(Editor’s note: Nothing beats a young Joni Mitchell!)

I am trying to organize for west. I spent Saturday toiling in my garden to catch up for time lost during Kingston. I do not have to imagine what the weeds will be like in five weeks when I come back. I know they will be fantastic. But I seeded new arugula, lettuce, peas , beets, spinach, bok choy, anything with a taste for frost. I slow roasted a few trays of tomatoes and froze them. All the usual rushed things I could spend a month doing if I just stayed home. So many details commanding attention when you leave a busy farm.

But this is my sport. I have to be in it. Someone wrote today, describing Kingston Sheep Dog Trials as “summer theater”. We are all the players. Good one.

I will start off on Wednesday night, passing Toronto in the comfort of late evening, with four dogs. Clive and Roz are my main runners. Monty has gone to Barbara Ray for the fall, to have a crack at the big ticket dog items before us. Dorey is my Nursery runner. I will be challenged to keep her happy and occupied for a full month on the road. She just turned two. There isn’t much for Nursery dogs to do at Meeker or Soldier Hollow. At home she can hang, garden, chew, dig, and be a dog. The road is full of constraints for a youngster, even if they have done it before. I will bring my bicycle and try to give them a good run each day but some how, it doesn’t change the wearisome quality of road life. Feist, my twelve week old, is coming , to charm me and to help the pup become a road warrior. Sheep dog handling makes road riders of us.


If I don’t sound enthusiastic, it’s because I am not. The driving. And my home is loved. Beverly Lambert is a week ahead of me. I see she is not blogging so I will have to take over reporting for her. Maybe my writing for her will make her so anxious she will take over for herself.

I had a long twenty four hours of travel, a milk run to Ottawa from Regina.
The drive up from Plentywood, Montana in the morning was gorgeous but the Regina plains looked like rice paddies. They might better take up that crop this year if they could. I had a couple of hours to kill in the morning, so I checked out the MacKenzie Art Gallery in Regina and a couple of small galleries. I am a complete fan of the prairies. Home was reached at three a.m. and it never looked better.

The Dakota trials were ones to which I would gladly go back, given the opportunity. The extremity of them was a marvel. The outruns were colossal. I don’t know how such space could be found here. And of course the sheep were very demanding of any dog encountering them. For uninitiated eastern dogs, a shock. Without travel to such places, I don’t know how you could get the experience. The western fine wools get doggy easily. By the last day of Slash J, they had become quite civilized compared to day one, never easy, but significantly tamed down. Besides that they would die around here of foot rot or wet weather, they never stay crisp, like they were at the onset of the trial. The weather played a huge rule in the outcome of the trial. If the wind came up, there was very little chance of successfully handling through it. I loved getting my dogs on them. Each of them knows more for having been there.

All these people hosting these trials, Rene LeBree, Joni Swanke, Tom Kok, Barb Ross, Gloria and Harry Kerr, work hard at keeping people entertained and provided with high sport.
Some more pictures from the trip:
Wild Dakota Sky
Slash J 2011
Big One 2011

I hate having to win by weather but I suppose it could have worked against me too. I ran second. The wind came up with a vengeance and no one else really could make it.

Prairie Fire!

I had another long riding day today for the nursery and ranch dogs. The setting was very demanding Monty and Clive were sharp and my horse, Booze, was my trusted companion. Mindy Bower lent me her expensive fancy saddle and I had no more blistering, which made the day much more enjoyable.



The heat was a sharp contrast to the previous days’ cold and toughened up the running considerably. Dorey did not win but she was extremely good with things getting tightened up at the pen, in a bad way–no pens for us. Her close encounters with the western sheep paid off in worldliness.

During one of my spot jobs, the sheep were difficult, first rushing down the field, then up, just in time to meet the running dog. He did a classy job of walking into the face of three range fine wools, lifting them straight down the field. Guess who it was? Bev Lambert’s Joe, last year’s junior yahoo.

At one time in the afternoon, a wild cloud formation created a quasi rainbow. The cloud swirls with fantastic, other worldly. I tried to do it justice with a picture.



In the evening, Joni hosted a barbeque at her house. High spirits prevail. My boys get another crack at the field the sheep tomorrow.

