It's starting to feel screamingly apparent that I am not moving forward as a handler. I'm swirling somewhere near the bottom of Thank You with numbers so low we should get special parking.  

In trying to examine more thoroughly where I am lacking, the answer seems to be in everything this side of Cuddling, actually.  I'm not 'handling' so much as being 'handled'. 

It's not unlike how I raised my children. 

I was a single parent for most of my children's lives.  I brought my daughter home from the hospital, took one look at her weak little neck and uncoordinated fist waving, her full and malodorous diaper, and said,

"Okay, Fair enough – I'll change that, and then I'll order us pizza; you start working on getting upright and being able to tell me what to do next."

And Cienna thrived on my weakness as a parent, my strong shoulders were for shrugging and cute outfits. Yes, cute in an Asian tourist way, and I wore a fanny pack for way too long, but what matters is that I never had to try anything on.  She was running both our lives before most kids can run.  She could order food for me, send it back if it wasn't right… in her tiny voice demand to see the 'mangener'….
This was always disconcerting to adults, especially with me sitting next to her, playing with my food, nodding.

As even the wee-ist of toddlers, Cie could advise me on which hamsters to buy, why we should watch the same movie 398 times.  She even picked out our first car, a 1974 bright orange VW bug; she was three and still wearing things that snapped at the crotch and I didn't question her choice as we strolled the Sleazy Steve's Used Car lot no further.  It was ORANGE! A color she had just learned to pronounce correctly. Sure the vehicle hardly went a week without breaking down, It was more of a storage unit than transportation, but she was right – it was cute. 

I really have never wanted to be an authority figure.  I don't like having to be tough. I'm not big on correction. I might be wrong!  I prefer unconditional compromise and asking "Why?" instead of answering it..
Advising me came fast and easy for my daughter.  For me, taking advice from someone smaller and only slightly more prone to crying was also simple. 

"Because."

A baby can get away with that for an answer.  She didn't even have to use profanity until 3rd grade.

I raised a confident, bright little dictator and her strong silent brother..    

Carlos was also easy, but different: Where Cienna is a constant stream of suggestions and demands, you have to really ask Carlos straight up for an opinion.  He never offers one unless he feels like you are making a serious mistake, and even then he is careful.  He's quiet and easy going and doesn't have strong opinions about too much, but when he does, we all listen. He is Right. He hasn't been wrong since he stopped listening to Good Charlotte in 6th grade.

They are two very different people, but they turned out to be two of the best people that have walked this planet, or any of the planets portrayed on any of the (good) Star Trek series/spinoffs. 

All I had to do was drive us places and pay for stuff.  Win/win

This isn't playing out nearly as well on dogs. Nor is shrugging or standing by while they make the decisions for us.

My driving and paying for stuff is about the only useful tool from my parenting years and it is only getting us so far.

I have these dogs and this sport that needs Authority.  Strong leadership.  Jai needs me to be a strong partner in control; she needs me to supply constant influencial input. NOT because she can't make decisions, but because at this point, the decisions she is making are the Easy Way Out…overflank, catch the sheeps eye, stop movement, grip. 

Jack needs me to run up the field and make him feel very sorry for his choices.  Jack needs his shit jumped to stop busting through and gripping his sheep.  Then he needs me to be supportive and encouraging, though stop short of letting him hump my leg. (For some reason we always get to this point with male dogs, my leg and I) 

Anyway. More trials coming up, not a ton of training time so I need to make what I have count. I need to change.  I know this, or I say I do….and then I expect something else, everything else, to change for me.   

This weekend: Athena.  I've entered Jack, and Jai…and PAT! in the Jackpot. Oh yeah. Tri-fecta.

Jorgen asked:

What are your plans for making it to the next level with your handling, competition and the journey with your dogs?

I don't actually *PLAN* much…I like to run my life like a surprise party.  I start by opening the door to each day and hoping Talent and Opportunity, Skill and Success will jump up and yell SURPRISE!!
Sadly, Sloth has spent the night on the couch again and Tomorrow is still drunk from the night before, puking last night into the kitchen sink. Our bastard children may always live in my basement, playing World of Warcraft and LOLing.

The next level with my handling might involve puppets.

