Chena was a Good Dog

Chena was a free animal.  We fed her and she chose our home to be her home.  There is no fence so she stayed with us voluntarily.  Chena was an outside dog, she did not come in the house.  She weighed at least 80 pounds, possibly more; all muscle.  Chena ran like a greyhound, stretching way out and eating ground with a pleasure so pure that you felt like shouting with joy when watching, and I whooped and hollered a lot.   Our mailbox is a quarter of a mile away, we use an ATV to check the mail.  Chena loved to race the ATV to the mailbox.  As soon as she heard the ATV fire up she would run to wait at the end of the drive for it and then the race was on.

I often clocked Chena at over 25 mph and she always looked like she had speed to spare.  When she got to the mailbox after an all-out quarter-mile sprint she wasn’t breathing hard.  She was extremely healthy and fit.  Chena had huge jaws and large teeth, the pit bull in her showed up in her head that way.  Chena was tan and white with big soft brown eyes.   Up until the past few days, she was always gentle and loving.

When I sat outside, as I often do, Chena would put her head on my lap to have her ears scratched.  She would close her eyes in rapture until my hand got tired.  Then she would lay down on my feet.  Sometimes under the chair, but mostly on top of my feet.  She would sleep there until I got up.  We had a closeness that I can not adequately describe.

I had to destroy her three days ago.  It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and it has gotten harder with each passing day, instead of easier.

Three days ago Chena raced my wife to the mailbox, as usual.  But when my wife got back she was crying hysterically.  A small Yorkie-type dog was near the mailbox and Chena jumped on it and tore it up badly.  My wife was yelling and trying to get Chena off of it, but Chena was in a killing frenzy and ignored her.

My wife was stunned by the experience, it was so out of character for Chena.  My wife had also told me that Chena had snapped at her twice in the past couple of days when she got near Chena’s food bowl.  This was new behavior too.   Then I discovered that Chena had gotten into a brawl with some dogs down the road just the day before.

I don’t have a fence, and if I did have one putting Chena in it would have been cruel beyond measure.  Chena grew up roaming the river and surrounding fields.  There was a time when I tried to tie her, back when the neighbors were complaining that she was too friendly, jumping up on them with muddy feet.  It was nothing serious, just annoying.  Our neighbors were having a reunion and asked if we could restrain her during that period.

Chena, to my surprise, was a dog Houdini.  I could not keep her tied.  Her neck was bigger than her skull, she could slip any rope or collar or device, I tried several ways.  I even put her in a full body harness and tied her up with it.  She was out of that in 30 minutes the first time, and only 5 minutes the second time.  She refused to be tied up.

Chena also hated the veterinarian.  We took her to be spayed and took her for shots and she always had to be muzzled; she would bark and bite at the veterinarian, although, to me, this was normal behavior for her given that the vet had the bedside manners of Dr. Frankenstein.  Whenever we put her in the car she knew we were going to the vet, and she hated it.  She had to be dragged kicking and whining into the car, and then she would huddle miserably as far back as she could get.

We live on the bank of a large river.  It is a remote and fairly wild area overall, but there are about twenty homes along the road I live on, a small isolated sub-division.  I live at the end of that road.  Those homes are mostly weekend cottages, but there are some full-time residents.  Among those residents, there are small children and frail senior citizens, and of course dogs.

When Chena tore that little dog up, I assumed it was because the dog was scared and tried to run.  I have seen dogs do this before; an otherwise gentle dog going into a killing frenzy when something weaker is scared and tries to run.  I think it is a vestigial hunting instinct.  Something about that type of situation triggers a killing frenzy in them.  Most of the people that get dog bitten are children and seniors, perhaps because of their helplessness and their fear.  The children especially get scared and run, setting off that instinct.

Chena was too big and much too strong to allow there to be any chance, any remote chance at all, of her attacking a child.  If Chena went into a frenzy on a person the way she did that Yorkie, she could maul and maim and inflict extreme damage.  Chena could have easily killed a child.  I ran through all of the possibilities with a steadily sickening feeling that there was only one solution.

I couldn’t let her run loose any longer—to do so would have been the epitome of irresponsibility, there were several small children within her normal roaming range.  I had no fence, and even if I built one I couldn’t keep her tied up while I built it.  Even if I could keep her restrained until I built a fence, fencing her in was the worst form of cruelty to her that I could imagine.  I couldn’t let her run loose, and I couldn’t restrain her.

I thought about one of those dog rescue places.   Chena would be taken on a car trip to a strange place with strange people and put inside a fence until she was adopted—then she would be taken on a car trip to a strange place with strange people and kept inside a fence.  That was worse than me putting her inside a fence.  Even then, even if she was adopted, she still would have that potential frenzy waiting to explode on someone, somewhere.

Could I depend on a total stranger to be absolutely certain Chena never hurt anyone?  Could I shift that responsibility, or would I only be pretending to shift it because I was ultimately responsible for her?  Then too I didn’t know how long it would take to find a rescue place that would take her, and during that time she would be running loose.

I was down to only one solution, only one truly certain solution.  Chena had to be destroyed.  She had to be destroyed in the prime of her life, in full health and vigor.  She had to be destroyed based on what she might someday do, based on a hypothetical situation, her harming a child, or another dog.

This left me with two choices; either take her to a vet or do it myself.  If I took her to the vet then her last moments would be what she hated most, being muzzled and inside a cage.  Injected with a drug that would cause her to get confused and fall asleep with who knows what kinds of weird images and thoughts in her mind, but hardly pleasant ones.

