By Helen Knibb
(photo credit to Beth Devereau)
‘Winter has dumped too much snow on us! Who wants a fun day?’ read the OBCC poster from Tracy. It was hard to resist, given the recent weather. So, on a wintery, January day, OBCC members and dogs gathered in Fenelon Falls. But if the invitation promised fun, it neglected to mention the scale of the challenge…
It was the very devil of a course. A cross between Barnyard Olympics, Extreme Cowboy and Sheep Agility. It tested dogs and handlers, young and old, novice and experienced. I had some doubts as to how this would go when I noted that the two demonstration runs were, shall we say, brave efforts …
From the moment one released the first packet (yes, you had to choose the correct pen and some us even failed that) the course tested dexterity, (gates with pins, bolts and slides that pinched fingers or failed to be budged); memory (yes, many of us went off course at least once); our reading of pressure (which appeared to differ from that of our dogs and sheep with alarming frequency); husbandry skills – as in the ability to move stock safely and quietly and perform everyday farm tasks efficiently with our dogs. Did I mention timing?
The sheep were alert, fit and super athletic. The contenders (the handlers) were cold, slow moving in winter clothing, and out of practice. The dogs were wired tighter than a coiled spring after weeks of snow, ice and inactivity. We were wired on hot apple cider, donated chocolate rations, and that oddly competitive trait that emerges, even at a practice. What could possibly go wrong?
I have vague memories of releasing a packet of three (#1) from a pen (dog doing an up-creep) and their explosion, at speed, down to the far end of the arena. They circumvented the first hazard – a wooden ‘bridge’ (#2) which was apparently the jaws of hell. Maybe they didn’t like the sound of their own hooves, but speed was operative when it came to joining the flock (gathered in #4). Repeat efforts to regroup were Tolkienian in scale with sheep engaged in studied avoidance of said obstacle.
Abandoning the bridge and somewhat chastened, we moved onto the next task – load sheep in the tub (#3). Aided by the impulse to join those sheep already in the chute we limped through that. Onto the back barn (#4)! It was hard to know what happened to dogs and handlers there. The activity was not visible to spectators. There were a few cries of distress, but most were able to put the three sheep, loose in the pen, in with the main flock. They could have made a run for it, but the girls had it figured. Only expend effort when you can make a handler look really inept in front of peers.
There was, of course, some further memory loss around closing gates, (failure to do so had consequences), then back to release sheep from the chute (#5) (Are you with me?). Some sheep chose to do the ‘wedge my arse in backwards’ configuration and jam everything up while one wrestled, one-handed with the rope and guillotine head gate.
With some cursing and generous assistance, that group were exhausted to become the sheep at large in the back barn (#4). The sheep in the tub were hustled into the chute (#5, still following?) and then one awaited the release of three more sheep (#6) ready to navigate a cunning obstacle described as a ‘raceway’ (!!) running almost the length of the arena (#7). What kind of mind thought that one up? It was long, narrow - and a zig zag. Faster than a Dyson vacuum, the sheep once in, hurtled through with the dogs finding the zig and zag a perfect excuse to become utterly deaf to commands and go faster still.
The exit required a hard ‘away’ to break the speed followed by a ‘come bye’ to direct the sheep around a marker identified as ‘Ian’s cone’ (we can imagine the course designers at work on that one). It was a cone where no self-respecting cone should have been. Mostly, the sheep were not to be persuaded. Exhilarated, and now fully trained in the weave pattern, they and dog flew up the arena to the waiting sisterhood assembled in the back barn (#4). If one recovered and persuaded their sheep to leave the woolly gathering and debrief, there remained two pylons to navigate (#9) enroute back to the start pen (#10) to finish with the grand penning of the last packet in our charge.
I think we had 10 minutes. It felt like a lifetime. The kelpies showed their close work brilliance while many a border collie just had waaaay too much fun. Did I mention the athleticism of the sheep? They leaped into pens, they leaped out of pens, they tried aerial entry into the tub, they dived into the chute, they split in all directions, they
squeezed between things and pretended they were invisible, they moved obstacles, they faced off with the dogs. They did what sheep do.
Yet, in all seriousness, days like this one are so vital. That course was thoughtful, challenging, and a fair test of dogs and handlers. It was a good-sized are a with great lighting. There were enough sheep that they were not over used. It was cold, but we could schedule our runs into morning or afternoon, and there was a warming area.
Many were grateful for that, as feet froze and jaws locked. The forty or so runs were timed by Tracy with military precision, and the schedule kept on track to the minute.
Roger Millen, known and loved for his spreadsheets and organizational skills would have been proud, said Tracy. Many amazing helpers stepped in to ensure handler and dog could regroup and maintain their dignity (Kevan, Stacey, Mackenzie, Tracy, Ian) and special thanks is owed to Tracy who conceived the event and scheduled the handlers, Ian who hosted, and Kevan and Ian who provided the sheep. Those who designed, tested and adapted the course; set it up the night before, took it down and moved many panels and chutes did a fantastic job.
Most of all, people were really, really, glad to get out and see each other. ‘A perfect way to come out of hibernation and break up winter doldrums’. ‘Loved it, Aoife was talking my ear off the whole way home about how much fun she had’, ‘Holy crap THAT was a FUN day!’, ‘Very challenging, for sure’, ‘Great way to unload the winter blues’… And it was.
Finding community in winter is a necessary thing. The consensus was – can we do it again, please?