Farm Fresh Blog

Earlier this week I was talking with a friend of mine about the fact that I simply didn't have the time to keep up with Border Collie's herding lessons. It's almost two hours away and something always seems to gobble up whatever free time I have available.  She suggested that I send Border Collie away for a month of training.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

She assured me that this trainer was completely trustworthy and she'd feel confident sending one of her dogs to this woman.  I was adamant.  Sending Border Collie to "boarding school" wasn't gonna happen.  Aside from the obvious fact that Border Collie is MY DOG and I cannot imagine sleeping at night without Border Collie at the foot of the bed, I also cannot imagine running the farm without Border Collie.

This morning was a perfect example of why I can't send Border Collie to school:

Border Collie and I are feeding the stock. I get absorbed in why Pregnant Goat About To Pop has not had her babies YET and leave the gate open. Both Porch Ponies sneak behind me and out of their paddock, through the goat paddock, and into the driveway paddock where they gallop around like mustangs, eat rye grass, and refuse to be coaxed back into their paddock. 

After much cussing on my part, I order Border Collie to "Bring me those DAMNED HORSES!"  Border Collie salutes and runs off.  Evil Red Demon blows her off.  Border Collie bites his heel and informs him that there is more to come if he does not get his little red arse in gear.  He tries to kick her.  She does Mohammed Ali "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee" move and he is greatly impressed.  She then swings around and picks up St. Napolean who is easily impressed by a Border Collie who darts like a wasp. It takes her less than 60 seconds to intimidate and gather two evil ponies.  I have been trying to catch them for ten minutes.

With ponies in their prison, Border Collie and I finish feeding the stock and then head to the vet's clinic. Phone rings.  Look at number. That can't be good. "Your prize lamb is out and cannot figure out how to get back in the pasture."

My mind goes fuzzy.  Goats get out.  Sheep do NOT get out.  How did this lamb get out? Good sense finally returns and reminds me that at the moment, the more serious problem is getting the lamb back into the pasture.  I am twenty minutes away . . . and I have the Border Collie. Call Other Half and inform him that he needs to wake up, get some pants on, and go outside to get that lamb before some dog eats him.  Other Half is a man of few words at that hour of the morning. He says a few choice cuss words and hangs up.

While paying bill at the vet clinic, phone rings again.  Uh Oh!  It is Other Half.  He is screaming that ALL the sheep are out and he needs BORDER COLLIE NOW!!!!  I assure him that I am on my way. While attempting to get one lamb back inside, ALL the sheep ran out.  Apparently there was a great deal of cussing and the neighbors have learned some new words.

By the time Border Collie and I return home, Other Half has the sheep corralled in the Driveway paddock but they still need to be returned to their pasture.  Border Collie hops out of the truck, neatly rounds up the sheep and marches them to their stall.  It takes less than three minutes.  Border Collie is quite delighted with herself . She has had a good day and it is only noon thirty.

Other Half and I eat dinner at a fancy steak restaurant before we head to the Livestock Show.  (again . . . more cows . . . again)  The Kids have given us a gift certificate to this restaurant.  The food is fantastic, but so plentiful that I cannot possibly eat all of the 6 oz steak that I just purchased for $32.  (egads!!!!)  That's when I remember Top Hand. There is a bonus for being Top Hand at Failte Gate Farm. It's called filet mignon.

Can a farm run without a Border Collie? 

  I don't ever want to find out.