Extreme sheepdog handling
I got up first and fired up the cafe. Our gang rode to the training field at Arvada in near darkness. Deer and antelope asked to be struck by our vehicles. No Wendy today on horse back, but we didn’t need her. Joni drove us to a second entrance to our practice field and said we could gather here. I asked where the sheep were, and I wouldn’t have seen them if she had not pointed them out. The dogs certainly didn’t see them. They were camouflaged against a very distant fence and in between were multiple crevasses and rough stuff, with many dips out of sight before any brave gatherer could reach sheep. “I want to try that!” The whole experience was dialed up off the radar. Dorey and Howell made it with a couple of redirects. We didn’t mostly bring them but returned them to the set out after the lift. All the dogs got expanded imaginations after the experience and new trust in redirection. What a test. The young ones drove a little more. By the time we took our turns, the hot weather returned and put the kibosh on more. I would have loved to have been there all day in the cool. Sublime.
We left Clearmont for points south. The country was wide open, vistas twenty kilometres distant. Buffalo, Casper, where I lost Roz many years ago, Rawlins, overnighting in Rock Springs, with a final ride through the red canyons, for Soldier Hollow early this morning.
Let the games begin.