Ten sheep break into a trot, the scraggly
strands of their white winter coats flitting
by. They pick up speed, their necks rigid
and clumsy. The Border Collie drives the
sheep towards a gap between two white
farm fences. They drift too much to the
left. “Come by!” booms the handler. The
dog moves clockwise and the sheep
trots neatly through the gap. They come
closer. “Lie down!” and the dog drops into
a low crouch. The sheep settle again,
anxious to see what the next move of this
dangerous creature will be. So begins the
dance between ‘predator’ and ‘prey’, dog
and sheep, the moves choreographed by
the handler. The sheep react to the dog,
as their instincts shift to ‘alert’, they keep
moving away once the dog gets too close,
and in between, never take their eyes
off it. The dog’s herding of the sheep is
a modified predatory instinct; it chases,
but has been thoroughly schooled not to
actually attack. The inherent behaviour
patterns of these opposites are utilised to
the farmer’s advantage.
I watch with increasing fascination while
the rules are explained; within 30 minutes,
the dog must first fetch ten sheep a few
hundred meters off to one side of the
camp, then another group of ten on the
other side, moving each group separately,
then together, through a rather narrow
opening between farm gates. The handler
is anchored; he stands at a post and may
direct the dog’s moves only. Once the dog
has brought the flock safely to the handler,
he may leave the post for the first time, to
work with the dog to separate five marked
sheep out of the group of 20. Neither
dog nor handler may touch the sheep.
Lastly, the five marked sheep must be
moved towards and enclosed in a small
pen. The dog must not move too fast or
erratically, which would stress the sheep,
yet the sheep must remain wary enough
of the dog to keep moving in the desired
direction; a soft dog without a keen eye
might be ignored by over-confident sheep.