Yesterday, as we drove back home from the feed supply place, Kate and I were musing on how farmers really don’t need sheepdogs to control their sheep.
Admittedly, once while sat on Hadrian’s wall, we gazed down into the valley beyoand and watched a collie very systematically round up all the sheep from a field that also included cattle. It was very impressive and you couldn’t help but shout for the dog, particularly when at one point a cow realised that as the dog was concentrating on the sheep, now would be a good time to trample it. The dog glanced over it’s shoulder just in time and went onto clear the field of sheep.
It was incredible to watch. However was it anymore incredible than watching Mary Bell empty a field of herdwicks by shouting “teatime!”?
The fact is that they’re both very impressive in their own right. Having watched a sheep dog trial in the flesh, Hadrian’s collie was remarkable, and the ability to train your sheep to respond to voice commands would be good TV if “That’s Life” were still going.
However, there is a third way, and it was reassuring to see this afternoon that, what we might describe as a real farmer, subscribes to one of our techniques.
A local farmer was moving his sheep from a field over the road to another down a side road. He had a couple of helpers and a sheep dog with him, so no doubt we could look forward to a supreme display of sheep doggery in moving the sheep.
Kate and I waited with bated breath. This would be an education. We called Tinkerbell and told her to pay attention closely as we would be asking questions.
And then it started. The farmer picked up an empty sack from the back of his pick-up, shook it as loudly as possible a couple of times, and then broke into a sprint, obviously running for his life as every sheep within 4 miles suddenly started charging towards the sound of a feed sack.
The poor guy only managed about 40 yards before they caught him, and realising that the feed sack was empty, strung him up from the nearest telegraph pole. Sheep can be harsh!
However there is a lesson there. Why spend years training a dog, when you can train sheep to react to a feed sack in 2 days. Just make sure you can outrun them once you’ve got them where you need them or always ensure the feed sack is never entirely empty. Reassuringly, if you can drop a mere 2 grammes of feed at the right moment, a full blown stampede will stop in an instant to indulge in a single sheep nut.
Admittedly, a sack and a dog is the ideal situation. this afternoon, the sheep ran down the road and then through an open gate that shouldn’t have been open. At that point it was quite clear that the farmer was able to blame the dog for letting the sheep down there.
Fortunately the farmer’s mate was rather more grateful when Kate had run out of the house to block 3 ewes who’d decided to make a break for Halton Lea Gate, forcing them to head back towards Lambley.
Later today, I found myself watching the eldest angora goat in the front garden. It was unusual to see a goat in the garden, but after some 5 days locked in the stables, once let out this morning, one of them had shouted charge and all four had charged.
In completely different directions.
Hence they then spent the rest of the day wandering around the full 16 acres of our land trying to reunite themselves. Before this morning I’d never seen them move more than 20 metres from the stable block, and only then when following either Kate or myself and a feed bucket.
However today there was no stopping them, and through the course of the day we saw the goats in different corners of our land, posing in various different and amusing ways for the camera. The postcards haven’t started arriving yet, but it can only be a matter of time.
However I’ve just remembered that there was a reason for me moving the conversation onto the subject of goats.
Oh no, it’s gone again.
Er?
Oh yes. As I watched the eldest goat out of the window, I thought to myself how remarkable it was that she see where she was going with such a thick fringe of fleece hanging down over her eyes.
It really is quite remarkable to watch. It’s almost as if she has some kind sixth sense. I watched her stroll aroundthe pond in the front garden, completely sure footed and without missing her footing once.
I really felt that in some way I was really communing with nature. I don’t know what it was, but something was giving her an incredible and consumate sense of self awareness and locality.
Maybe ley lines, magnetic fields, an inherited genetic sense. I don’t know what it was, but the knowledge and awarenessthat it gave that goat was really quite moving to experience.
And then the daft sod turned a sharp right and walked straight into the deeper end of the pond.
Pillock!
Turns out the daft beggar had no idea where it was and thought it had just seen the door to the stable. Must have been a trick of the light.
Probably a bit like the Evening Post’s booze cruise around Bristol docks some years ago. After more pubs than adviseable when travelling by boat, the masters of the launch were tying up by the dock when a few guests thought the boat was docked. This belief was based on a trick of the light. Oddly a shaft of light was breaking past a building and giving the impression of a gang-plank.
Sounds odd, but the 2 blokes who stood on the shaft of light and had to be fished out of the docks, and those stood behind them swear that it looked just like a solid gang plate.
I find it hard to judge the goat too harshly.
As I watched this happen, I found myself running for my boots and charging outside to lift her out of the pond. I didn’t have to hold her horn too much to make her leap out of the pond and she was quite happy to follow me when i suggested she might go to bed. Strangely, all the herdwicks heard me say this. Incredible that a breed that has evolved some 1500 feet up a hill, that when confronted with the hardships of living at a mere 2 feet or so, should find themselves needing to run for cover whenever they feel the opportunity presents itself.
So as I lead the angora around, all the herdies that we’d let out of the barn this morning queued up behind us and followed us around.
Hence, without a sheep dog, a sack or a desire, I managed to put the sheep into the barn.