A different sort of falconry

I was once, an aspiring falconer.
It was a long time ago. It almost happened , until both Master falconer, and apprentice got summarily fired  (for no good reason) from our situations, and were scattered to the same winds of any who have to move quickly and without any resources to speak of.  (I ended up in LaGrande.  My sponsor ended up in a "compound" with those loony Montana Freemen. Google it, if it doesn';t ring a historical bell. They made the news.)
The end was a mess,  but I retain even yet, sweet memories of hawking with friends on sweet cool, sunny autumn days. Sweetest times.
 I learned the sport, somewhat.

Even before that, I had a short sub-contract job describing vegetation, and otherwise assisting in a  general survey of vertebrate animals on  a BLM district in far SE Oregon, It was a shitty survey,...Shitty boss. He was later jailed for some shit.  I dont think I ever got paid for that job (Goddammit!)
Except in this: One of the most remarkable things I've ever seen.
Among other duties,  I was tasked with live-trapping native rodents. After the various small mammals were documented, I would release them. Poor little nocturnal mousies would be dazzled and momentarily disoriented by the morning sun's brightness. By the second day of rodent grid, families of kestrels (clever little sparrow hawks) would accompany me on my trapline chores. They'd learned that I was a good source of easy hunting.). After a week, they were fluttering about my head, and hovering, waiting for their  mousie treats.
I enjoyed it.

Decades later, I still remember.
A couple of years ago, I got a sparrow trap to get live meat for a Swainson's hawk I was readying for release (Yeah, bitches, I re-hab doomed birds illegally too. So call the cops!)

I captured an excess of introduced old world sparrows. I started offering these to my kestrel friends. And I got takers!

One winter resident female kestrel  watched for me daily. When I ran out of live sparrows, she would take thawed frozen ones. When I ran out of frozen sparrows, she would take lean raw chicken. When I ran out of chicken, she would follow me around as I and my dogs kicked at the scrubby edges of fields to scare up a birdie for her to eat.
She wasn't the only one. I played a lot of kestrels and a few merlins, prairie falcons, coopers, and one very bold (hungry) young goshawk.
Most of the hawks I shared sport with were transients, and migrated on after a day or two.
But the female kestrel played from September till April. She recognized me, and she recognized my car, and would "wait on" when I arrived in her neighborhood. Sometimes I would'nt at once see her, but she always saw me.
That last April, she took up with a guy kestrel, and went away with him to nest. I saw her less and less.  I still miss that female K-bird.

I still trap sparrows, and I still feed some wild hawks.
Last week a bold female kestrel came in for sparrows three days in a row.  Game on!

. It never happened.

Nothing like that ever happened.
I have to repeat it to myself. Relatively pleasant days can go by when I can believe it.

The physical memory is pretty faded now, more like a memory of a memory.
I wore it out through overuse. Like a  toy panda bear I used to have who got so threadbare and bald from too much attention for too long, that it wasn't even recognizable as the original bright fluffy toy in the photograph of Christmas morning 1957.

Something did NOT happen two years ago, during the week before the USBCHA finals.

I am more content when I make myself believe it never happened. This seems consistent with the  apparent sentiments of others. Lots of people are pretending it didnt happen.
I think I can stay contented if I pretend along with them.


Once in a while, though, not as often as used to be, I forget to remember that it never happened.
I need to work harder on that.