Competition is relative to me only.  I don't try to compete with others.  At this stage, it would be ridiculous.  I'm only an Open handler because I didn't have to pass a test to be one.  I haven't finished a course at this level yet.  I used to fantasize that somehow a miracle would occur – muscling my bad timing and lack of talent out of the way to lay down some breath-taking outwork, in-work, (whatever), a stunning shed, heart-stopping pen….Just enough time left to scratch my dog's happy belly as the crowd goes wild…P*trick would shed a tear, DD would tell everyone she mentored me back in the day (last year or so) when I tried to pen 3/5 of the sheep…Helsley would say he is the one who first told me I was getting less shitty …and I'd thank them all, humbly but also sort of puffed up like a soda in the sun, as I snatched that winning check out of the judges hand.  

But no.  The further into this I get, the more I realize that, while sometimes good runs happen to bad handlers, it requires a lot more than just luck and I'm still not even to the point where you could call me a Bad Handler. I'm just striving to be a Bad Handler. Now I'm only half-handler.  SO
I'm really hoping to beat my own shitty scores at this point. Someday I hope to be inspired by the Great Run of a handler before me, to study that run and identify the slight flaws that maybe I can avoid to get a better score and know that this is possible.  Someday. 

So the journey changes, like good journeys should.  I've changed how and I am with my dogs, as I learn more about them.  I adjust how I train them and how I live with them.  Both things are very important to me. I'm not in this for the competition, I'm in this for the dogs.

Dirt Blowing…

Jai timed out on the cross drive of her first run and scored a 24. Our second run ended short of the first drive panels with a big THANK YOU when we decided to take down a ewe. I mean really take her down, 1970's cop show style. Or like something out of a western from the same era — Clint Eastwood, if he had functional incisors instead of a six-shooter.

I think I'm going to have to change my whistles. My 'Away' is being misinterpretted as GRIP THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF WHATEVER YOU CAN GRAB ONTO AND RIDE THAT BITCH UNTIL MY SCREAMS TURN TO SOBS!

Wah-wah-wah.

Maybe my tone isn't low enough. Maybe I'm inadvertantly whistling the theme to The Good, The Bad and the Ugly.

I called my PN run with Jack because he was NOT LISTENING to my voice or my whistles at all. Maybe he assumed I'm just a background theme. A nice auditory touch to not stopping or flanking. Something that builds the suspense…

wah-wah-wah

Maybe I'll get rid of whistles entirely. Neither dog seems to like them. Likewise my voice isn't helping to build our rocketship to Sheepdog Greatness.

What are my options? How might a mime run a dog? I wonder…

Regardless, and despite how it may sound above, I was happy with both dogs. Helsley said that it was the best he'd seen me run Jai yet, on difficult sheep. I felt at the time, and still feel, that it was my mistakes in timing that brought on the grip on the second go.

The first run was really difficult for both Jai and I and we did what we could. Jai had better flow on the second run, but I fucked up a few flanks and I think it contributed to her frustration. 

DD mentioned that my timing was likewise off for Jack and may have contributed to his soundtrack theory. It was only his second trial and we are still pretty new to eachother. 

Next trial – Kelley Creek in Utah. I have three weeks to order my black leotard, white face paint, and harmonica.

It seems like one of the frustrating, yet captiving things about sheepdog work is that it isn't paint by numbers.  It's not linear or systematic.  There is no fast cheap way of getting good enough results or someone would have a remote cable channeled program teaching some of us to paint that picture by now.  There are methods and processes that work sometimes.  There are generalities that are largely true.  There is a lot that is open to interpretation.  You work at this, and your dog works at this and sometimes it's like finally seeing the 3d picture in a single flat noisy image ….

Being able to see the picture amidst all that chaos, unfortunately, is still a long way away from being able to create it.  And seeing one picture in one flat noisy image isn't the key to seeing all pictures in all flat noisy images.

Or maybe I'm just really sick of getting those calendars for Xmas. Dots and swirls. That's what I see.

I worked Jack and Jai this weekend in a field with the Helsleys and Lavon. 

Jack was pretty good, but he crossed prior to lift off and he continues to struggle to not overflank and bring me back sheep on the drive. He is either having confidence issues, or he hates sheep and wants me to get him something nicer, like goats or prostitues, to herd…still, he is changing and getting more responsive to the work and less survile every time I work him. 

