Living it!

I wish I had a dog named Father Christmas….

2011-12-26T10:30:00.000+08:00

Farmboy from 2010

I think we were aiming for Australian Jingle Bells:

Dashing through the bush,
in a rusty Holden Ute,
Kicking up the dust,
Esky in the boot,
Kelpie by my side,
singing Christmas songs,
It's summer time and I am in
my singlet, shorts and thongs

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Christmas in Australia
on a scorching summer’s day, Hey!
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut!,
Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute.

Engine's getting hot;
we dodge the kangaroos,
The swaggie climbs aboard,
he is welcome too.
All the family's there,
sitting by the pool,
Christmas Day the Aussie way,
by the barbecue.

Come the afternoon,
Grandpa has a doze,
The kids and Uncle Bruce
are swimming in their clothes.
The time comes 'round to go,
we take the family snap,
Pack the car and all shoot through,
before the washing up.

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Christmas and are looking forward to a fantastic New Year!

Good Grass

2011-12-18T08:37:00.000+08:00

This is the time of year that is all about grass. Not just the Weeds vs. Lawn kind of grass, and certainly nothing illegal. But grass we’ve planted, grass (and some other things) we’ll cut, and grass our sheep eat.

The end of winter rains, the start of summer sun, and green stuff just starts springing from the earth everywhere.

Of course in the past week or so we’ve had a disastrous couple of inches of rain which have drenched and flattened pasture feed and made soggy and mouldy our still standing crops. Up the road at Williams and out East at Hyden it was an actual flood, sweeping away fences and closing roads.

But let’s not think about that now. Let’s close our eyes and go back a few weeks, to that warm, dry, happy place where the livin’ is easy, fish are jumpin’, and the pasture is high…

Good ryegrass (Italian tetraploid)

Not so good Wimmera ryegrass

Clover. Mmm, clover…

Yep, that pasture is high.

Do you see what I see? Look carefully…

See them now?

Hello!!

No cow tipping in our parts, so we get our giggles by creeping up on unsuspecting sheep.

It’s easy to do when the grass is taller than full grown ewes.

The sheep trails are almost grown over.

This is also the time of year when we get ready for harvest. Hay cut and baled, canola swathed, wheat and oats standing waiting for harvest and we’re hoping it doesn’t rain. Everything is golden and ripe and lovely.

And yes, in reality it may have bucketted down for a week before our harvest even got going.

But we’re luckier than some.

Reader quiz: what is this and how did it get there?

(bonus points for the non-Australians)

Not just one of the mob

2011-12-17T05:41:00.001+08:00

Some sheep are just extra special. The wild and woolly life isn’t for them.

Originally foundlings, orphans, waifs, now they rule the house paddock. They’re ovine royalty.

Tuama-tutama is one of last year’s pet lambs. Recently he somehow injured a hind leg, the wound was flystruck, and hundreds of dollars and six weeks of daily dressings later, he seems to have made a full recovery.

His companion during his convalescence was Bullet, this year’s pet. And today they needed to be shorn.

Things are done a little differently for the pets. Not for them the hustle and bustle of the shearing shed. No “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” approach from a pro shearer who doesn’t appreciate their little individual foibles.

No, the pets get the personalised approach from the Boss himself, with me hovering close by, peppering the Boss with instructions on how they should be handled, minor panic attacks at any sign of distress or blood, requests for reassurance that he knows what he’s doing, and constant entreaties to be very, very careful.

I’m actually surprised he didn’t take to me with the handpiece.

The Ginger Biscuit shared my concerns. She also regards Tuama-tutama and Bullet as Very Important Sheep.

She joined me in monitoring their treatment, sharp eyed as an Animals Australia spy in an Indonesian slaughterhouse.

Some of what she saw made her hair stand on end.

Fortunately there was help at hand.

“Did I hear someone say a pet lamb was being manhandled here?”

The superhero known as Farmboy came to the rescue and distracted us both with his sheer adorability, before we found ourselves upside down the woolpress.

And the Boss was able to get on with the job.

As it happens, the pets didn’t seem too perturbed by their ordeal. Bullet didn’t even need to stop eating.

The Last Shed

2011-12-10T14:43:00.000+08:00

The night before the last day of shearing. The last mob of sheep need penning up in the shed.

Some of us have maintained our enthusiasm.

This is the fun of farming. All of us together, kicking up dust and chasing shadows, the residue of the summer heat fading under the clear starry sky.

Shearing 2011- or, A Bug’s Life Part 3: The Final Solution

2011-12-09T15:26:00.001+08:00

I love shearing.

The atmosphere, the sheepwork, the process of reaping what we’ve grown all year.

The challenge of trying to capture it all on a camera.

I‘ve tried before: Last year, the year before and the year before that (more than once)

The Farmkids love shearing too.

Two fun-filled weeks or so of hanging out together.

The excitement and energy of the shed.

Sheep, sheep and more sheep.

Creating their own entertainment

Hide ‘n seek among the wool bales

This year the kids helped me out with some photography.

They documented things from a new perspective.

Some shots I would have taken…

Some photo opportunities I hadn’t ever noticed.

So we start with woolly sheep by the shedful.

They come into the yards and shed early to empty out and stay dry.

The shearers set to work, just a few minutes per sheep and the wool comes off

The fleece is collected by the rouseabout (or shedhand)

It goes onto the classing table to be skirted (all the dirty, scrappy bits around the edges taken off) and classed (assessed for important traits like fibre diameter, length, strength, cleanliness and colour)

The sheep head out five kilograms lighter

Some stay around for a quick drench

The end product, classed and collected up

Pressed into bales (and I think R would like me to point out that this is the old, semi-retired press, not the nice new one with all the bells and whistles and safety gadgets. Of course we only let the kids play with the old one. We figure that if they survive with all limbs intact they are qualified to use the new one)

At nearly 200 kilograms a bale, it’s serious business when you have to move them around…

for example, to retrieve the boss’s sunnies:

Three years later, Farmboy and his dad’s sunnies just slay me

Yep, we love shearing.

A Bug’s Life, Part II: A Quick Wash, Cut and Blowfly

2011-12-01T15:00:00.000+08:00

Blowies. Australian sheep blowfly. Lucilia cuprina. There’s a few other varieties, but the nasty ones lay their eggs on our sheep, and their hideous maggot spawn burrow through healthy tissue and basically eat the sheep alive. Most commonly, it’s the daggy area around the sheep’s bums, known as the breech, but this year the blowies seem super-aggressive, and are getting into any damp areas of wool on the sheep bodies. This is “body strike”, and seems to kill sheep much faster than breech strike. It’s also harder to prevent with crutching and worming to keep breech areas clean. At this point it’s probably coming down to when you shear and your flock’s natural resistance to flystrike, which is something for which many breeders are selecting. We have been jetting (soaking sheep in chemicals to repel flies and kill maggots), but in the months before shearing, we have to consider long wool and withholding periods and are essentially limited to spinosyn (Extinosad), which only lasts about 3 weeks.

Ah, jetting! It’s usually a nice opportunity to cool down in the warm spring weather, as long as you don’t mind your refreshing spritz laced with insect poisons.

This spring was wet enough that none of us really appreciated the extra moisture. It was hard to find enough dry spells to jet all the sheep, and many of them needed doing twice. If it rains on freshly jetted sheep, the chemical may wash off, and bringing damp sheep into the yards to press up against each other is a recipe for dermo. And splashing through stagnant lakes of sheep poo isn’t the most pleasant working environment.

What do you reckon, boys? Fancy a splash around under the fire hose?

Wet enough for you, Bill?

Muddy, Muddy?

Sheep aren’t over keen on their mud manicure, either.

The full spa treatment isn’t optional.

The other fly control technique we’ve been doing a lot of lately is crutching. I wrote about it once before (here), and that post is probably the most popular on my blog, which possibly indicates something about my readership and their level of interest in mucky sheep bottoms. I get a lot of hits from people looking for “horny lambs” too.

Anyway, wet spring means sudden profusion of green feed (and worms), and that means sheep get upset tummies, and that can leave their rear ends a bit on the messy side. Flies love messy sheep bottoms, so as part of our attempt to prevent flystrike, we’ve been doing a lot of crutching. Of course, when I say “we’ve been doing a lot of crutching”, I mean that some of us have spent literally weeks leaning over a crutching cradle, wielding very sharp moving tools while wrestling large and uncooperative animals and getting covered in urine, faeces, mud and the odd maggot, and some of us have been taking photographs. And complaining about the radio station playing in the background. We all have to work to our own individual strengths.

Our “inside agent” sheep stands at the front of the race, to encourage other sheep to walk up into the cradle.

For the crutching fans- it’s a Harrington cradle. Portable- it folds up and can be towed behind a ute. There’s a roll-out awning thing up above the stands.

Now then, single file and proceed in an orderly fashion

There’s always one…

One of these lambs is not like the others…(adorable little cheviot interloper from next door)

You reach in from the side (through canvas flaps), grab a volunteer…

and tip them upside down into the cradle. This is also a handy time to drench them (note drench pack hanging up).

Clip off the mucky wool around the nether regions (and anywhere else that needs it)…

And then tip the freshly groomed customer back onto their feet.

Happy customers!

A Bug’s Life, Part I: Lord of the Flies

2011-11-30T15:48:00.001+08:00

We’re all obsessed with insects.

Farmboy’s collection of insects are entombed in plastic, which is a very good thing, because if I saw one of these crawling around the house I would probably exit with speed and never come back (and yes, I know it isn’t an insect, but I’m using artistic license).

I wish some other bugs were entombed in plastic.

In total contrast to the past few years of drought, it’s been pretty wet this spring. The alternating rain and sunshine has done wonders for the pasture, the crops are looking okay, but the warmth and moisture are also perfect growing conditions for insects.

The ants are swarming around the gate posts again, the bees are all over the garden, the earwigs are making concerted efforts to take over the house and demolish my vegetable seedlings. There’s even a plague of bugs on the heads of local school kids, and we’ve enjoyed some lovely family bonding sessions with a bottle of conditioner and a fine toothed comb, trying to ensure we aren’t afflicted.