Or I could do it myself.  If I destroyed her myself, she would be happily at home until the final instant.  She would be with a person she loved and, God help me, trusted.  She would feel no fear, no anticipation, no confusion.  She would simply be her happy self and then she would cease to be.   I sent my wife to town on a made-up errand.  I did not tell her what I had to do.  I did not want her to feel that dread.  I did not want her home to hear the shot and come running and see.

In my youth, I was an avid hunter.   I know guns and I have a hunters knowledge of animal anatomy.  I know ballistics and shot placement. I knew just which gun to use, which bullet type, and exactly where to put the bullet.  I wasn’t going into this with a lack of knowledge or confidence in how to best do it.   I quit hunting over 30 years ago because I no longer wanted to kill anything, but the knowledge is still there.

I killed Chena—without euphemisms, that is what I did.  I killed her. I couldn’t ask anyone else to do this; she was my dog, my responsibility.  I owed her at least doing it myself.  Getting someone else to do it lacked a certain integrity to her.  I owed her a completely painless death.  I could not have trusted that to someone else even if I had been inclined to.

In her last moment, she was eating her favorite jerky treat on the river bank, wagging her tail as I softly told her what a beautiful girl she was while looking into those beautiful soft brown eyes.  Then, faster than her brain neurons could carry the signal, she was dead.  She didn’t feel it, there was no pain, it was over too fast for her nerves to send a signal, plus there was no longer anywhere to send a signal to.  She felt only her normal pleasure and freedom up to her final microsecond of life.

Her body didn’t even twitch in death, I know that for a fact because I watched for it, to be sure I had done it right.  Just like that, she was gone forever.  The gunshot was immediately followed by my wailing “NOOOO!” as loud and as long as I could, railing against this.  It echoed up and down the river as I cried and took care of the final details of disposition.

Chena was simply and immediately gone, and with her, a vital basic part was torn right out of me.  I hated doing this and knew it would hurt, but I wasn’t really ready for how much pain there would be.  I think that denial must have been a defense mechanism that allowed me to get this done, otherwise, I would have been paralyzed.  A fundamental part of my soul was wrenched and ripped painfully away in that same microsecond that she was gone.  I expect it will heal, but not completely, not completely.  There will always be a wound there, carrying a pain so intense that I can barely stand it.  No matter how many years may pass, this pain won’t leave.

I might someday be able to isolate it away so that it doesn’t come bobbing up to the surface every five minutes the way it does now.   While I wait for that healing though, each day that has passed the pain grows more intense than it was the day before.  I am still tearing apart inside.  The wound is getting larger, not smaller.

I went fishing the day after.  I waded into the river with my fly rod and started blindly and furiously casting.  As I walked down the bank I thought for a just a split second, out of the corner of my eye, that I caught a flashing glimpse of her coming running to go fishing and my heart leapt wildly for just that split second.  But of course, that would have been impossible.  Eyes full of scalding hot tears can play tricks on you.

I wish I could say something romantic like I felt her presence, or that she lives on in my memory, or that she is roaming heaven’s river banks now and that those thoughts made me feel better.  I thought all of those, but I did not feel better.

The only thing I can say is that I went fishing, without Chena.

Chena’s Epilogue

It has been several months since I killed Chena.  There have been changes brought on by time, easing the pain in some ways, making the pain deeper in others.

For a couple of weeks after shooting Chena the pain was unbearably intense and constant.  I grieved hard.  After a while I began to question this continued deep grieving, why wasn’t it letting up?  Why wasn’t the inevitable emollient of time doing its work?

With reflection, I came to the conclusion that I was punishing myself.  The continued grieving wasn’t really a healthy kind of grief, but a self-punishment.  Except… it wasn’t really that simple either.  The grief was also my last fundamental link with Chena.  When the grief was gone, I felt Chena would become another relic in the memory attic, an abstraction so to speak, and that abandoning the grief was abandoning Chena.  Almost like I had a second chance to keep her alive.

Part of the grieving was “performed” by going over and over whether or not I had made the right choice.   I always ended up thinking I had made the only rational choice given all the exigent circumstances, but I was also always unhappy with reaching that same conclusion. I wondered why I kept working the logic over—would I actually feel better if I came to a different conclusion?   I decided to see what would happen, inside me that is, if I had come to the conclusion that I had made the wrong choice, that I had killed her when there was another better option.

That took some time to sort out, but finally, I understood that even if I had made the wrong choice in killing Chena, I still had only one option;  to forgive myself for making a horrible mistake in reasoning, and then get on with my life.  As long as I knew that I had made a mistake, but an honest mistake, then I knew it would be better to forgive myself that mistake, learn the lessons to be learned from that mistake, and move forward.  No good would come of becoming depressed, or obsessing, or of failing to learn.

Having reached this conclusion, I left a lot of grief behind very quickly,  because much of that grief had been based on using the grief as a tool of self-punishment.  Time took care of most of the rest of the grief.

Anyone who has lost a loved one understands that grieving never really ends, it becomes subdued and often buried under the veneer of day to day activity… but it is still there and occasionally pops up and still hurts.  Sometimes intensely.  But, by and large, it becomes manageable.

I have a wound deep inside that will never heal, but it has gotten smaller, and it has become harder to get to…but it is still there and won’t go away.  It has taken its place among the other wounds that we collect simply by living life.  It isn’t the greatest wound that I have, nor is it the least.  It is the freshest for now, but life will take care of that too.  We all carry our collection of wounds with us, and in some ways, they help to define us.

I could rewrite “Fishing Without Chena.”  If I were to do so now it would become less raw, more eloquent perhaps, and probably less poignant.  But, what I wrote was honest and straight from the heart, however, I feel about it now, that was how I felt then… so I am going to leave it alone.

