but Rippa? She just turns her head away and gives the cat her space.

It’s very cool. I feel like we’ve hit a milestone in maturity with her. I had been wondering if it would ever be a natural, easy fetch and plain work without a lot of me having to watch her – the answer is yes, it is.

Good dog.

Curt Pate Part 2: The notes

You can read part 1 here.

Dustin Wood uses his horse’s butt as a wing (as mentioned below).

Mr. Pate’s cattle clinic was one of the best clinics I’ve been to for a number of reasons:

1. It was ridiculously cheap.
2. I understood the stock more clearly than I ever have. We always focus on our dogs and the stock aren’t really as much of the equation. They should be. This clinic helped me get there.
3. The first hour or so, I basically felt like I had a lot of work to do (especially if I want to trial on horseback . . . those horses take a LOT of work).
4. Some things that I’ve been feeling out but not told got solidified. I think I’m definitely at the beginning stages of mastering this stuff in that I can see things, and I can also see things I don’t know.

Curt started his clinic with everybody on horseback as he lectured about what he did, and then he took to doing warmups with the horses. I thought this was great. I’m sure everyone was wanting to get to the good stuff (moving cattle), but reality is a good check. Is YOUR team fired up?

General Thoughts

Think of this as smooth stockmanship – that’s how he thinks of low-stress stockmanship. No hurky jerky. Things just flow. Look for it. Stay ahead of the action – if you have problems, you’ve acted too late. Look way ahead, not right in the thick of the business at the moment.

Curt didn’t have a lot of money back when he started, so he made a deal with himself: he could attend one clinic and never go back. It was his job to get the most out of it he could. I  LOVE this. Most clinics, people just kind of treat them like a lot of lessons back to back. Kathy Warren had remarked last clinic that I was good for keeping my journal and she wished people were writing more things down (that’s partly why I do this public blog, so it’s down for everyone). If you paid attention and asked the right questions, why do you need to go back? You learned it. Apply it.

When in doubt – keep things simple and easy. Your equipment doesn’t matter (and don’t use equipment until you manage the basics (this means sticks, spurs, etc). Your handling of the animals matters.

He has a rule about the horseback clinic: your horse can’t get into a lope (or gallop). If you need to – you’re too late.  Keep everything under control. I loved this because Kathy is always reminding me that I need to not run – if I’m running, I’m wrong. I’m athletic enough to run, but keep it under control. Running – it’s out of control.

Good stockmanship means you’re 100% self aware at all times.

When you put a command on and the pressure on, release for the START of the movement, not for the movement itself. Remember that bad stuff happens because you’re late. (Great advice for dog handling, too.)

** Movement creates movement** This is the cardinal rule of livestock. Always keep moving – they see movement better than contrasts. Keep their mind on you  and they won’t have time to see other things.  This is what goes on when a dog runs to other stock in another pen – their mind isn’t on the stock you’re working for one reason or another. Keep their mind.

Horseback Thoughts

1. Smooth horses – work to have a horse that transitions with its gait smoothly, that can get to business and then calm. That can just stand there calmly. He says he doesn’t like “cowy” horses because they’re hyped on adrenaline. Better if they’re just doing what you ask without adding more energy. (I have always felt about this with Fury in agility – seems like the same applies to stockdogs – you get in trouble when the dog gets amped. Look for dogs that can return to calm when the challenge isn’t needed.)

2. Do a little exercise where you have the horse move ONE foot forward and one foot back. Those tiny steps are important. (Same as with advanced stockdog work.) You want a responsive horse (and dog).

3. It’s the human presence that matters on the horse (or the dog presence). They look for predatory movement – a drone can’t work a herd of cattle.

4. The cattle will feel pressure of the horse like a dog does – a cowy horse will put more pressure on them because it’s watching them.

5. When you get into an arena, everyone rides clockwise – don’t do it – be ambidextrous with everything. Ride with both hands in both directions.

6. Your horse should have 3 slow gaits: a lively walk where the horse has its ears up and is watching something, a slow walk that’s straight (this part is hard), and a straight back up. (Sounds good for dogs, too, but that straight backup is something else . . . ) Don’t ride horses next to rails because they crutch on it for going straight – pick something in the distance and have them go straight to it.

Turning a cow? Back up out of the flight zone and turn into it – work those angles. Don’t go straight to a cow, think about what it sees.

Horses (and dogs) should give to you

- Get them with a soft feel. You can pull on a horse and give to pressure? He doesn’t want that. What he wants is reins short and just the small fingers of your hand tighten – that’s the soft feel. Set neck is just pretty, not function.

- If the horse is rolling its bit while you work on drills, that’s good – it means he’s thinking. You want a thinking horse. But pay attention to how amped it gets, a horse amped will amp cattle – that’s not smooth handling. (Same with dogs.)

- Pay attention to your horse – they have a really hard time with more than one thing. Don’t pull the reigns and kick with the legs – one or the other. You should be able to rock your horse’s weight gently by just using one or the other. Just the saddlehorn will move.

Don’t just worry about your horse – worry about you: are you approaching straight on, from the side, looking at your stock or not. This all matters. (Or wearing a skirt. Never again.)

Your horse should be able to go forward and turn into the flight zone as well as go back and turn out of it. Same with dogs, I’d say.

You should never have to turn more than 180 degrees on a horse. Spinning is silly. Get good at 1/4 turns that stay in place, both backward and forward.

- Draw a line and take a 1/4 turn in a circle.

- The horse should turn straight rather than bend

Smooth stockmanship is precise: you can put your partner exactly where they need to be.

Cattle Handling

When you do a take pen, you can do as little as you need to – you don’t have to go to the back of the pen. (He goes halfway in and stands there – it creates leader cow flow and the rest follow calmly.)

Driving: the farther behind the cattle you are, the more out of control you are. A dog just walking up isn’t doing much other than following the drift: he should be wearing a little – working the sides where the cows can see them. A dog that works wide allows for the animal to not have to turn and look for the dog when it’s behind it: helps in keeping the cattle calm. We try to work dogs and horse and ourselves in a straight line but it’s not natural to on stock.

If a cow moves away from pressure on one side, it will look on the other side to see if there’s pressure there. (The fatter a cow gets, the less flex they have to look.)

The way to change a cow’s mind is to get their attention – that’s all. If a cow is eating, all you need to do is come into their field of vision and change their mind about food and put attention on you. they’ll look up and see their buddies moving and move, too. You pick up a group by picking up the leaders and the others will follow so long as they are watching the leaders.

If a cow is trying to get by you, you need to ride/run up next to them, and then fall back. The cow will look back at you and you can then step in to turn them. (Lots of self control needed here for everyone.)

