Everything was easier for Angus than for Sadie, easier to understand at first, and easier to remember after that. Sadie liked the way Angus was so quick and clever, and so did Angus.
You’re really smart.
I know.
Let’s play!
Missus didn’t say “That’ll do!”
We could play after.
Maybe. I’ll see.
All right.
“Sadie,” said Missus, warning her. “Pay attention, you’re starting to creep.”
Attention! Yes!
One warm, sunny day at the end of May, Angus and Sadie had emptied their food bowls and were waiting for Mister and Missus to finish cleaning their plates so they could have midday training. Angus said to Sadie, The cows graze all day, eating grass, so really the cows feed themselves, like the barn cats do. He thought some more. Mister and Missus feed themselves, too. Because, he said, as if Sadie had asked him what he meant, they find their own food. So it’s only us and Patches and the chickens that get fed by someone else.
Are you hungry? I’m not, Sadie answered.
Sometimes, Sadie made no sense at all to Angus.
At that moment, Missus walked out onto the porch, followed by Mister. “We’re taking the afternoon off,” Missus told them.
Off!
What about my training?
“Only part of the afternoon,” Mister said. “And only sort of off. Do you two want to come for a walk?”
Walk, yes!
“We’re moving the sheep up to the summer pasture,” Missus explained.
Sheep! Remember sheep?
Maybe.
“You’ll have to be on leashes,” Mister said. “We can’t have you upsetting the sheep.”
I remember leashes.
“Especially because all four of our lambs have survived,” Missus explained, which made no sense to either of the dogs, or to Mister either, but he didn’t say so.
“Sheep are weird,” Missus said to Mister, as she clipped a leash onto Angus’s collar and then another onto Sadie’s. “We feed them in their pen behind the barn every day, all winter. We’re there to take care of them for the birthings. When they get in trouble, like the sheep Angus found, we help them out. And they still try to run away from us. You’d think they’d trust us.”
“You have to remember that we’re the ones who tackle them and hold them down when they get sheared,” Mister said. “Also, they associate us with shots, and we give them the dips. All those things frighten them.”
“I think they have short memories for some things and long memories for other things, and they’re always getting it wrong,” Missus decided. She held Angus’s leash, and Mister held Sadie’s. “They really are weird, aren’t they?”
Why are we on leashes? Sadie wondered.
Because sheep are weird, Angus explained.
The four of them walked for a long time along the dirt road that led away from the house and barn, back between fields and pastures, up toward the woods. In the hot midday air insects buzzed and hummed, while crows flew around the fields, quarreling.
“This is a perfect day,” Missus announced.
“Yes, it is,” Mister agreed. “And I keep forgetting to say, your flower garden is looking beautiful.”
“The tulips, especially. Don’t the reds and yellows cheer you up?”
“So what do you think about this idea: How about turning Angus and Sadie loose in the pasture, before we move the sheep? As an experiment, to see how they react to sheep.”
“Aren’t they too young?”
“They’re almost six months.”
“If we’re going to turn them loose, why do they have to be on leashes?”
Mister explained, “We won’t do that until we’re all in the pasture, with the gate closed behind us. Our sheep haven’t ever seen dogs before. We don’t want them bolting off.”
“No, especially not with the lambs.”
“But we have to have the dogs back on leashes while I move the flock up to the summer pasture, and you’ll have to hold them both then. Can you do that?”
“I’d think so,” Missus said. “They’re only puppies still, and even if they weren’t—I’m a little insulted that you doubt I could do it.”
“Oh,” said Mister. “You are? But that’s not what I meant.”
They walked for a long time, and neither Mister nor Missus said anything more.
The spring pasture was a large field, just before the road went into the woods. A rail fence ran around it, but there was no electric wire. There were sheep scattered all around the pasture. Heads down, they ate the sweet spring grass, while the lambs played around them. When Mister and Missus and the two dogs arrived at the gate, the sheep lifted their heads and stared.