I have been nursing a couple of raw spots on my ass from saddle problems so I did not ride today. Early on, I spotted on foot.


I went to town for two frustrating cups of coffee where the milk was over heated and shoot. I cooked chicken supper, while taking in the hockey game. Canucks won in eleven seconds of overtime.




The dog running was tough. Vergil won with Dory’s boyfriend Scot. The wind dissipated so outside of the fabulous distance there were no good excuses. What a trial host. She just uses the other side of the extreme trial field for the nursery/ open ranch. a beautiful course in itself. Charmingly it was moved closer to the house so I could see while getting supper ready . The rest of the nursery dogs run tomorrow.

Joni has a litter of puppies I got out on the grass. A soft day at the Slash J.

Things wound up at the Big one today with a handful of open dogs followed by the ranch /nursery. Dorey’s run had some redeeming features but mostly it was a bust–a first encounter with western fine wools. I spotted a lot of sheep from horseback on foreign types of saddles, cowgirling up way over the top.

Just when you think you have seen everything, Marilyn Terpstra goes to the post. Her dog fence runs and crosses the road allowance over two fences and embarks on a fanciful outrun across a huge Dakota sized field. The set out crew saw her, alerted the bottom and Marilyn set off to find her on an atv. The next dog ran, but part way through the run, Tom Kok spotted the bitch running back to where she came from (home never looked so good) with an antelope chasing after her with astonishing ferocity. She chased her for 300 yards that we saw. Plainly the bitch had encountered her, with a new fawn and boy, was she going to teach her an unforgettable lesson. I don’t think she ever run through two fences again. When the antelope had her at the fence, the bitch made a mild attempt to defend itself at which point, Marilyn and Michelle Howard arrived on the scene. The antelope had a go at them and the bike. Such breath taking dangers, trialling in the Dakotas.

Joni changed around the trial field end for end. It’s a whole new experience. Another spectacular field. The sheep are charmingly difficult–newly shorn, yearling fine wools. We ran twenty dogs this evening and I get to run about seventh tomorrow. I hope no antelopes show up.

In a strange turn of weather events, a fog blew in. The course
couldn’t be seen so everything stalled to the great frustration of
all, for two hours. That put us behind a loaded roster of dogs, which
our hosts generously arranged for us, lots of dogs. And now a 900
yard outrun.

The wind never gave up, but it shifted over the day, from not straight
into your face, to the side of your back. no one seemed to need
suicide watch due to the wind, although a couple of hands needed
suicide watch for the way their runs went. The running was nearly as frustrating as yesterday with scorers not
exceeding retirees and DQ’s.

I badly let down Monty, asking him on hard, not seeing he was directly
behind his sheep. He shifted a gear, as asked, and the sheep
scattered everywhere, painfully showing me where he had been. Clive
ran better.

I spotted sheep from Shannon Fritz’s horse which was very enjoyable.
Such a vista from there, the horse and hill combined.
The high scorer so far, is once again Lyle Lad and Shep. About
fifteen dogs are left over to run tomorrow before Nursery. Then we
all move over to Joni’s fabulous field for more sport, hopefully more
successful for your blogger. Her sheep look great.


The weather is meant to be cooler tomorrow with a wilder wind if
that’s possible. I get to run little Doris, Dorrit, Adorable, Dorey.
Her first crack at western sheep, and I can’t wait.

Crumby personal performance notwithstanding, I am having a wonderful
time, girl’s overnight with Michelle Howard and lots of fun at Joni’s
house.

The poisons of 25 hours of the last day’s air travel were washed off on Wednesday night at a hotel, just across the US border in in Plentywood, Montana. That not washed off in the shower was cleansed away with a good night’s sleep.

The prairie south of Regina was water logged—rows of big hay bales had water half way up; no planting done, water water everywhere. Lake Wascana is always a joke among us eastern Millikens (whose father comes from Regina) but it was no joke this year. And there were replicas of Lake Wascana all over the normally arid grasslands. We thought we had it bad.