If you ride with the cattle (aka parallel drive), it will keep their mind on you and you won’t need as much dog or cow. In a parallel drive, turn your chest away to take pressure off.

Are the cattle in a corner? Walk in, find the balance point until one turns in, then back out. Readjust, always looking for that balance point and walk out, working that side. If you get too excited and too close, the cattle will stop to look at you and it will stop the flow, resulting in less smooth, clean movement.

You can’t move cattle looking in different directions. Get them to look the same direction and they’ll naturally drift in that direction.

Should you make noise? If you have to, but too much noise will cause them to turn and look back at the noise: stopping flow. Don’t yell.

What if cattle are “trotty” (or light, as I have used to describe them)?

You might have to get aggressive with them to teach them to take the pressure, but always be able to pull out of it (again, need a dog that calms down and gets out when it’s not needed). It’s just like handling dogs, or horses. Get after bad behavior and then don’t nag or over correct after. Some people think they have what they takes to do this, but they don’t and they can’t control their emotions (and some dogs). If the cattle don’t get it, you can push more. He used to push and release but he says it doesn’t work. Push and half-release. That can work.  Though, when you first start working stock, it’s a good idea to release all of it until you know you can do more. It’s finite work.

Do you want to line cattle out? Work the leader. The rest will follow.

You can draw stock into you without someone at the top of the arc. Get in front of the eye, and then pull back and they will look and draw you – changing the mindset of the direction they were going. Don’t use eye – eye will cause them to turn. This is called “hooking the eye.”

Watch the lead cattle, but if you focus too much on them, the others see you coming up and will stall out.

You can stop cattle/sheep from panicking with wearing – they will see what’s going on.

You can use a horse’s butt as a wing if you’re working panels: use the head and it will be too much pressure for the stock to pass.

Sorting stock for a run? Go in and look for the stock that feel your presence most (turn their heads away from you) – those are the ones that will work great.

Second lesson on cattle at the Woods’

This afternoon, I loaded Rippa up and we paid Shannon and Dustin Wood’s little spread in Atascadero, pretty much on the same road I use to get to Stephanie’s sheep rentals, just the opposite direction. Highway 41 is the big win in stockdog land.

I’m still feeling out how to approach the Woods’ lessons. They’re pretty open to me just doing my thing, but also super psyched to help me out and I’m trying to learn when to do my thing and when to take their advice – my thought is generally to listen to what they have to say, give it a try a couple times and I or the dog aren’t getting it, to go to what we know and ponder it. I think it’s working.

For example, Dustin had just built a round pen on his property (a dang fine one, by the way – post-holes dug and strung tight) and he says since they put it up, they’ve been using it every day. They like to warm their dogs up on it with their goats before putting them on cattle, and work on fundamentals.

Rippa and I haven’t been in a round pen in forever because of how Stephanie’s set up is, so we gave it a go, trying some outrun training handling advice but not getting so far so I went back to what she and I know well.  Basically, again, is that the message is, is that I’ve been lazy.

With Fury, who naturally took her outruns pretty easy from what I remember, I never really had to worry about the finesse of starting them (for example, laying them down with their shoulder to the stock so they’re facing the way you want them to run), and so with Rippa, who I had had so much trouble starting in the first place, I have been letting just laydown facing them. No more. The Woods got on me about consistently asking for it and it would come. Good. Thing #1 to work on. Okay.

I should also note that working with them, with their dogs, I feel like the laziest trainer ever – their dogs take commands. Rippa takes the suggestion and I have to handle her harder. Partly, Rippa’s never been fast on the response during stock and I was happy to get what I got, and partly I am being lazy. There’s no reason I can’t get the same level of obedience out of her at this point, so I need to start working on my expectations of her trained behaviors. She’ll take ten feet to down, five feet to stop, and a while to “get back” or take her flanks. I need it now and I need to remember to make sure I get it now. It will help her outruns, too, if I an get her to stop and take her flanks. Thing #2 to work on.

Shannon talks to me about how I really need to train Rippa to respect the stick. She shows me with her own dog on a leash how if she points the stick at her dog (off stock), she’ll immediately turn her shoulder and try to get out of her space. I take the stick and poke at my dog, who looks inquisitively. We laugh. This is a really big point to me because when I worked both my dogs, I saw the stick as the enforcer and direction giver, and both Stephanie and the Woods see it as a little something more. I’m not sure I’ve seen Kathy Warren do the kind of stick ground work my BC people have suggested, but I may just not have been “seeing it” back when I was regularly taking lessons. Either way, thing #3 to work on.

We then moved into the cattle. They’d recently lost one of their Holstein heifers so picked up some replacement beef calves at the sale. Dustin said they hadn’t really been worked or dog broke yet so if we had to separate them out, he would. Well, no worries there. Rippa went right to them this time and got to work and they stayed just fine with the dairy cattle, with one red heifer seeming to always get herself out and chased back in – but I’d also say that she was also doing that because Rippa was too tight and pushing her out to start.

I started Rippa by just having her walk up their heels to keep her easy and cranked down (because Rippa is PSYCHED to actually WORK CATTLE) and once she started lifting them off the fence, we started the real training. The Woods’ have a lot of panels set up in their arena for finite obstacle work and to use to help teach the dogs to work in that kind of pressure, so I was able to use the panel to send Rippa out wider than I could without them. Once she figured that trick out, we had things pretty much dialed to lift them and fetch them to me. 

Despite me starting her at the heels, Shannon observed that I should send her to the heads, and so I did, pushing her back after they turned. The one time I didn’t was the one time the fetch didn’t work out, so I learned a really good lesson there for my dog – despite her early starts being more heel work, she’s got big head instinct and to let her use that to feel in control.

The other thing that the Woods taught me was something I definitely wouldn’t have thought about . . . what happens when your group divides? In the beginning and occasionally toward the end of the lessons, one or two of the cattle would break off. This blows Rippa’s mind because she has a really strong sense of group but she’s also a bit insecure about working without me at a distance on the cattle (and I mentioned this is an issue on bigger distances with  the sheep, too). She doesn’t know whether to come into me with the lots of cattle or to go get the ones she wants to. So Dustin told me, hey, if she has a group handled, you go to the other one. Doing that makes her feel secure and she’ll think better and just bring the cattle over, which she did. In the same vein, if I have a group handled and one lone cow, if I want her to bring that cow to the group, just walk up to the cow without saying anything to her and she’ll go pick it up and then I can walk back to the group. Generally you want to follow the “bring the many to the one” rule I like to live by, but if you have a relatively easy straggler, man, that works so well.

