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.

Starting the Drive

Well, I went for three lessons in the past two days and didn’t bring a camera because I didn’t anything but a tune-up would happen as we haven’t been to lessons in a few months due to wedding, honeymoon, and lack of funds. Should have brought a camera. The cool think about Rippa, and my current stage in stockdog handling, is that we still keep learning even though we have a lot of time off.

I am resolved that I really need to get on stock more regularly and it looks like my only option’s going to be cows. Should be an interesting experience when that pans out, as I am used to training on sheep primarily (for good reason – they’re not as dangerous and hard to manage).

Anyway, so, I was handling really good first day and fell apart today. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I had things to worry about today. Rippa dove into the sheep when I handled her poorly and nearly killed one, running it into the fence. Horrifying. I hear stories and I am sure it happens more than people admit, but I like animals and hurting and scaring the sheep bummed me out. So, I think my nerves ruined my handling the first work of the day today.

The first work, of the three lessons this weekend, was on light sheep in the duck pen. We're staying in the duck pen to get the kind of control and consistency we want. When I first started, I was SO eager to get into the arena because it "meant something." But the reality is, the arena is good for trial practice, but it's also great for losing good habits. So we stay inside the littler pen for now. Kathy has us on light sheep because Rippa gets bored and stops working on heavier sheep - she needs something to do. She told me "be careful, you're essentially dog breaking these sheep" and I have to say, that felt night. I don't know that I've ever done that with hot-and-heavy Fury, and it's good to know that when/if I get access to sheep off the ranch, I'll be able to handle them.

But, as I said, my first work the second day was kind of weak. Rippa wasn't covering her "go by" side and was overreaching her "way to" side, so Kathy put me back on heavy sheep, but we began the drive exercises that she does to prime you for this.

First, I do want to note that Rippa's down is a lot better. She doesn't slam on the brakes, but she is downing when I ask so that's good. That's step one in being ready to teach the drive the Kathy Warren way.

So what about the drive?

Well, first, the drive is pretty key for when you need a dog to push animals away from you, and the way that Kathy teaches it, it's key to teaching the dog to handle its stock without your directions. You kind of wait until your dog is fetching with good balance and control and taking commands. Then you start throwing flank commands whenever you can ("go by" and "way to"). And, of course, you need a solid stop on your dog.

So I don't think Rippa knows her flanks yet, but I'm working on it. We have the rest, and this first step should help Rippa stop coming up short on one side.

What Kathy does to teach the drive is teaches the dog to "pull off the top" - that is, stop fetching and circle the stock and the handler on command - keeping out of the flight zone. This is what we practiced.

Once a dog can do that with finesse, you lay the dog down next to you as it comes around and then you hit the dog with a "there." "There" means to walk up directly into the stock and keep them going that direction.

Oh. My. God. This totally blows the dog's mind. They are so used to you being up front to control that they only want to get around and when the animals start leaning or bending a certain direction, the dog wants to run around the outside and bring them back. Nope. The dog has to learn to watch the inside flank - the side they normally don't watch - where you would normally be. Their little brains explode here.

Kathy usually starts dogs on the drive in a big open field with no fences so the sheep can just keep going straight and the dog has time to just watch the sheep without other interference. This only works because she has seasoned chore dogs that fetch lost sheep when the baby dogs' brains fry and they lose them in the hills.

Anyway, so we're going along with our heavy sheep and I carefully position myself out of the flight zone, get my stick to a place where it will push Rippa past where she wants to flip back, and give her a "go by."

And darn it if she doesn't totally get around like she's supposed to, except she does it with her ears pinned back and a snarl on her face. Rippa is so weird. When she doesn't get something or is frustrated, she is definitely angry. I have to watch her and keep her going so she doesn't take it out on a sheep, but once she gets stuff, she mellows out. She's like that with everything. We're taking agility lessons, and you'd swear I was bringing Eeyore into the class, but once she figures out what I'm trying to teach her, she's perky and waggy. Same thing here. I miss Fury's spunky can-do attitude, but Rippa definitely gets it done.

I have to admit, though, it still makes me grin to see this snarling little dog taking her flank and going all the way around me. I like quirks. I got quirks.