Pasture Sportsmen : Going With the Herd
The lush green pasture extended from the road several hundred yards up a hill, and the sheep, almost as if they knew which day it was, headed for the farthest corners.
While they ran--their black faces pressed together and thick, dirty coats jiggling--the sheep were watched by a small group of people at a gate down near the road, with nine eager dogs beside them.
They had come for weekly practice in “herding.”
In Another Time
The Agoura pasture was bordered by a housing tract, a power substation and the busy Ventura Freeway. But the five people were back in another time.
Following traditions established by working farmers more than 400 years ago in England, Scotland and Wales, they carried long sticks to use as shepherd’s “crooks.” To command their dogs, they called out old Scottish herding terms, such as “go by,” meaning to go clockwise, or “away to me,” to go counterclockwise.
Although it may be an obscure pastime in urban Los Angeles, “herding” is a growing sport, dog experts say, and one popular enough elsewhere that a weekly television show in Great Britain on the subject, called “One Man and His Dog,” became a hit last year.
Herding has picked up popularity over the last three or four years, says Jack Knox, a Virginia-based trainer who gives seminars on the subject across the country. The sport has inspired an increasing number of competitions, or “trials,” with some prizes as high as $2,000.
A Matter of Talent
Herding’s appeal, participants say, stems from the opportunity to allow a dog to use its natural talents, as opposed to obedience trials, where the dog follows orders, or conformation shows, where the animal is judged on physical appearance.
“In herding, you don’t make your dog do things. You ask him. In obedience, you make him,” Knox said. “The big difference here is when you go out, you’ve got to have a dog that thinks for himself, or you can’t do it.”
“It allows the dog to use his brain,” Don Lawson, a Thousand Oaks resident who has been herding for seven years, said. “In herding you’re working together as a team.”
His 4-year-old border collie, Mic, crouched by the fence, never taking his eyes off the sheep. The little black and white dog looked as though he could not wait for his wiry, 68-year-old master to get down to business and let him work.
The other dogs, except for Mic’s 4-month old daughter, were Australian shepherds. They sometimes looked through the fence at the sheep, but otherwise played or greeted the would-be shepherds. These included a firefighter, interior designer, volunteer museum guide and a high school teacher.
“It’s fun to watch a dog be so enthusiastic,” said Steve Pipitone, a Ventura County firefighter, who found his Australian shepherd, Kelly, in a pound.
There are few local devotees, Lawson said. “It’s hard to find land and hard to find stock,” he said. “And then if you find the stock, the owners don’t want you because they’re afraid you’ll run weight off the sheep.”
Time and Technique
After a friend allowed him to practice with these sheep, he said, he organized the weekly practice sessions four years ago. He usually uses four of the 85 sheep in the flock, but not the same four. If he used the same ones all the time, he explained, “They get what you call sticky, and they won’t move.”
The dogs took turns “fetching” this day’s group of four, working about 15 minutes each. In competitions, Lawson said, dogs must remove stock from a pen by themselves, herd to the far ends of an arena, through and around sets of wooden panels, and back into the pen--in 10 minutes. The dog is judged both on time and technique, losing points for such things as “pulling wool” (biting), upsetting the sheep or needing too many instructions from the owner.
Most of this group were preparing for a trial in April in Lancaster, when the Australian Shepherd Club of Southern California is holding what is believed to be the first cattle, sheep and duck-herding competition in Los Angeles County.
The dogs performed with varying degrees of success. Lawson stayed near the gate, communicating occasionally with either his voice or a whistle. Mic seemed to stalk the sheep, slinking through the grass behind them and staring at them. He has, the other herders noted, “an eye.”
Stare Is a Weapon
“It’s a hypnotic stare dogs will use to get the upper hand,” Lawson explained. “If sheep won’t move, he looks at them like he’s boring a hole through them, overpowering them with his eyes. Pretty soon the sheep can’t stand it, they just turn and walk away.”
A pretty gray and black Australian shepherd named Blue, however, was another story. Owned by Liz Graber of Santa Monica, the exuberant 3-year-old, a herding novice, ran pell-mell at the creatures. They scattered like marbles.
“Blue has a lot of instinct,” Lawson said, adding that an owner’s training refines that instinct until the dog herds with the fewest possible commands and “does it on his own. The dog’s instinct is to bring the stock up to you.”
A dog must not, Lawson continued, move too fast (“that upsets the sheep”), come in too close (“then the stock can break away around him”) or “pull wool.” The shepherd’s crook is never used to hit the dog, only to indicate the correct direction for the dog to go.
Off and Running
When the dog moves too fast or too close, it’s ordered to lie “down,” to let the sheep move off, then ordered to “walk on.”
Blue tried again. Soon she was running too fast, and the sheep were running too. Graber blew the “down” signal with a whistle, again and again. Lawson bellowed, “Down, Blue!” over and over.
Finally Blue reluctantly flopped herself down on the grass. The sheep had scattered again. Lawson smiled at Graber.
“She’ll get better,” he said, and called Mic.