Lavon mentioned that my whistles are potentially part of the problem. Jack has worked on Lavon's whistles and they are similar in opposite ways to some of mine.  My stop whistle is like Lavon's flank and my away sounds like a walk-up.  My walk up sounds like the theme song to I Dream of Jeannie. IT IS!!

He suggested that I use my voice more.   No one hardly ever suggests this. Sober.

Jai was struggling with some Jai issues.  She seemed ill at ease most of this weekend.  I was gone all last week and Saturday we put her through a relatively intense drill designed to make her more comfortable with close work (Read: Less Thank You, More Thank Ewe on and off the course, in that order). She was great during the drill. We worked in a small pen with 5 sheep, flanking and coming in between sheep and fence.  She seemed to take it all in stride, did an excellent job.

And then we moved out into a big field and she said, "FUCK EWE AND YOU, I'm going to take up agility. I want ribbons!"

Helsley suggested that in general I should use my whistles not just as my commands, but also my corrections.  My corrections tend to take the essay format, (REALLY JAI?! AGILITY?! You want me to get you a JACK RUSSELL OR A SHELTY TO HUMP? ARE THOSE THE KIND OF SHORT-LEGGED NASTY PUPPIES YOU WANT HANGING OFF YOUR ONCE TALENTED TEATS!??? REALLY!?)  Helsey said that I might just keep it short and to the point.  Whistle a flank or a stop, if she doesn't take it, whistle it louder.  Maybe followed by a short 'HEY!' if necessary,

"Because," Helsley said, "If you are going to give her one of your corrections, you are going to miss the panel wayyyy before you get to your second sentence."

Jeanie mentioned that we, women especially, tend to take our dog's mistakes or bad days personally.  I know this is true of me, though it's getting better. I can't count the number of times I've struggled not to cry, sometimes unsuccessfully, at DDs house after some incident on the field that I incorrectly identified as the 4th Horse of the Apocolypse.  Now I mostly just feel disappointed and like I'm a failure.

But they were all so kind.  And so I then sent Jai one last time, at Lavon's urging, and she scattered sheep like dandelion seeds into 3 different fields and a porch.  This took about a half an hour to recover from. 

The H's (and the L)  mentioned that they'd be working later in the evening.  I wanted to stay away from what I felt strongly would be an Interventon…but Lavon talked me into coming back.

First, however, I went home and built a barrier between my dog yard and my pasture so that Jai couldn't spend her days bending the sheep with her mind. 

Things went much better in the evening.  Jai was still a bit off her game, and I'm not sure what is up with that, entirely, but she worked much better.

Jack was a little better also. I used Lavon's whistles and some quiet brief screeching, what I call my Indoor Voice.

Next weekend – the Dirt Blowing Trial.

We'll see what we see.

Big Willow was my and Jai's first Open run.  Technically runs, plural, but we only ACTUALLY completed our first.  The second ended in the familiar ironic expression of gratitude.  Sometimes I wonder if Jai just likes to be Thanked.  She is Canadian.  I'm going to have to try BEGINNING our run with a few words of appreciation,

"I am so grateful to you, Jai, for everything you've done to get us here today! Thanks for coming all this way in your crate, listening to Scout bark at anyone who makes eye contact at stop lights or passing us on the highway, and also enduring my sorry itunes playlist; Good girl! for only barely raising your back furr when having enough dog noses planted up your rear end to quality for a farm subsidy…thanks for wagging at me right now. Thank you!

(Insert Canadian National Anthem)

Maybe if I cover my appreciation thoroughly enough before the run, we can make it a full 11ish minutes before she needs more.

Our first run (Friday afternoon) scored us a 33. Jai had a nice outrun, though she did cross at my feet before I insisted that she take my comeby.  She had a nice lift and her fetch was decent.  We missed every panel, though we roughly approximated the shape of the course.  We wrapped up with a really shitty shed …and timed out at the pen.  

