Stella, page 6
“All right, Deuce, you show Stella what to do, okay? And don’t listen to Bart. I’m the only one who’s been reading how to do this. Hey, Bart!” Mateo yelled. “Time to go!”
Deuce seemed to know instantly what was going on as the sheep bolted eagerly out into the fenced-in yard. I followed him, fascinated, as he approached the sheep at a run. The sheep raised their heads alertly, regarding this strange new dog with his mop of floppy hair obscuring his eyes.
With me, the sheep’s favorite dog, racing to keep up, Deuce worked confidently toward the edge of the herd, which reacted by shying away from him. Then he coursed back to the other side, and after a couple of passes, the sheep were on the move.
I was amazed. Deuce could restrain himself from plunging into the sea of white, curly-haired creatures. I held back myself so I could keep an eye on him, curious to see how he made the sheep move so smoothly.
“Come Bye,” Mateo called. “Deuce, Come Bye.” I knew what direction Deuce was going to run, and I followed him happily. Immediately, the sheep flowed away from him, and I noticed we were headed to the gate—the open gate. With Deuce coursing back and forth, the sheep steered themselves out through the gate and into the open fields.
Bart came roaring up on his ATV, his head encased in that shiny hat of his. It was a noisy machine, but I liked it because it was swift, and there was a place on the back where Mateo had chained me for a ride once.
“Let’s go!” Bart shouted gaily.
Deuce seemed a little irritated by the machine, which definitely spooked the sheep. They darted away from it, almost breaking into a panic. I could smell it on them. Deuce managed to get them under control, going back and forth, doing Drop when Mateo called the word.
I had more trouble controlling myself now that the sheep were out in the open. I wanted nothing more than to lunge at the edges of the herd, forcing them back the other way. I could hear Mateo’s commands and noticed that Deuce always responded instantly.
The next time Mateo said, “Away to Me,” I followed Deuce and did Drop exactly when he did. When the sheep seemed bent on marching all the way to the horizon, Bart circled around on his ATV, waving a hand, and they briskly shied away from him.
Deuce, I realized, was a good dog. He was making Mateo happy by his obedience. I wanted to be a good dog. I needed to be obedient as well. It was much easier for Deuce than it was for me, but I vowed to keep trying.
The weather turned warmer, and we spent a lot of days on the hill, the sheep chomping on the lush grasses. Deuce would respond to Mateo’s commands, and I’d follow Deuce, trying to put it all together.
Every once in a while, Bart would come roaring by on his ATV and scatter some of the sheep. Deuce, without being told anything by Mateo, would run out after the stragglers and escort them back into the main part of the herd. I went with Deuce, shadowing his actions.
The big dogs were with us as well. I noticed that they took up positions far from the flock, so that I could only glimpse them as lumps of animal. But their scents were always clear. When I ran up to Louie to figure out what he and the big dogs were doing, he ignored me. The dogs were all scanning the horizon.
A break came on a very warm day. The sheep had been kept in the big yard and were not happy about it. Deuce remained with them, but I and my fellow big dogs walked with Mateo out toward the scent of water. “It’s the pond!” my boy called happily.
Three of the big dogs reacted to the water by plunging into it, but Scoop only waded into the pond far enough for his stomach to get wet. And I …
I just didn’t see the attraction. Nix was panting with excitement, but I paddled out a little, nearly sinking, and then returned to shore. Well, I’d certainly learned that I didn’t like swimming! I remained on land even when my boy hiked up his pants and stood in water up to his knees.
After that day, I began to hear the word shearing. I didn’t know what it meant, but I soon came to associate it with Elias. He spent several days on the ranch, and the sheep seemed to be the reason why. Deuce would escort the sheep down a narrow chute that Finn had assembled. The chute led to a small pen, and that’s where Elias would meet them.
I was fascinated, but frustrated. Deuce was utterly in charge of these animals, but I was on a leash. This made no sense to me. I felt like we had proven that I should be among the sheep. Yet Mateo held me firm.