But the worst of all, undoubtedly, are the flies. Bushflies are bad enough- they chase after any moisture they can find, launching themselves aggressively into eyes and noses and cups of tea. We’re constantly performing the Aussie salute, and I’ve already swallowed my fair share while out digging in the garden.

These are the evil ones though:

And more on them tomorrow.

Bringing in a mob

2011-11-22T01:00:00.003+08:00

Innovation! Experimentation! I'm trying all sorts of new things lately- carrying a whacking great big camera on a farmbike (but not a whacking great big lens, sorry), adding groovy and annoyingly intrusive arrows and text, making a slideshow, and straight Blogging This rather than doing the Youtube thing (edited to add: unsuccessfully).

It's shearing time (onto the second week now), and here we're bringing in a smallish mob (~400, I think) from a nearby paddock. Three dogs was probably overkill, but I like to have at least one extra as a back-up, and I just felt sorry for Muddy because he's always so desperately keen, bless.

Queani does the mustering cast, because she's wide and will usually look around. Bill should have waited his turn but jumped the gun, so he had to stop and wait. He's sent next for support. Muddy was supposed to stay on the motorbike at all times but the pathetic whining got to me and I let him go and help at the end.

The sheep came all the way in to the yards with their resident Willie Wagtail, which I thought was quite cool. The extra-observant among you may be able to spot it in one of the photos (hint: look for the enormous orange arrow).

I can jump fences

2011-11-21T08:53:00.002+08:00

Ah, Mudhoney… He might be getting older and gimpier by the day, one hip is dysplastic, the other is prone to dislocation, and his dicky knee keeps seizing up. He was unceremoniously dumped from 3 sheep trialling when I started running Queani, and he only gets to yard trial because Bill doesn’t. He still can’t comprehend that he’s cute, but not cute enough that every visitor wants his dirty paw prints on their pants and his tongue down their throat. About the first phrase both my kids have learned to speak is “Get OUT OF IT Muddy!”. He’s quite a handy farm dog, though, and by God, he can jump stuff.

This comes in handy for Muddy, because quite regularly during the year, people try to do sheepwork in the yards up the hill, and forget to invite him. An ordinary dog might realise they’re in a fenced yard and restrict themselves to wistful sighs and doing a bolt the moment the gate is opened. That’s not the kelpie way...

What to do if people try to leave you behind in the house yard

We usually ascribe Muddy’s sproinging ability to just being a kelpie, because they are notorious for being disrespectful of fences, from baby puppyhood onwards. But occasionally we do speculate on Muddy’s parentage (not always in the heat of the moment), and since his natural talent for barking seems as effortless as his ability to spring over stuff, the idea has been raised that he might be related to Angus.

Spanky Angy in action

Both Angus and Muddy just go over fences with as little thought as effort, which is how Muddy’s hip came to dislocate in the first place. Threatened castration from a barbed wire fence or snapped hocks from a weldmesh yard? Pffft. They sail over things other dogs are sensible and obedient enough to avoid. But we won’t believe either dog has died until we’ve tied their stiffened corpse up at the sheepyards while other dogs work, and not heard a woof. Apparently for some dogs, barking is a more vital function than breathing. Anyway, hopefully that won’t be for a long, long time in either case. Although if they keep hurling themselves over the wrong fences, maybe it will be sooner than we think.

Here, Queani and Muddy demonstrate the two techniques for negotiating farm fences: the sensible, safe, sustainable, low impact way, and the kelpie way…

“Sayonara, suckers! We have sheep to move!”

Pup play pics

2011-10-31T15:50:00.001+08:00

Nan Lloyd’s auction impulse buy, Coshies Blaze, a the first proper sable border collie I think I’ve seen in the flesh:

Another one of Nan’s, this time her own breeding, Kumbark Ginger (I think he’s by Robertsons Allanah out of Ramulam Leena):

Also Nan’s- Mac’s Scarlett, by Grassvalley Moss out of Mac’s Gem:

Andrew Gorton’s new yard prospect, Yarralonga Solo (by Yarralonga Blue, our Charlie’s litter brother, out of Cagella Kinder)

Playing with pedigrees

2011-10-23T13:38:00.002+08:00

It's a rainy day... I'm mucking around with pedigrees.
Interesting inbreeding coefficients...
Mac's Gibb
Mac's Mabel
Boylee Copper

Will he or won’t he?

2011-10-21T14:28:00.001+08:00

I used to love starting pups. All that potential, promise, anticipation, hope- dreams just waiting to come true.

I’ve kind of gone off it now. So many hard decisions, big expectations, anxiety and the ever-present threat of disappointment… But then it doesn’t help that I’m a bit over sheepdog trialling too. The logistics of finishing a workday to race home and throw some tinned food and clean bedding in the caravan, wrestle permanently snot-infested, feverish and cranky small children into carseats and drive for hours to some random paddock in order to work dogs I’ve hardly seen all week just isn’t lighting me up the way it once did. Ah well. Hopefully this too will pass.

And if it does, perhaps this little man will be out on the trial ground with me. Or not. Gibby is the sort of pup that makes me the most anxious, because I like him so very much. And doesn’t that always seem to end badly? Of course, it didn’t end badly with Bill, who was a very disappointing pup, and it’s because he’s so like Bill that I like Gibby so much. He’s just a big happy klutz of a dog, all jump and leap and kind of sweetly ugly, but he thinks the sun shines out of people, and will trot along happily behind me (when he’s not savaging my Cape Gooseberry). He also has a quirky personality, just like Bill (“quirky” being my favourite euphemism for psychotically deranged), and I always get along best with dogs other people dislike.

Gibb might turn out alright on sheep- his father is Grant Cooke’s Grassvalley Moss (G. Tod x G. Lisa), who has produced a pretty impressive crop of young trial dogs, and his mother Gem (Boylee Fred x Pendalup Tess) is a nice young dog with some of her mum’s style and her dad’s calmness… but then lots of well-bred pups don’t make the grade.

R is starting Gibby’s sisters soon- this one is Daisy, because she looks like a cow.

Here’s another one I’m worrying about: Katy. She’s a Fred-Queani daughter, but she’s a handful. Looked awesome as a young pup, but now she desperately needs a decent recall, because she’s intent on bringing home any sheep within airscenting distance… I guess Queani was something like this as a pup, and she’s turned out alright.

And these ones- I worry about them, too. They’re grubby, opinionated, noisy and bring home all sorts of things I’d rather they didn’t.

And while I have all sorts of high hopes for them too (happiness, health, high-paying career that enables them to care for their aging parents in the manner to which I’d like to become accustomed), if they don’t live up to them it probably won’t end with an ad in the Farm Weekly. At least I hope not.

Things Farm People Like: 1) Babywearing

2011-10-10T13:40:00.001+08:00

It’s International Babywearing week!

I wrote this a while ago, but now seems like the most appropriate time to post it. Lots of links in the text- click away!

The other day, while the boys were at Pony Club, the Ginger Biscuit and I hung out in the veggie garden. Now that we’ve had some rain, I’m suddenly starting to think I may be able to actually grow things again, so it’s been a mad weed-and-plant-a-thon. Unfortunately the GB was still a little under the weather after our latest round with the booger monster, and all she wanted was to be held and carried. So this is what we looked like in the garden:

(and no, I’m not referring to looking haggard and badly groomed, although we certainly had that going too)

I honestly don’t know how anyone manages parenthood without a decent baby carrier (or six). Hanging out the washing, vacuuming, washing dishes with a small, hungry or unsettled baby- impossible! Negotiating a busy shopping centre with an aspirational toddler whose legs don’t hold up to all that walking as well as they’d insisted- oh, my aching arms! One small piece of cloth, a couple of sling rings, and it’s no problem at all.

For those on farms, baby carriers are even more essential. Pushing your average pram up a boggy hillside? Drafting or drenching sheep? Feeding chooks? Digging over a garden bed? I guess you either plonk the kid in a pram and try to ignore the squarking, or time your activities to coincide with naps, or you learn how to pop your baby on your back and get on with life.

Sheepdog trialling in the Ergo

Babywearing also turns out to be something of a branch of parenting culture, one that fits well with attachment parenting type philosophies. Newborns can spend that Fourth trimester much as they did the previous three- close to their mother’s heart, rocked by the rise and fall of her breathing and the sway of her daily activities. They can feed as they go, hands-free, so those cluster-feeding periods in the evening don’t clash with mealtimes and the hourly fees required for the usual six week growth spurt aren’t a major drama. Older kids can be up with their mum or dad, close to the action on hip or back, seeing what their parent sees, able to engage with the world from the safety of their grown-up’s body. And I really don’t think there’s a better way to handle the up-down, “carry me! let me walk!” stage of toddlerhood than a ring sling or rebozo hip carrier.

Sadly, babywearing seems to be a forgotten art for today’s parents. It’s the business of the dreadlocked, lentil munching, cloth nappying hippies found hanging around Steiner schools, and their parents (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Mainstream parenting today is all about putting babies down and getting them to stay there. Out of the cot, into a bassinet or bouncer or pram, into the carseat, which goes onto the shopping trolley, and then back to the pram/bouncer/cot again. Is it any wonder we have such high rates of positional plagiocephaly? “He just wants to be HELD all the time” has become a lament of arm-sore, frustrated parents who can’t get anything done, rather than a natural part of infancy and a wonderful part of parenting.
Some of my absolute favourite moments with my babies have been enjoying them as they sleep in a carrier, soft hair tickling my chin, intermittently twitching and sighing, warm milk breath against my chest.

I didn’t plan to babywear- it just sort of happened. After Farmboy arrived via caesarean, I found it easier to walk the dogs with him held on my chest than trying to wrangle a pram, and Farmboy himself was not a fan of lying flat on his back in a pram. R bought me a ring-style sling on impulse in a baby store one day, and that became our most essential parenting item. In the BubbaMoe, Farmboy was carried, breastfed, fell asleep- after which I would often lay him down somewhere.

GingerBik used the same sling almost as much, although by then I’d expanded my horizons and had a range of other carriers to choose from.