Chena was a universe of lessons for me.  From the day I got her, to the day I destroyed her, she was a teacher—my teacher.  I try to honor her now by living the lessons she taught me.

Truth is, I never go fishing without Chena.

The post Fishing Without Chena: A Touching and Honest Story of a Man and his Dog appeared first on Homestead.org.

Dogs have been the farmer’s companions ever since the first dogs figured out that if they helped the farmer with the livestock instead of eating the livestock, the farmer was less likely to supplement his own diet with canine cutlets.  Dogs have worn many hats on the farm and still do.  Since dogs come in many sizes and forms, they are a natural for specialization.

Your first inclination when thinking of a farm dog is probably Lassie.

Have a seat.

AKC Registered Rough Collie Lassie is a myth.  So mythical in fact that the dog actor playing Lassie wasn’t even female. Lassie was always played by male collies.  (Good thing they have long hair, huh?)

Now, I have nothing against collies.  I love collies.  I’ve had collies and you will not find a sweeter, better-natured dog around.  But your general run-of-the-mill purebred collie of today will have some issues.  Collies are known for eye problems.  Seems the breeders liked the look of the almond-shaped eye better than the nice round eye that can actually be seen out of and have bred collies with eyes that are literally suffocated for lack of air.  A sleek narrow head was also found to be more attractive so they bred for that over a nice round skull.  Now there’s no room for a brain.  Clearly, a dog who cannot see properly and has a squished in brain is not going to be a very good working dog.  If you are itching for a good old-fashioned ‘farm collie’ there really is such a thing.  They don’t look a lot like Lassie, but then, Timmy’s yard did not look like a farmyard either.

Of course, there’s the OTHER collie: the Border Collie, and they are a completely different animal. Imagine Lassie on speed.

If you have a very busy farm with a lot of stuff that needs tending, herding, sorting, worrying, then a Border Collie is perfect.  Border Collies are arguably smarter than a lot of people and have a whole lot more stamina.  Where Border Collies (and their families) get into trouble is when the dog does not have ENOUGH to do.  Border Collies need to work and if you do not give them a job, they will make one up.  Tearing up an entire household worth of linoleum is a short afternoon’s work for a B.C.  Escaping from the yard just in case the neighbor has something to do takes about a split second if you have an average fence.  If your fence is fashioned after the one at the maximum security prison set into 3 feet of cement, it will take an entire second.

On a farm with plenty of work to do, a Border Collie can be an invaluable companion—sharp, quick, always ready for any adventure you may have to go on no matter the weather—just the chance to be DOING something with you will be met with an exuberance that’s rarely found for something short of winning the lottery.  The big one.

Farms harbor vermin.  It’s a fact. You can deny it, you can ignore it, but they are still there—mice and rats will be wherever there is a food source and that means your farm. Terriers have been bred to dig out vermin—the word “terrier” comes from the Latin word “terra’ or earth, so they are literally dogs bred to “go to earth”.  The most commonly known terrier right now is the Jack Russell Terrier, thanks to the TV show Frasier and Eddie, their dog.  Today’s terrier will kill mice and rats.  Unfortunately, like the Collies, the terriers of today are usually so far away from being working dogs, that they are indiscriminate in their prey and will seriously deplete your flock of chickens as quickly as your mice.

Back in high school, I worked on a poultry farm where the house pet dog was a Cairn Terrier.  Like Toto in The Wizard of Oz.  Now, if you recall, Toto was a farm dog and chickens were blowing by during the tornado that he had not killed.  The terrier on the poultry farm, however, was kept firmly chained when outside because if loose, he had been timed at killing a chicken EVERY 30 SECONDS till caught.  My own flock of hens was recently diminished by the Jack Russell Terrier down the street, and the neighbor gave up on chickens because her rat terrier made short work of them.

For a large terrier, an Airedale is a good choice.  When used as working farm dogs they are more for guarding and pulling carts, but individuals can be gifted as herders and hunting dogs as well.  They are usually good babysitters and are strikingly handsome.

Be very careful with small terriers.  I currently have a crossbred terrier who is wonderful at not killing chickens.  She does not kill mice either.  She will absolutely tear up a rogue cookie, however.  In fact, my best mouser, up to and including any cats I’ve had is my four-pound toy poodle.  Go figure.

There are a lot of other “specialty” dogs who fit in on the farm—previously we discussed the Livestock Guardian Dogs in an article devoted just to them.

The hunting dogs: pointers, hounds, spaniels, and retrievers are all good choices for farms where hunting is part of the routine.

Every once in a while you will find, by accident, a dog who is completely suited for a job on your farm—my four-pound poodle is a good example.

And of course, there’s nothing quite like a good mutt.  Employing a mixed-breed dog can be a very good thing.  They are usually much more inexpensive as far the initial outlay for purchase.  There are people who believe that the mixed breeds possess ‘hybrid vigor’ making them less prone to health problems.  This is not true.  I’ve seen just as many mixes with hip dysplasia and skin conditions as purebreds.  The best reason for getting a mutt is that they usually really need the home, and although I’m not one for anthropomorphism, I truly think rescue dogs tend to try a little harder to be Good Dogs than their counterparts who were born into good situations.

Even with the best of intentions, common sense must play a factor in choosing your mixed breed. Collie/Shepherd/Retriever crosses are a good bet.  Chow/Pit/Rott crosses may not be.  Individual dogs will be as varied in temperament as in looks, so blanket assumptions should just be guidelines, not set in stone rules.

