PART TWO

Jason had suggested I call up his mentor and ask her for lessons, so I could learn how to handle my dog better. I figured there was nothing to lose, so I went home and did just that. When I explained the situation, she said with some puzzlement, “But I’m a Border Collie trainer, I have no experience with Aussies. You’re going to the best Aussie trainer in the business. Why call me?” I didn't have an answer to that.

So, mentorless, I went back to the ranch a few days later. It was a lot like the first time. Bonnie and I attempted to work his sheep and, with desperate struggles, sometimes managed to contain them. She was too green and too pushy for those sheep, and I was too inexperienced to know how to help her. Jason insisted that his sheep weren’t hard to work at all. To prove it to me he offered to let me work his Border Collie, and, dubiously, I gave it a try.

This was another flop. I had never handled any other dog than Bonnie, and the difference was extreme. His dog did two things: circle intently, and lie down. Jason habitually dropped his dog every few seconds. He had at least three different tones of ‘lie down’, meaning, perhaps, good dog, slow down, and bad dog. He had different commands for quarter circles, half circles, and full circles, in each direction. His dog didn’t exactly either fetch or drive, as I had been taught to understand the terms, but he kept those wild-eyed sheep baulked within his circle all the time. Using his extensive vocabulary of flanking and dropping commands, Jason could manipulate the sheep around in a given direction, although not in a straight line, unless the fence held them on one side. When I tried my hand at Jason’s unfamiliar methods, his dog just pinned the sheep on the fence and stared at them, ignoring me.

I felt, frankly, lost and discouraged. Jason seemed an accepting, intelligent, but somehow not a very clear-speaking individual. I had conversed with him for some hours and had spent a good portion of two days on the ranch before I gathered that the typical day’s work was collecting the whole goat herd, which varied between one hundred fifty and three hundred head, and moving it some miles along a network of ranch roads to another pasture, and then, at the end of the day, moving it back, or to a third place. That sounded really fun to me, but I knew Bonnie and I couldn’t handle that many goats alone, yet.

Jason told me I could just use his dog, until Bonnie got up to speed. but I didn’t know how to use his dog. I didn’t know how to handle a dog whose default instinct was to lie down before immobile stock and stare at them, and who had six different commands for flanks. He appeared to think that Bonnie would do much better if I just treated her like a Border Collie and dropped her every few seconds, but I knew to my very bones that wouldn't work at all. In any case Bonnie generally despised lying down unless the sheep were completely stationary.

I drove home again and thought hard. I thought all night. I could imagine a number of scenarios, such as using both dogs, or dividing the herd into manageable units, but it just didn’t seem likely that Jason was going to bring Bonnie and I into focus enough to create a doable job at our level, from which we could then advance. I was willing to fail and be humiliated in order to learn, but I was not willing to put my dog in that position.

It was hard to accept. but with great disappointment I decided it was not the right situation for me, not then. Maybe later. My little dreams would have to be repacked and stored. Still, there was the vision, sharper now. I was not going to let go of it.