I’m getting smarter in my old age. That’s a fact that would probably surprise a few people, but it’s true. I think I’ve finally learned that sometimes it’s just better not to force the issue. Especially when training dogs. Or trying to. Last night was not a stellar evening of working dogs. First there was the hour rain delay. Then the swarms of biting insects brought about by the rain. Then the lackluster performance of the dogs.
I worked Quinn first, moving him into the big arena to practice controlling the stock in a more open space. I had him dragging the long line to prevent any train wrecks. It was going somewhat okay so I took him off lead. That’s when it pretty much went to hell in a hand-cart. He did his usual pushing the sheep until they took off and then going to bring them back. I guess driving them around the arena at a nice, steady walk is just way too boring for him. Back on the lead he went and we worked on some get back to a flank. Go bye is good. Away to me has literally gone away. I could not get him to away to me at any point. So I decided next time I work him it will be back into the round pen to remind him there is more to life than go bye. If I still don’t get a decent away to me then I need to look at physical issues and get him to the chiro to see if something is out of whack. The boy definitely needs more miles and a lot of steady, consistent work to calm him down. And I need to develop a method of halting his head hunting without taking away his ability to go to head if needed.
Rowan got the next working spot. She’s always been a girl that prefers practical work to training and last night was no exception. Of course, I didn’t realize Roach was in the group of sheep we were going to work. My mind was elsewhere. I opened the take pen gate and was going to work it Jerry Rowe style. That means sending her toward the gate hinge, having her down, moving her to the next corner, down, to the next corner, down, by which time the stock have moved quietly out of the pen and are standing a little way off, a quiet walk up while I close the gate and she holds the stock off me at a distance. Works great when it works. Works great when you don’t have a sheep and a dog with their very own agenda, that being a cage match.
Roach was at the back of the pen when Rowan got to the gate hinge. When Row got to the second corner I saw her expression change a millisecond before she launched herself at the ewe that had come around the other sheep and challenged her. I spent the next several minutes, or maybe only seconds, refereeing the match until I could get the two of them to back off each other and sorted Roach into the middle pen.
All right, fight over, let’s move on and get some work done.
After several attempts at trying to get Rowan to focus and drive the sheep, or focus and do anything, I decided it wasn’t a good night to practice. We did a successful re-pen and quit.
It’s always after a session like this that I second guess myself. I get to feeling I have no clue what I’m doing beyond confusing the hell out of my dogs and, occasionally, beating a dead horse. Now look back a few paragraphs where I wrote, "My mind was elsewhere." I’ve touched on this before in my writings, being in the right frame of mind when training. This past weekend at the Jerry Rowe clinic we also discussed it. How very important it is to have a clear mental image of what you’re doing or asking so that it matches what comes out of your mouth. If you’re thinking about the events of the day, things you have to do, things you’re worried about, you won’t be giving 100% to your dog. The mental distraction comes across loud and clear. And if you’re not giving them 100% how can you expect 100% in return?

With the radar looking like this:
