The Saga of the Escaped Sheep
by Terry Hardey,
(©) Copyright 2006, Terry Hardey, All rights reserved.
What could be more classic for a Scottish Festival than to have a wee bit of a herding demonstration? Sheep, Border Collies and the sound of Bagpipes—glorious!
It had been long, hot Saturday in the Colorado sun. The closing ceremonies were in full swing, so all our visitors were over at the main ceremony field, listening to bagpipes and watching various awards being presented.
I had spent the day dividing my activities between our club’s Flyball demonstration and helping my friend, Jan Koch with demonstrating sheep herding. I would spell her and her dogs, and give my Tug and Skye the chance to work some sheep. Both Tug and Skye know their stuff, but are city bound, so, really, it was a matter of Jan letting us play some, much to Skye and
Tug’s delight.
Some friends from the Flyball club, Amy and Rosie, had brought their two Border Collies, Posey and Charlotte, to watch Skye work sheep. They were hanging out near the dugout, kinda watching to see if their two girls would notice the sheep. The herding demo, as in years past, was set up on a baseball diamond. The out field was fenced with “T” posts and orange snow fence.
Jan had shed the sheep (meaning split the group into two groups), with one of her dogs, Trae, and was gathering them back together, when one ewe pushed up against the snow fence. One hoof went through the fence, which tripped the ewe. Of course, she fell into the fence, flattening it. When she jumped up, she found herself on the wrong side of the fence, smack in the midst of three fellows putting around with golf clubs.
Now, everyone knows that sheep are a flocking animal, but what, exactly, does that mean? A good friend of mine has referred to it as the original Borg mentality. Sheep, from birth, are totally a part of the collective flock, which has worked well for them for countless eons—safety in numbers. If you get separated from the flock, you are likely to become lunch for some watchful predator. This has produced an animal that does not cope well when not in a group of at least two. The instant a sheep finds itself alone, all rhyme or reason is gone. Any thought process a sheep might have, or common sense or wits are instantly scrambled, panic sets in. My Dad used to call such panic ‘riding off in all directions at once.’
Now, the sheep that Jan had brought for the demo are not the cute, fluffy sheep of “Little Po Peep.” These sheep are the big, rangy sheep of Wyoming.
So, we now have a lone, panicked sheep landing in the middle of some hapless golfers. Golfers, golf, golf balls and sheep scattered in all directions at once.
The sheep, of course, heads into the area of the vendor tents. Would it be any other way? Jan climbed over the remains of the fence with her dog, Trae, in
hot pursuit.
Meanwhile, I pulled the rest of the sheep away from the sagging fence with Skye and tried to prop the fence back up. Amy left Posey with Rosie, to go and see if she could help Jan.
I briefly considered popping the rest of the sheep on out, so we could get the whole works together again, but quickly ruled that idea out. Knowing fate, the bunch would take off in another direction or even split up even further—not a pretty picture. (Jan later told me she had actually gone through the same
thought process!)
Just as I got the main bunch into the small pen Jan had for holding them, I realized the closing ceremonies had drawn to a close, and we had a couple thousand people headed our way, on their way to their cars. They would all be funneling down the walk way, right past our baseball diamond. I couldn’t see Jan, her dog or the sheep, but I could track their progress around vendor and clan tents by Jan’s whistles and called out commands to her dog. There was an occasional wiggle visible in a tent roof to also indicate the passage of a sheep.
Sounded pretty lost out there! Then I started to hear exclamations from the crowd. “Oh, look a sheep!” “Hey! There’s a goat!”
As far as that sheep was concerned, everything was a trap, and all these humans were potential predators, all out to get her. She definitely was not cooperating with Jan and Trae! But, Jan did seem to be getting the sheep headed towards the gate on the east side of the ball field, so I got Rosie moved over to block the one escape route to the south, with my Fawn, Posey and Charlotte on leashes. With the gate to the ball field propped open, I headed over by the Haggis tent to deflect the sheep from the Haggis. Just as Jan, Trae and the sheep rounded the corner, some kid decided to get in on the fun, jumped in front of the sheep and yelled, “Hey! Look, a real sheep!”
Well, the “real” sheep jumped straight up, spun in mid-air, landed, and launched herself at Jan. She hit Jan—who probably weighs all of 100 pounds, soaking wet)—like a linebacker. Jan’s feet flew up, and she did an impromptu imitation of a pancake, onto the cement, flat on her back. I could hear her head bounce on the cement! She later told me she wasn’t too sure what had hit her, she just remembers looking up and seeing a little girl in a bright red dress, who asked if she was OK.
I could see people heading to help Jan up, so I tried to get Skye around the sheep, and just get people to leave the sheep alone. (I could just see some little kid getting kicked or flattened.) The crowd was just too heavy to maneuver, or for us to get around the sheep. Once on her feet, Jan called Trae to her and headed after the sheep, who had made her escape to the north, through the departing crowd, and directly away from the ball field.
I hustled over to make sure the other sheep were still secure, and grab Jan’s other dog, Peaches. I made sure Rosie had all the other dogs under control, then Skye, Peaches and I headed North, after Jan. Amy had followed right behind Jan. As I got to the north exit, I spotted another Games Committee member who had a radio, and asked if they had heard anything about which way the sheep went.
The answer I got was a shocker, “Goat, shepherd and dog are west bound on University!” University is a four lane, major thoroughfare, and I figured it was a good quarter of a mile away… They were really moving on! It would seem they had made their way through the parking area, climbed the steep hill to the north, tore through the post office parking lot, and indeed, headed west
along University.
Just as the sheep decided to actually cut across the street, a police car happened along, the officer saw the sheep, whipped his car sidewise and flipped on his overhead lights to stop traffic… So the fool sheep managed to waltz across the road in safety! Jan, Trae and Amy followed.
The sheep followed University far enough to get past a group of condos, then cut north, along a large open space. She followed the edge of the condos, and settled herself near one, giving Jan time to catch up. By this time, someone had alerted the Douglas County Park Ranger, Tom Welle, and he joined the entourage, with his dually pick up. They were also joined by a couple who had been out walking their dog.
In the meantime, Skye, Peaches and I were making our way north, but a bit to the west of Jan. I found myself faced with a long walk and when I spotted Kaye Knaub and Bob Burnham with a golf cart, I bummed a ride for us. Kaye drove us as far as she could, bouncing across a rough field until we came up to a fence. Golf carts are not exactly meant for four wheeling, and Kaye was sure we were going to roll the fool thing. I piled out with the dogs and scrambled up the steep embankment to University, with Bob Burnham following. We left Kaye to work her way back, alone, and wondering just how we were fairing.
By this time, poor little Peaches was beginning to get a bit spooked—she really didn’t know who I was or where Jan was—she was starting to really drag her feet, at the end of her leash. Skye wasn’t even on a leash, and here we stood, on the edge of one very busy road, many lanes of traffic. Bob and I looked at each other, wondering how we were ever going to navigate our way across.
Now, Bob is the picture of a very distinguished, gallant Scotsman, neat mustache, finely dressed in kilt, wool socks and clean white shirt. He has just scrambled up a very steep embankment with me, and he is not about to let a wee bit of traffic get in our way! So, he charges out into the street, waving his arms at oncoming traffic, to slow them down. I yell at him to “get back here, you’re going to get hit!” “No, no,” he yells back, “run for it, I’ll stop them!” So, in a hunched over scramble, dragging a reluctant country dog (Peaches) on her leash, my right hand on Skye’s collar, I run across University, and Bob follows, safe and sound.
On the far side of the road, we came across a couple of people who point down the hill, in the open space, and tell us the “goat” went that way. And, indeed, we spotted Jan, with Amy, Tom and the people who had been out walking their dog, gathered down the trail, next to Tom’s truck. The sheep was standing up by the condos, warily watching them.
