We drove up to New Jersey for the trials of the Northeast Stockdog Association (NESA). I had registered us for two HT tests (the lowest level of AKC herding titles, 2 passes being roughly equivalent to graduating from 8th grade), and had hope that we might pass our second HT leg on Saturday, and then move up to a PT leg on Sunday. (Two passes of a PT are roughly equivalent to graduating from high school.) I wasn't at all sure we would pass that, but it would be good experience, I thought.
We were scheduled on Friday for a training session just before I left. This seemed important since our session on Monday (5/13) had been awful. Bryna (Briarpatch Impromptu, CGC, HCT) was starting in full bloom in her season that day, and I estimated that she was just reaching the stage when she was ready to stand. Since she hadn't shown too much behavior change on the sheep until then, I was unprepared for her lack of enthusiasm--she hasn't turned away from sheep for months. I attributed this marked change in behavior on Monday to the possibility that not all of her brain cells were between her ears at that point.
We got nearly all of the way to the farm (1 hour west of where I live in Virginia), and as I peered through the rapidly swishing wiper blades, I was telling myself "yes, practicing in the pouring rain like this will be good for us, good for us, good for us, Uh-huh." At that point the lightning and thunder started. "Not good for us, not good for us, Uhn-uh." So we gave up, turned around, and headed east and north for New Jersey, hoping for the best anyway. (I couldn't go home since I use 3 day absences to bomb the house for fleas.)
Putting the still fragrant Bryna off in a pariah's corner and asking the secretary to put her last, I watched the first HT dogs run. These sheep were, I realized, unlike anything I had seen before. With very laid-back dogs they showed a certain insouciance, becoming nearly velcroed to the knees of the shepherd, and even grazing, as the dogs wandered around and the owners tried to jazz the dogs up. With 2 young Belgian Tervurens, they exploded like popcorn all over the pen--at amazing distances from the dog. Hoo-boy....
When our turn came, the very fast sheep caused Bryna to revert nearly to the chasing behavior that a beginning dog shows. She split them like mad, and I found myself wondering how to get 5 sheep back together when they were split into 3 groups. I think I was pretty flat-footed while Bryna zoomed around bowling for woolies. We never regained control of the situation, and the judge stopped the test, thinking that my Sweet Pea was looking interested in killing a sheep or something. (Mostly I doubted that, but I did wonder if a tiny taste had crossed her mind.) The sheep had been shorn rather recently, and rather close, so a dog's teeth didn't have to go in too far to connect with skin. In any event, I was appalled--at both of us.
In the afternoon, I was a steward for the trial levels on the A course. My job was to walk out ahead of these spooky sheep, luring them with a bucket of cracked corn. This wasn't easy, since they were so spooky, but once I got them to the pan for the corn (did I mention that "Corn" is my last name-really!), I had to stand there very quietly with the sheep, tossing in corn, while the dog was sent to pick up the stock. I was to stay quietly at the pan until the dog had control, and then sprint to the gate where a fellow steward quickly opened it, and slammed it shut behind me. Sometimes, this effort included my standing there as the sheep went whizzing around and past me until I could leave. I must confess to shifting into a wrestler's bent-knee crouch on occasion, rules or not. (Note: the expression "to be left holding the bucket" clearly originated among stock handlers at sheepdog trials.)
That night, thinking that some of Bryna's wildness might be due to the fact that her season had prevented me from exercising her as much as I normally would, I resolved to correct that the next morning. Besides, Sunday was going to be very hot, and there were not many places at that trial to leave a bitch in season that would be cool enough. And our HT handlers' meeting wasn't until 2:30. So Bryna and I spent the morning hiking the Appalachian Trail, which runs along a ridgeline that is visible from the ranch. The climb started out in fog, and we rose into the sunshine in a day that promised to be a real stinker. There were mayapples, mountain laurel, spring beauties, and parula warblers, a redtail hawk, hermit thrushes, common yellowthroats, a chipping sparrow, and many other birds. Bryna would also like me to note that the sniffs included 2 really interesting holes that probably had mice, 1 pile of coyote poop, and 2 piles of bear poop. The latter were new "life poops" for her.
We hiked in a more and more leisurely way as the morning got hotter, and stopped frequently for water. I was beginning to think about turning around as we sat resting, drinking, panting, and looking down a steep slope. Suddenly we heard a loud noise, like a crack of wood, not too far below. I was just wondering if the trail had a switchback below and were there people below us, when I heard a second crack and localized the sound. It was a black bear up in a tree. It was about 30 yards away. Because of the slope, the bear was about at our level. He was demolishing the tree, looking for grubs, I assume. I am not sure he knew we were there. We watch quietly for a minute or 2, and then the bear began to descend the tree. At that point I decided that this was, in fact, a nice spot to turn around, even though the bear didn't seem interested in us.
We got back to the trailhead around 12:30. Sweet Pea was definitely pooped. (Yeah, it was working!) Then we went back to the trial. We found a sort of OK space to wait away from the other dogs, and I gave Bryna more water. The temperature was way over 90 degrees F, and the humidity matched it. Two dogs before our turn (we were again last), I took Bryna out for a 200 yard jog/potty break, and off we went.
The judge (Craig Watson), while strict, was patient and understanding. He told us in advance that he was going to be strict about running the stock due to the extreme heat--the first hot day of the season. I decided to use a stockstick (which I had gotten away from in recent training sessions).
The effort worked to a degree. This time, I was marginally in control of an extremely wild situation. I was able to lie her down on a dead run on some occasions, and re-start. (I did this without--quite--resorting to that famous old sheepherding command, "Lie down, d----t!") As I tore around the ring, sweat running down my face and back, the possibility of heat exhaustion (mine) did occur to me. Bryna was doing her very best to bring these errant sheep back and her speed was really dazzling as she outran them to turn them around. (She was not actually gripping, as far as I could tell in the tumult--no wool, no grip.) But we were never able to put it together, and stopped after 6 min. We left the ring, and I turned a hose on Bryna (who stood still for it this time), and then down the back of my T-shirt.
So now we are humble. What did I learn? First, that a down that is sort of reliable on one kind of stock, is not adequate on this type of stock. Second, I learned that I need to take a more active role in the whole situation, and perhaps throw in a moment of better mental preparation before we go in the ring. Third, If I can manage it, I will not work with Bryna in season until we get much better than we are now. Fourth, we need to find some really light sheep to work with. Fifth, I still love it anyway, and Bryna adores it. We'll be back!
And besides, we did get to see a bear!