I’ve bought the vast majority of my carriers second-hand, making them much more affordable. There’s a big element of individual preference involved in finding the right carrier for you and your baby, so it is a good idea to test them out before investing a lot of money. Of course, most carriers hold their value very well, so you generally won’t lose much if you decide to sell one on.
So we started with a ring-style sling, the BubbaMoe, also known as an adjustable pouch. You do have to be careful with positioning with these slings- high and tight is the key.

I moved on to actual ring slings, which are more adjustable to different body shapes, as well as allowing you to vary the depth of the pouch, but do involve some practise to get used to the rings. Ring slings are brilliant for newborns, feeding in the sling, and for hip carrying older kids. In theory, you can back carry in a ring sling, but I never felt very comfortable or secure with this.

For back carries, we started off with an Ergo. Ergos are what’s known as a “soft structured carrier” or SSC. They have a waist belt that ideally holds most of the child’s weight on your hips, not your shoulders, and the shoulder straps are adjustable for different sized parents and kids. You can carry your baby on your back, on your chest, and with some carriers (eg the Ergo) on your hip, although that never felt comfortable for us. They are expensive, but most SSCs will last from birth to toddlerhood or beyond, and then you can sell them on when you’re done.

AQWA in the Ergo

I have three SSCs: the Ergo, which is very sturdy and comfortable, but is fairly low with a bigger child (see above), and you need to buy an infant insert separately for newborns; an Olives and Applesauce carrier, which features an inbuilt harness so that you can clip a small baby in safely before lifting them onto your back (and they can’t drop out even if you undo the straps accidentally); and a Kanga X2, which is a beautiful carrier that comes in different sizes from baby to preschooler. We’ve recently outgrown the X2, so it’s officially for sale now (this is it here). That’s the other thing about good baby carriers- they have fantastic resale value, and some resell for more than they cost new.

The KangaX2

Olives and Applesauce!

SSCs are based on traditional Asian baby carriers, like the mei tai, podaegi and onbuhimo. They have a squarish fabric body that holds the baby, and some form of straps that you can tie in a variety of ways to carry babies from newborn to school age, on front, back or hip. This makes them more adaptable than SSCs, and you can adjust them to suit different body types and situations.

Tiny GB on our Maya Tie wrap tie

In the Hunbaba mei tai

In an onbuhimo, a Japanese mei-tai kind of jobbie

And then there are wraps. Ah, wraps! They’re simple pieces of cloth, ranging from what you have handy (a towel or tablecloth) to specially woven fabrics designed for maximum comfort and support. Some are cheap and easy to come by, others are limited editions sought after by fanatical collectors.You can tie them a thousand different ways, and Youtube is filled with demonstration clips. They can double as change mats, hammocks, blankets and shade cloths. The special ones may be folded and stored away for grandkids, or sewn into quilts or pillows infused with the memory of sweet sleeping baby breath against a mother’s throat.

We started with a Hugabub, one of the most well-known, mainstream type of wrap, the “stretchy”, which is a jersey type material (or sometimes gauze) which is suitable only for front carries with small babies. You wrap the baby fairly tightly against you, and the stretch of the wrap makes it easy to comfortably position a squishy little newborn. For those averse to the tying process (which really isn’t any harder than tying shoelaces), there are versions like the Baby K’tan and Caboo (formerly Close Carrier).

The “gold standard” wraps are the woven wraps, not stretchy but more supportive, capable of moulding around tiny babies and also securely carrying big kids, on front, back, hip, in all sorts of ways. I’ve never been a fanatical wrapper, but we have a few and I have to admit, they’re probably my favourite carriers. My favourites are here: Girasol (my Downunder is grippy and very supportive), Ellevill (Zara blue is easy to wrap with and Silverpink Paisley is soft and gorgeous), Vatanai (Maruyama- soft and cool), Didymos (black/white Indio- cool, soft, easy, and Snowflakes- warm wool, very supportive).

Girasol Downunder ruck carry

Black and white Didymos Indio up close

Girasol Downunder

Ellevill Zara Blue

Every now and then, there will be a safety report related to baby carriers. There was a big recall of certain unsafe carriers (bag slings) in the US a while back, and in last month’s MJA correspondence reported a case of unexplained death of an infant being worn in some sort of sling, under the mother’s clothing. Unfortunately there were no other details of the type of carrier, and although the report did mention that the unusual way it was being used was particularly unsafe, the authors made some generalisations about babywearing which didn’t differentiate between good and not-so-good types of carriers, or sensible and not-so-sensible use.

Honestly, this drives me nuts. Babies die in prams, in car seats, in cots, in bassinets. Sometimes this is because they are unsafe products, sometimes it’s because they’re not being used properly, and sometimes it’s unexplained. It’s always unimaginably tragic, and we should definitely investigate and take steps to address those factors that we can improve. But when four babies died in strollers or two babies died in jogging prams a few years ago, no-one suggested that the use of prams in general may be unsafe.

"OMG! Don't panic, Farmboy, but we're in a spot of bother... a JOGGING pram!"

Here’s the deal: safe carrying involves some simple principles. In general, carry your baby in a carrier as you would in your arms. They should have a clear airway, no fabric obscuring their face, no chin folded to their chest. They should be held high and close to you- “close enough to kiss”. And you should be able to see and feel your baby breathing, and check on them often. Carriers like the recalled “bag slings”, that fold infants away inside cavernous pouches and then dangle them from parents’ waists are both unsafe and uncomfortable. Here’s an interesting video.

And those insanely (literally) popular front carriers, like the BabyBjorn? They’re okay. They’re not unsafe. We used a couple, early on. They allow parents to carry babies, they’re popular and easily accessible in baby shops etc. But… they’re really expensive, for what you get. Most of them don’t have decent waist support, so all the weight goes on your shoulders, making it uncomfortable to wear babies much beyond 6 months old. They have narrow bottoms, so the weight of the baby hangs from a narrow band across their crotch (hence the common name “crotch danglers”), which is uncomfortable for babies (especially boy babies), rather than supporting their whole bottom. And they encourage excessive front facing. Lots of babies do like to face out so they can see what’s going on around them, but it can be very overstimulating when they get tired. Much nicer to hip or back carry, so at least the baby can turn her head away when it all gets too much. Front facing is also more tiring for the person doing the carrying, as the baby’s centre of gravity is further out- they’re curled away from you, not towards you. Try carrying a child in your arms facing inwards and then outwards.
But hey, in the end, it’s babies being worn, being held, being comforted, included, involved and appreciated, even when they want to be carried “all the time”… I’m all for that!

More information on babywearing is all over the internet. Here are some good places to start looking:
The Babywearer forums
Babywearing International
Baby Carriers Downunder
Babycarrier.com
Paxbaby

I’m obviously in love with babywearing, so if you know me, virtually or in real life, feel free to invite me to talk about it. And also feel free to tell me you’ve heard enough, if I won’t stop talking. I may also have some of my more attention-starved carriers available for loan or sale. Just ask!

Happy International Babywearing Week!

It’s moments like these I really miss my pelvic floor…

2011-10-09T05:51:00.001+08:00

The living room:

Farmboy, in possession of the last two butter biscuits, tries to offer one to his sister. The Ginger Biscuit wants both or none at all. She scowls and shakes her head fiercely at the proferred biscuit, blonde curls rattling at her neck. Farmboy tries again. “Here, GB, we’ll both have one! One each!”

“Uh uh!” She flings her arms out in disgust, begins marching a vehement lap of the dining table, around and around, faster and faster until she’s toddler-running, oversized wellies slapping on the lino, tangled head tilted to the ceiling and chanting, “Uh uh! Uh uh! Uh uh! Uh UH!”

Frustrated, perplexed, more than a little horrified, Farmboy turns to me in genuine distress. “DO something, Mummy! She’s OUT OF CONTROL!”

Sprung!

2011-09-10T10:12:00.002+08:00

It's spring. Real spring, the kind that follows a real winter. The world has turned green, the dams are full, life springs from the earth. The lambs, relieved of tails and testicles, gambol along the dam banks; the first bobtails sun themselves on the warm tarmac and squish juicily under passing vehicles; and I have my first sunburn for the season.

It's been a long time between blogs. Crops are in, lambs are marked, sheep are drenched and jetted. We skipped a lot of trials, but did get along to the State Yard & Utility Champs- R's Tom made the Open utility final in his first utility trial (along with Tess), and Queani amd Muddy both worked unexpectedly well to place 2nd and 3rd in the Novice yard. Detailed post to follow.

The Ginger Biscuit says, “Sit down! I want two bits! Giraffe!„ Farmboy rides a big kid bike. They bring me flowers and drive me joyfully nuts.

The Special New Ute sports a Special New dog box.

I am still figuring out how to blog from my Special New Phone.

And here we are at Dowerin for the Australian Supreme Sheepdog Championships.

Testing

2011-08-22T15:59:00.001+08:00

Live sheep transport

2011-06-27T12:07:00.006+08:00

In the absence of my camera, I am taking the opportunity for long overdue discussion of some important topics.

Now this is a blog that has always stepped up to tackle the big issues, the hard issues, the issues that have other blogs running scared. One such topic is live animal export and livestock transport and slaughtering. Obviously this has been a source of much debate in the community and the media lately, resulting in a real illumination of the city-country divide, societal attitudes to animal welfare and the reality of food production for many (no, meat doesn't grow on Woolies freezerpacks...).

I sat down with a local livestock producer to record his views on issues related to transport of sheep and their fate after the saleyards.
(alright, it was 2010 at Ballidu)

Never let it be said that this blog shies away from the real issues...

An unillustrated life

2011-06-26T09:22:00.002+08:00

So I’d scheduled blog posts about recent events here: the end of seeding (thank God!), a couple of fun days at Nan Lloyd’s training clinic, new pups, and the Avondale 3sheep trial. But unfortunately I was too lazy to download the 2GB of accompanying photos from my camera before we headed off to Avondale, so when my camera just disappeared while we were at the trial, I lost all those photos. And in my camera-less depressive sulk, I haven’t felt much like blogging. There’s nothing worse than a picture-less blog.