When we got down there, Jan was organizing everyone to surround the sheep. She saw me with a bit of relief—I think she was thinking, “finally, someone who knows something about sheep!” After I noticed that Trae was sitting in Tom’s pickup, I handed Skye and Peaches off to Bob, and took up the spot Jan assigned me to one side of the sheep.
Jan sent the dog walker, in a red shirt to the other side, and she took the middle. We all closed in on the sheep, crowding her up against the condo wall.
The sheep turned towards me, I met her stare for stare. Then, she tried Jan, who also met her stare for stare. She decided she wasn’t getting by either of us, so she turned towards Red Shirt. She quickly judged Red Shirt to be the inexperienced, weak link, and charged him. He bent, to meet her charge, and they slammed into each other.
Red Shirt wrapped his arms around the sheep and the two fell to the ground in a mighty struggle. In a tangle of legs and arms, the two rolled across the small grassy area, and off the edge of a four foot rock wall, falling to the next terrace below. There was the clatter of a large barbecue as it went flying.
With more struggling and rolling, they rolled off the next rock wall onto the last patch of grass below. All the while, Jan was yelling, “Let go, Let go!” The last thing we needed was for this fellow to get his stuffings kicked out! I’m not entirely sure Red Shirt knew how to let go, and extract himself from this Tasmanian Devil.
Finally, with hooves thrashing, they managed to untangle themselves and struggle to their feet. The sheep gave herself a through shaking off, spotted a gap between people and dogs and bolted for the gully and trees of the
open space.
Red Shirt stood, kind of shaking his head, and taking a mental tally of body parts. When he looked up, it was to say “I never dreamt it would be that strong! I’ve never been hit that hard playing football!” After his wife and the rest of us verified he really was in one piece, he gamely announced that we had better get after that sheep.
Jan got Trae out of the truck and headed straight for the trees we had seen the sheep disappear into. Tom got his truck turned around, in the small space, and headed for the walkway that led up to the left of the trees. Bob, with Peaches in tow, Amy, Red Shirt and his wife all also headed for the walkway. Skye and I headed off to the right, with the condos to my right.
The condos soon changed to houses, which were fenced with 6 foot wood privacy fences. I was relieved to find the fence, it meant the sheep wasn’t going to be able to get through to the housing area. I really shuddered to think of chasing this critter through neatly manicured yards, not to mention streets, with kids and people about! As Skye and I followed the fence line, we lost sight of the rest of the sheep hunters.
After a couple dozen homes, I came to a turn, and was faced with another whole row of homes and back yards. However, these homes had no nice, tall fence, and my thoughts returned to the sheep leaving hoof prints in those nice yards. By this time, I really wasn’t sure which way everyone else had gone, into the subdivision, or down along the gully.
I stopped, and tried to listen for voices, but by this time, all the running really had me panting. So it was pant, pant, pant, hold breath and listen, gasp, pant, pant, hold breath and listen. Skye was no help, by this time the sheep was forgotten, and she was just out on a lark, looking for rabbits or other things of doggy interest.
I kept thinking, Jan is gonna kill me, she’ll never come do another demo for us! Then, Betty Thompson is gonna kill me, it has been so hard to get someone to do this demo! Oh, never mind that, John Thornton is the one who will kill us all, we are doomed!
Finally, I spotted Bob, way across the other side of the gully, and headed towards the gully. He no longer had Peaches with him, she was down in the gully with Jan and Trae. Red Shirt and his wife were over there too.
Then, Tom went bouncing by in his truck. He was taking Amy up to a golf course I never knew existed. He dropped her off there to keep the sheep from getting out on the course. She later told me she really had no idea what she could have done if the sheep had come her way. She finally decided her best bet was to jump up and down, waving her arms jumping-jack style and yelling. Hopefully, that would spook the sheep back towards us. However, she soon realized that the ones who were looking spooked were the golfers!
I finally connected with the others and they confirmed that the sheep had followed the gully. Skye and I began to follow our side of the gully, peering down into the heavy foliage for a glimpse of the sheep. Every so often, Jan’s voice would drift up to me, she was seeing raccoon track, but no sheep. Then a bit of muttering about logs in the way and having to wade across the creek, which was a good foot deep.