Its Finals time! (Bitter! ...SWEET!...Bitter)

The USBCHA Finals has always been, for me,  THE ultimate sheepdog trial of all time. The ONE!
It is the trail that matters most. The trial to work toward.....maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but the one after that....yeah maybe!!!!
I've been following avidly for 15 years.
It used to be my goal, my aim, my daydream, and last thoughts at night.  When I was working  my dogs, making my plans, the USBCHA finals was the thing that was in my mind. It has been like this since my first novice trials with my Rook, and my Kelly ( both gone now. They got old, and then they had to go, , but not without teaching me how to move on to the next step)....and I did move on to the next step.  A pleasant easy going dog called Zeke (Greasy) and a real neat bitch named Taff showed me some moves. Both of these dogs were utterly lovely to work with, and i trusted both, but these lacked 100% of the natural talent it takes to be competitive.  I was reaching. Still dreaming the dream. I discarded Zeekie and Taff.  Both Zeke (Greasy) and Taff now  live with people who love them a lot, and use them on stock, and don't dream of making a decent showing in any USBCHA finals, or any trials at all.

Then. I worked a real good dog. for a few years... .and I didnt merely dream about competing in the finals, I saw it happening. Each step within reach. Two and a half years I worked her and all of the work made sense. Each day of training took us palpably closer. I could see it unfolding. The thing was going to HAPPEN! No doubt in my mind. and back then I wasn't delusional. I knew myself. I knew my dog. I had confidence in her. She had confidence in me.  We were exactly where I'd been aiming to be.
She was (is) the dog that would go there, and not merely qualify, but knock some socks off too.
It was going to happen.

One hears that "No dog is perfect" , and "every dog has a weakness" .  It probably seems pompous, but it was only truthful for me to say that , " My dog is perfect. She has no weakness. None"
 I stand by it, still, though she is not my dog any longer. She wasnt my dog then, though I didnt realize it,  Her heart was mine. No doubt about that. My heart absolutely belonged to her.

The Finals. Here they come again.
It is a bitter anniversary. 2 years ago is the last time I spoke to and touched my dog.
I got a phone call from my mentor, and compliantly delivered the dog to him.

I wish I had'nt been so compliant.But  I used to be so damn nice, so I put my hopes and dreams, and my only true love in the seat beside me, and took her to my mentor's house,
and I have never touched her again.
I did it because I  trusted my mentor to make it right.  I wish I would have fought a little.  I wish I would have fought a lot.  I wish I would not have made it easy, but I trusted that all would be made right. I really trusted that guy.

My dog is in the Nationals this year.
 She might just win it. I dont know why not. She is perfect. She has no weakness. None.
Good handler too. Great handler!

Mentor? Well.

Hit reset, and kill the ghosts

Again,
and again ,
 and again........

I don't really know whats ahead in my sheepdog journey.
I suppose no one does, but it is helpful, probably necessary to have a picture in one's mind of the road one wants to travel.
When that picture falls apart,and that road becomes blocked, One must form new images and expectations to cling to.
These will fall apart too.
Buddhists would have something to say about all this grasping and clinging to visions that don't exist.
They might call it, the source of the suffering.

When I'm working a dog, I try to line out my training session, so that its fairly certain that my dog will succeed.
I can do this in any given 15 minute work, but long term, eludes me.

Maybe I need to limit my hopes, dreams, goals and expectations to 15 minutes at a time.

When I train or trial my dogs, Ghosts of my past expectations haunt me.
They hover around and laugh at me, not in a pleasant way.

I need to find a way to kill these ghosts. They are fucking me up.

Resources: "Hi Officer. No, I don't own that land."

To make progress in  the sheepdog thing,   requires three absolute necessities. No. Four.

1. Pretty good dog(s) : They needn't be perfect, mind you, but if they are perfect, so much the better.
2. Pretty good sheep: They needn't be perfect, mind you, but if they are perfect, so much the better.
3. A pretty good place to work : It needn't be perfect, mind you, but if it is perfect, so much the better.
4. Time, preferably during daylight.

Three out of four aint bad.
I've got pretty good dogs, Maybe even perfect!
I've got pretty good sheep, Maybe even perfect!
..And , now Kind thanks to the equinox, I've got some daylight after my daily work obligations are finished.

I am all dressed up, but there is no where to go.