Anyway… This week someone lovely lent me their pocket point ‘n shoot, so I have a little bit of blogging mojo back, and I won’t have to fall back on my alternative plan for illustrating our adventures:


Bill at the bridge

Nan’s training day was fun. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to make it, but was glad we did. Mabel (7 monthish) had a go on sheep, and so far I’m pretty happy with her. We saw one of her litter sisters, Katie, who is a teeny weeny version of her mother, right down to the one tipped ear. Copper had another look at sheep and is a different dog to the last time, and again does look like he might suit me. I managed to get some stops from Fly, and it may have been my imagination, but I think she was working in a much more considered and thoughtful way. R worked Harry and Finn, and thinks they may be up for a 3 sheep trial this year. Nan has a writeup at the bottom of the page here.

Avondale was a nice trial. The sheep were excellent- challenging but workable. The Novice and Improver sheep were very obstacle friendly if you could get them through the race, but the Open sheep stood up quite a lot at the bridge particularly, and quite a few dogs had trouble forcing there. I judged the Novice, which was good fun and definitely less stressful than kid-wrangling while R judges, so I shall be keen to do it again. I ran Fly just once, in the Improver, and nearly died of shock when she started taking commands on the fetch and carry. It all went a bit feral at the race, but obviously actual training can make a difference in some cases- who’d have thought?!

I didn’t have high hopes for Queani or Bill, given that they are both fat and flabby, and have hardly done any exercise, let alone work, for weeks. But Queani was on fire- she worked really well in the Improver for an 81 and equal 3rd, and was going even better in the Open when I called her to me, opening up a gap and when the sheep ran she crossed.

Bill was also on fire, but not necessarily in a good way. He just wanted to shift sheep, and was back to the Bilby of old, leaping and hustling. I can’t remember what happened in the Improver, but in the Open he had some fairly tough sheep that tried to give it to him, particularly at the bridge. Considering the number of dogs that retired there when their dogs wouldn’t force the sheep off, I was shocked when Bill just motored straight up onto the bridge with hardly a word from me (twice!), going nose to nose with a sheep who made the mistake of coming back at him. We got to the pen, and when I was almost ready to strangle him for not coming across to cover my side of the pen mouth, letting the sheep go around that way, he finally got them in. Not a great score, but I was totally stoked with him. Obviously not actually training (or exercising) can make a difference in some cases...

Actual pictorial write-ups here and here.

It looks like we won't be making it to the next trial, Binnaburra Yard/utility, and maybe not Mukinbudin Y/U after that... But at least it's raining!

Sheepdog training weekend

2011-05-27T13:38:00.001+08:00

On the 4th and 5th of June, a sheepdog training weekend will be held at Nan and Murray Lloyd’s property, west of Darkan.
Come anytime after 8.30 am.

This weekend is for anyone who is interested in learning more about training sheepdogs, needs some help with their dog or wants to learn how to start a pup the right way.

Or perhaps you are interested in sheepdog trialling, and would like some information. If anyone out there is thinking of giving trialling a go this year, this would be a great start.

Experienced handlers will be available to offer help and assistance. And also some inexperienced handlers, like me, just to offer moral support and proof that even the incurably incompetent can enjoy working sheepdogs...

Accommodation can be arranged if necessary
Cost will be $20 and a plate of food for anyone staying the night. Those who just wish to come for the day please bring a plate of food.
Cooked breakfast will be included for anyone staying over night.

For more details ring Nan Lloyd on 97361043.
Or email karuma1@bigpond.com

Come along, but wear long trousers, gloves and some heavy duty pest repellent, because in the wilds of Darkan you may encounter one of these:

or even these:

and possibly lose a finger.

Up to Date

2011-05-01T10:15:00.000+08:00

So... since I last was here:

It didn't rain.

I got around to finding my Kendenup trial photos, wrote a blog about it, didn't post it. Will do eventually.

We ran out of house water, R spent many hours driving back and forth to town with the tank for more water.

It still didn't rain.

The paddocks all around went as dry as I've ever seen them, with not a blade of grass or even weeds surviving uneaten.

We started having to shut sheep out of paddocks where the dams had dried out.

Our ancient kero water heater finally gave up the ghost and disgorged its contents all over the back verandah, thus emptying the house water supply yet again.

Back into town went R and the tank truck.

The cracks in the plaster in the front of the house followed through with their threats.

Still no rain.

All the sheep got drenched. Mike Scott came up to help with Tig and her daughter Badger.

Charlie died, suddenly, of kidney failure.

It was Easter. And then it rained. Not a lot- maybe a total of 25mm over a week. But it's made all the difference.

Like glue

2011-04-10T18:03:00.002+08:00

The novice sheepdog trialler's lament: "At home, she does it perfectly!"

What I'd like to know (and feel free to offer input- the worst I can do is delete your comment) is- how on earth are we supposed to sort out an issue before a trial if the bloody mongrel only produces the issue on the trial ground? Hmn?

Case in point: Fly and her sticky cast.

Now I have multiple issues with Fly, and yes, some of them should be "sortable" at home and I do need to pull my finger out and sort them. But what is really blowing any motivation I have for training her as well as chance of our success at present is the fact that she sticks on her cast. She will run maybe 3/4 of the way down the ground (maybe 30% if she's feeling particularly obnoxious) and then she sticks. If I whistle her on, she'll jerk forward and creep a few paces, then re-stick, repeat ad nauseum until we've shed a good wad of points, then when she gets to the edge of the danger zone, she'll zoom around behind them and pick them up, often over-running in the process. Her lift is often fairly straight, but the tension that's built on her creeping approach has already stirred the sheep up, to say nothing for the dog and the handler. So by the time she collects the sheep, they're planning a hell-for-leather escape down the ground, Fly is hyped up beyond listening, and I'm developing a migraine. It's usually irrepairable damage. I've tried sending her to the heads or to the tails, and while she's better going to the tails, she'll usually still stick.

At home, of course, she doesn't do it. She doesn't stick on a mob, and even when I set up a few sheep in a hook-pen type arrangement in the training paddock, she won't stick.

Look- I have proof:

Fly casting in our little training paddock. She was a bit over this exercise, which we had repeated a few times, and she was quite footsore (delicate tootsies, those Scottish dogs), but this is what she does every time (except quicker, usually, and she usually stops in a stand), in big paddcoks or small yards, on light sheep or heavy sheep, on mobs or just a few. See? Not sticking, and she does listen to her stop whistle!

I have no video of her casting in a trial, but here's a technical diagram. Probably the handler's face should be bright crimson or even puce, but otherwise it's pretty accurate:

So, clever readers, thoughts?

My whining about this problem was overheard by our local trialling sage, a figure slight in stature but enormous in presence, wisdom and experience, much like a sheepdogging Yoda but with smaller ears. He did give me some food for thought when he asked me if Fly is looking for sheep when I send her out around a mob at home. On consideration, she isn't- she's totally focussed on the sheep she sees immediately ahead of her, and that may be the issue. Perhaps it isn't a casting problem, it's a focus problem, and I think what Yoda was getting at is that if I can free up her intense focus on the trial ground, she may lose the stick. So I'm thinking of heading out and working on some shedding/recollecting, "look back" type exercises, which I have never done with Fly. We'll see how it goes.

Ziggy and the Blobdobber

2011-03-24T08:31:00.001+08:00

It is an ordinary weekday evening. Across paddocks piebald with shadow and golden evening light, the dogs race and wrestle, spraying the air with dust.

There's the usual crowd, longlegged Elvis in the lead, with Fly, Bill and Fred doing their best to keep up, and Fred's pups tagging along: Kevin and Mabel, and their cousin Copper.

But today, there's something new in the Pine Tree paddock.

Something mysteriously aligned in long rows.

Mysterious piles of something pink. Something kind of squishy, something unidentifiable.

A mysterious trail of heaped, squishy, unidentifiable something...

Ziggy knows exactly how to handle such a something.

(and just in case anyone non-agricultural is wondering, it's blob dobber foam. The GPS was on the blink, so R had to revert to the old fashioned method of marking the areas of paddock he'd covered when topdressing)

Woolorama 2011

2011-03-16T21:29:00.004+08:00

Wagin: the Land of the Giant Sheep!

Well, not this year. The heavy, stroppy old ewes and wethers we all anticipate with fear and loathing were gone this year, replaced by some of the teeniest sheep I've ever worked in a trial. Many of them were smaller than the dogs working them, some I could have picked up with one hand, and all of them were little dynamos, pinging off the pressure of dogs and handlers left, right and centre- on more than one occasion, right through the middle of the tiny gap between let-out gate and fence. Rather than leaning on the dogs, they needed plenty of room and a gentle touch. To their credit, they were remarkably fit and forgiving of dogs that stirred them up, and they lacked the suspicious natures of the usual Wagin sheep, so they were quite happy to trot through and over obstacles without much persuasion.

We had a bit of a "blah" weekend. The kids were coming down with a cold, R had been flat out all week, I'd come straight from a busy couple of days at work and frankly we were both feeling pretty apathetic about the whole trial experience. As I stood at the post for my first run, with Bill, I honestly could not remember what I was there for, and had a brief moment of panic about what I would do if Bill got the sheep into the D. As it turned out, I ran fine on autopilot, and Bill got us to the bridge for a 55, which sounds utterly pathetic but was enough to get us 4th in the Novice. He did better for a 65 in the Improver, and was working well in the Open when his patience was over-tried by one obnoxious sheep and he had a whisper in its ear, so I retired before things got ugly.

I ran Fly in both Improver and Novice, which shows how little I was thinking about the whole event. I'd actually anticipated that the usual heavy Wagin sheep would suit her as they did last year, but surprisingly she handled these little runny sheep much better than anyone expected. She was still putting far too much pressure on, and overworking generally, but she seemed to be thinking and trying to work with me, which is an improvement, and we got most of the way around the course in the Improver before I messed up after the bridge and decided to retire. She has reverted to sticking on her cast though, so we'll have to go back to sorting that out.

Queani was on pretty good form again- we drew runs in the middle of the day for both Improver and Open, when the temperatures were hottest, the ground was dustiest, with gusts of wind and willy-willies battering judge and spectators alike, and the sheep were the most difficult. She penned twice, according to my program, but in all honesty I can't remember the details, except that she put the sheep over the bridge twice in the Improver. I was happy with her anyway.

