Sunday, July 20, 2014
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Sheep Whisperer!
As a petsitter, it's just easier if I have agreeable, complaint dogs that go along nicely instead of a bunch of jerks (literally!) who pull me down the street. I've worked with all kinds of dogs with all sorts of personalities, and as the results have been so universally positive, I'm starting to get pretty confident in my methods.
I decided I needed a challenge: a really obstinate dog, preferably a big one, with no training or manners, who would be a true test; who not only had no previous training, but maybe was outright defiant -- even aggressive. But where would I find such a dog?
Then I heard my friend Paige at the barn talking to another woman saying things like: He pulled me off my feet! Then he ran around me so fast he almost got the lead around my neck! He was just out of control! My ears pricked up. Was this a dog? A horse? No -- it was a sheep. A Cheviot ram, to be specific.
I asked if she'd be willing to let me come out to her barn to try to teach this rambunctious critter a few leash manners. The answer was a resounding Yes! I had my test subject!
The closest thing I have to sheep experience is the fleece in my slippers. I have never owned a sheep or handled a sheep, except for feeding a handful of pellets to one or two at a petting farm years ago. My imaginary picture of a sheep is a soft, fluffy thing with a lilting "baaaa!" and perhaps a cunning ribbon around it's neck. You know, something like this:
When I arrived at Paige's barn, she cautioned me about the ram. He weighed 120 pounds and though he didn't have horns, I should still watch out for head butting. Probably best not to turn my back on him. He could jump pretty high, and would try to climb the walls of his stall. He had never bitten her or kicked, but he was fast and strong, and he had dragged her a few times. I looked in the stall expecting to see something like this:
And except for the terrifying expression, that wasn't far off, actually. "Chevy" the Cheviot ram was wild and wooly, and his fleece was not a fluffy white cloud but tangled and grey with bits of this and that stuck in it. His face had a passively interested expression. Not exactly "Oh hey! A new friend!" but at least he didn't seem to be sizing me up for attack.
Chevy was easily coaxed to me with a few Frosted Mini-Wheats. He was wearing a dog harness and collar, and Paige had a lead rope attached to the harness so she could grab him easily.
What do we know about harnesses? They make it easy and comfortable for the animal to pull! I knew it would be folly to let Chevy think for an instant that he could pull me around. So after I had gotten him used to me being around and reasonably okay with me touching him, I slipped a sheep halter over his head so I would have good control of him. A sheep halter is a pretty simple device: one strap to go behind the ears, and a noseband. The leadrope goes through the rings on the noseband and tightens when pulled on.
Chevy was pretty sure he was going to die. This thing on his face was just ruining his day and life was stupid and hard and who is this person and why is she so mean, anyway? He rubbed his face on the walls of his stall and tried to back away, then had a little freak-out where he launched himself into the air and bounced off the wall, knocking over his water bucket in his frenzy. I let him have his pity party. When he stopped for breath and stood still, I gave him a few apple treats to munch while he considered this new life event.
So now he was okay with wearing the halter. He didn't like it, but he wasn't terrifically fussed. Resigned -- that's what he was. As he stood there, he would occasionally sniff my gloved hand, as if to make sure I was still the same person who fed him the treats. After a few moments to rest and calm down, we started the next part of the exercise -- leading.
Paige provided me with a stick to encourage Chevy, who planted his feet and refused to move. I pulled gently and insistently on the halter, and tapped the back of his front leg to motivate him to move. It took a lot of tapping. I was starting to feel pretty bad about pulling and hitting this poor confused critter when he actually took his first step! I immediately removed all pressure and praised him, and let him rest for a moment. Then I asked him for another step. It took almost as long the second time, but the third time I asked for a step, he took two, and I was so pleased I gave him an apple treat. Soon he was stepping along well enough -- and stopping, too, which was also important -- that I decided to see how we did outside his stall.
Who's a good boy? Yes --you are! What a good boy! And actually quite handsome, as sheep go. We like you quite a lot, yes we do. Such a clever boy.