I've been trying to save up for a light weight  trailer of some kind, that I can pull with a Toyota, to take my sheep about 1 mile south of here, where there lies welcoming and waiting and PERFECT, miles and miles of beautiful open country on public land.
But January paycheck bought some plumbing work, and February paycheck paid my overdue  property taxes. March paycheck bought a load of hay,....and dammit, Aprils paycheck will have to buy tires, I'm afraid.

So, The PERFECT place to work sheep will have to wait. I've been working sheep on less than perfect.
Each evening after work, I've been taking my good sheep, and my good dogs, through the streets of the  ragged subdivision where I live,  to  an empty ~ 2 acre lot , where I do some close up work.....(in 2 acres, close-up work, is all ya got.....But Thats okay, because if your dog and you cant do it do it close up, long distance wont work either.

It wasnt perfect, but some good , some beauty, could be squeezed out.
When I'm doing good work with my dogs and my sheep, I feel physically beautiful. Isnt that vain? Isnt that silly?

Apparently some neighbor, or another found my dog and sheep work less  beautiful than I do,  and called the police, to put a stop to it.
A polite sheriff deputy knocked on my door, to tell me keep my sheep contained on my own land.

There was no  ticket, no fine.  Thats good, certainly, but  something here is wrong.

I'm not very high on my neighbors just now.

Clearly!  Some neighbor or neighbors are not high on me!
I think I want to be somewhere else.
I dont have the resources to make it happen.

I'm feeling pretty low just now.

We have our own language

Even when its sneen, their spumers may become laxish
 and bebies will spill out, one at a time from the spoo.
Woolie Beebs suck on the teatly bazoom.
Dogeroons, be careful . Uws are fierce at lambing.
Heads up while you eat the sploo, and the old dags.

A word about sheep

 A lot of sheep-doggers start training on the sheep of their trainer.  These are probably GREAT sheep. Later, hungering for more frequent sheep-time for their dogs, a novice herder will beg , borrow, or steal, any local sheep they can find.
Eventually, a dedicated sheep-dogger will find a way to acquire a wee small herd of one's own.

If this is you , Congratulations!   You'll be thinking about sheep.

You have a new responsibility. You are no longer looking after the well-being of your good dogs, You will be considering the health and well-being of your flock. You'll concern yourself with your individual sheep.
If you have a ram and ewes, you will concern yourself with with the status and genetics of your fold.
You will be responsible, not only for your individual animals, but also you'll be responsible for what your flock will be.

What do you want from your sheep?  Think hard about this.

Today at work, a valuable breeding ewe came in with a dystocia. She could not deliver her royally pedigreed lamb without surgical intervention.  She came from a line of sheep bred for show. She was absolutely beautiful! A beautifully arched aristocratic facial profile, Long neck, Long back. Solid haunches.
Be very careful what you wish for, my sheep-keeping friends.
Huge single lambs make great show sheep. ....and a huge single lamb was what this gorgeous ewe  predictably carried.
 A very  few generations of breeding for Humongous singles cost this ewe her life.  Her gorgeous single lamb, survived, due to outstabnding veterinary intervention.. He will be bottle raised and will take his princely place in the pedigrees of show sheep of the future.


We sheepdog folks dont tend to be concerned with producing Suffolks for show,...(THANK GOD!)... Suffolks of any sort are headstrong , and not very good for our young dogs confidence.

But do, pay heed to what you are breeding for, regardless of what sort of sheep your aiming for.
Do you want a flock that only lambs with human intervention? Are you really all that happy about hourly night time checks during lambing season? Are you happy about sewing a ewes prolapsed vagina and rectum shut , to keep her alive long enough to breed another season?
Do you want a flock that you have to force your ewes accept and feed their lambs?


Think hard about what you'd like your sheep to do for you.
Sheep keeping should not be hard. Verifiable idiots have been doing it for thousands of years.

The single secret to improving a flock, is ruthless Culling.
If you dont cull, your flock will not improve.

.......and also, stay the fuck away from  suffolks.