Well, it works so well if your dog has the instinct and power to do it, which, hey, sparkle, mine does.

When we finished up, Dustin was very effusive about her, “She did really, really, really, good. That was really nice. By the end there she was getting them out of the corner, biting them where she should be, and 100% better than the first time in there today and way better than last time you were here.”
That means a lot coming from them, as they’ve got some very, very fine dogs and their handling is beautiful, quiet, and confident.

Rippa’s improvement is pretty in keeping with how it’s been with her. Once she gets it (or I do), she gets it pretty thoroughly. Having done what we did in there with half unbroke calves and only our second time on cattle in almost a year . . . I can confidently say we’d get through an ASCA started course, no problem. Maybe not get the highest score out there yet, but like her mother, she’s definitely more a cow dog. All that power and grip she wants to use on the sheep and goats stops being quite as stress-gratuitous on cattle and she settles down really easy and reads her stock.

No problems walking up on their heads if the cattle we standing, lifting out of corners patiently, lifting off of fence panels. It was pretty dang awesome.

And it looks like I have a standing weekly date with them if we’re both available. Can’t wait to learn more. Better get started on that ground work.

The Chain of Positive Thinking

Well, I think that the chat with Stephanie and my huz worked. Today, Rippa and I did our thing and it was mostly glorious. She’s getting out when I ask and not shaving the top off like she was. She pens spectacularly. We did some arena obstacles (free standing pen and some panel work), she fetched for me and kept pretty balanced up, she drove a couple feet, and her outruns are getting better – I’ve actually gone back to standing in between her and the sheep (which I couldn’t do for a long time because she’d dive in and fight me) so that front looks like it’s going to progress. And all with the stock stick and not my big ol’ bottle pole.

But, yeah, I definitely can handle a started class in ASCA at this point, so long as I hold it together and the sheep aren’t awful.

I’ll talk about my driving technique next time probably, but I wanted to muse on this a bit.

I have a Kindle and it comes loaded up with a book called “The Flinch” – its premise is simple: we wait for our showers to warm up before getting in them to avoid “the flinch” – being uncomfortable. He says, “No! Get in right away! Get used to the flinch. Embrace the flinch!”

The flinch is that tiny push out of your comfort zone, that, if you do it enough, becomes within your comfort zone. I tend to live my life this way in general, but the dog stuff had me stagnating. I finally got my sheep, and then when I got into the arena, I was like, “No way can I do this, these sheep!” and then today, it all came together.

Our sorting wasn’t great to start, but we got ‘er done. We had mistakes and hiccups in training and handling, but yeah. And I realized that I’d pushed out enough by going to Doug and reminding myself that I have to get out of the comfort zone and work to HANDLE that dog and it came together. This made me realize that my comfort zone of “we’re just learning, not yet” isn’t cool.

It’s why I haven’t actively tried to get my duck setup and look for cattle to work. Yesterday I went out to the Best Family Farm and we looked over the setup and got a plan together – I think the huz is looking at next week to build out the duck housing area and it’s time to order my little runners.

On the drive home, I realized I should also probably act on another thing in my head – getting Rippa on some cattle. With all the cow-calf pairs out there, it’s soon to be weaning time and  that’s when I get some nice calves to work. I had my husband write an email to a friend of his that does rodeo work, and I have a couple other ideas for that, too. But better to line it up now than sit on it.

Because sitting on it avoids “the flinch.”

That’ll do, reader. That’ll do.

When it’s time to let the dog just do the work . . .

So the last two sessions (if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m working twice a week at Stephanie’s) have gotten better and better. So much so that this session, I thought, “Well, I should get off the big stick crutch and use the little stick.”

But this is a bad idea. We get so ahead of ourselves we forget how much foundation we need to lay to change so many things. Rippa is just now starting to figure out how to work in a larger space without the fence for help – why would I add something else to that mix if she hasn’t got it dialed? And so, no, I stayed with my 8 foot stick.

But I have to say, this work today was pretty flawless in terms of my setting expectations.

We are now just sorting the sheep ourselves. Stephanie generally lets the sheep out and then sorts out the sheep she wants into a smaller squeeze chute off the arena, but I’ve been taught how to sort with just a gate so all I need to do is ask Rippa to walk up to the sheep, and she’ll easily go around the barn obstacle and bring them to me and the gate. They didn’t really want to do that today (instead wanting to circle), so it took a few goes, but once Rippa got what I wanted, she positioned herself in a balanced spot so that the sheep would stop in front of the gate.

It takes some work to pull the adult lesson sheep out of the lambs, but she would inch forward without my asking as I needed it and we got a good batch of four sheep today.

As soon as we got them out, they headed to the middle of the arena, so while I closed the gate, I let Rippa get them without giving her a command. She starts out slow to see if I want it to happen and if I say nothing, she starts heading toward them.

It’s not a beautiful outrun where she stays way outside their flight zone and then dips in at the top – it’s a pretty rough gather in that she just kind of tips in and banks them toward me, but she does it, and then when they come up to me at the gate, she stops herself. I’m good with that. That’s healthy, happy, functional work and we can work on the fancy later – the foundation for what’s expected (calm control of the livestock) is laid and she’s half-way out of the arena getting them so hey, I’m happy.

The sheep are nearly always spooked, but I have figured out that if I show them how Rippa controls them (unlike the eye-dog BCs she’s used to who work them very differently) by doing silent half-moons on the fence while Rippa balances up and reads her sheep, we can start going.

And so we did. We headed out all the way to the end of the arena and back – not straight, mind you, lots of zigging, but we did it.

At this point, I think I need to focus on handling my end of the sheep because they are light enough to just blow past me if I don’t sometimes block them and let Rippa figure out where she needs to be to stop running like crazy as she wears them back and forth  - she’s getting wider and wider and will go “out” if I remind her, but I don’t really want to have to keep “out”ing her, so I’m trying to keep it to a minimum – right now my goal is less command oriented and more just letting Rippa use her instinct and knowledge to work the sheep.

I have to say – it’s fun to watch. Now that she’s learned not to go flat on the top but that with sheep like this, you win by getting further out, it’s cool to watch her do it. She gets a massive workout because the sheep don’t easily settle  and she can’t just fall in behind them – she’s got to move to each side to check on the sheep and she’s got to poke them back in (but then they over correct and it’s back to the other side), but it looks good from where I sit.

Last lesson, we did some center pen work (FABULOUS) but I made the mistake of opening the gate to send her in and the whether with horns fully rammed her. Rippa didn’t blink – she just went back to work – not even made at the ram, but definitely watching him.