Just like everything else on the farm, your dog will need regular maintenance and upkeep.  A good quality dry dog food should be given twice daily—especially with the larger breeds, multiple small meals lessen the possibility of gastric torsion (usually fatal, always expensive), and in all breeds, food is just assimilated better if not given in one big meal.  Regular worming and vaccination schedules should be adhered to according to your local laws and climate.  External parasites need to be kept to a minimum.  Expect yearly upkeep expenses on your dog (not counting food and squeaky toys) to be several hundred dollars.

A good dog is as valuable an asset as anything else on your homestead, with the added benefit of also being your friend.

The post Farm Dogs: See Spot Work appeared first on Homestead.org.

Livestock Guardian Dogs: A well-bonded pack of 8 livestock guardian dogs ranging in age from 1 ½ year to 13 ½ years. They have kept a zero loss to predation record on our farm for 13 ½ years straight. Predators threats for our Wyoming farm are mountain lions, stray dogs, wolves, fox, eagles, and hawks. These guardians have displayed successful experience at guarding our alpacas, horses, donkey, chickens, geese, and rabbits. They are gentle giants and serious protectors.

Sled Dogs: The guardians will pull a kick sled working together as a full team, in smaller groups, or as individuals. They know the basic commands of haw, gee, let’s go, leave it, whoa, and their favorites, Whoo-hoo! and Yea! They love going on outings ranging the mile round trip to the county road to pick up the mail, to excursions in the Big Horn Mountains.

Farm Hands: These large and powerful dogs help pull firewood and drinking water out of the mountains for us, thus easing our workload. They have also hauled hay up to our barn when it has overflowed into our garage.

Personal Protection: Each dog is tightly bonded to my daughter and I. We don’t have any fears of intruders of any sort to our farm.

Fiber Producers: The Akbash/Great Pyrenees dogs who live here provide fiber as soft as baby alpaca, that I spin into yarn and then finished products. They each give up their coats to us naturally twice a year. Fiber is collected by brushing them when they naturally shed.

Family Members: Our dogs provide unconditional love at all times. Each one has a unique and treasured personality. They are humorous, sensitive, loyal, gentle, athletic, and they keep us warm at night.

Guardians, Not Dogs

You have probably guessed that I love, respect, and am thankful for the guardians on our homestead. I use the word guardians instead of dogs because there are some words that can’t be said on our farm and dogs is one of those words. Dogs, coyotes, foxes, eagles, and hawks are the main predator threats to our livestock. Those words have also become naturally bad words that the guardians don’t like. Thus we don’t say them unless we see one in the vicinity of the farm. To accidentally let one of those words loose from our mouths, means that this pack of white-coated canines form an army and they do it in an instant. Instead of calling them dogs, we call them by their individual names (Koda, Tacoma, David, Goliath, Solomon, Samson, Esther, or Ruthie), or puppies, guys, guardians… but never dogs.

Fencing in of the Guardians and the Runway System

Our guardians keep us safe, and it’s my job as their shepherd to keep them safe from all harm. That means fencing them in and keeping them only on our property unless on leashes or halters on excursions. The outside perimeter of our farm is 6-foot fenced while the inner alpaca pens, backyard, and the duck and chicken coops are also 6-foot fenced.

To give the guardians full access to our farm, while keeping some of our farm animals in individual paddocks, meant that I needed to develop a runway system that only the guardians and us could get through. When putting the runway system together, the goal was to allow the guardians access to all of the livestock any hour of the day and also be with us. That meant gates with entrances that alpacas couldn’t escape from but that the guardians could get through. This system has worked wonderfully for us. The guardians know where to be. They come and go as they please from the house to hanging out with all of the animals here.

Big Sled Dogs

It didn’t take long into our sledding interest to find out that the guardians were going to need larger sizes of some of the sledding equipment that was available for purchase. Some studies have shown that the ideal sled dog is right around a 50-pound range. One of my most eager runners and pullers, David weighs in at 160 pounds. The XXXL harness that I bought for him was simply too small. I needed to have one specially made for him from a dogsled equipment manufacturer.

I also quickly discovered that my dogs have big feet for dog sledding. Snow can build up between their toes when we are out running or sledding in certain types of snow conditions. All can be going well for five miles, and then if the conditions are right, snow will build up between their toes. I have had to remove the snowballs from their toes mid-run. It was time to get them some booties. Again, I ordered the largest size that I could find online which was an XL bootie especially made for dog sledding. These types of booties are simple contraptions that Iditarod dogs can wear out in a day or less.

I had only ordered 4 booties as an experiment because I wondered if that largest size would fit my dogs. That XL bootie ended up barely fitting my tiniest guardian, Ruthie, who only weighs 70 pounds. I’m presently sewing much bigger waterproof booties for the whole guardian team to wear out on sledding excursions. I’ll sew some extra to put on my farm website (Big Horn Mountain Alpacas) for sale. You never know when you find a little nitch business in the process.

Eager Helpers

When there is a task to be done, we incorporate anywhere from one to all of the guardians in helping us. From cutting firewood in the mountains and dragging out logs, to pulling spring water from a mountain spring in the winter on a sled to the main road, a guardian helps. Not only do the guardians make our life easier by helping out, but they are a great company. I don’t have any concerns taking off for the mountains or any back-country excursions knowing that we have full-time bodyguards as friends.

Fiber Producers

Dog hair has been found to be as warm and even warmer than wool. A fancier word for dog hair is chiengora. With eight dogs, we have lots of dog hair. Each dog gets rid of or “blows” their coats twice a year. When I notice a dog starting to shed, either my daughter or I will start brushing that dog. We will brush that dog every day until the undercoat is off of his or her body. Their hair is then placed in zip lock bags for storage. Then I spin their hair into yarn to be made into finished homestead products.