Torbay Trim (Boylee Fred x Tig imp UK)

R's young dogs did okay- Trim was working unusually tight and was a bit fired up, Bonnie was a bit too casual, and Tom worked well but had a bit of bad luck and copped some tricky sheep, as did Tess in the Open.

Pendalup Tess (Braiston Don x El Shamah Ellie)

There was a bit of a treat for the triallers this year, courtesy of the Woolorama organisers and some sponsors, Midalia Steel. The Woolorama crew had built us a brand spanking new brick shed, with purpose-built office area and even a real loo! And Midalia had provided the gear to install shiny new sheepyards at the let-out, designed with trials in mind, including possibly a future yard/utility event.

Spiffy new office

Rocky Judy (Ramulam Gus x Rocky Bear) plugging the sponsors

One of the highlights of the trial was some new trialling youngsters making very impressive entrances into their careers: Ivan Solomon's Mac (Nolan's Jim x Perangery Jill) winning the Novice with Somerville Tully close behind, Neil Eastough's Grassvalley Tinky, who penned for 67 after a very professional run, and of course Tinky's full sister, Peter Gorman's Grassvalley Floss, reportedly only 7 or 8 months old, who ran a brilliant 86 to make the Open final and then nearly chucked it all away with some youthful exuberance as the pen gate shut. It's good to see that pups are pups, no matter how talented and expertly trained and handled.

Mac's Mabel (Boylee Fred x Daheim Queani), with hood ornament

Mac's Kevin (Boylee Fred x Daheim Queani): "No flies on me!"

Two young sons of R's Badgingarra Jake- massive pups!

My biggest thrill and disappointment for the event was the dog highjump. We'd left our best jumping dog (Spanky Angy) at home with a wounded ear, so we weren't really into it this year, but I've always find it hard to enthuse about the high jump when every year it is won by the same dog, a local kelpie who seems to be a professional high jumper, making appearances at all the local shows to carry off the prizes. Not this year! Nope, this year the famous Sam B turned up as usual to collect his booty, but he hadn't reckoned with the soon-to-be-famous Patch Dorrell (aka Ramulam Patch- Kiwi Knight x Perangery DJ), from far-off Gairdner, who took a moment in between his runs to casually leap a record-breaking 2.something metres up and over a vertical wall. I was thrilled to see a trial dog win it, and disappointed that I missed it (I was so sure Sam B would coast in again that we went sightseeing instead of spectating).

The final highlight of the trial was the very tight Open final, where a number of high scores and variable sheep meant that it was anyone's game. Watching the top triallers in the state try to control their nerves and their dogs to hold on for the best score possible was a real thrill, and as it came down to the last few runs, no-one was sure if Ivan Solomon and Beck's early run could be beaten. But Grant Cooke and Candy, who is not always an easy dog, kept her head and managed to nail it.

The grail

Eventual victors, Grant Cooke and Pendalup Candy (Braiston Don x El Shamah Ellie)

One of Candy's pups, Grassvalley Jet (G. Moss x P. Candy)

Novice

1)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Mac	collie	80
2)	Ivan Solomon	Somerville Floss	collie	74
3)	Marianne Rogers	Christies Cocoacina	collie	59
4)	Sam Weaver	Boylee Bill	collie	55

Trim's sister, Torbay Badger

Jim McNabb's Cobber

Swagman Frankie

Ramulam Maddie

Improver

1)	Tony Boyle	Boylee Mustard	collie	94
2)	Peter Gorman	Grassvalley Milo	collie	89
3)	Ray Sutherland	Swagman Cyndy	collie	85
4)	Tony Boyle	Bellview Dale	collie	84

Boylee Mustard (B. Pepper x B. Salt)- a new perspective at the bridge

Ramulam Ripper (R. Jacko x R. Malley)

Open

1)	Grant Cooke	Pendalup Candy	collie	90	97	= 187
2)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Beck	collie	88	95	= 183
3)	Ken Atherton	Ramulam Gus	collie	90	88	= 178
4)	Gordon Curtis	Nolans Minnie	collie	85	91	= 176
5)	Ray Sutherland	Swagman Cyndy	collie	88	74	= 162
6)	Wayne Hall	Hudsons Tasha	collie	86	74	= 160
7)	Peter Gorman	Grassvalley Floss	collie	86	70	= 156
8)	Judy Jones	Bellview Teddy	collie	88	64	= 152
9)	Tony Boyle	Boylee Mustard	collie	91	56	= 147
10)	Peter Gorman	El Shamah Ellie	collie	90	47	= 137
=11)	Grant Cooke	Grassvalley Moss	collie	91	X	= 91
=11)	Wayne Hall	Boylee Wal	collie	91	R	= 91

Pendalup Candy

Perangery Beck

Grassvalley Floss (G. Moss x Pendalup Candy)- probably the youngest dog on the ground- 8 months-ish?

Christies Duke- probably the oldest dog on the ground- at least 12 or 13, I'm sure

Faraway Royal (Nolans Roy x Glenview Laydee)

Mac's Finbar (Boylee Fred x Fly imp UK)- maybe next year, Finn?

Remember wee Janie (Bellview Teddy x Glenview Ruth)? She's raring to go!

Ranger

2011-03-07T13:00:00.000+08:00

Fred vs. Ranger

I think the old dude still has it...

This is Ranger, the new rescue pup. He's super-cute, super-sweet, super-fast, super-springy, and in order to stop him ending up as landfill, we're helping him look for a new home. See here if you can help!


Super-springy!

"Take me home!"

Blog Inertia

2011-03-03T11:06:00.007+08:00

It happens to us all, sometimes. Life gets in the way of blogging. And as the days go by, it gets harder to sit at the computer, find those photos, knuckle down and write something (anything!) before it all gets away from you and you’re overcome with blog inertia.

I'm badly afflicted, I'm afraid. I'm told the only chance for a cure is to sit down and get blogging. So here goes...

Christmas: At home. Quiet. Hot. Prawns. Kids had a ball.

The in-between week- down to Donnybrook for lunch with friends, and their awesome view

Smoke from the coastal fires

Can you spot the elusive menfolk?

New Year: Hot. Caught up with some sheepdog friends, played with some young dogs, drank some beer!

Summer rain: Not as much as Carnarvon or Queensland (thank God!), but enough to fill the dams, soak the garden and grow some weeds.

An inch in a few hours

The artichokes flowered.

The first corn was delicious (and now we're well sick of it).

The grapes on the back verandah ripened, attracting bees, birds, and unfortunately for the birds, Robin.

The Ginger Biscuit turned ONE! And grew teeth, learned to walk, and climb, and boss the boys around. There's a lot I have to say about the end of my baby days, but I keep getting snot and tears all over the keyboard, so that may have to wait...

Secret visited:

And Bill was just so happy about that!

We played a bit of soccer.

We played a bit of cricket, and taught the pups to field.

Farmboy, nearly run out by Wilson, lunges valiantly for his crease... or something like that.

On the farm, we've been feeding sheep.

Then feeding them again.

The rams went out, then the rams came back in, a bit scraggier but much, much happier.

Bill, being recalled after holding sheep off the feeder bin

Some of us been driving around in tractors.

We've been running dogs, and checking dams.

Tom, Charlie with ever-present nose slobber, Fred

We've been up to the city, then back home, then back to the city, then home, then to the city again. At various points in our travels, we've explored the underwater world,

we've watched Australia Day fireworks in the city,

we've helped Grouch in the garden,

Less Ginger, more Shirley Temple these days

we've acquired a swimming pool.

And then we came home.

Kevin

The Fred-Queani pups turned from quiet, sweet little cuddlebunnies into long-legged Attack Rabbits of Death. Their names are Kevin and Mabel.

Jeff (formerly Wilson), Kevin and Mabel

We made our Pony Club debut.

I went back to work. The Farmboy started kindergarten.

The WAWSDA trialling season began with a bang.

And now, finally, we've sat down and blogged. Phew.

It won't be so long between drinks next time.

Rex gives you his word!

Testing!

2011-03-02T22:00:00.001+08:00

First Trial of 2011

2011-03-01T08:14:00.002+08:00

Esperance Club Annual Three Sheep Trial
"Linthorpe", Ongerup
Feb 25th - 27th 2011

Nan Lloyd gives the Ginger Biscuit some judging tips

Our sheepdog trial season is officially underway, kicking off with the Esperance Club's annual 3 sheep trial, held this year at Ongerup. Usually this trial is held at the more distant and generally cooler grounds at Cascades, and an unofficial trial is held at Ongerup in the middle of the year. But this year we have the Australian Supreme in WA in September and Eastern States triallers will be driving across the Nullarbor to attend, arriving in WA not too far from Cascades. And since Esperance Club are due to host this year's WA State 3 sheep Championships, they've elected to hold that at Cascades a few weeks before the Supreme, so the East Coast bigwigs can drop in on their way up to Dowerin for the Supreme.

Boylee Copper (Boylee Tobie x Boylee Speck)

I have really enjoyed trialling at Ongerup in previous years. The sheep are "challenging", the landscape is open and spectacularly conflicting- minimalist and utterly huge at the same time, and when the wind picks up and the clouds march low across the country like a migrating herd of fluffy wildebeest, I feel terribly small , inconsequential and brilliantly alive. It's awesome.

But there's also no shade, and with temperatures in the mid-30s every day and a small child with a hat allergy, we were hot and bothered much of the time.

Acute hat allergy- note the facial suffusion, stiffening limbs and high pitched cry. Later we may see the child's back arching and spasmodic flexion/extension of limbs.

And while I like challenging sheep, and absolutely prefer the feral types to the well behaved, this year's Ongerup sheep were frustratingly random. The ground is pretty small, and the sheep liked a lot of distance between them and dogs. They didn't like the look of the obstacles, or the handlers, or the heat, and they seemed to find constant heading annoying- but if the dogs didn't head cleanly, the sheep would take opportunity to sprint for a fenceline. And if the dogs managed to block one break, they'd start working as a team, splitting in three directions simultaneously. There were the usual comments about "hardest sheep I've ever worked", but in this case it might be true- despite most of the top handlers and dogs being out in force, there were very few scores, even fewer obstacles successfully negotiated, and only one team successfully penned in the entire weekend (Ray Sutherland and the 16 month old Ramulam Penny, who won the Improver). The temperature made it even more difficult, and there were a few questions raised about the wisdom of running dogs on mad sheep in the middle of such scorching days. But the sheep were fit and the handlers largely sensible, with most people retiring well before problems arose.