This work there was a ewe that kept breaking off (I mentioned this ewe in earlier lessons a couple months ago) and Rippa did a great job of not letting her get too far. She tends to drop the singleton if they get out too much and go, naturally, to the bigger group and bring them to her – I can hear Kathy yelling, “Bring the many to the one!” I’m impressed the dog is doing it. I’m not sure I want her to do that in trialing scenarios, but it shows me her stock sense and I’ll let her  have it.

And then, since she’d been working so hard, we got back to the gate, she balanced up, I opened the gate, and we put them away.

It was pretty great. Not all days will be that great, but it’s tangible progress and feels great after a few weeks ago when I was nervous that the arena was too big and the sheep too light.

The plan now is to keep putting miles on until Rippa manages them herself, then go to the short stick, and then we’ll start working on some issues (the less than beautiful outrun, she goes a little flat on the top instead of staying out) and refining our commands.

Arena Video Footage–I need to calm down

Thinking I was going to fly to Canada today, it turns out I’m going on Thursday. So, I thought, why not one more lesson in the arena? There was some neat stuff I saw here that people learning about this might like to see so I roped my husband into video taping it for me. Boy howdy, did I need to see the tape. I am really lucky I have tough dogs, guys. I need dogs who keep going even though I’m being hard on them, because I really, really need to work on that.

As I said, last time was the first time in the big arena for us and she showed me a lot of really neat stuff, but I was having a hard time with outruns and such. Watching the video, I’m pretty sure someone needs to put a shock collar on me. I am so freaked out that the dog is going to be bad, I don’t set her up to be good.

Case in point – when I start her, I start her maybe twenty feet from the sheep in an arena. Watching the video, she’s totally being responsive to me, but she’s excited to go and I’m worried so I don’t send her, and we amp up. It’s not until I get way back and give everyone space that everything goes mostly well for newbs in an arena. Watching Rippa like this reminds me this is how Fury used to be before I put too much pressure on her when she came into contact with me. Sigh.

Anyway, things I am learning from working in the arena: I need to take advantage of that space because Rippa and I both ease off if we give eachother room to make mistakes without being harsh. With the sheep close in on the initial outruns, they have a whole arena to run at, so they do, and I’m making Rippa work close under real pressure from me instead of JUST GO. So I need to JUST go when we start and stop stressing if it’s not perfect. This is the stage where Rippa and I have to learn to read our sheep and control them without fencelines, not worry about perfection.

So, here’s the video. It’s pretty long but it’s because I wanted to include a couple things: how hard I start Rippa and where it’s really obviously I need to stop doing that. Working on teaching her to pick the sheep up off the fence and bring them to me without too much help – you’ll see her fail a couple times, and do her customary “shut down” I talk about, but then it gets it together. And then, in the end, we have a nice lift off the fence and I take the sheep for a jog. I don’t know why I felt like jogging, but I did, and she kept them balanced even then.

I did take the time to start a little drive on her that doesn’t show. I’d noticed that she was really taking commands from me so a little “it’s okay to drive the sheep” in there wouldn’t fry her. It lasted like two minutes. I decided I shouldn’t add too much new stuff. Now that I’m getting used to being my own guide, I’m quite liking how it’s making me feel. I sense myself relaxing into everything I’ve learned over the years and finally taking ownership of it.

So now I really am off for a month and we’ll come back on work on my crappy starts on sheep and just letting Rippa learn to handle her sheep (including that damned red one that flips out all the time).  Oh and the #1 thing: Trust your dog, Kristin . . . TRUST YOUR DOG. It’s when you’re a jerk that she freaks out.

Playing with the Big Kids: We Move to the Arena

I try to write every time we get on stock because it helps me solidify thoughts and feelings, and it’s pretty realistic to look at the archives and see how much work/how many sessions have gone into this. I skipped a work on Friday.

After the nice session we had in the round pen, I decided it was probably time to move to the arena to give her more to do, work on outruns, and not let the small enclosure become a crutch for us. I thought it was a good time to take a lesson with Stephanie to transition, so signed up for one. Her style is very different in some ways, but the changes she’s encouraged have made a world of difference in our partnership so I think it’s a good idea to have her involved when I feel ready for it.

When I showed up, she had sheep in the round pen for me and not in the arena like I wanted, but I went with it. She said she’d seen me using the flag wrong and wanted to fix it. “You were moving into Rippa – but with the flag, you have to move away. And you can’t use it too much or it will become a crutch.”

So, back to the stick. That went fine, but she started throwing lots of new things at us – she critiqued how I started my outruns, and after a bit of confusion which riled me and the sheep and the dog up, I had to stop and find out what exactly she wanted. What she wanted was completely the opposite of how I’ve learned to teach outruns (go between the sheep and the dog, then transition to slingshots, then move further and further), but was more about trusting the dog to learn to pick the sheep up while it makes mistakes. I kept trying to do it, but it was really, really difficult. Eventually I figured out a hybrid of the two that worked for us all – which is that instead of slingshotting, I walk in the direction I’m going to send Rippa and then send her. It keeps her out wide when she starts.

Then Stephanie started trying to make me send Rippa on her flanks but I know that we’ve spent time just trying to get easy flanks and she really doesn’t take flank commands yet, nor do I expect her to. So Stephanie was like, “Well, then, lie her down if she doesn’t take them and make her.”

It was just a lot of change for both of us, and my handling started to fall apart and then Rippa stopped covering her sheep, and then . . . I admit . . . I started crying. I haven’t cried doing stockdog stuff (at least during a lesson) that I know of ever, so I thought it was a good sign that I was comfortable with Stephanie’s reaction to the crying to allow it, while also being just REALLY frustrated.

Everyone tells me that Rippa is stubborn or spoiled, but I do know my dog and I’ve been training dogs for years so when I say I know how she learns and “make excuses for it” I really feel I do know. When Rippa shuts down, she does it because she doesn’t know what to do at all. Stephanie was like, “Just make her do it” but my inclination was to just go back to what we knew to reinforce us both. It’s frustrating taking lessons from people when you have your own idea about how things work. I need to work on one thing at at a time, and I think Stephanie may be a bit eager to have me improve in leaps and bounds and thinks I can take it, but I can’t. And I cried.

So we took a break and she moved me into the arena and said to just do what I normally do and forget everything she said, and we did. And we did pretty well. Rippa behaved well and you could see her learning how to manage the sheep in a larger arena, but definitely we had work to do.

And so here we are today. I am taking off for an entire month of travels next week, and I was pretty booked but I wanted one more lesson in the arena before we took the time off so she could think on it (yeah, I do think they do, because they seem to always come back a little better after time off).