One by one, Deuce would coax the sheep down the chute. Elias would grip them by the horns and expertly flip them so that they were lying on their backs. Then he’d run a buzzing tool in his hand up and down the sheep, and I watched in amazement as the thick woolly coats that they had worn all winter came off in large pieces, falling to the ground. Mateo carried these coats over to a bin attached to the back of a pickup truck.
The sheep were uneasy until Elias grabbed them and rolled them on their backs with their legs in the air. The buzzing sound immediately filled the small interior, and they seemed relaxed, almost asleep.
When they were released, they sprang to their feet and scampered out the open gate and into the fenced-in yard.
They seemed lively and happy, prancing as they ran. I had the sense that whatever was happening, whatever shearing was, the sheep felt better when it was done.
When Elias left in his truck, the sheep stood around bleating at each other, impressed with how odd they looked without their fur.
Bart wandered up. “So, I’m going to take the sheep out tomorrow to the leased land,” he stated casually. “Finn’s going to work in his shop, like we planned. Dad says I can try it with you. Only thing he’s agreed to in ten years.”
Mateo grinned broadly. I wriggled with pleasure at his excitement.
“You got any homework? Dad wanted me to ask that.”
“Yeah, sure, but … it can wait.”
Bart shrugged. “Your choice.”
The next day, Mateo steered his own ATV with me secured to the back platform. Deuce was behind us as we followed Bart, leading the sheep over the big hill into an area of land where I had never been. Both humans wore their shiny hats.
Deuce swept back and forth, keeping the sheep on the intended course. The big dogs patrolled out on their own.
And then …
We did not go home.
That night Bart set up a thin-walled house called a “tent” and Mateo placed his familiar-smelling sleeping bag inside it. I was astonished. Were we going to sleep here?
“Well, now,” Bart stated with a chuckle, “this is nice, unless you like comfort.”
“I think it’s great!” Mateo grinned.
Bart built a small fire. I didn’t know how he accomplished this, but I was fascinated by the flames. I remained next to Mateo. Deuce stayed contentedly close by. The big dogs, however, were still out. I could sense them on the extreme edges of the flock. They were not lying still. They were moving slowly through the grasses.
I was too comfortable to join them, though I was sure, as a guardian dog, I was supposed to.
Later the next morning, the sheep were grazing calmly and Mateo and I were out greeting Baron when the giant dog suddenly whirled and stared into the grasses. I followed his gaze and spotted movement.
“Fox!” Mateo blurted. “You see the fox? Baron, Stay!”
Baron gave Mateo an incredulous glance, but he sat down, panting.
The animal—I guessed it was a fox—was small and moved with the agility of a young animal. The creature had dark, expressive eyes and looked something like what would have happened if Slink, the cat, had been a dog. The fox darted forward a little bit and then paused.
Baron barked.
Nine
Baron’s voice was so deep it vibrated in my chest. I responded with yips of my own—much higher notes that sounded a little silly next to Baron’s. We were barking an alarm. Our bark said to all dogs, “There’s something here!”
Immediately, I could hear the powerful gallop of Scoop coming at us. When the big dog pounded past us Mateo called, “Baron, go!” and Baron immediately caught up with Scoop. Baron peeled off to the Come-Bye side while Scoop was headed more in the Away-to-Me direction.
I realized in that moment that the intent was not to kill and eat this little animal, or even to play with it, but rather to keep it away from the sheep. The fox took one look at the menacing jowls of Scoop, then focused on the thundering approach of Baron. Quickly it turned and vanished into the higher grasses with a wave of its tail.
“That’ll do, Scoop. That’ll do, Baron,” Mateo called out, so the big dogs knew that’ll do. They trotted back to us, tongues lolling, happy with themselves. They didn’t know they were supposed to go to Mateo and Drop, but they did greet my boy anyway, raising their noses for him to pet their heads and assure them that they had done a good job.
I raised my head as well, because I would have gone too, if I’d understood what we were doing. Mateo rewarded me with the touch of his hand on my fur, the best feeling there ever was.