The overall winner: the sheep (and Tom- is there no photo opportunity he misses?)

I didn't have big expectations of my crew- I haven't had any time to train and not even any opportunity to work them recently, so the girls were a bit feral and Bill is fairly porky and unfit. Nan Lloyd dropped in a few weeks ago to work some young dogs, and I gave them all a quick spin- Fly was okay, but Queani was the pits, not stopping, looking totally one sided and refusing to cast on one side. Bill nearly had a cardiac arrest just running the training sheep into the yards. Of course I resolved to drill them daily until the trial, and of course I did nothing.

But even aiming so very low, we managed to fall short. Fly tried in the Novice, but didn't cope with the sheep, so I retired. We retired again when she overran and didn't listen at all in the Improver, so she ran the skin off a pad and was scratched. Bill somehow managed to draw every run in the middle of the day. In the Novice we made it to the race fairly tidily, but then did boglaps around the obstacle until Bill was starting to sound like a fat hairy phone pervert, and we retired semi-gracefully. In the Improver, the run before ours saw the sheep turn bolshie and march the dog back to the let-out, so both Bill and I were a little nervous. Our sheep tried the same, and Bill tried his best bark/bounce until he was hoarse and the judge and spectators were hysterical with laughter, but to no avail. He even tried using a little tooth, but neither the onlookers nor the sheep were taking us seriously, so we retired. Again.

Queani's Improver run was the highlight of my weekend- she was on great form, listened to me and ignored me appropriately, didn't lose her temper and didn't slice once. We got the sheep both through the race and over the bridge in a respectable fashion, and were only the second run to get to the pen. But then the wheels fell off- two sheep were willing to look into the pen, but one kept breaking away, and Queani's stamina was running low in the afternoon heat. She'd started to misinterpret commands and was slower to react, and with no timer on me, I had no idea how much time we had left on the clock. Much as it pained me, I had to retire. Her Open run was a joint stuff-up. I didn't stop at the first winding-peg, imagining that the sheep, who were off course to my right, would swing below it easily. But they broke back on the wrong side, and I had to unwind from the second peg. Queani was her usual bossy self and didn't understand why I wanted her to push the sheep across the ground instead of bringing them over to the race. By the time she stopped overriding me and started to listen, she was fairly tuckered out. So I retired. Ungracefully.

By late Sunday morning, it was beginning to look like I would have a clean sweep of "R"s and not a single score for the weekend. I looked a bit like this:

Or perhaps even a little like this:

But in the end Bill got it together in the Open enough to get us to the race in reasonable shape. Even though we tried every trick in our (very small) book, the sheep wouldn't consider going down the race, but we still scraped into the final with a 45.

R was running some of his young dogs as well as Tess, and had much the same luck as everyone else. Tom, in particular, worked really nicely and they were having a really nice open run up to the race, where R retired when it got a bit untidy.

Torbay Tom (Boylee Fred x Tig imp UK)

There was some fantastic work, despite the pitiful scores. Novice was dominated by kelpies, and the Improver by Ramulam dogs, especially Kiwi Knight progeny. The highest scoring dogs in the Open showed that it was possible to get the sheep settled and workable, and even through the obstacles on a few occasions.

Novice
Judge: Nan Lloyd

1)	Ken Atherton	Binnaburra Tammy	Kelpie	64
=2)	Jenny Atherton	Badgingarra Tony	Kelpie	61
=2)	Karyn Buller	Badgingarra Barney	Kelpie	61
4)	Tony Boyle	Boylee Stephnie	Collie	60
5)	Scott Welke	Badgingarra Doug	Collie	58

A kelpie- ? Badgingarra Barney?

Badgingarra Gem (Badgingarra Jock x

Boylee Minnie (Dajara Woody x Boylee Sweetpea)

Improver
Judge: Jenny Atherton

1)	Ray Sutherland	Ramulam Penny	Collie	71
2)	Peter Doherty	Ramulam Jen	NZHD/collie	66
3)	Peter Gorman	Grassvalley Milo	Collie	63
4)	Phil Dorrell	Ramulam Patch	NZHD/collie	57
=5)	Malcolm Seymour	Olboa Jess	NZHD/collie	55
=5)	Tony Boyle	Boylee Mustard	Collie	55

Euroa Nan (Stoneyville Harry x Glenview Ruby)

Elfinvale Toby

Badgingarra Lisa (Sunvale Brumby x Grassvalley Sam?)

Open

Judge: Nick Webb

1)	Wayne Hall	Hudsons Tasha	Collie	72 + 69 = 137
2)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Sasha	Collie	47 + 61 = 108
3)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Jill	Collie	47 + 59 = 106
4)	Ray Sutherland	Swagman Cyndy	Collie	61 + 39 = 100
5)	Ken Atherton	Ramulam Merle	Collie	54 + 44 = 98
6)	Peter Gorman	El Shamah Ellie	Collie	59 + 34 = 93
7)	Sam Weaver	Boylee Bill	Collie	45 + 41 = 83
8)	Tony Boyle	Bellview Dale	Collie	46 + 34 = 80
9)	Karyn Buller	Kumbark Monty	Collie	45 + 22 = 67
10)	Grant Cooke	Grassvalley Moss	Collie	63 + X = 63
11)	Ivan Solomon	Somerville Tully	Collie	60 + R = 60
12)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Beck	Collie	55 + R = 55

Open winner, Hudsons Tasha

Perangery Jill

El Shamah Ellie, going a bit grey these days

Kumbark Monty (Badgingarra Bobby x Christies Driftz)

Grassvalley Moss (Grassvalley Tod x Grassvalley Lisa)

Badgingarra Dotcom (Princes Tom x ?)

Special awards:
Best performance by a worker with two or less dogs: Wayne Hall
Another special award I can't remember: Wayne Hall
Aggregate: Scott Welke with Badgingarra Doug

Glenice Webb and Grant Cooke, with Moss, planning strategy

(Note: no children were seriously harmed, mentally or physically, in the making of this blog. They may been hot, filthy, hungry and at times even bored, but they were also festooned with jewels and tractors and allowed to roam free in their natural state, which is fair compensation as far as they're concerned).

See you at Wagin next week!

The (real-life) Saddle Club

2011-02-07T13:19:00.000+08:00

When I was a kid, I wanted a pony so badly it hurt. I begged and begged, but my heartless parents refused, and I had to settle for my collection of Pullein-Thompson novels and Dallas, Prancer and Dixie, my Barbie horses.

Hours I spent grooming manes and tails with teeny little (plastic) brushes and curry combs, polishing (plastic) tack and adjusting teeny weeny little blankets to keep their (plastic) backs warm at night, all the while imagining every other girl in the world dressed in jodhpurs and Fair Isle jerseys, hacking out on their cobby little greys and duns, popping over tricky little oxers with practised ease before trotting home for tea and crumpets, while I sat in my room brooding on the unfairness of life and parents so evil that they wouldn't buy me a Cabbage Patch doll, either.

As it turned out, my parents were right. Horses, even small horses, are much more hassle than the plastic variety. Even though the real-life brushes are much bigger, it takes so much longer to groom a real-life horse- your arms are aching before you've done a quarter of the job. They get real-life tangles with twigs and mud and their real-life coats get absolutely chockablock with dust. It's even harder to get out than that biro mark my little brother left on Dallas' rump- and you can't use Spray'nWipe on a real-life horse. As I've previously mentioned, they can be a bit delicate and prone to expensive vet bills. No Superglue for real-life horses. Plus they have teeth, and don't stand still when you're trying to brush them or do their real-life feet, which keep growing and hurt a lot more than the plastic variety if they step on you. They buck and pigroot when they're excited, and wave teeth and hooves at each other... and in real-life, I'm a bit scared of horses.

So Farmboy's debut at our local Pony Club is both a vicarious dream-come-true for me, and a first step into a terrifying new world. Luckily R has been there and done that all his life, so he's not the one having kittens over the state of Farmboy's riding boots or the appropriateness of our gear or how to load the pony or any one of a hundred things that had me sleepless for a week. He's also happy to be the one who jogs laps of the yard, trying to encourage Dancer (a pathologically "steady" Welsh pony) into a trot. That was a relief, because our first day at Pony Club was about 35 degrees and I would have died.

But Farmboy loved every minute of it, Dancer took it all in her very experienced stride, and R enjoyed the flashback to his own youth. The Ginger Biscuit is already clamouring for her turn.

They're out practicing whenever we have a free afternoon, and it probably won't be long before they move from Pony Club to polocrosse, like R did.

I'm trying hard to learn as much as I can, because it looks like we'll be spending a lot more of our time doing real-life horsey stuff. So far, despite my lack of real-life skills, it's even more fun than the plastic.

I don't really want to talk about it...

2011-01-10T12:54:00.000+08:00

Let's just say the Ginger Bikkie turned one- she's now a walking, kind-of-talking, grown up girl- and I'm a little bit sad that I no longer have a little baby...

But overall our gorgeous girl's first year is something to celebrate, and we did. We had a nice weekend with my family in Perth, visited AQWA for the first time.

Farmboy, not smiling at the crocodile

If you look closely, you can see Nemo

Port Jackson shark, ready to nibble some fingers

"Pirate ship!"

Stingrays!

Yes, it's me, in a photo

Merry-go-rounds too!

And then the lucky little duck came home to another little party and a new round of cake and cuddles with R's parents.

"Spoiled? Me? Never!"

Happy Birthday, Bikkie!

New Year’s Day

2011-01-02T13:43:00.000+08:00

At the Atherton’s. Nice people, nice dogs (and Bill came along too), a drink or two and a sad little collapse into bed at half past ten with the kiddies.

One of Phil Doherty’s young dogs- Ramulam Don x Ramulam Jen

Sam Lloyd and Kumbark Yindi (Badgingarra Bobby x Christies Driftz)

Ramulam Gus (Boylee Doug x Branga Spec)

Mac’s Boss and Ollie (Badgingarra Jake x Daheim Queani)

The Jake/Queani boys are starting to grow up a little- Boss is the most serious, still the most like his mum and a bit softish, while Ollie is just a great big sweet pup who has some growing up to do. Boss will stay here, Ollie will probably be looking for a new home soon.