The second run on Saturday morning started encouragingly: Jai left my feet full of purpose. She had a nice outrun, beautiful lift.  Her fetch was a symphony of WTF in the key of F.  I have no idea what she was thinking while she ignored my whistles and disappeared from view midway down the field, behind a hillock, way off to the left for longer than seemed reasonable.  Finally, just as I was wishing she had a cell phone I could call, she brought the sheep to the post and…. seemed to then want NOTHING MORE TO DO WITH THEM.  She brought them like a load of nuclear waste to Nevada*, or maximum security prisoners to Nevada*; She brought them with all the joy of Sunday morning in Nevada* and she dumped them, and would have, I swear, called a cab – IF SHE'D HAD THAT CELL PHONE.

She was standing in line for her Thank You, behind the post.  At my insistence, she reluctantly stepped forward and drove the rangey creatures toward the first drive panel, which I messed up in a few different stupid ways, wrong flanks, screechy whistles…wrong flanks again. After a few rapid heart beats of long intense staring, Jai launched and gripped her way into that coveted Thank You.

I was disappointed, though I did see many dogs struggle with this leg of the drive and these sheep on this day. I was sorry that I didn't know how to help her.  I could really FEEL that she didn't want to finish that run and I'm sure I handled it badly in almost every way.  Bad direction, screechy whistles, timing off…maybe I should have not let her struggle and retired the run.

The thing I keep thinking about, besides a monkey jockey, is Jai's bearing on that run once she got to the post.  She was really clearly struggling mentally.   She didn't feel up to the challenge, for whatever reason, of moving those sheep around the course.  This is really not like Jai.  Not the Jai I've worked recently.  I know setbacks are part of training and trialing; and I know that these were difficult conditions and difficult sheep and this was our first open run….but I would love to know what happened, and where, that made her want to quit so that I can mitigate it in the future. 

Two weeks until the next one….near Nevada*.

*Nevada is the anti-Canada

Yesterday Lavon and Kelsey and Susan and I, plus Derek, hauled Lavon's sheep out to the desert to work our dogs.

Let me just say a few things up front:
1) Scout doesn't think Derek should wear shorts.  Ever.  NOT from the men's department. 
2) Lavon is the calmest, most even-tempered man IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM.  I don't believe in many things that I cannot prove through SCIENCE, (or WIKI) but this is one exception.  I don't care what kind of super affable half-reptile/half-saint/half intergallactic basque 1.5 man exists on Planet 99 in Deep Space, Lavon is kinder and gentler.  Or he is a HUGE SUCKER of ASTRONOMICAL PROPORTIONS.  Scout believes the latter. BUT back to that in a miniute.

Lavon brought a horse trailer full of his sheep out to our remote undisclosed desert location.  These sheep tend to stick together and move nicely off the dogs. Most of the time, most dogs.

I worked Jai, who did a great job for me, and I also worked Lavon's Jack.  Jack is a SWEET tempered dog who broke his leg last year and was having some confidence issues. Lavon thought he'd do well with me – less pressure, more praise and gushing over cuteness, and all that.  He (JACK, not LAVON) is changing fast and has a lot of talent.  (OK, BOTH, really)  Jack is fun to work, and it's nice to have a pro-novice dog option this year. Pat, meanwhile, has decided to retire and just hang out, peeing on things and keeping an increasingly cloudy eye on the bitches. 

Jack, by the way, also has the nicest grip of any dog I have seen, I think.  He is very calm and reasonable about it, goes right for the face or heel, and then it's over and he's ready to move on if the ewe is.  The Grip was not deployed this weekend. It wasn't necessary.  

Scout didn't get this memo. 

When Derek drove up, Scout immediately noted his short pants, before memorial day, and launched.  Scout's fashion-smited him the moment his white legs flashed out of his pickup, barking and snapping at skinny white Fisher legs. Derek was not amused.  He did dance, however, which Scout loves. It really encourages her.

I put Scout away. 

We worked more dogs.  Susan worked her new dog, Jet, which was nice; Kelsey had a great work with Ewan….Derek worked his dogs, Lavon worked Tess and Gus.  And it was good.  We drank a few beers, and soda.  It was a beautiful day in the desert. 

Lavon decided that he would work Scout at the very end.  I got her out of her crate while Kelsey was working her last dog. 

Scout keeps a keen eye on Lavon because Scout has 'worked' for Lavon in the past.  She knows that they are a team.  As soon as Lavon shifted his feet in a position that could be interpretted as toward the sheep, Scout mobilized her crazy.

