Dogfight Distractions

As I realize bump at a time just how much is now missing from my computer and slog through the restoration (emails that won't import back into Outlook Express, programs like Acrobat Reader I have to reinstall, Firefox source code is harder to read than it was in Explorer, autotext that isn't there any more in Word...you know). I did get a bit of relief this morning. It has been rainy and I sort of feel that my computer and I have inhabited a dismal well sunk into another universe for the past few days. Well, I DO make my living through it, okay? Anyway, this morning I peeked out the window by my computer desk which looks out onto my covered back deck. A bird feeder hangs in the apple tree just beyond it (where I can reach it from the pleasant cover of the deck instead of getting soaked every day) along with a hummingbird feeder. I leave it up all winter, thawing it on the few mornings it's cold enough to freeze the sugar solution. A lone Anna's has been hanging around, sucking up prodigious amounts of sugar water (those little critters must burn a whole lot of calories every minute). Anyway, this morning, a new Anna's had moved in and my Anna's was by golly not gonna share that feeder no way. So the two carried on a fierce little dog fight with all the intensity of a couple of WWII pilots and all the grace of a ballet. It was raining, so they did all this beneath the roof of my covered deck, right on the other side of the window. Face to face, inches apart, they dove, sidepassed, darted and threatened. As soon as one approached the feeder, the other attacked. Nobody got a sip and they finally noticed me and darted off.

That was a good start to the day. By golly there was a top to the well and I climbed out. Went down and sorted the four spookiest sheep into the paddock and Annie did marvelous job of dealing with the sneaky Cheviot cross ewe who takes off like a rocket if Annie takes her eyes off her. Picked fat fresh Brussels sprouts on the way up, noticed that my daffodil and crocuses are pushing up and decided I should remember there's a world out there, eh? I gather my fierce little Anna's were hungry enough that they sorted out a way to take turns.

Sheep Shuffling

I don't usually brag about my dogs on my blog. We work, we enjoy working. But I'm just really pleased with Annie, my three year old Rottie. She started working sheep last March, when DJ, my 5 year old sheep hand, was diagnosed with bone cancer. She stepped right up...'Hey, I'm ready, I'll fill in.' A working sheep dog is a really something impressive. It's a running conversation based on hereditary preditor/prey knowlege on the part of both dog and sheep. Every minute includes maybe a hundred conversations between sheep, dog, and often you, the handler. 'I'll go there to get away from you, no you won't, oh, I'll go there now, no you won't, I don't want to go there, yes you will...' It's a flowing dance of eye contact and body language and when you step into this dance you get caught up, swept away, you become total awareness...of sheep, dog, obstacle, gate, pressure from that scary looking shed, draw to those ewes in the back pasture...You can't think clearly, you simply see and react and anticipate. Hopefully correctly! (Not always!)

I was loading three wethers born this spring. St. Croix hair sheep, they are more like wild deer than the tame woolies you might be used to. They can leap straight up about four feet (duck!) and if you push them, they either run into fences (broken necks are not fixable) or go over the fence (not helpful if the trailer is in the other direction).

I had my misgivings about Annie, aka 'Rocket Dog' and these super light, super upset (Mom is in the back forty) lambs. But she had been working the light lambs, so I took a deep breath and we set to work. That included gathering the sheep out of the big back pasture, and bringing them into the paddock. (They didn't want to go...this was not normal! Something was up!). Then she had to put them in the barn (see previous). There, I sorted out my three wethers and she got to put the rest back into the back pasture. When I let the wethers out of the barn, I was eye to eye with hooves as they leaped straight into the air. Let's see, why again did I decide I wanted St. Croix???? Now, all I had to do was herd the upset wethers away from their moms, up the fenced alley and into the trailer. Without sending them over the fences or into the fence to break their necks. It was way too warm to butcher sheep today, sigh.

Annie was a gem. She bellied down, doing a pretty impressive Border Collie imitation for a Rott. Flanked slow and easy, positioning herself to push them toward the gate leading to the alley. Never once did she charge in or dash around...which would have sent them bouncing like rocket propelled super balls. She kept her eyes on them, using her stare to push them through the gate. Then she eased along behind them, so gently that they even nibbled at the grass as she urged them toward the trailer gate.

No running, no panic, no crashed fences. And this is a Rott, not a Border Collie. Although I think Annie might have been a Border Collie in her last life... With a huge sigh of relief, I closed the trailer gate and it was done.

So the lambs have been safely moved, we're all set for winter, with the hay stacked, plenty of wood for the fire. The ewes can happily grow next year's lambs and Annie can make sure they all go where they're supposed to go.

She had a ball. And she is now crashed like road kill on the living room floor. Dreaming of new, flighty wethers, I'm sure.

Hunting Season

Well, fall has arrived. Officially. I planted my garlic today and that ends the garden season until I plant peas and fava beans and start my early broccoli and cauliflower next January. Right now, it's the revered Hunting Season. I was passed by two young guys in a big pickup towing a muddy jeep on a trailer. Two deer in bags were seatbelted into the front seats, heads and racks protruding, wearing sunglasses. The back of the Jeep was piled with kids' bikes and trikes. I guess the moms were pulling the trailer with the kids.

My sheep herding and wood cutting buddy, David, 76, I think, this year, (maybe older, I've never been quite certain) was finally persuaded by his son to head out Nyssa (east Oregon, almost Idaho) for a few days. I assured David that Annie and I would look after his sheep and keep all Dangerous People from breaking into his house (it is NOT a house that looks as if treasure lies within). After much coercing from son Bobby and I, he finally went. Two days later I had to assure him over the phone that Everything Was Fine.

That was three weeks ago. :-) A very nice big buck who had been happily fattening himself on farmer's corn and some good bass fishing sort of muted the homing instinct. And he worked on putting a new roof on his son's place. Annie was happy. She got to go hold his sheep off the feeder every day while I put out the feed. And David's sheep are a bunch of sneaky old Suffolk ewes so Annie had her work cut out for her. I think they all enjoyed the dance, since everybody thought they won. (Annie held the sneaky ewes off until I called her to quit and the sheep got the feed in the end).

David finally got home today and of course I got paid well. He arrived with two very nice hindquarters of that big buck, aged two weeks in a walk in cooler, (just starting to grow that green hair that means 'prime' in a restaurant) a big bag full of doves, a slab of the halibut son Bobby brought back from Alaska, and, of course, a lot of fresh bass, caught yesterday evening. (That was dinner and a lot of eating for the rest of the week. I do not freeze fish if I can avoid it!) The Bad Guys did not break into the house, I had all his mail, and the resident coyotes who had been disrespectful in his absense will have to behave themselves. To add to the day, we noticed that the oyster mushrooms were budding on some of his alders (this is a GREAT mushroom year) so strolled into the woods to check and found a downed alder fat with oyster mushrooms and a flush of shaggy parasols. So I added a bulging sack of fresh mushrooms to the plunder. Alas, my favorite mushrooming woods got sold to a developer and bulldozed. Progress marches on.

We still have to cut and wrap the venison quarters (the dogs can't wait!) but my freezer is looking nicely full of protein, and I have this big pan of sauteed mushrooms and all that bass, baked with lime-pepper.

So the wood is all in, I've got the last planting in the ground, and the fall meat harvest has been accomplished with style. Only the coyotes will be disappointed. They'll have to stop taking their dumps in David's front yard now. Life is tough.