Boss

Ollie

Boylee Copper (Boylee Tobie x Boylee Speck)

Copper was an unexpected Christmas gift, and if things work out he might be my new trial prospect. His first time on sheep looked okay- I just need to work out how to catch him!

An up and coming Ramulam kelpie pup

Pete Doherty’s newest additionAn Olboa Ben x Jandoree Molly pup

Sooty is an up and comer too- not sure where she’s coming up to or from, but she’s too cute to care

Pavlova and fruit- Aussie kid fuel!

Looking forward to a fabulous New Year!

And a good solid nap…

Tonight

2010-12-24T20:33:00.001+08:00

“When all the doors on my Advent calendar have opened, then it will start to snow! Then it will be Christmas! After I go to bed, there will be the clip-clop of hooves on the roof if you listen closely. Then the thud thud thud of boots. And Father Christmas will slide down the North Pole, and come out the fireplace- and he won’t get stuck because his sack is TOO BIG, because he’d be careful. He will walk down the hallway- clomp clomp clomp and the noise that he makes is Ho Ho Ho! And he’ll fill up my stocking with PRESENTS and fill up Kate’s stocking too, and he’ll put more presents under my Christmas tree. He’ll eat up his biscuits and drink his milk and take the carrot for his reindeer. Then he’ll fly away around the world!”
Farmboy, 2010

Have a wonderful Christmas, and may your stocking be as full!

What a week!

2010-12-12T10:32:00.001+08:00

What a week…

A week of warriors…

A week of wounds…

(Bad Bill!)

A week of wallies…

(namely Muddy, who finally met his match in the White Dam gate, which grabbed his back leg as he leapt over it, dislocating his hip. A month of crate rest for your sins, Muddy!)

A week of wonder…

(Father Christmas at daycare!)

A week of walking…

(almost- cruising, anyway)

A week of waiting…

(patiently behind field bins, that always seem to be heading to the exact same place we are)

“Oversize”. Just in case we hadn’t noticed…

A week of wheat…

Watch out behind!

A week of work…

(The apprenticeship of Farmboy is underway)

Ginger Biscuit enjoys the end product

What next, I wonder?

That’s more like it!

2010-11-29T13:15:00.001+08:00

Feeling a bit on the grumpy side?

You probably need one of these:

Try this one!

Or perhaps this:

Nothing like a kid, pup and visitor-packed week to cheer me up. Perthites passing through, unexpected family drop-ins, trialling friends and puppy picking people, local mates x 7, a happy houseful of small people and animals. To top it all off, I mastered not one but three CWA cookbook classics! And people ate them! And survived!

Fred-Queani version 3.0 (Split girl)

v3.1 (Meg II)

v3.2- Speckle

v3.3, Arrow:

v3.4, Blaze

v3.something- maybe Ziggy (Dark girl) or Plain Boy

And v3.7, the token fluffy, found in every F-Q litter, Spot:

Another F-Q token fluffy, Maverick (v2.1) dropped in for a long hard look at our sheep, and give us a preview of how this litter might turn out (in Mav’s case, a stronger version of Queani with more eye)

And he brought his friend Selby, who had her first up close and woolly experience.

Selby is, rather fascinatingly, a seal colour, which I haven’t seen before in the flesh.

That’s better, isn’t it, Ginger Biscuit?

Neverending story

2010-11-25T12:59:00.002+08:00

So we finally finished shearing last Wednesday. Weeks of waiting for that magical time “when shearing’s finished”- we’ll mow the lawns, we’ll take the kids riding, we’ll finish the dog kennels, we’ll build that chook pen. When shearing’s finished. And then, suddenly, shearing finished, at 1pm on Wednesday.

Last of the lot- the cull lambs:

Littlest rouseabout:

At 1.30pm on Wednesday, we started harvesting. Fan-bloody-tastic.

And so, in my new and ill-fitting “harvest widow” role, I’m going to have a whinge.

Farming is bloody hard.

I don’t mean recreational farming, where you might run a few hundred sheep as a hobby and pay the real bills with your day job. Of course that can be hard too- fencing and crutching and pulling lambs doesn’t get cushier just because it isn’t your primary income source. But actually relying on the land and the stock and the crops for your livelihood is a heartbreaking business. Farmers work their guts out yet have little control over how this affects their income. The weather and global markets have them by the short and curlies and there’s bugger all they can do about it.

This year has been an absolute shocker in WA, the worst season in a century for most areas. When you’re in the city, that might mean dry gardens and yellowed park lawns. When you’re farming, it might mean losing your job, your home and much of what you own, and your lifestyle. Everything, literally everything, can hinge on “next season”. And if that good season doesn’t eventuate…

I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the brave faces when you know people are struggling, I’m sick of watching people fall to pieces when their chins can’t hold up anymore (and I’m not even back behind my desk yet!), I’m sick of the agronomists and their positive spins, I’m sick of carting drinking water, I’m sick of high fuel prices and limited groceries, I’m sick of pisspoor health services and education choices, I’m sick of missing family and friends and missing out on mobile phone coverage and digital TV and paying exorbitant prices for piddling internet downloads. I’m especially sick of hearing about the brilliant season in the East, reading the five page spread in the Weekend Australian celebrating the end of the drought, crowing about huge yields and high prices while desperate machinery dealers fly cashed-up East coast farmers over to shop on the machinery WA farmers can’t afford to keep and nearly a million sheep (the most profitable part of most WA farms at present) are trucked East this year purely because WA farmers can’t afford to feed them. Gaaahhh!

So next time you roll your eyes at a “Thank a farmer for your next meal” bumper sticker, or moan on Facebook about “Rorts for Regions” or the regional fund sinkhole, think about it. Then watch out, because I might just be on my way around to have a word. And I feel like kicking someone’s arse.

Loading lambs

2010-11-19T08:48:00.000+08:00

The truck is coming at 6am.

So here we are, it's almost bedtime.
Hungry, tired, dusty and most importantly, together.

Done.

The Young Ones

2010-11-17T08:00:00.001+08:00

At Albany.

Cute:

Mac’s Ben10 (Mac’s Elvis x Pendalup Tess)

Used to be cute:

Mac’s Finbar (Boylee Fred x Fly- imp UK)

Never really cute, but makes up for it with personality:

Euroa Moss- aka ‘Moffy’ (Grassvalley Tod x Glenview Ruby)

Very cute in triplicate:

Boylee pups (Bellview Dale x Boylee Mustard, Boylee Tobie x Boylee Speck)

The one on the right kept saying “Take me home!”

So R did.

Boylee Copper (Boylee Tobie x Boylee Speck- Fred and Bill’s full sister)

Crazy cute:

Ramulam pup (Ramulam Jacko x Binnaburra Tammy)

Incredibly crazy cute:

Another Jacko-Tammy pup

Dangerously cute:

Molly’s pretty cute herself, but now she has more cuteness than anyone can handle:

Jandoree Molly (Boylee Sid x Boylee Elly)

Eleven times the cuteness!
Olboa Ben x Jandoree Molly pups

And Queani (hanging out at home) thought she had her paws full with eight…
Boylee Fred x Daheim Queani pups

Sometimes, I think I just can’t take any more cuteness…

And then this happens:

Or this:

Awww.

Farmboy, Ginger Biscuit, you kill me dead.

Albany Arena Trial 2010

2010-11-16T07:19:00.001+08:00

So that’s it- last trial of the year. Phew.

We were hoping to be finished shearing, but showery weather, galloping gastro through the team and some other commitments meant we are still only half done. Then the rain that winter left behind straggled into town this week, and we had over an inch of solid soaking. Not great timing in general (although it might keep the wheat chugging along), but it did postpone shearing long enough for us to make the Albany trial.

Home away from home

Doreen Hansen and Jandoree Molly (Boylee Sid x Boylee Elly)

So here we are- Albany Ag Show, a nice grassy little venue, in recent years host to some of the most feral sheep I’ve had the pleasure of working. Unfortunately they were quite a bit mellower this year, especially the Open sheep, who were some of last year’s ewes, but had actually been dogged down before the trial.

The Open sheep, in the v. spiffy letout yards, kindly loaned by Commander Ag-quip

I only had Bill and Fly to run this time- Queani stayed at home to change nappies and sing lullabies.
I didn’t get a chance to work Fly at all since the last trial, so she still felt like someone else’s dog, and a generally out of control one at that. In contrast to Bill, Fly gets worse and worse as a trial goes on, so while I had a teeny bit influence on her in the Novice, where we penned for a 45, she just took over in the Improver and I ended up retiring to get her to stop. And her Open was a non-event when she came onto the sheep a bit too enthusiastically and they split, so she ended up crossing. That was a pity, because those older ewes were heavier and less inclined to run, which would have suited her much better than the usual.

Fly

Bill had a mixed trial. He was fairly hyped up in the Novice, had to come in and jazz them up and we spent a bit of time off course, ending up penning for a 68 which scraped us into the prize money with 4th. He did work better in the Improver to pen again for 76. I was worried about how he’d handle the Open sheep, because they were standing up a bit at times, but he actually did okay with them until the pen. I handled particularly badly, which made it harder for him and we had a fair loss of points, but the sheep were really keen on the obstacles (very, very strange). When we got to the pen they went in once, then one big ewe turned around and decided to leave. Bill tried asking nicely from a distance, but she was looking for a fight and I didn’t want him to feel beaten, so I asked him to get her, she blew out of the pen mouth and we were disqualified for gripping. Oh well.

On the bright side, it looks like the scabby patch that appeared on his eyebrow suddenly a few weeks ago and has been impersonating a scary growth is probably ringworm or similar. It’s going away with antifungals, which makes me happy, and R is able to call Bill ‘Fungus Face’ and I can’t argue with him, and that makes R happy.

Fungus Face

R had his young dogs entered here and there, and was happy with all of them. Esme had a nice run I think in the Improver, made an obstacle, but still too tight on her cast. Tom started nicely in both his runs, I think he got at least one obstacle before things went a bit screwy. Bonnie and Trim both had farm-dog crosses in the Novice, but Trim had another run in the Open and worked pretty well, getting her first pen. Tess also worked okay, and penned for a 72 which wasn’t too far out of the final.