So, I just rented sheep. I brought the flag and the short stick and here we were. Rippa has some eye to her, and some power, so we spent the first couple minutes just following the sheep to let them settle after we went into the arena. I started out with the flag because I have no confidence (see me thinking hindsight here) and she picked them up a little sloppy, so that was what we worked on. As soon as it was nice, we started trucking around the arena (the goal for a bit here is mileage and letting Rippa learn how to balance to her sheep in this environment with minimal “training” from me for a while), but she got too close in so I started trying to push her with the flag. And then I remembered what Steph said about the flag and put it back, picking up the stick.

And from there, things went well. I used her method of starting the out runs and then trying to take walks into the arena. Rippa would do really good, then put some pressure and lose her sheep, come back and get them, etc. Eventually she started to settle and handle things a lot more evenly – without much guidance from me except some stick and pressure and then, more importantly, taking it off. She was like, “Why yes, sheep can walk” which was pretty awesome.

We’d get about halfway and then this one particular sheep would peel off and return “home” to the gates and I would take the opportunity to leave the parked sheep and encourage her to “look back” and get the sheep. She built up her confidence on this task and by the third time, she wasn’t carefully following her and looking back at me, but charging after her to stop her and then backing off as she turned and headed back up to my other flock.

She also started doing distance gatherings with me far away – slow, easy approaches, I could see her “outing” herself along the fence and really reading her sheep. She’d take it slow and easy with me a 100 meters out and seeing which way they leaned, fixing it, and bringing them to me. Once they got to me, she’d balance up and we’d take a walk. Eventually she’d push too hard, and we’d have to start cleaning it up again, but I think probably just mileage and confidence will help there.

I started trying to do Stephanie’s out-run flank “down” thing that I talked about above for a bit, but decided this was way too much new stuff and to leave it be.

I saw some really good stuff today. Calm, thinking, and I think she’s going to have an easier time learning the drive than most dogs I’ve seen start because of this. I remember when we first started and Trish made a comment after working her that she was a “finals-quality" dog that really got me motivated but I haven’t really felt that way about her until today.

All that battling and her going hard and all I needed to do was take the pressure off and she’s gathering sheep up half a field away without ever doing it before like it’s old hat. Her stopping and listening to my commands without me having to yell. Me just being pretty sure that no one is going to get harassed and injured enough for me to just stand there and watch what happens.

We’ve both come a long way in this. I was terrified to do anything on my own without someone “who knew” watching me, but I am starting to really feel that I do know, especially when it comes to my dog, how to do this.

I don’t think we’ll make it to finals – I just don’t have the years of experience trialing, and I honestly don’t love the trial atmosphere and never really have, so I probably won’t get the experience you need. Like that book I was really excited about says, to be a champion takes real sacrifice and I’m not motivated to do that.

But I hope when I’m ready to go for this, that we do well.

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.

W Lazy J Camp: Stuff I Thought About

Being in a totally different environment really made things I “knew” stand out to me while at cattle camp. Things I probably haven’t written about before because I took them for granted.

These are little notes I made to myself about my works and observations throughout camp:

• Keep your mouth to a minimum. When I (and many other people) get nervous, I tend to run my mouth a lot. I kept it shut when I was giving the cattle space, but once it was clear they were heavy and I wasn’t just letting Rippa try stuff out, I think I kept my mouth running way too much. (Also, I’m loud, so other people commented on it.)
• It seems like if you don’t have a dog with experience to introduce your pup with for help, it’s nice to start the cattle in smaller areas and work them off the fence as Betty had me do – just teaching them to stay back and get between the cattle and the fence to fetch. She starts them in small pens because most dogs lack confidence in a big arena.
• If a dog goes crazy wahoo, it’s okay to put a line on them and correct them physically until they calm down and stay back. No line training at Kathy’s (except to catch them if they don’t recall) but I saw it used quite effectively here. It’s key that you use the line to show them where you want them, that you read the cattle so you can keep your restrained dog safe, and that you praise the dog when its in the right spot so it learns from that and not just the line restraint.
• When starting cattle, the first goal is confidence, then you can work drive and/or fetch, THEN you can work on finite training.
• Rippa starts really hard so I have to remember to do our z-recalls at least at first to calm her down.
• She also wants to quit when she gets mad, so doing outruns perks her up.
• Dogs without any exposure to a ranch can take longer to turn on because the stimuli are just so strong.
• For dogs showing stress behaviors (like checking out, eating grass or poop), make it fun. Don’t push and don’t let anybody’s frustration grow to a point that the dog feels all wrong. If they check out, DO NO punish them by dragging them or yelling to them. Get them, make it a party, and have the dog do something so she can be good.
• Bring the many to the one. A lot of handlers didn’t seem to know about this particular rule, but it made my life a lot easier than trying to catch one freaked out cow.

W Lazy J Cattle Camp

So, clearly the “get your own land” thing hasn’t worked out, though I’m still working on it. In the mean time, back in January I decided to give the famous Betty Williams’ clinics a go since I was saving so much money in not having any lessons. My huz was in full support and we decided to make it an adventurous road trip all over the Western US.

I wanted to go for a few reasons:

I’d heard a lot of good about Betty and her dogs and it seemed like a good way to find out about both, because despite my inactivity, my interest in learning is nowhere near dead.

I wanted to meet and see different people and dogs than I have met in the past – travelling is a sure way to get out of the usual.

Two years ago, Rippa was nice, but she just wasn’t powerful enough on Kathy’s cattle for me to feel good about having achieved my goal in creating good cattle dogs with her litter and I wanted to see what she did now that she’d grown into herself (I could have done this in California, but it provided the reason to do it in the first place).

I’ve been wondering if I really know how to start a dog on cattle, and learning from a different person would augment what I already knew. Now that Kathy’s retired, I’m more on my own and if this is a long term thing, I’ll need to work a little more on my own because I’m not the sort that enjoys devoting her life to traveling to stockdog clinics.

I’d say on all fronts this was a massive success. Huz and I packed up the F250 and headed North (then East), climbing and mountain biking along the way, until we landed at the W Lazy J ranch.

The clinic started out pretty much just like I was used to at Kathy’s, with much the same format: a lecture in the morning, then a run order that had the dogs go through twice and the day was over. Everybody ate dinner and lunch (and even breakfast) together.

I’ll talk about Betty’s methods as she taught them in a post following this one, including notes on her lectures, but I thought you’d appreciate more of an overview of how things went and what I learned.