"SCOUT!!" I shrieked, I believe following it with an expletive.  Scout believes her name includes really foul language.  It has no effect.

"That's okay," Lavon said calmly, "I guess I'll work Scout now!"

Thus began 1 hour of barking and chasing.  At first it was just in our little perimeter, a clearing near the vehicles where we were actually INTENDING to work the younger, less experienced dogs. Lavon remained calm and told her to 'LAY DOWN'…about 50 – 60 times to no avail.  (Scout, it should be noted, felt the same way about her barking and Derek's shorts.)   

Soon Scout decided to expand her 'drive' ….she disappeared after two ewe lambs over a hill and down into a draw. Lavon calmly followed. I believe he may have half-heartedly attempted to whistle a stop.  CLAP CLAP!!

When neither Scout nor Lavon reappeared after a period of time, maybe even a beers worth, the rest of us started paying more attention.

A far away barking could be heard slightly before the ewe, followed by Scout, appeared on the far horizon, midway up a steep slope.  Lavon was no where in sight, but, then, Lavon cannot run as fast as Scout. No one can.  Many are called, ewes are chosen. 

About this time we put down our beers in earnest, grabbed some lure sheep, and struck out to find Lavon and the lost 2 ewes.

Long story short, as the man himself would say, eventually Lavon appeared, just coming back over the top of the far away hill, carrying a little ewe on his back.  Derek and the band of lure sheep met up with them and we all walked back together.

"I'm sorry," I said about 58 times. "I'm really really sorry."

And I was. REALLY.  I still am. Derek really shouldn't wear shorts.

"You don't have to be…I should have stayed closer to my sheep."

Yes. He actually said that.  As if it were possible.  I wish he would have told Scout to LOOK BACK at least once. If only for our benefit.

Next time.  He assured me that there would be a next time,

"Oh yeah! I don't want to end on a bad note!"

That's why Lavon is an open handler who consistently wins.  HE NEVER GIVES UP. 

(Photo by Kelsey Nichols)

But…neither does Scout. 

1. One thing that you would totally redo (if you could) in regards to dog training?

I wouldn't have bought a deep sea fishing pole to use as a training aid. Fucker cost me close to $50 from the Sports Replay store and it never did fish Zeke and I out of the deep sea of suck.

When I first started in sheepdog training…with Zeke Finley, an Aussie…one of the Top Trainers (according to Zeke's breeder, a woman who wears snow pants in summer) had a video series out about how to start your pup. I bought it! It was VERY DIFFERENT from P*trick's video, by the way. There were more props and less actual stock.  Unless you count Plush Stock…This video featured a woman and a fishing pole with a toy tied on the end of a long line…and a barking aussie circling as she yelled 'Go Bye' one direction and then 'Away' the other.  This was how to teach a pup his/her flanks. Occasionally she would let the dog have the toy. As encouragement. Yes! Fifty bucks. Optimistically, I bought a pole that I thought would handle long outruns.  No, I don't fish.

2. One thing that you enjoyed doing in the past that you no longer participate in (dog or non-dog related)?

Mountain biking I was never a great downhiller, but I could climib. I like biking, but it's too hot here to take dogs year round, and the rides tend to be too long any time. So…I own a great bike, but I rarely ride. I do miss it, but I'd feel to guilty being outside on the trails without my dogs.

3. Best dog and/or training books you’ve read (fiction or non)?

I don't really read training books. I just BUY them as totems or offerings to the Gods. Though not pertaining to domestic 'dogs', two books that I really liked were Farley Mowat's 'Never Cry Wolf; and God's Dog, The North American Coyote, by Hope Ryden. Although I'm sure many of my sheep friends would not enjoy reading about living with wolves or the coyote's adaptability and intelligence, more people should. I dislike the idea that anything we can't use and most of what we can should die for our convenience. But that's just me justifying not getting something out of that deep sea pole, perhaps.

4. What is the best part of dog trialing for you?

Training for it. Also watching other people's runs.

5. I totally have puppy fever (thanks to Robin and her adorable litter of Rhyme x Bill pups – I'm totally in love with Tib aka Mouse!) so please post an adorable puppy picture of one (or all!) of your dogs!

Scout and Zeke are the only two dogs I have had as puppies.