As I walked along beside the gully, a police car pulled up along side of me. The officer driving called out to me, asking if the sheep was mine. I told him it wasn’t, that it was from a demo we had going on at the Highland Games. I told him the owner was down in the gully, and that we hoped to catch the sheep soon. He asked if we would want them to try and Tazer the sheep, since he had been able to subdue dogs that way in the past. I tried to put that picture out of my mind, and explained that as terrified as the sheep was, it would probably kill her. Besides, I doubted they would be able to get close enough. But, I promised to ask Jan when I could, and got back over to the gully edge.
Shortly, I was actually able to see Jan, down in the gully, and she pointed to some tracks, sheep tracks! I told her about the cop’s offer to Tazer the sheep and my concern that it would kill the sheep. She kind of laughed a wicked laugh and said “Right now, I really don’t care!”
Just then, I caught sight of a flash of dirty white sheep, trying to scramble up the opposite side of the gully. She couldn’t make it through the heavy brush and kind of fell, scrambled back down. I yelled out that I had spotted her, Bob and Red Shirt were visible on that side and started to move in.
The sheep landed down in the bottom of the gully, then charged up my side, and shot past, about 20 feet from me. Jan’s two dogs were in hot pursuit. I sent Skye after them with a quick “Away to Me!”
If I close my eyes now, I can still see that sheep, running for all she was worth out across the rough open ground, towards a row of houses. She had three black and white Border Collies running flat out, trying to get around her to turn her back to me. All I could do was call out to them, “Good Job! Away to me! ’Waaaay to me!” And they did it! They turned her back to me. She charged past the cops, Tom’s truck and me, and back down into the gully. Jan’s dogs caught up with her and turned her towards Jan.
I called Skye off, because I knew she would be trying to bring the sheep to me, not to Jan, and the dogs would get confused, with differing goals. The sheep stood in the creek, a good foot deep in water, trying to stand off Jan’s two panting dogs. Jan came around the corner splashing her way through the creek, climbing over downed logs and calling commands to her dogs.
Jan pretty much threw herself at the sheep, tackling her and bringing her down, into the creek. As she landed on the sheep, I heard her say “You are sooo going down!” With an “I’m coming!” I half fell, half scrambled down the side of the gully, and landed on the sheep’s hindquarters, just as Jan settled down across the sheep’s shoulders. Jan kind of grinned at me, reached around to the sheep’s head to hold her nose out of the water and said, “But you are not going to drown!”
We had a short moment to pant, and congratulate each other, before everybody else arrived. We think it was Red Shirt who offered up a dog leash to “hog tie” the sheep, then the cops provided some light weight rope. We looked the old girl over, and the only injury we could find was a two inch cut on a hind leg.
Tom, the cops and Red Shirt boosted, scootched and lugged the sheep up that steep, sandy embankment, and into the back of Tom’s waiting truck. We thanked everyone around, boosted our exhausted dogs into the truck and climbed in to sit on the sheep. All three dogs stretched out and promptly
fell asleep.
Amy escaped the golf course, before the golfers could call the funny farm, caught up with us and climbed in the passenger seat. After we reassured Tom that the dogs were not going to jump out, he drove us back to the park.
As we bounced our way out of the open space, I looked up at Jan, and said “You are sooo gonna kill me for getting you into this!”
She grinned at me, and with a real twinkle in her eyes, said “Are you kidding me? This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I love this stuff! Besides, I’ve always wondered if I could run a marathon, and now I know I could!”
It seemed to take forever to get back to the park, we were really wondering where Tom was taking us. We could not imagine just how much ground we had covered. It took looking the open space up on a map to figure that we had actually zig zagged for several miles!
When we got back to the park, we rescued Rosie from puppy-dog sitting, doctored the sheep, and got the other sheep bedded down. The errant sheep spent the next day taking it easy in Jan’s horse trailer, and the show went on with 4 sheep, rather than 5. Jan reassured us that she hopes to return next year, but she does figure we owe each other a good steak dinner!