Initial Impressions

Betty’s cattle were very different from Kathy’s lesson cattle. Maybe it was because they had been used to trial and do clinics on, but they were a lot heavier and more mellow about everything. Betty had to encourage me to get right up in there a number of times because I had been taught to be hyper aware of the cow’s flight zones and danger to myself and my dog.

She started most of the dogs in a smaller pen, about equivalent to Kathy’s “duck” pen with five cattle. Rippa went right to the cattle and enjoyed driving them around, but when she went to head, she wanted to keep doing it. Betty was trying to get me to hold Rippa back after she turned the heads in a drive and this was SO foreign to me that it took a while to figure out what Betty wanted of me. Eventually I got it:

This is a photo of me so close on the cows that I am running up to Rippa to push her back while trying to get out of the way of the cows at the same time. Toward the end, I was so good with the cows not being light that Betty had to tell me to watch getting kicked. I definitely got Rippa kicked in the beginning with all that pressure we were both putting on the cows, but after a while I figured out what Betty wanted and I don’t think the final two days we had any kicked dog action.

In other news, Rippa got the crap kicked out of her while I figured out this “turn the dog back and hold her there” thing. She generally went back to work, but thought a lot more about it and wasn’t quite as resilient as some dogs, but Rippa is a thinking dog and I was the one getting her kicked every time and she didn’t seem to hold that against me.

Another totally foreign concept was having the dog go between the cattle and the fence. I took this photo just for this blog:

This is Stef and Lena pulling the cattle off the fence. The handler grabs the dog by the collar to put pressure inside the fence and uses herself, the dog, and the stock stick to get them off, and then sends the dog through to the heads to get them off. This is not something I’d ever seen employed at Kathy’s and man, I failed miserably at it. The first time, I made such a big hole, it was definitely me pulling the cattle off so the second time, after watching other people do it, I didn’t make a big hole and still sent Rippa through. I should known better. Rippa got kicked because she felt too much pressure on the fence and bit a cow without anywhere for her or the cow to go. I didn’t make that mistake again, but I felt bad.

It really was a pretty effective method of getting the dog to take them off the fence. By the end, most of the hot-to-work dogs were figuring out how to peel them off themselves a bit (if not all the way) on their own without the collar handling, and it’s good to have that in your belt if you don’t have another way to do it (a second dog, or a person or something).

Betty mixed up this driving/fence work with fetching at what seemed at random or at the handler’s behest. I took her lead as I figured she was the one that was best equipped to tell me what to do with my dog. In the end, I think it was a little problematic to switch back and forth for Rippa. She would act very stubborn when you would work on one thing, go do something else, then go back to the new thing. She would really avoid doing what I asked (like get back with the rake or stick as a blocker), but having worked with her for a while now, I really think it’s more how she learns – Rippa gets resistant and cranky when you ask for too much and she doesn’t understand it. Once she does, she’s on it. I didn’t feel like Rippa got a good idea about driving OR fetching, because she was spending too much time trying to figure out what she was supposed to do and getting cranky about us pushing on her and changing the rules a lot. Maybe I’m being kennel blind and she’s just stubborn, but if I had a better idea of that and more of a relationship with Betty, I’d probably have advocated we just stick to one thing (fence work OR fetching) during the clinic so Rippa’d feel confident on it.

Rips had the same trouble she did two years ago on cattle during the fetch work – but I think for a different reason. Two years ago, Rippa didn’t really want to go to head, which was now no longer a problem:

Now she just had a hard time working away from me – so when she got on the other side of the cattle, and couldn’t get my help, she didn’t keep going to head and let them drift. Betty got out her Spur and had him work with her to give her the confidence she needed to get around and watch the heads and fetch them up.

This worked really well, but again, I was really worried about Rippa messing Spur up or running cattle over him. Kathy had always been careful about this when putting a green dog with her lessons assistant dog and usually had you shut up so you didn’t distract the dogs. These lessons, I definitely was not shutting up with all the “get back” and flank commands I was giving Rips to get her to fetch to head. Betty assured me Spur could handle it so eventually, I did to stop stressing, and sure enough, the cattle never ran him over. Again, I also think they are quite used to him, and us, and we’re as light and dangerous as Kathy’s cattle could be. 

Eventually, Rippa was fetching well on her own (and even pulled them off the fence into a fetch when they got there), but would lose it periodically because of that working away from me thing. When I asked Betty, she said she was guessing that since Rippa hadn’t been working in a long time, she just needed help working on fetching in general, much less on cattle. “You think they forget it?” “They can.” I guess I took the foundation for granted that Rips would pick it back up, but it does make sense that she needed some hand holding.

Conclusions

Overall, it was a good experience. Betty didn’t say a lot during lessons, which made me rely a lot more on my own knowledge – which at first was disconcerting since I was used to a constant flow of advice from Kathy. Once I stopped expecting Betty to tell me what I’d done wrong or right, I started feeling my own abilities to make those decisions (like in reference to the kicks I was causing) and I came away from it feeling like I could start a dog on cattle, light or heavy, based on my experience and that ten years of lessons on and off were not a huge waste on me. That was the goal.

I also am pretty happy with Rippa. She showed really good stockmanship, had enough power and presence to get the job done (and knowing her, if she really had figured it out, that power would ramp up a lot more), she responded pretty well to me except during those “stubborn” episodes, and I really liked what I saw. I have every confidence that she will be a nice cattle dog and is still a candidate for breeding since I want a good cattle dog line.

Betty’s was a really good place to start a dog on cattle, though I did feel like some people really didn’t respect that the cows would be different elsewhere and might have come away with an inflated sense of confidence of what their dogs could do on cattle in a trial. By the end I was quite sure I could get through a started course with Rippa and qualify (Betty had us do panels for the last lesson, I’m sure she’s used to people liking that experience) – but I’m not sure we could on the trial cattle I’ve been on in the past.

I also met some very different dogs than ones I’ve met previously, got some ideas about Aussies I hadn’t, met some lovely people, and got the snarly photo of Rippa I really wanted:

I also got a kick out of Rippa and Fury being correctly identified by one clinic attender as being Slash V based. She said they had that very clear Slash V look, even though Terry’s dogs are looking different these days. I got my type set, so success on that breeding goal as well. This photo below makes me think of Slash V’s landing page photo .  . . this is pre-stalk for Rippa, but yeah, I see similarities.

vs

Photos courtesy Stef Player and Yishai Horowitz

Starting a Dog on Cattle

So, as I have been writing, I’m attending a clinic that includes running your dogs on cattle. And, as the cycle simply is, pretty much everyone in camp right now has a young dog with limited or no exposure to cattle, so seeing everyone do their thing is really interesting to me.