One year, I sent off a sample of Great Pyrenees hair from one of our dogs to be tested for fineness. At the time, I was sending alpaca fiber samples each year to the lab. It helped me to better market the yarn when I could label it as baby alpaca, a term given for how fine and soft the hair is, not necessarily coming only from young alpacas. The Great Pyrenees hair came back within a micron as soft as the baby alpaca.

Once washed, chiengora will have no “wet dog smell”. It is oil from the skin that produces that smell, not the hair itself. The finished product will look and feel much like angora rabbit hair. I know this because I also raise angora rabbits. People who see me wearing a chiengora hat and scarf will often comment that it must be from our angora rabbits.

Maximizing the Value of a Dog on the Homestead

As you can see, our dogs mean so much more to us than being livestock guardians. Yes, it’s true, that they keep our animals and us safe from harm. But these dogs have so much more to give. They are strong, eager helpers that are willing to pitch in on just about any chore. They are always up for fun adventures, too, such as dog sledding. Next time you take a look at your dog, think about the possibilities. I sometimes think of bored dogs in America sitting on couches with hidden talents just waiting to be exposed. In the end, uncovering that potential may just be a win/win situation for you and your dogs. I know that it has been for me and my family.

https://www.homestead.org/livestock/the-mare-someone-threw-away/

https://www.homestead.org/humor/we-re-being-mugged-by-mother-nature/

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They don’t deserve to be tossed aside because they aren’t perfect or young.  They aren’t worthless; all they need is a little help.  With help, they can go on to live full, happy, long lives.  These animals can come from someone’s backyard, a breeder, or a farmer.  They can also come from animal shelters or classified ads.  They can be inexpensive and even sometimes free.  Or they simply show up on your doorstep!

Sadly, shelter dogs and cats are plentiful.  Purebred, registered breeds of all ages can be found in almost any animal shelter.  If you are looking for a specific breed, know your breed standards and visit an animal shelter.  If there are dogs or cats that fit within the criteria, it would be worth a try!  With mixed breeds, look for qualities that you want in a pet.  Learn as much as you can about their health and behavior history.  Keep in mind that the shelter staff only have limited knowledge, either from the people who surrendered the animal, or what they have learned through evaluations and their own experience.  If you don’t want to see all the animals, ask for a specific breed or profile that you are looking for.

People often say that it is hard to go into animal shelters, and it is.  But it could be an opportunity to give an unwanted animal a chance at life.

Even with information from the shelter, you will no doubt learn more once you bring an animal home.  The animal-shelter environment is stressful to animals and they may react differently there than they normally would.  Be prepared to give the animal some time to adjust and a private area away from your other animals.  This can serve as a quarantine time that is to the benefit of everyone.  It will also give the new animal time to get familiar with its new surroundings.  They have just been through a traumatic experience and moving to a new home is another stressor.  And for some, just one more move.

Years ago we adopted a kitty from an animal shelter; she had been picked up as a stray.  In the shelter, this kitty got sick with an upper respiratory infection.  As she was being carried back to be euthanized, she reached her paw out and touched another staff member.  This lady decided to take the kitty home and let her get healthier so that she could be adopted.

When we saw Amber, she was dangling her paws out of the steel bars on her cage.  When we brought her home, it was just another day for her, or so it seemed.  She took it in stride and acted tough.  The very next day we took her to the vet for a checkup.  She fought getting in the crate and didn’t like the visit to the veterinarian’s office.  When I brought her home, she flew out of the crate, but then she looked around and realized that she had come back to a familiar place and I saw her whole body relax.  From that moment, she began to settle down and be a happy kitty.

At eleven years old, she developed cancer.  We did all that we could for her without submitting her to invasive tests and treatments.  It was a difficult process but she was strong and stayed as happy as she could.  We worked closely with our vet; as her owners, it was up to us to do what was best for her.  She died peacefully at home and in our arms.  This is part of the whole life process.

Old and sick animals end up in animal shelters or abandoned because people don’t want to watch them get old or be sick.  They are neglected when they need help the most.  They are our responsibility.  It may be hard for us, but it matters to them.

Most people are familiar with shelter cats and dogs, but farm animals can have these issues as well.  Oftentimes, we don’t hear about them because if they aren’t healthy and hardy, they don’t get a chance at a new life.  Cows, pigs, sheep, goats, rabbits, and chickens are livestock but they have feelings and show emotions just like a dog or a cat can.

In 2009, I delved into chicken keeping.  At four months old, one of my young female chickens (pullets), began having issues with her eyesight.  The vet didn’t really know what was causing it or what could be done; neither did most of the experienced people that I talked to.  Often, chickens with a sickness of any kind would be culled.  Because her health was good otherwise, I let her live and she did just fine.  Her vision loss was gradual, so she knew her surroundings and was comfortable in her environment and her flock.  By two years old, she was completely blind.  I added new birds to the flock that she didn’t know or trust, so she was happier in a pen of her own; she needed a separate space to ensure her safety because the original hens were good to her but the new hens may have pecked her.  Again, she adapted and is thriving.

In a protected area, she can have free-range time with everyone else.  She scratches around for grit and grass, takes dust baths, and lounges in the sunshine.  The rest of the flock comes by to be near her and visit, and she is a happy bird!

Last year, I found an ad on Craigslist for two blind chickens—a rooster and hen pair.  They both have limited vision but are not blind.  The original owner had gotten them as chicks and had other roosters that had begun picking on these two.