R and Binnaburra Bonnie (Binnaburra Tuff x Binnaburra Tina)

Just Esme (Grassvalley Tippy x Boylee Ella) waiting her turn

and with R, on their way to the race

Torbay Trim (Boylee Fred x Torbay Tig) at the pen

Malcolm Seymour with Euroa Sue (Grassvalley Tod x Glenview Ruby) and Andrew Gorton with Just Martha (Grassvalley Tippy x Boylee Ella)

Novice

1)	Peter Gorman	Grassvalley Milo, collie	79	84	163
2)	Andrew Gorton	Just Martha, collie	70	X	70
3)	Jenny Nolan	Nolans Kade, collie	69	R	69
=4)	S. Weaver	Boylee Bill, collie	68
=4)	Ken Atherton	Ramulam Lad, kelpie	68

Grassvalley Milo (Grassvalley Moss x Pendalup Candy)

Peter Gorman and Grassvalley Milo at the pen

Just Martha (Grassvalley Tippy x Boylee Ella)

Ramulam Jude (Ramulam Gus x Olboa Merle)

Greg Dorrell in his Encourage run, assisted by Ken Atherton, with Ramulam Emma (Ramulam Gus x Olboa Merle)

Ramulam Smoko (Ramulam Gus x Olboa Merle)

Linthorpe Percy (Boylee Fred x Crowesdale Rose)

Improver

1)	Grant Cooke	Grassvalley Moss, collie	96	96	192
=2)	Tony Boyle	Boylee Mustard, collie	94	X	94
=2)	Peter Gorman	Glenmar Midge, collie	94	X	94
4)	Tony Boyle	Bellview Dale, collie	89
=5)	Gibb Macdonald	Boylee Poppy, collie	86
=5)	Gordon Curtis	Binnaburra Maggie, kelpie	86

Boylee Mustard (Boylee Pepper x Boylee Salt)

Glenmar Midge

Boylee Poppy (Dajara Woody x Boylee Sweetpea)

I think this might be Faraway Quinn? or Royal?

Mike Scott and Torbay Tig (imp UK)

Open

1)	Peter Gorman	El Shamah Ellie, collie	94	90	184
2)	Gordon Curtis	Binnaburra Tuff, kelpie	93	89	182
3)	Ken Atherton	Kiwi Knight, NZHD	82	86	168
=4)	Gordon Curtis	Binnaburra Jess, kelpie	79	78	157
=4)	Marianne Rogers	Bellview Obie (Bernie), collie	79	78	157
6)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Jill, collie	93	57	150
7)	Jenny Atherton	Ramulam Don, collie	75	73	148
8)	Ivan Solomon	Perangery Sasha, collie	80	67	147
9)	Ken Atherton	Olboa Merle, NZHD/collie	77	69	146
10)	Phil Dorrell	Ramulam Patch, NZHD/collie	75	45	120
11)	Yvonne Haynes	Boylee Ceilydh, collie	84	X	84
12)	Peter Gorman	Glenmar Midge, collie	82	Ret	82
13)	Marianne Rogers	Faraway Royal, collie	76	DQ	76

Gordon Curtis and Binnaburra Jess (Binnaburra Tuff x Binnaburra Tina)

Bellview Obie ‘Bernie’ (Boylee Pepper x Christies Cocoacina)

Frank Sutherland and Rocky Roxy

Euroa Nell (Stoneyville Harry x Glenview Ruby)

Best work in Novice event by Novice worker: Karyn Buller with Kumbark Monty
Highest score by a Novice worker with a Novice dog in the Open event: Phil Dorrell with Ramulam Patch

Now what?

Shearing, selling more lambs, harvesting. Getting the house and garden sorted before I go back to work in January. Christmas, New Year, birthdays. Finishing the kennels, building a decent chicken coop and a proper orchard. Horses, horses, ponies. And somewhere in there, we might have time for training some dogs and the odd new pup…

Wet Wednesday!

2010-11-10T10:17:00.000+08:00

Wet garden!

Wet paddocks! Wet horses!

Wet children! Wet mushrooms!

Wonderful for the wheat!

(not much else though)

Margaret River 3 Sheep Trial

2010-10-28T02:14:00.002+08:00

On Monday, R announced that he was planning on having kids, dogs and caravan all packed and on the road to Margaret River by 9am Thursday. Laugh? I nearly died!

In summary:

The journey- an evening trip to the coast, with added drama of a tawny frogmouth attempting kamikaze manouvre into R’s window. Of course I stopped to retrieve it from the road, accidentally dropped it on its head getting it into the car, apparently finishing the poor thing off. So I wrapped the little corpse up in a cloth nappy, stashed it on the passenger seat, and was a bit surprised to find it perching on the gearstick as we came into Donnybrook. It was delivered to the vet at Margs the next day.

Late night arrival, the only available caravan spot was directly beside the arena. Convenient for those early morning runs!

Margaret River- always wonderful! Lush forest and farmland (perhaps drier than usual, but much greener than home), beaches, wineries and groovy little artisan cheese/chocolate/icecream/beer vendors around every corner, the full gamut of amusing people, from dreadlocked, barefoot, occarina-adorned hippies to the best of the Perth Western Suburbs, going all rural in Country Road and AWD Mercs.

The trial- the usual ground, short cast ideal for baby dogs, nice fit Corriedale sheep who alternately stood up to dogs or ran fine athletic laps around the obstacles, beautiful weather. Unofficial trial, just two classes, with the new quirk that Novice handlers could ask an experienced handler to assist them around the course (as in the usual Encourage class).

Jean Hydleman & Swagman Frankie at the pen

Lots of baby dogs having a good crack, as usual. Jean Hydleman’s Swagman Frankie and Karyn Buller’s young Kumbark Monty both made it to the pen in good form, Hayden Harries’ Mac’s Magic made it look easy in the Open, Mike Scott had excellent runs with both Tig and her daughter Torbay Badger, penning for the top score in the Novice. Judy Jones and Pixie somehow hypnotised their sheep and just trotted them around in something like half the course time, for a seemingly unbeatable 93, but they were pipped at the post by Peter Gorman and El Shamah Ellie.

Karyn Buller & Kumbark Monty

Kumbark Monty

Faraway Arctic

Torbay Badger

Badgingarra Barney

R’s dogs- Esme debuted in Novice- crossed on the cast, but picked the sheep up nicely and took them off. Fingers crossed for next time! Trim worked really nicely, think they retired at the bridge. Tom tried, was working okay, had some tricky sheep and didn’t handle it well, so lost one over the fence early on. Bonnie had a cross in the Novice but was going okay in the Open, retired at/after the race I think. Tess was over the top and not listening in the Open, he retired at the bridge.

Torbay Trim

Binnaburra Bonnie

My dogs- bit of a debacle, really.
Fly isn’t used to working for me, so doesn’t understand that my ‘steady’ means ‘as you were’, not slow down, etc etc. She worked okay for the first part of both runs, but then got waaay too fired up and trashed the runs. We retired both times I think, at the bridge in Open. At least she cast well both times.
Bill was a total nutter in the Novice. Sheep tried to stand up to him, he resorted to the ‘psychotic dog” act to convince them to take him seriously. It didn’t work. Two, possibly three sheep exited over the back fence. In classic Bilby fashion, he worked like a dream in the Open, but we had one tricky sheep at the bridge and retired there.

Great big Bilbynutter

I’d only entered Bill and Fly originally, because Queani was looking up the duff, but she’d been doing a fair bit of farm work recently, so I had a last minute change of heart and phoned up and entered her.

Obviously I left my brain at home with the late night trip to the trial, because when we arrived and she was entered in two events, it didn’t register that there was no Improver and she actually wasn’t eligible for the Novice class. In my defense, no-one else registered either until I’d run her, with a really nice run to pen for a 78, at a time of day when there weren’t many good scores. So then of course that score was invalid, and I felt like a total and utter twit and just about died from embarrassment.

To make it worse, I had to withdraw her from the Open too. Well, I didn’t have to- I was strongly encouraged by the very nice club/trial officials to run her in the Open- apparently more than one rather experienced trialler has made the same mistake and they’ve never forfeited their Open runs. But even if it was an honest mistake with no Novice score, I decided to scratch her from the Open to pre-empt the inevitable isolated whinge about me having an extra run. And as it turned out, that was a good move. So even if it didn’t count for anything, I really enjoyed working Queani, and it was nice to have one solid penning run over the weekend.

Daheim Queani

Novice

1)	Peter Doherty (assisted by Ken Atherton)	Ramulam Jude	collie	84- decided on Open score
2)	Mike Scott	Tig (imp UK)	collie	84
3)	Tony Boyle	Boylee Tobie	collie	81

Ramulam Jude (Ramulam Gus x Olboa Merle)

Mike Scott with Badger at the race- no shots of her mother Tig, sorry!

Tony Boyle & Boylee Tobie (Boylee Wal x Boylee Creamy)

Open

1)	Peter Gorman	El Shamah Ellie	collie	94
2)	Judy Jones	Glenview Pixie	collie	93
3)	Ken Atherton	Olboa Merle	NZHDxcollie	88

Judges’ Award for Best Novice Worker in Open- Judy Jones

Peter Gorman, winner of the Open, with new Mayanup Club President Hayden Harries

Badgingarra Lisa

Christies Cocoacina

Bellview Obie (Bernie)

Badgingarra Gem

And the kids?

Ginger Biscuit was a little bit underwhelmed by the prospect of yet another weekend at a dogtrial…

But she soon cheered up when she discovered that a trialing legend would be making an appearance! She even got an autograph (or possibly she gave him her autograph, in jam, down his jumper, I’m not sure…)

Passed out from sheer excitement!

Farmboy really does love sheepdog trials.

He loves the weekends with mum and dad, the caravan, the extra adult attention, the caravan…

Getting away to enjoy the sunshine, the fresh air and the time and inclination to stop and smell the daisies, and the caravan…

And the dogs- he loves them too. Well, Bill, anyway.