How Kathy starts the dogs on them  -

First, it’s important that the cattle are as used to dogs as possible. They’ll group nicer, stay calm, and be less frightened of people (ie, smaller flight zone). These cattle are off the hill and then used for a trial the preceding weekend. There’s a reason that the advanced dogs go first in trials – to teach the cattle to mind dogs so by the time the started dogs get there, they’re less panicky.

Second, wide open spaces. It’s really a good idea to get your cattle out in a big space like an arena. Kathy uses a combination of a stick with a flag on it and her dogs to keep the cattle off the back fence (where home and safety are) so your dogs don’t get mashed up and smushed, and also to give them a chance to pick them up. The stick with a flag up also seems to freak the dogs out sometimes (it’s a bigger visual than the plain stick is), but it has a purpose. Anyway, like point number one, this is a safety thing.

With that said, man, watching young dogs start on cattle freaks me out. Some people intentionally won’t put their dogs on cattle because they worry about safety. I feel like I have cattle dogs so there is no reason to consider it an unnecessary risk, so I don’t get too freaked when they get into dangerous situations – but other dogs, I totally am on edge watching.

Anyway, the general approach to putting a new dog on cattle is this – set your cattle out in the middle of the arena and let the handler and dog follow them until the dog turns on. Then figure it out from there.

Most dogs, after a period of intimidation which involves running up to the cow and then running back to the handler, will slowly gain the confidence it takes to figure out they can move them. But I wouldn’t say “moving them” is a confidence shower in and of itself.

Most of the dogs, when they got confident moving them, started to yahoo a lot  -  heeling, then running to head and barking/feinting them to turn them around. But there was a lot of running and barking and unnecessary shots. Rippa was equally guilty of this, but still didn’t really have the confidence to head them. Some dogs never do. I think I covered headers and heelers earlier, so search that if you want to know why.

I was talking to Marilee about dogs bred for cattle and dogs not and I made the following observation about this, which I have pretty much considered truth after experiencing it in my own dogs. Very strong cattle dogs, when given the choice to fight or flight will pick fight. They will go in and do what it takes with a charging steer, but this also means that off stock, they are more likely to nip or be confrontational under pressure when other dogs would submit or avoid.

I actually got Rippa into trouble for that today. She and I were working in the pens and someone wanted to come through with her dog and watch. So there we are along the back panel, pretty close quarters – she and her dog, me, Rippa, and Kathy’s dog Denny. For the record, Rips has always been a little worried about other dogs – with time and socialization she’s mostly friendly, but if a dog runs up to her and intimidates her, she has no problem letting it know. Anyway, Denny is up in Rippa’s business so I make the mistake of trying to re-place her by laying her down between the two dogs, and Denny puts more pressure, Rippa looks at the gal’s dog, and he makes eye contact and leans toward her and it was just too much pressure for her so she lashed out at him for a second. I should have just read the situation and put her back by the front of the gate instead with us, but I was being dumb and novice. Now she is quite sure my dog wants to eat her dog when it was just a situation where my dog felt too much pressure and I wasn’t letting her get out of it by telling her to stay. My bad.

Anyway, it’s an interesting thing. Watching all these new dogs go from being intimidated and standing with their owners to charging the cattle, sometimes taking a hit, and going right back for more. But I also watched Kathy handle Teal on them – an experienced cattle dog who has to be about . . . 8 now? Anyway, confidence looks like Teal – she stands up right, no face, no lip and just looks at the cattle getting in her face. If she needs to, she’ll do something. And then when she’s fetching them in, she’ll sometimes take a cheap shot once in a while, but keep her balance and read her stock and you can tell she just thinks it’s fun. These biting dogs . . . they’re just as scared as the non-cattle dogs not making contact.

And then I wonder if anyone starts a young dog and they aren’t intimidated at first. Kathy used to bring out a trained dog to keep the cattle moving and give confidence to the younger dog (it’s in a lot of training books, including my favorite by Scott Lithgow),  but she’s since learned it can get the dogs hurt so she avoids it now.

And that was a divergence. Once the dog is going to head and moving the cattle, it’s time to ask for a fetch by pushing the dog back once it heads. And that is how you start a dog on cattle.

Day 2–On the Hill, First Cattle Run, and Sheep

I don’t really know how to start this blog except that today was pretty much one of the most perfect stockdog days I’ve ever had. I lately have felt a little burnt out from the whole thing – maybe because I have lots of other stuff going on, maybe because Fury was really easy to train so I achieved a lot of the goals I set, maybe I’m lazy, or maybe being on the ASCA Board just kind of burned me out. I have no idea. But today reminded me a lot about why I do this.

It also got even better when I sat down to review/edit the videos of Rippa from today and listened to the onlookers on the tape comment on her cattle run – people with a lot of experience, with a lot of knowledge, and even a well-respected stockdog judge comment on her positively. It made me sparkle because, well, I bred her. I didn’t just go out and buy her, I planned this.  Squeal.

Lots of firsts today so let’s get to it:

7:30 am, I arrive and help Marilee and Doug fix Marilee’s awning because the trailer washers are coming. Did you know there are professional trailer detailers? I didn’t. First number one.

We finish that up and go out back. I am lingering by the fence (mostly because I want to video tape this), but Marilee calls me up to her, down the road a bit and on the hill with the sheep. I leave the camera behind because it’s foggy and because I think asking her to tape while also making sure I don’t eff this up is probably asking too much.

She tells me to just hang out while she works on getting her dog to listen. Ally is kind of being feisty and wanting to do stuff her way and it’s pissing Marilee off. She tells me she wants to save her energy for cattle, so it will just be a little and then we’ll get them.

The fog is so heavy. Everything is so still. You can’t really see anything. So different from the day before’s super hot weather. It’s magical. It’s my turn.

“Make sure you point the heads uphill or away from the gate they came out of when you lay her down,” Marilee says, handing me the reins. If I don’t, they've been known to take off. Stockmanship 101.

So I down the puppy, get between her and the sheep and let ‘er rip. And she does amazing. Now, I have mostly only seen advanced dogs out here, or dogs learning to drive who lose their sheep, but I am pretty impressed with the Rippa bear. She keeps off them, balances up and rates when she needs to. It’s like floating across the fields. I have never felt so mellow in my life. Poor Fury had me on extreme edge all the time – I am so glad I bred Rippa to be a little more easy (her dad looks pretty easy in the video) and I’m glad Yishai chose her for that reason (I am quite certain two of her sisters have Fury’s spitfire).  I can do whatever I want. Even when she does her little dive in to test what happens, I push her out easily. It’s flipping amazing. I feel high.

And then it’s time to go back in.