The rooster had never crowed, and she didn’t think he would.  It turned out that he wasn’t crowing because he didn’t want to draw attention to his hen or himself.  When he came to our farm, where there were no other roosters and he knew they were safe, he learned to crow.  Now, he and the hen function in the flock perfectly.  He can still do his job—we had a chick hatch this Spring.  He is as watchful as he can be, but he is extra sensitive to sounds and will warn his girls if he hears something strange.

Recently, there was another ad on our local Craigslist for a lonely, blind chicken.  This one is completely blind.  Found starving and pecked nearly to death, they rescued and brought her back to health, but she was their only chicken.  Her rescuer wanted a good home for her where she could have chicken company again and be safe.  I had the set up and figured she would fit right in!  She did need some extra help with eating and drinking.  Like my first blind hen, the new one showed frustration when she was hungry and couldn’t find or grab the food.  The new chicken was trying to eat from a typical chicken feeder and getting flustered because the surface area was too small.  I switched her to an open container and she liked that and was able to eat.

My experience with Stevie taught me that the plastic bowls that mount to pet crate doors are perfect for these birds.  Because of his limited vision and his big comb and wattles, he didn’t like the chicken fount.  I tried a couple of things before I found he loved the plastic bowls.  And they are working perfectly for the new girl.  Once she figured them out, she was able to drink and eat independently.  Which makes her a happy girl.

Since she is completely blind, she will be able to be in with my other blind hen.  I will let them get used to each other by being near one another before I put them together.  With these chickens, when introducing them to a new space, I let them experience the boundaries on their own.  They will wander and figure it out.  If the space is larger, they will venture more and more as they feel comfortable.  I spend time in the area with them at first.  When they need to feel safe, they often climb onto my shoes.  Once reassured, they will begin wandering again.

For their food, I will tap at the feed as a mother hen would for a chick.  They know the noise and will move toward the sound and start pecking around.  The blind birds tend to peck erratically until they hit the right spot but once they are comfortable, they eat normally.  Drinking is the same: I just splash the water around so that they can hear what it is and they come to the sound.  Once their area is established, I leave everything in the same position so they know right where it is.  They even have short blocks that they like to climb and perch on.  They are all happy and thriving doing what all the other chickens get to do.

In recent years, chickens have begun showing up at animal shelters.  In some areas, you can adopt chickens that have come from a commercial egg factory.  The factory birds have never felt sunlight or stood on the earth.  A backyard flock can consist of just a couple of birds, but like any other animal, they are a responsibility and commitment.

They don’t lay eggs forever.  A young chicken starts to lay eggs around six months old.  Their peak production is at about a year old.  After that, the production starts to decline.  I have four year-old hens that still lay every day, some every other day or so.  People have to decide what they will do with the aging, less productive hens.  My ladies will live out their lives on the farm, eggs or no eggs.  I have added new girls to the flock and that is a process, too.  The term “pecking order” really is just that.  Chickens are very social and they have a complex structure within the flock.  They form bonds and friendships; each chicken has its place.

As some of my hens get older, I see them slowing down, just like other aging animals. Their feet and legs can get stiff and they can’t jump from their perches like they used to.  Recently, I have made some new accommodations for this.  With the addition of the new blind hen, I needed to change the coop.  I had one mini-coop and added another one.  It is an enclosed area inside the coop where the blind birds can be safe and have their own space to move around.  For the older ladies, I put in blocks and ramps so that they can walk or hop up and down rather than jumping.  It takes some extra planning and effort, but it is worth it, especially for the critters.

Every animal will get old.  Even the perfect ones.  I used to be one who didn’t want to go into an animal shelter and see all the sad animals, but one day I did.  The thing that bothered me the most was seeing the old dogs.  At the time our male German Shepherd was getting older and his muzzle was turning gray; I saw dogs just like that in the shelter.  I thought of how faithfully our dog had served our family for so many years.  The shelter dogs were the same, only their families were gone.

As our dogs get older, we adjust their diets.  They are less active, so they get less food to keep them at a healthy weight.  We make sure that they aren’t jumping as often or as high.  Be careful when you throw sticks and balls for them so that they don’t strain themselves—they don’t always act old!  We give them beds that are little higher off the ground so that it is easier for them to get up and down.  The same goes for cats.  Watch the heights and distances that they are jumping.  They too need diets adjusted—from kibble to soft food—as well as the amounts.  As with any dietary change, do it gradually and watch them closely.

Livestock ages as well; my horse, Scooper, is 28 years old.  Horses have special dental needs; their teeth grow all of their lives. Because of this, they need to have them “floated” by a veterinarian.  They sedate the horse and put on a special halter that holds its mouth open.  Then the vet uses a rasp to file down edges of the teeth that have developed sharp points or have uneven wear.  With sedation, the vvet can do a much better job and it is easier on the horse and his mouth.  As they age, their teeth still grow, but much more slowly.

Horses also lose teeth as they get older.  When they lose teeth or wear them down, it affects their ability to eat.  My horse is at that point now.  He doesn’t have many teeth left so he is on a soft diet.  His pelleted food has everything that he needs.  It is complete nutrition, like Ensure is for people.  He can still nibble at hay when he wants, but can’t eat it like he used to.

The last couple of years, he has been slowing down physically, as well.  In the wintertime, we can get a lot of snow.  We will take the snowblower and clear paths for him so that it is easy for him to walk.  We also plow an open area so he can get exercise and roll around.  As his vision and hearing capacity diminish, I make sure his pathways are clear of any obstacles.  I also leave things so he knows where they are; his water trough stays in the same location as does his fence line, that way he feels safe and secure.