The lambs jumped up, jumped sideways, jumped backward. They ran forward a few steps and jumped some more.
After a brief time, with a little baa-ing back and forth as if they were talking it over, the sheep gathered together in a single bunch, the lambs now close beside their ewes. Then, as if an order had been given, the whole flock wheeled around and headed for the far side of the pasture, as far from the gate as they could get. Stopped by the fence, they turned to stare some more at the unwelcome visitors.
The lambs jumped away from the flock, and jumped back, and jumped sideways.
Mister opened the gate to let the dogs and Missus into the pasture, and then he followed. After he had closed the gate behind them, he said to Missus, “Aren’t you curious about what the dogs will do? I am. Sit!” he commanded, and the dogs obeyed. Then Mister and Missus bent down together to let Angus and Sadie off the leashes.
Angus looked at Mister, waiting. Sadie sat beside Angus, waiting with him.
“That’ll do!” Mister waved his hand out toward where the sheep were. “Go ahead now.”
Let’s go! Angus cried, jumping forward. Let’s go see! He took off, barking in excitement. Sheep!
Sadie wasn’t sure why it was so exciting, but she barked, too, and ran. Angus crossed the wide pasture and dashed right into the middle of the flock. Sheep scattered in all directions.
With the running and the barking, with the warm day and being let off the leash, with Angus so excited, Sadie became excited, too. But as soon as she got close enough to see the eyes of the sheep, she dropped down to the ground. She didn’t think about doing that, she didn’t decide to do it, she just did it. She dropped down flat on the ground and stayed there, her eyes fixed on one small group of three sheep.
They watched her back and did not dare to move.
She held them still with her eyes.
Sadie dropped when she saw the sheep, but when Angus saw sheep, he charged them and chased after them. He picked out the one he wanted to Chase! and Catch! and he dashed off at its heels. The sheep ran as fast as it could away from him, and Angus ran as fast as he could after it.
That sheep was a fast runner.
It wheeled around suddenly, and headed off in another direction. Angus wheeled around, right beside its rear legs. Angus was going so fast that he flew right past his sheep, almost running into it, and then he nearly crashed into the bottom rail of the fence.
But that didn’t matter because, as he turned, Angus saw two more sheep. They were trying to get away, too, and so he barked at them, and ran.
Sadie stayed down, staring. Her three sheep stayed put, frozen.
She heard some sheep running behind her, their little hooves drumming on the ground, and she heard Angus dashing after them, but she didn’t move her eyes from her three. You’re supposed to chase them, Angus told her as he ran past, but Sadie didn’t move one step. She didn’t even move an ear.
She moved only when her three sheep took little steps backward, trying to back away from her. When they did that, she moved forward, low on the ground, maintaining her distance.
Angus chased one of his sheep until it stopped, up against the fence, and refused to run anymore. And stay there, Angus told it. Then he turne
d to find a group of four others, which ran and turned and ran and turned, and he ran and turned right behind them. He was as fast as the sheep, and smarter, too. They couldn’t outrun him, and they couldn’t fool him, either.
After a while, Angus needed a rest, so he lay down in the grass, panting. It didn’t take long for him to catch his breath, and while he rested he watched the sheep. They had all stopped running now and were standing around in groups of three and four, grazing again, although they kept their wary eyes on him. The lambs had caught the nervousness of the flock and were now sticking close to their ewes. Angus looked around and saw Mister watching him.
Angus waited for an order, but no order came. He was rested and beginning to look around to choose which sheep to catch next when he noticed a group of three that were not grazing, although they were standing still. They were just standing and staring. They were staring at Sadie, who crouched low on her belly in the grass, staring right back at them.
Angus ran over to join her. No, no, you make them run away, he explained. Like this, and he ran right at those three sheep.
The sheep hesitated for just a second as if they were making up their minds, and then they broke and ran off together.
Come on, Sadie! Angus dashed after them, running low to the ground, close on the skinny back legs of the slowest.