When the sheep spread out too far, or when Bart and Mateo wanted them to move, Deuce would do Come Bye or Away to Me, and I kept close on the shaggy dog’s heels, hearing the words and starting to understand something new, something amazing. When Mateo called out a command, it was because the sheep needed to be steered in one direction or another! Our training was not just a game that made us both happy and made me a good dog. Doing Come Bye and Away to Me made the sheep move, and that was our purpose when I was out with Deuce.
Even still, I also kept my eyes open for giant birds—and now foxes. That was my duty as a guardian dog. And I also needed to comfort my boy Mateo whenever the wistful sadness built up inside him.
All dogs are special, but because I had a person and sheep to take care of, I was the most special of them all.
We stopped at a small pond and drank greedily. Naturally, Nix and Louie swam in it, and just as naturally, I did not.
My nose told me we were a good distance from the ranch.
“This will do us for the night,” Bart remarked.
They set up the tent. I took the opportunity to check on Deuce, who was watching the sheep with his fur covering his eyes. I also visited my fellow guardian dogs, who were stretched out in the grasses. They all sniffed me in greeting, and I wondered if Deuce would ever join the pack, or if he’d always remain aloof with us.
Darkness gradually settled in. Bart and Mateo were mostly silent, watching the fire.
“Well,” Bart observed abruptly, “you’ve got the routine down, don’t you?”
Mateo regarded him curiously. “Not sure what you’re saying.”
“I mean, it’s pretty simple. The dogs guard the sheep. You sleep in the tent.”
“O-kay,” Mateo replied slowly, clearly sensing there was more to this.
Bart nodded. “So, you’ve got it. I’m going to head into town for a little bit.”
“No, what? Wait!” Mateo blurted. “What do you mean?”
“Mateo,” Bart chided him, “you’re no baby. You can handle this. The LGDs are taking care of everything. You just need to be the human intelligence behind the whole operation during the night. You don’t need me.”
Bart yanked on his shiny hat and strolled over to his ATV and jumped on it. It started with a roar.
“You can handle it!” Bart called over his shoulder as he zoomed off.
I felt the anxious concern in my boy and put my paw on his foot. Whatever was going on, the pack would be with him. Whatever humans are facing in life, it always goes better for them if they are accompanied by dogs.
When darkness settled down, Mateo sat pensively by the fire, staring out into the night. A brisk wind kicked up, and it was cool, but it brought no smell of rain. The other guard dogs were out, ranging around, ceaselessly patrolling.
Later we were lying together inside the tent, Deuce sprawled comfortably in the grass right outside the unzipped door. I was drowsy, but my boy was sleepless with a tight anxiety. I didn’t understand. Was it because Bart had left?
The night grew completely still.
I eased out through the tent flap, and Mateo stirred. He was finally dozing off. I lapped up some water from a bowl and then stared out into the night. The wind was at my back. I could pick up the scent of sheep in front of me, but just barely, because that breeze took their odors away.
Out there, I knew, were Baron and the other big dogs, but I sensed them more than smelled them. I trotted out and soon came upon Baron, who wagged in a friendly fashion. I sat next to him.
And then I heard something on our Come-Bye side.
I pointed my nose in the direction my ears told me, but I couldn’t smell it. The wind was gentle but blowing straight at my tail, and whatever it was seemed to be far out there in the darkness, though I had the sense it was drawing ever closer to us and the flock.
No, I realized. This wasn’t just an “it.” More than one animal was out rustling in the night grasses.
I glanced, concerned, at Baron, but he didn’t seem to notice what was happening, even though he was lying with his head up, as the big dogs seemed to do pretty much all night, scanning and sniffing for threats.
His nose was pointed in the same direction as mine. He couldn’t smell the newcomers either.
Finally, I barked an alarm. The big dog’s head whipped around, staring at me in surprise.
When I dashed forward, passing Baron, he leaped to his feet. I was still barking, and then Baron joined his voice with mine, creating that deep, huge, booming bark that every creature with ears could hear.