Isn't this the look of a relaxed and compliant critter? After an hour and a half of consistent and patient work, he was behaving beautifully and Paige was amazed and pleased. She hopes to run him through the livestock auction next weekend and it will be so much easier now he's able to walk nicely on a lead. Maybe he'll sell for breeding stock, and not meat! Maybe she'll even decide to keep him herself.
Proper leash manners -- they can save lives. And now I can add the title "Sheep Whisperer" to my list of other accolades.
I decided I needed a challenge: a really obstinate dog, preferably a big one, with no training or manners, who would be a true test; who not only had no previous training, but maybe was outright defiant -- even aggressive. But where would I find such a dog?
Then I heard my friend Paige at the barn talking to another woman saying things like: He pulled me off my feet! Then he ran around me so fast he almost got the lead around my neck! He was just out of control! My ears pricked up. Was this a dog? A horse? No -- it was a sheep. A Cheviot ram, to be specific.
I asked if she'd be willing to let me come out to her barn to try to teach this rambunctious critter a few leash manners. The answer was a resounding Yes! I had my test subject!
The closest thing I have to sheep experience is the fleece in my slippers. I have never owned a sheep or handled a sheep, except for feeding a handful of pellets to one or two at a petting farm years ago. My imaginary picture of a sheep is a soft, fluffy thing with a lilting "baaaa!" and perhaps a cunning ribbon around it's neck. You know, something like this:
And except for the terrifying expression, that wasn't far off, actually. "Chevy" the Cheviot ram was wild and wooly, and his fleece was not a fluffy white cloud but tangled and grey with bits of this and that stuck in it. His face had a passively interested expression. Not exactly "Oh hey! A new friend!" but at least he didn't seem to be sizing me up for attack.
Chevy was easily coaxed to me with a few Frosted Mini-Wheats. He was wearing a dog harness and collar, and Paige had a lead rope attached to the harness so she could grab him easily.
What do we know about harnesses? They make it easy and comfortable for the animal to pull! I knew it would be folly to let Chevy think for an instant that he could pull me around. So after I had gotten him used to me being around and reasonably okay with me touching him, I slipped a sheep halter over his head so I would have good control of him. A sheep halter is a pretty simple device: one strap to go behind the ears, and a noseband. The leadrope goes through the rings on the noseband and tightens when pulled on.
Chevy was pretty sure he was going to die. This thing on his face was just ruining his day and life was stupid and hard and who is this person and why is she so mean, anyway? He rubbed his face on the walls of his stall and tried to back away, then had a little freak-out where he launched himself into the air and bounced off the wall, knocking over his water bucket in his frenzy. I let him have his pity party. When he stopped for breath and stood still, I gave him a few apple treats to munch while he considered this new life event.
So now he was okay with wearing the halter. He didn't like it, but he wasn't terrifically fussed. Resigned -- that's what he was. As he stood there, he would occasionally sniff my gloved hand, as if to make sure I was still the same person who fed him the treats. After a few moments to rest and calm down, we started the next part of the exercise -- leading.
Paige provided me with a stick to encourage Chevy, who planted his feet and refused to move. I pulled gently and insistently on the halter, and tapped the back of his front leg to motivate him to move. It took a lot of tapping. I was starting to feel pretty bad about pulling and hitting this poor confused critter when he actually took his first step! I immediately removed all pressure and praised him, and let him rest for a moment. Then I asked him for another step. It took almost as long the second time, but the third time I asked for a step, he took two, and I was so pleased I gave him an apple treat. Soon he was stepping along well enough -- and stopping, too, which was also important -- that I decided to see how we did outside his stall.
So here we are. I'm leading him with the black line attached to his halter. The stripey rope is on his harness, and I'm holding it loosely to use as back-up restraint in case he should make a serious break for freedom. The wild daisies that grow in the field seemed to be a special treat for him, so I led him from one patch to the next.
Isn't this the look of a relaxed and compliant critter? After an hour and a half of consistent and patient work, he was behaving beautifully and Paige was amazed and pleased. She hopes to run him through the livestock auction next weekend and it will be so much easier now he's able to walk nicely on a lead. Maybe he'll sell for breeding stock, and not meat! Maybe she'll even decide to keep him herself.
Proper leash manners -- they can save lives. And now I can add the title "Sheep Whisperer" to my list of other accolades.
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