Scout – A Portrait in Budding 'Rage

Zeke Finley

I'm SO SORRY to be NEARLY A WEEK LATE on my TMT…but I'm in the middle of a few projects out at my sprawling estate in Greenleaf Valley. When I say 'middle'…I mean in the center of my little house, where the bathroom USED to be, is now a large ugly wound…plus a tub that only time will heal. When I say 'I'm', I mean I'm the one who doesn't have plumbing and will have to pay to change that. Men are actually doing the work. Hopefully. I had planned to pay them in beer and jokes, but it's looking like if I really care about the advances my speciies has made in pooping and bathing technology…I'm going to have to fork over some cash. Although beer and jokes DID work on the Craigs List dude who came and hauled my 1950's 16 foot mouse and wasp habitat away last Saturday. This took all day and I'm sure he broke several transportation and health code laws…but thank god the guy loved his cheap canned beer. And a joke.

Anyway, though my free time and hygeine has been compromised, things are going great, especially as far as my dogs are concerned. That room never made sense to any of them.

SO, The Questions:

1. What is the one thing that you view as your biggest training or handling challenge and how do you think you can overcome it?

2. Name ONE run (agility, herding, etc) from someone else that inspired you and why?

3. Name some examples of how your dogs have manipulated you.

4. Steffi is looking for dog treat recipes! – I'm tired of hearing about all these dog food/treat recalls so we've started making a lot of our own dog treats. I really need a recipe for low calorie, light colored treats that my dogs can see easily in the grass when we are training distance skills. I've been using popcorn for that but am looking for some variety!

5. One thing – not related to dogs – that you would like to do that you have not done

My Answers:

1) My biggest training/handling challenge is my inability to instantly absorb and respond to several things at once. Lead sheep, pressure, subtle movement that will have profound effects at just the right time. It's the subtlety that refines a handler and I still totally lack. I'm getting the basic mechanics, but I still suck at the subtlety. Only time will help me overcome this. Time and indoor plumbing.

2) I know I answered this with Patrick and Andi at Lacamas a few years ago when she didn't have a 'Look Back' and he ended up in the double lift with her, unexpectedly. Another inspirational run was when Derek dressed in his hawaiin tiny boy's speedo, with the mini-ukelali, and layed down a smoking run at Palm Cottage while an equally tiny small minded minority huffled and sniveled about him breaking some sort of USBCHA dress code and tried to get the judge to DQ him. It was hilarious and inspirational that humor won out. This sport…we aren't saving lives. We aren't raising the standard of living for impoverished 3rd world countries. This is entertainment. You can take yourself seriously, if you want, but you should be aware that if you fall, we will laugh. Because 3 days from now, no one gives a historical shit what happens at that post except, maybe, you.

3) Here's a really gross one! The other day I was hiking across cow country and Jai found herself a nice fresh steamy pile to sample. It was like her third or forth on this particular walk and I was SICK of her EATING SHIT…I knew that later, when we returned home, she'd be all up in my face kissing me. So I screech at her and call her away …she is very reluctant as this particlular pile, smack dab in the MIDDLE of the trail…is especially fresh and yummy. I prevail and we continue for a mile or so before impending darkness forces us to turn around. As we approach that same fresh pie, Jai slows way down. She lets me pass her. Sniffing at things, taking her time.  Stalling. She stops about 10 feet shy of said pie, waiting for me to pass it. I turn around and call her and she advances only slightly, not wanting to pass the pie. She walks really slowly, obviously hoping I will just continue on and she can go about her slimy green business. She is NOT going to pass the pie.  She and I have this small struggle of wills before I finally force her to come to me: DO NOT STOP AT PIE, DO NOT COLLECT SAMPLE.

She was visibly disappointed. She wagged, but she didn't mean it. She turned around one last time and looked back. If she had thumbs and longer legs I would have had to hide my car keys that night.

4) I don't have any recipes ….but Jai thinks cows bake up some pretty good pasture pastry.

5) Bathe. That's just today, though. Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll be back to thinking longer term. Then maybe I'd like to take a road trip across country and finish a writing project.

Last Saturday P*trick gave an informal shedding clinic.

I love shedding. It's like trying to learn to juggle and play the piano at the same time. While crossing a freeway.