As we dashed forward, we could see what had alarmed me—flitting shadows, three creatures low to the ground, tiny compared to Baron but taller than I was. They were not fleeing our approach but moving sideways to slip around us, drawing closer to Mateo and the sheep.
I caught my first scent of them. It was a feral smell, dank and dangerous.
Baron and I both stopped, holding our ground, barking the alarm. Then I felt, more than heard, a thundering noise. It was Scoop, racing right past us, shockingly fast for such an enormous animal.
Baron and I joined him, but it was the sheer bulk of Scoop that seemed to alarm the stalking creatures, who raised their heads. They were canines, but not dogs. Mateo had been summoned by our barking, and he was behind us, running.
The trio of predators turned and fled away from Scoop, intimidated by his massive chest and huge jaws. Mateo called my name, and we—all three dogs—halted.
“Coyotes,” he told us. “Did you see them? Coyotes.”
Coyotes seemed to be the name of the dog-but-not-dog creatures we had seen. “Good job, dogs,” Mateo praised us. Then he raised his eyes, and we all heard it—a yipping, high-squealing noise, a barking that was not like any dog barking. It sounded frustrated.
Coyotes. I registered the name in my mind. They had definitely been on the hunt—for my boy and possibly the sheep.
When I was back by the fire, its sharp flames licking higher as Mateo added wood, Scoop shuffled over to me. He lowered his head and sniffed my nose. I realized this was Scoop’s way of saying “Stella is a good dog.”
That night in the tent, Mateo awoke at every noise, all night long. I alerted each time, hearing very clearly whichever small rustle had awakened him. My nose told me there were some rabbits nearby. I heard another, larger creature, but it did not approach; rather, it shied away from the herd of sheep.
The big dogs were restless. They knew something was wrong because Bart was gone. This was not the normal order of things, and to us guardians, disrupting the normal order was an affront to nature.
Even the sheep seemed uneasy, perhaps alerted by the big dogs, who had drawn in closer to the flock. They were not ranging out, looking for coyotes and giant birds, but stayed nearby, wary and attentive.
The next morning, the big dogs were relieved when the sun rose, painting the fields of grass with shadows and light and waking up the ever-present birds. It had been a long night.
Nix sprawled, sound asleep, and the rest were drowsy, yawning, stomachs on the ground. They seemed to be waiting their turn to shut their eyes. I smelled each one in turn as Mateo busied himself making breakfast for all of us. They all greeted me with more friendliness than they had shown before.
Sounding the alert before any other dog had proved to them that I was a worthwhile member of the pack. I was finally accepted as what I was—a guardian dog puppy who also helped Deuce and protected Mateo.
The sun was much higher in the sky when I picked up the sound of Bart’s ATV bouncing across the fields to us. I barked, not in alarm but just to let everyone know that Bart was approaching.
“What is it, Stella?” Mateo asked.
In that instant, I wondered if perhaps Mateo’s hearing was not as sharp as mine. The dogs all reacted as the noise became louder, and a moment later, Mateo turned his head, so I knew that now he had heard it as well.
Bart was grinning as he roared up at high speed, sliding to a stop and turning off his loud machine. The sheep stirred, and Deuce trotted over to them to provide reassurance.
Mateo put his hands on his hips. “You left, and you didn’t tell me you were going to be gone all night,” he accused.
Bart lifted off his shiny hat and shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know I was going to be gone all night, but look, you made it. You had the dogs. Everything’s fine.”
“There were some coyotes last night. The dogs ran them off.”
Bart’s smug smile was satisfied. “See? I told you, you had the dogs. Nothing to worry about.” He gave Mateo a thoughtful look. “Now, you’re not going to tell Dad about this, are you?”
Mateo was silent.
“Mateo,” Bart chided, “we’re brothers. This is between us, right?”
“Yeah, right,” Mateo muttered.
Bart seemed okay with the conversation. Mateo, I could tell, was not.