Sadie got up, and she thought she might follow Angus, but then she saw two sheep grazing together. She dropped down onto the ground again, staring.
The sheep didn’t notice her, so she crept up closer, never standing up, never moving her eyes from them. As soon as they did notice her, she stopped.
They stopped, too—stopped dead in their tracks with grass hanging out of their mouths.
Nobody moved. Sadie settled in to be sure those two sheep didn’t even think about moving. She held them with her eyes. She was not distracted by Angus running around, chasing sheep back and forth behind her, beside her, in front of her, and as long as she was not distracted, her two sheep stayed put.
Finally, when Angus had stopped to rest again and the flock—except for Sadie’s two—were quietly grazing again, Mister called, “Angus, Come!”
By then Angus was ready to sit by Mister.
“Sadie, Come!” Missus called. After not hearing her, then pretending not to hear her, Sadie finally, reluctantly, obeyed. She knew those sheep would sneak away as soon as she took her eyes off them. She tried to turn around every few steps, to keep them where they should be, but that didn’t work, so she gave up and ran over to sit by Missus. The leashes were clipped on again.
“They’re border collies all right,” Mister said. “Angus is a natural herder. Did you see him go after them?”
“Sadie kept hers in place,” Missus said.
“That’s not herding,” Mister said.
“Well, I think you did just fine, Sadie,” Missus said. “Did you enjoy it?” To Angus she said, “I know you had a good time. Anyone could see that.” She took both leashes in her hand.
Missus and the dogs went out through the gate and didn’t close it behind them. They walked a little way along the dirt road, and then waited. In the pasture, Mister waved his arms and called out loud sounds—“Hunh! Hohn! Coo-eee!”—which made the sheep gather all together into a flock—except for the lambs, who, once the dogs had gone, had returned to jumping up and down wherever they wanted. When he had the flock gathered, Mister flapped his arms and shouted some more. “Hey! Hey, hoo-eee! Sheep!” He waved and shouted from behind the flock, and the sheep, as if they had been trained to do this, trotted together, the lambs next to their ewes, across the pasture and out the gate.
They walked for a long time, Missus and the dogs in the lead and then the flock of sheep—the lambs quiet now, busy just keeping up—and then Mister at the rear. He flapped his arms and shouted whenever any of the sheep started to break loose from the flock. On his leash, Angus knew that he wasn’t supposed to try to catch the sheep now. In fact, he wasn’t all that eager to do any more running and chasing, not right then. He was sort of tired, and glad that Missus held onto the leash while they walked along, leading the sheep and Mister up the dirt road.
The road went uphill into the woods, and they walked among tall leafy trees, and tall needly trees, too, some of which had a sharp, thick smell of their own, different from any other. They walked for a long time, until Angus and Sadie were ready for a drink of water, and then they emerged from the trees onto a grassy hillside, where large boulders were rising up through the ground. A stream rushed down across this hill, and Missus took Angus and Sadie over to drink out of it. The sheep seemed to remember this place because they immediately scattered in small groups and began to graze, their heads close to the grass, baa-ing occasionally at one another. Their short tails twitched, and the lambs started jumping again. There was no fence, but the sheep didn’t try to run away.
Sheep are weird, Angus remarked to Sadie.
You mean, the way they forget right away about being frightened? Sadie asked. Because she was on the leash, she didn’t have to worry about keeping her eyes on some sheep, to stop them from running off.
No, I mean the way they’re so easy to frighten. Even more than you, Angus said.
I’m only frightened sometimes. And only by some things.
All the time, Angus corrected her. Anything. But not as much as sheep, and that’s pretty good.
Sadie was content to be pretty good.
For a while, they all stood together in the sunlight, watching the sheep. Then Mister and Missus sat down on one of the big boulders, with Angus and Sadie lying in front of them.
“What a day,” Missus said. “It’s perfect, absolutely perfect, a perfect May day.”
“See the way they keep looking over, to check up on us?”
“The dogs? The dogs are asleep.”
“No, the sheep. The dogs make them nervous, and so do we. But they’re not bolting.”
