Henrietta Goes to the Dogs

Politics are the main topic on most of our minds this week. I like to vote early because I love the electronic voting machines at the Mall. But studying all the many issues has taken a lot of time.

Last week I turned off politics and turned on dogs. I am a cat person, so I felt a bit disloyal. Since I acquired my new friend Mercury the Wonder Cat, he has taken over my household and reminded me again what wonderful animals cats are.

But recently I met some wonder dogs.

As a matter of fact, some people prefer dogs. I have a friend who says that dogs have masters. Cats have staff.

We have here in western Colorado each year a great demonstration of what working sheepdogs can do. The Meeker Classic is one of the biggest in the nation, but somehow I have never managed to get to it. My loss. Last week, however, I got a personal demonstration as I watched Julie Matthews work her sheepdogs.

Julie is a young sheep woman/professional dog trainer from New Zealand who was visiting Grand Junction recently and invited me to watch a work session with her dogs. Wow. It was an amazing afternoon.

She has four dogs, but one is temporarily out of commission, having fallen off a cliff on Glade Park and broken his two front legs. They call him Celt the Wonder Dog. They should call him Celt the Flying Dog. When I met him his front legs looked like huge sausages wrapped in bandage. He is recovering, although he may not regain his former speed.

Julie has been working with sheep and sheepdogs for many years, and was full of information and stories, all reflecting her deep love of all animals-- most especially those little black and white speed demons, the sheepdogs.

The afternoon I watched her work. she was in a friend's big field and had "borrowed" six sheep. I was introduced first to Moss, the patriarch dog, then to Dodge, and to Meg, a pup who was still being trained. The sheep ignored me, but they certainly did not ignore the dogs. They went exactly where the dogs put them and the dogs put them exactly where Julie told them to.

Julie stood still and used voice commands and a whistle to tell the dogs what she wanted them to do. She used standard voice commands, probably hundreds of years old. "Come bye" means circle to the left. "Away to me" means go right. I have no idea what she told them when she used her whistle. The dogs moved the closely packed sheep around the field, on one command divided them into two flocks and on another command even isolated one sheep. Julie assured me that while this looks like showmanship, with a flock of 1500 , this kind of discipline is essential. These are working dogs.

It was so beautiful to watch these dogs run in exactly the commanded pattern, then stop and slink toward the sheep, then run, never taking their eyes from the goal. It was almost like watching a ballet -- the perfect, graceful harmony between human and animals.

These dogs are genetically programmed to want to herd livestock. Untold generations of careful selection have produced a breed that knows exactly what to do. This was evident in watching Meg, the puppy. Even though her training had just begun, she instinctively ran and crouched exactly like her elders.

Lest you think sheep are dumb, they are the oldest domesticated animal. They have gotten us to take care of them for over 6000 years. They huddle together instinctively for protection, with the weaker members of the flock on the outside. But the sheepdogs still can push them around.

I found myself wondering whether as humans, we are more like the dogs or the sheep.

Oh yes, Mercury the Wonder Cat says to be sure to remember to vote.