By Cindi Hayden

The bone-chilling rain was coming down in gray sheets.The footing was deep and slippery,filling my low-cut muck boots.As the rain stung my face and dripped from my eyelashes I trudged out to the field with Callie,my ever optimistic Border collie.

We needed her optimism tonight.I had forty water logged sheep and a half dozen weary goats somewhere at the bottom of that hill. On a good day,if they could hear me,they would come when I called,hoping I had grain.And they might even be coaxed to move from one paddock to another without much effort.But not tonight. Darkness,the rain and wind were against us.

Forecasts predicted drenching for the next thirty six hours.Those animals had to be moved to the field on the other side of the farm where they would have shelter.The trees,tall stone walls and hillside at the bottom of the ravine provide adequate shelter for the sheep and goats a good deal of the time but they needed more that that now.And these ruminants,by their nature,weren ʼt about to fall into an orderly line to eagerly follow me across hill and dale, through deep dark puddles and foreboding gates to bask in their warm dry shelter.I needed extra hands to get the job done or ....one good dog.

Callie and I stood on top of the hill bracing against the wind, searching for the animals.Their only hope stood by my side trem- bling with great anticipation,her adrenaline bubbling.Water ran off her long black and white coat.She looked up at me with anxious, grateful eyes.A look I felt in my heart.A look I knew I could count on.I nodded to the right and in a flash Callie went away to me, instantly disappearing into the blackness.Her excitement and anticipation gave way to stealth determination. She would find them and bring them.

Minutes passed. Long minutes.I had to give her enough time. Envisioning the route she would take and the obstacles she would encounter controlled my own anxiousness.She needed my posi- tive thoughts with her.The terrain was challenging and variegated. An oozing slope of clay would taunt her the first few hundred feet. Pushing with her strong hindquarters and pulling with her forehand, nails digging deep into the slick surface,she would move as her an- cestors had moved before her.She was in her zone now.Complete relaxed concentration in motion;ready to react in a twitch.Muscles flexing,elastic joints opening and closing,she would limberly navigate the mine field of protruding granite and quartz boulders that lay ahead.

She had to be thoughtful on this dark and slippery night as she wove over and through the treacherous mounds,saving herself from injury.Coming to the steepest part of the slope she would set back on her haunches,fighting gravity with her shoulders,feel- ing the unstable ground beneath her. She knew the field well but the rain had created new holes and washouts to detour.The small stream would be over flowing with faster moving water.She would run slightly upstream from her usual crossing to a high spot where she could easily jump over and through the water.Then she would run downstream to widen her approach,slowing down as her in- stincts dictated her first move into the bottom of the field where the sheep and goats were hidden.

Eyes peering into the darkness,she would sweep across the thick waves of tall grass,pushing against the downpour.Without tir- ing she would cover the field right to left and back again in large sweeping outruns,all the while moving closer in my direction. With each pass of the field she would find groups of the flock,push them ahead and sweep the field again until she had uncovered them all.

She would want to push them straight to me,to the point from where she left.It would be a dif ficult task.There were many ob- stacles in the way; bad footing,a stream,large rocks,stumps,stone walls,wind and rain.The sheep,feeling safer where they were, would rebel against being pushed out into the unknown threats of the storm. They would not flock together well.The Katahdins would be separate from the Cheviots and Dorsets,who often split up into smaller groups of their own.Some of the ewes would lag behind with their lambs.Who knows where the goats would be.

Getting anxious now I used my crook for balance as I slid down the hill.Landing on my backside,face washed with mud and one boot lost in the muck,cursing,I looked up to see a group of weath- ered goats rounding the hill to my right.Relief replaced worry. Callie was on the job.A dozen or more Katahdins climbed over the stone wall a short distance in front of me.I couldn ʼt see her but by the way they were moving Callie was hot on their tails.That a girl!Knowing those sheep were committed to stay at the top of the hill she turned back to find the others.Uneasily,minutes passed. Thoughts wandered.I had some nerve standing up here bemoan- ing the situation as my little dog,with all her heart and might,was out there fighting the elements,using all her instincts,dutifully bringing the sheep to me,to safety.And then,here came the rest of the flock!Moving as one weary group,I was able to count them as they passed by.They were all here.The most dif ficult part of her task was over but where was Callie?

With the white of her coat camouflaged by mud,she rounded the hill a short distance behind the flock looking tired and quietly pleased.Our eyes met and I whispered the words she ʼd love to hear.

“Good job,Callie.Good job.”Tears of gratitude mixed with rain slid off my face at the sight of that proud,determined little deaf dog.

Yes,Callie had lost her hearing over a year ago.She had lost her hearing but not her readiness to please, desire to work and knowl- edge from training of years past.

(Cindi Hayden is a herding dog trainer in Contoocook,N.H. She can be contacted via her website: www.cindihayden.com)