Kathy is right there and asks how it went, and I give her a sheepish grin and say it was so different.

Well, she lists the reasons why:

• No fencelines may mean less intellectual control, but the space makes dogs feel less pressure and less claustrophobic.
• You’re making less turns which means you’re setting up less mistakes and bobbles and nags.
• The handler pays less intense attention to the dog because he/she is worried about where he/she is going.
• I had eight sheep. More sheep is nicer for these dogs, as I’ve said before.

All this comes down to the fact that working out back on “the hill” is more relaxing. And it was. For the dog and for me. She even downed instantly when I asked which I have a hard time getting her to do on stock, as you have seen in the videos. Marilee tells me I did a good job. I tell her I was glad it was her out there babysitting me.

We then regroup and figure out what’s next – and it’s that all of us want cattle. I spend a lot of time watching and taking some notes, adding to what I remember from Fury lessons and what Kathy says. I take photos of some of the dogs and then it’s my turn.

I think I’ll write a separate post about starting dogs on cattle, so hang tight. This post is all about me, Rippa, and the stock.

Anyway, so it’s our turn, we’re last, and we have nice cattle. I don’t know why but when you mix red and black cattle, things happen. I guess they’re racist. I warn Kathy that I know Yishai has taken her out with them but I’ve never seen it so I don’t know. I am sort of expecting a ballsout charge fest.

It’s actually quite the opposite. Rippa has shown me in accidental situations that she is quite measured around cattle, keeping her space, being calm, etc. And this was no different. She immediately started out by driving them at the heels, keeping them together, and just helping move them along. Peaceful like.

The thing is, she really did not get up the confidence to go to their heads and turn them. She tried a couple times and I have this awesome image of her burned in my mind of her giving the “I’m serious” snarly face to one of the bovines, but she pretty much stayed out of their way, kept out, and was happy at their heels. When she was at their heels. She did a lot of running back and checking with us and staying next to me. Which is HILARIOUS because I spend a LOT of time yelling at her to do just that when she sees cattle on the hill or in a field or something.  The video will show you this.

All in all, I’m not too worried about her not heading yet. She needs to turn on and get some confidence and she’ll be fine. I told you earlier I held off on lessons because she had some confidence issues and this is the same here. She’s kind of got a thing about new stuff – she needs some time to work it out. Once she does, she’s golden and it translates nicely to similar new stuff. I think she just needs time to understand what is going on. Kathy gave me some excuses about her being weirded out by her being there and that normally she would get Teal in to help rile them up and get Rippa some confidence (that’s what she did with Kite when it was Fury’s first time) but her Fred dog got injured so she’s wary of doing that with Rippa, who she can’t really control herself (Rippa works only for me). Marliee suggested working on the hill made her tired, but I doubt it. I think it’s just Rippa’s confidence is low. I know that about her.

And honestly, that’s kind of a bummer – I was happy to see a lot of things, but sad that she didn’t have the sheer drive and ballsyness that Fury has. I definitely wanted to tone that down in the next generation, but I also don’t want a dog that needs cajoling when things get rough. Rippa definitely checks out when she’s uncomfortable and that was always something I liked about Fury, that she didn’t. But, like I said, once Rippa gets it, she’s golden.

Anyway, here is the video for your pleasure – with Wagner as your backup music. Unfortunately, despite it rendering FOREVER, when it uploaded it was all cloudy and waiting for it is making me get behind in work so you get only cloudy Rippa. I’m sorry.

The interesting thing about going back and reviewing the video is that, as I said above, people had really interesting comments about what they were seeing.  No one ever actually talks to you about your dog, and no one said anything to me after the run, so it was funny to be like, “Oh, look they were talking about us.” Folks discussed her pedigree and me going back to linebreed on Slash V and such. They mentioned her super rich dark color, and then settled into discussing how Rippa is a better dog than Fury. Which is sort of nice and not, right? I mean, LOOOOOOOVE Fury, and as Kathy has always said, Fury was a nice dog that I started wrong. Rippa would have been a better learner dog for me, but definitely Rippa will get along quite nicely compared to her mother because she’s also benefitting from years of handling practice. But, as an objective viewer, yes, Rippa is better – conformationally, temperamentally, and she’s got nicer control over herself. If she would quit stealing everything and eating it, she would be universally better, but Fury’s at least honest.

Anyway, there are comments on her nice tendency to keep them together, sympathy with me that she’s not going to head, comments about how that might not be an issue . . . etc.

At the end of the video, when Rippa finally does go to head, the whole peanut gallery erupts in support, “Good girl! Yay! She has it in her!” Sparkle! Thanks campmates!

Lunch time and then back to work. I ended up going first because I tend to move fast so this works, which is also nice because I can go home and get back to work. I feel really, really guilty taking time off to do this so it’s nice to be able to actually get home and be productive, too. (Only after Rippa blogging, of course).

So it looks like Cathe failed at video taping my sheep run, but I’ll tell you that we’re so awesome it makes me sick. I can brag, right? Yeah, gonna brag.

First, Kathy had me go in and do take pen work with her. I guess apparently the way I was moving at first I was fetching instead of going around with Rippa and keeping her off. Rippa hates pressure so she tried to get out of the pen, and maybe once she nailed a sheep in the butt, but she was good otherwise. Practice makes perfect and wool is thick. I feel like that should be my new mantra.

So, we got them out of the take pen mostly nicely and out into the arena. I was able to send her around without having any more little dive-ins like she used to, and she stayed out. She takes her “outs” very nicely and I just ended up walking backward in a line. In fact, Kathy had me go through the panels, drop her, do some outruns, etc, and it was all so totally fabulous I’m thinking in my head that we just did our first title in started sheep like it was cake. I just really need to get her to LIE DOWN when I ask instead of coming in, but Kathy says she can see that will come if I am just nice and put pressure on my side. Rippa and I got to the panels (which we’ll talk about when training for trialing happens, or maybe just later) and she slowed right on down, let them get through, went around the panel and followed them through like it was baking a pie.

Toward the end, I was having a hard time getting Rippa to cover the right side of the sheep so Kathy started yelling at me about it – but it was windy so I could hear yelling and that was all. But, learning the lesson from yesterday (which is why this blog is awesome, I have to think and process stuff) about needing to just straighten out and get out of the sheep flightzone, I built my side up and held Rippa out and it fixed.

I felt proud as a peacock when I was done. I have come so far as a handler and Rips is such a nice dog. I’m excited for Bakersfield 2012, if not trialing before that.  It’s becoming a reality!

BTW, the UPS man just dropped off a package and Rippa is so dead to the world tired that she didn’t notice. Ha ha! Three more days, girl!