I woke up in the dark and carried on to Bowman, an easy five hours from my resting place. The trial had been trouble already. The outrun is the biggest of my dog running career. 8000 yards up a bute to get four newly shorn yearling range ewes. The wind was the type that got prairie women of yore committing suicide. Full in your face so you could list into it and it would hold you up. No scores outnumbered the scores. My two dogs were in the majority with no scores. I really do not think they could hear for the wind and that jerk, Clive, after a perfect outrun and lift and a great start to his fetch , asked where the hell I was and came down the field to me. Great. I sent him back and then he repeated on the second time he fetched. I walked.


Dale Montgomery and Lyle Boyer tied for first. Joni was in there and Jean Gellings.

After all the drama last year about the Prairie Fire Plate, after we could visualize Jim Swift, hunter gatherer, presenting his darling wife with the pride of Beach, North Dakota, after we saw him, and me cave, after we saw Allison Holmes triumph, making the Prairie Fire Plate Texan (by way of Canada), what will they do next? Who will forget Roz running half way out the Big One outrun, lying down, and saying she didn’t feel well? Christ. Who will forget Swifty pleading with his dog to look back, and him taking that sheep by the face instead? Moment. The couple of days were exhilarating. I hope there is a plate there to try to win this year. Maybe it’ll be Swifty’s turn. Maybe this will be my year. I’ll bet he is practising right now–double lifts, lie downs, come byes, and aways. Same with Allison Holmes. The footing will be good in Colorado and Texas. And I bet their sheep are all through lambing. Advantage. I bet their dogs are running hot.

The losing sheepdog hand’s solace is that there is always another day. But not to have things too gone with the wind, I think we should talk to the management of the Dakota trials and implore them to have other Prairie Fire things for prizes so that all hope isn’t dashed for the forty or so handlers who do not win overall, like Swift and me. Something for second. A little consolation Prairie Fire plate for winning a trial. Not all the eggs in the final basket. I don’t think I’ll be able to go to Beach this year and buy some of my own when I lose, like I did last year.

As you see, the pottery visually resonates with the prairie, making it the perfect covetable prize for the Dakotas Write to Rene Lebree. Write Joni Swanke. Petition for more Prairie Fire. Petition for more chances at glory. Jim Swift will thank you. His wife will thank you. I will thank you. But the Beach potter had better build up her inventory.

I looked at a series of pictures from Joni Swanke’s Facebook. There was Jim Swift, practising at the Strang Ranch in Colorado, just like I speculated he might be doing. It seems impossible to practise enough to clean his clock, with every sheep I own with a lamb or two in tow. And he has the advantage of daily running on western finewools. Honing his skills. I wonder if I should arrange to stop at the Prairie Fire place on the way, since I will not make it on the way back. Pre purchase seems a little bleak for outlook, so I think I’ll take my chances on the trial, Swift practising notwithstanding.

The rain just kept it up most of yesterday at the trial. Just as things were winding down, the sun came out. Drat.

The giant tree that fell at the ranch gate, across the Calistoga road was efficiently carved up by a pair of clever lumber jacks, one of whom was Rick Malouf, the other’s name evades me. They dropped big limbs around, not on the mailbox, and spared all kinds of trouble to the immediate environment with they way they took apart the tree. Hands waiting to get into the trial site pitched in and helped clear the site of brush. We started a couple of hours late as a result.

The running didn’t change all that much. Muck accrued at the mouth of the pen, making it just a hair more difficult than it was early on Saturday. There continued to be water water everywhere, only more of it. Who other than diehards, would spectate in this weather. As a result. the well stocked raffles at the trial didn’t have so many takers and those that did get tickets were nearly sure to get loot. Little Reagan Thayer aged nine or ten, Joy’s daughter, won the admirable sheep and dogs quilt, done by Jack Mathieson’s wife.

I had a good run with Roz on the flat field, but Clive made everyone happy (except me) when his sheep missed the drive away panel, in an otherwise very good go. “Nice run. Too bad about the panel.” Derek Fisher, showed not quite enough mercy, blowing a shed attempt: we tied for high points and he won on outwork. He’s cute.

We had another great night at the Milberg’s house with lots of warm hearted talk, love all around, accompanied by good food. We made our break for the city and an early airport day with visions of dogs doing things brilliant and hopeless. Sonoma remains one of my favourite trials of the year.