“Well, it’s not as if they were wild animals. A wild animal—a deer, for example—would have run off long since, back into the woods.”
“But they’re not tame, either, not like the cows. But—see? They only wander off a certain distance, and then they stop as if there was a fence up here, too, to keep them in, instead of only woods and the steep hill. Maybe it’s because they’ve got plenty to eat right here?”
“I’ve never understood sheep,” Missus said. “But they give wool. Really, they’re as much like a garden as like an animal, if you think about it. We harvest them, don’t we? The only difference is, we harvest them in spring, not fall.”
Mister turned to stare at Missus. “You’re pretty weird yourself,” he told her.
Then it was summer. In summer, the days were hotter, mostly, and sunny, although sometimes they were gray and rainy. On the farm, summer was a lazy time, with only weeding and watering to be done, and the cows and chickens to be taken care of, of course, and the sheep to be checked up on every now and then, and the training routine to continue. In summer, the leaves on the trees were so thick that they rustled in the slightest breeze and rain fell through them with pitter-pattering sounds. The best thing about summer was the way it went on and on, day after slow day.
Starting in July, Angus and Sadie were fed just twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, and they were trained three times, after breakfast, at midday, and after supper. They were learning to Heel!, with the leash keeping them close to Mister or Missus’s left side. When they were heeling, they had to turn whenever Mister or Missus turned, and stop, sitting when they stopped. It took a lot of close attention to Heel! Angus was better at heeling because he was better at paying close attention.
When the summer evenings stretched out warm and golden, Mister and Missus liked to go outside after supper. First, they had training, and then, while Missus sat with Sadie to watch, Mister threw the Frisbee for Angus to catch, and they talked.
“I bet Angus ends up a better work dog than my brother’s Lucy,” Mister said. “Don’t you
think he will?”
“I have no idea,” answered Missus. “But you should praise Sadie, too. She might not be as good as Angus, but she’s still good.”
“Sadie doesn’t mind,” Mister said. “Do you, girl?”
Mind what?
“I hope not,” Missus said.
Again! Throw again!
During summer the mice and rats found plenty of food outside, so Fox and Snake sometimes came out from the barn in the evening. They watched the goings-on and commented. Of course, they commented loudly enough for Angus to hear and care. Sadie could hear, too, but she didn’t care.
Lookit that, Snake called over to Fox. Look what he’s doing now.
That is one weird dog, Fox called back to Snake. It’s not as if he can eat it.
Snake explained, You catch it while it’s flying. I wouldn’t mind trying.
But don’t you see? They have to throw it for you to catch. If you want them to do that, you might as well be a dog.
Who are you calling a dog? Snake demanded.
When Angus answered that—I’m a dog and I’m proud of it. Who’d want to be a cat?—they ignored him, as if they hadn’t even heard him. Then he saw the Frisbee move through the air again, and all he could think about was catching it, deciding if he would jump up—high!—and catch it out of the air, or if he would run—fast!—so he’d be waiting for it as it descended. While Angus was chasing and catching the Frisbee, he didn’t hear anyone, not the cats’ snide comments, not Mister’s praise or Missus’s applause, not even Sadie’s excited barking. After, when he was running to bring the Frisbee back to Mister, he did hear the applause and the excitement, and he liked that just as much as he really did not like the cats’ insults.
Sadie had a special summer job, which was to keep Missus company at the farm stand at the end of the driveway. In the mornings, Mister helped Missus load the back of the pickup with eggs fresh from the chickens and whatever was ripe from the garden. They drove down to a little three-sided building close to the mailbox. The building held two long tables, upon which Missus set out peas, bags of lettuces, green and red peppers, baskets of beans, spinach—whatever she had ready to sell. Sometimes, Missus had made butter, which she kept in a special cooler so it wouldn’t melt. All morning, Missus sat in a chair in the shade and read a book or sewed on her quilt, and waited for cars to stop while Sadie, on a leash, napped beside her.