Shedding utilizes all the skills we are supposed to be accumulating in stockdog work and concentrates them into one small space and a few minutes worth of opportunity.There are several things to look for (such as lead sheep, lagging sheep, draw), several things to have in your mind at all times (like your pressure, dogs pressure, sheep pressure, hesitation and opportunity), and the constant need to physically react correctly without mentally processing first.

Watching P*trick shed is fluid and almost effortless seeming. He casually moves toward the sheep at an angle, his dog at a distance across, he walks parallel, subtlely turning heads, faces the two he wants off the back, communicating his intention to his dog, maybe he turns and …within moments, with no hesitation, stopping or exaggerated movements, the sheep part and he has a shed.

I've seen Susan move sheep like this in the pens and at setout. Sorting off always 5, or the correct number, usually a group that will work together. In the pens, too, if you don't act decisively, confidently, fluidly…you get clusters of sheep that don't want to cooperate.

It has always struck me that the people who know what they want and believe that they will get it, approach the task in that casual confident way and things happen smoothly. It's really beautiful in a way bigger than the work, really. Like most of the rest of this, and why I am so drawn to it…is that you feel if you can absorb these rules and learn this subtlety and confidence of motion and task on the field, it applies to everything in life.

Some Details:

Our pressure is in front of us. We've been told this. We understand the concept. Still, often even good open handlers face the sheep in the shedding ring straight on, and we all seem to like to attempt to stab our way through with our crooks.

The unawareness of our pressure is a mistake also made at the pen, where we hold the gate open, facing outward between the entrance and the sheep, our pressure acting as a barrier, while we ask our dog to walk up and compensate.

Your best chance at a good shed is your first shot at the shed. Use the momentum, act casual. If you can keep your movements flowing, instead of that jerky I'm Disarming a Heavy Explosive approach things tend to flow. Locate and use the lagger sheep. Use hesitation to your advantage.

In closing, I am always at least 6 seconds behind.  I have no 'bubble' as I've said before, I have stubble.  I'm going to trade my crook in for a chainsaw.  I've seen nothing prohibiting this in the USBCHA 'guidelines'…but then I've never really looked. 

Jaenne* picks up the TMT interrogations:

1. Where were you born? Did you grow up there?

I was born in Southern California and grew up in Northern Idaho, just like everyone else in Idaho who can read and still has teeth. JUST KIDDING! Just like everyone else in Idaho who can't drive in snow and thinks cows are wildlife…JUST KIDDING! Just like everyone else in Idaho who pronounces "CREEK" and "COYOTE" correctly, or looks coyly proud of themselves when they don't. 

Yeah. Just like everyone else.

2. How did you come to end up living where you are now?

I married, procreated and divorced as quickly as it took me to type that sentence and his family had enough money to make sure I couldn't live any further than, I shit you not, 120 miles from the city center of Buhl, Idaho. What center???

Google that little slice of farming shitheaven. Thus began my forced love affair with Boise.

Who names a town 'Buhl'? Germans! 

3. What is the most unusual trick you have taught your dog? Or the most unusual animal you have taught tricks?

 People always thought we taught Hank to surf an innertube– she could leap from the side to the center of the pool, landing gracefully, perfectly balanced smack dab in the middle of any floatation device and navigate skillfully to the next splash.  She loved to bite splashes.  Eventually she'd jump off into the water and swim to the side, biting the water all the way, and do it all again.  We never taught or encouraged this, however, because it was a serious pain in the ass at times and cost me a small fortune in 'tubes. 

My dogs have taught me more tricks than I've taught them. 

4. What is the most unusual food you enjoy?

I don't enjoy unusual food.  My daughter does and is always trapping me into trying some of these nasty esoteric things – the sauteed sweet bread of some unfortunate creature or candied, salted, WTF…but I almost never enjoy it. I feel martyred by my concession to even lick tentatively a fork that has occupied the same table as some of this weird shit that privaleged people find ironicly yummie.    

Wake me when we are eating fetus infused with a bank account and chocolate sauce.  

5. I know this has been asked before, but I'm always looking for a great book to read so what was the last book you read? Did you like it? Would you recommend it?

I just finished Schopenhauer's Porcupines.  It was good. 

*JAENNE, NOT Jeanne, NOT JANNNNAE, NOT J'Aenne.