Going to the animal shelter is an experience, as is rescuing any animal.  It takes character and some extra effort, but the rewards are greater than can be imagined.  And for the animal, it really does make a difference.  For the ones that don’t have a long life left, what a gift for them to have a home where they can live happily and die with dignity.  My special-needs pets teach me much about life in how they live and die; every day is a valuable gift, for them and for us!

The post Imperfectly Priceless Pets: Shelter Rescues on the Homestead appeared first on Homestead.org.

I didn’t realize, initially, what would be involved with this.  For the fish and wildlife crew at Tech, my new college, this career path was more than just some lab courses and a little hunting and fishing—it was a lifestyle.  Many would be more than happy to become a hermit and never see another road in their life.  Now, while I can sympathize with that feeling, I soon came to realize that perhaps this particular path—as a career—was not one I should join.  Let me explain, very clearly, what led to this.

Bugs

I think the bugs were what really did it.  It took several more events for me to actually realize it but…well.  One August day, newly returned to Arkansas from the beaches of Virginia, I decided to go sit by a creek at the edge of the neighbor’s property.  No problem, known ‘em for years.  However, this was the first day I ever noticed…the gnats.  Swarming, attacking, unusually and unreasonably attracted to my face, my ears, my nose—mild panic soon set in and I was racing back to the safety of the front porch.  Sadly, I met with flies, crickets, and grasshoppers in my scurry to get out of the woods, which only fueled my urge to get to a civilized locale.  Later, in the shower, I would find no ticks.  Rest assured, the next several times I went to my favorite swimming hole, I came back with multiple parasitic invaders.  Unfortunately, they were behind my knees of all places, so they went unobserved for 3 days before The Itching set in.  I survived with only mild trauma.

Guns

Several days later my nephew (older by two years—don’t ask) came to visit.  Now, at the ripe old age of 20, I had still never shot a gun, including a BB gun.  Scott, in his infinite wisdom, decided that he and my blind grandfather should remedy that situation.  My Papa decided maybe he would sit this one out.  So, with that, Scott grabbed a .22 and—you guessed it—a 12 gauge shotgun.  Now to be fair, what followed was a careful and kind first lesson.

First I got, with demonstration, an explanation on how to load it, get the bullet where it’s supposed to be, and discharge the shell.  Scott had me go through the motions several times.  Finally, he asked if I wanted to shoot it.  Eyeing the hunk of metal with something bordering on suspicion, I told Scott he’d better do it first so I would know what to expect.

“Ka-thow!!” ricocheted through the trees, and with it, my suspicion turned to the (I’ve now been told) normal thrill and an urgency to try it myself.  I could see myself with black face paint stalking through the woods for squirrels and rabbits and other devious creatures for the good of my stewpot and our black walnut trees.  A quick couple of shots were fired off by me, and my excitement to try the shotgun was palpable.

Now, all of you reading this can probably see what was coming.  In fact, I’m sure you can.  Because everyone but myself, I realize now, knows just what firing a shotgun is like when compared to a .22, or to nothing, which was my previous experience.

We went through the loading drill again, and then Scott shot the thing for me a few times.  A bit louder…but, ok, I could do this.  Scott braced himself behind me for this one, helping me hold the stock firmly against my shoulder so I didn’t bruise.  Giddy, I squeezed the trigger—

“KABOOOOM!” went the air, and with it, my hearing!  My vision was suddenly black and I was going down, nearly hitting the grou—

Oh.  Hitting the nephew who was gratefully there to catch the gun I’d dropped downward in my momentary shock.  I shook my head once and started laughing.  Scott just rolled his eyes in amusement and asked if I wanted to go another couple rounds.  Furrowing my brow I could only think “Is he serious? Does he really think I should do that more than once?”  Instead, I only said no, that I thought that was probably all the lesson I would be needing for awhile.  Suddenly, vegetarianism began to sound quite palatable—particularly after I later realized that catfish was the only fish I knew.  Bream?  Crappie?  What?  But I digress…

All right, there had been a few minor setbacks, but I could do this.  Really.  How hard could all of this stuff really be?

Dogs

I proceeded to get a dog.  You can start laughing now.

Now, I walked by this dog’s pen for four months.  He officially belonged to my landlady’s 13-year-old brother, who had returned to California in the summer with promises to come back for Trucks (the dog) at Christmas.  New Year’s came, and that dog was still in his pen.  He’d look at me, tail wagging, asking with his eyes if I’d come pet him, come play.  Asking if I would love him.  I continuously said “No.  You are not my dog.  I don’t believe in dogs.  You are not my responsibility.”

Unfortunately, my landlady/roommate had started staying at her boyfriend’s house, and would I please feed him and let him in if it snowed?  So, one day, as I was repeating the above mantra to myself, I pulled out my cell and, shaking my head, called my landlady.  It didn’t take much negotiating before I had myself a dog.  My first dog.  Ever.  A year-old Labrador mix.  Aside from his general sweet nature, he had two very important qualities—already housebroken and did not get on furniture.  However, I decided to train him further.

In case you have read any books on the subject, or perhaps dallied in actual training yourself, let me rid you now of the notion that this is an easy thing.  Positive reinforcement, use treats, blah, blah, blah.  Right.  This all assumes that the dog has average puppy dog intelligence.

My dog is smarter than I am.  Oh, he can sit, stay, lay down.  Sometimes he even deigns to heel while we walk.  However, Trucks has figured out the deal—he does good, he gets a treat.  You may have heard something about the canine sense of smell.  As soon as I get within a five-foot perimeter of this creature, he can tell if I’ve got the goods.  And, as you may have guessed—no treat, no trick.  In fact, Trucks goes so far as to sit for a moment, then lay down, before I even give a command, if he smells his fake Oreos.  But, if I don’t have them, forget it.  He just bows at me and proceeds to do his little doggy dance, wanting to play and jump.  People tell me he will outgrow this when he gets out of the puppy phase… in two to three years.  I can only sigh and be grateful for my patience and his sweetness.  Who could resist that sweet face?

Camping and Fire

Now that you have read this far, I’m sure you will be unsurprised at the following experience.  One Tuesday evening in February, I was invited over for a Buffalo-rib supper—another one of those fish I never knew about—at a couple of friends’ house.  Around 10 or so, one of them—we’ll call him Pablo—decided we should all go camping.  Now, I don’t know about you, but camping in the middle of winter in 20-degree weather was not something I would have ever rationally considered doing.  But, these outdoorsy people were constantly surprising me with new ideas I’d never considered.  I was appreciating it more and more.  So, I sat on the couch while Pablo and “Eugene” gathered every sleeping bag between them (four), a couple of comforters, a roll of toilet paper, three pillows, and a flashlight.  I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt so I just assumed I would have plenty of warmth between those and the sleeping accouterments.  Oh, was I wrong.

It took thirty minutes and two dirt roads to get where we were going.  Three people in a two-person truck.  One girl.  Yeah.  Guess who didn’t get a real seat.  I got a lap and thirty minutes of my head at an extremely unnatural angle.  This camping location, courtesy of moi, was on the bayou at an abandoned lodge, deck overlooking the water.  The deck was just under a bluff, with a fire-pit a foot away, so we decided to set up there.  Let me just emphasize that the deck was over the water.  With open-air underneath.  In February.

We pulled up, walked up, and began the breaking and entering minus the breaking—abandoned, the house hadn’t had a locked door in years.  After a cursory exploration that revealed several hidden cellars and escape hatches I’d never found until Pablo got a hold of the place, I was saddened to hear of the termite damage he could see.  There went the purchasing plan.  Anyway…

We first decided to build a fire.  And by we, I mean they.  My only fire building had been done in a fireplace, usually with four or five attempts before anything remotely like flame appeared for more than two minutes.

I stood around until Eugene realized I could be holding the flashlight for them.  For you see, these boys were not content with the sticks and small pieces of wood they were finding.  Oh, those were fine for getting it going, but apparently what we really needed were those huge logs laying several feet down the slope.  I could only shake my head, assuming between the two of them they would be unable to bring up even a small one.  I was wrong.  Let’s leave it at that.

A nice fire was quickly roaring, with a magnificent log draped across the pit.  Two feet across, it would burn all night.  We laid the blankets and sleeping bags close to the fire, and all climbed in.  There was no choice but sharing the sleeping bags or getting hypothermia; we chose to keep our toes.  Even with the fire and two layers of sleeping bags, I could not feel my feet.  The air from beneath was freezing me out—ears, nose, everything but my core.  Well and so, I just accepted that a light doze would be my sleep for the night.  We lay, looking at the stars, talking, and for a moment in time, I thought I was in the most beautiful place on God’s Earth.  Until 20 minutes later when, awakened from our repose by a crashing sound, we jumped three feet high when we saw the flaming log rolling slowly toward us.  Pablo, nearest to it, caught it and adjusted its position to one of more stability.  Disaster averted.  Later, Eugene brought our attention to the skunk sniffing at the edge of the deck.  We made a deal with it—we left it alone, it left us alone.

7:00 a.m. came early, but it brought with it heat and a beautiful sunrise.  Since there were classes to attend later, we forced ourselves to eventually get up and return to civilization.

Concluding Thoughts and a List

I’m not sure if it was the bugs, my newly discovered arachnophobia, or the time I got lost in a state park that did it, but I changed my major to writing.  I love new adventures, and I’d do any of the above again in a heartbeat, but that does not mean my career should be comprised of such things.  Luckily, I’ve met some people who are also interested in a homesteading lifestyle, and I am slowly being schooled in the tricks of the trade.  Here are some things I have learned so far:

1.  It’s ok to use bug spray.  It does not make you less of a man.  It may prevent mental irritation.

2.  When learning to shoot, actually learn to shoot the small stuff before you even attempt the big boy toys.  In fact, lift weights and practice balancing for several weeks beforehand.

3.  A good dog is worth his weight in gold (and body heat) even when going though the puppy thing.

4.  And, he’s smarter than you.  Accept it.

5.  You need a lighter. Even the wild men on the mountain use a lighter to start fires now.

6.  When camping in winter, do it on solid ground, not by water, and with two sleeping bags per person, both good to at least 20 degrees.

7.  You need a knife.  A pocketknife if nothing else.  Even in a crowd of outdoorsmen, there will eventually come a time when everyone will have forgotten theirs.

8.  If you borrow a knife, check it for blood and fur.  Don’t ask.

9.  Girls can do anything guys can do. But, never underestimate their usefulness.

10.  Always carry a bottle of water.

11.  Toilets can be overrated.

A Woman in No Man’s Land: Caroline Henderson, Homesteader

The post Adventures of Becoming a Backwoods Girl: Bugs, Guns, Dogs, and Fire, Oh My… appeared first on Homestead.org.

My wife opened the car door and said, “Look at who I’m training this week!” A two-year-old Boston Terrier jumped out of her car, ran across the yard, knocked the chicken pen over, and proceeded to grab each chicken by the head, shake until dead, then immediately go after another one.  Chickens were running all over; they couldn’t outrun the dog.  By the time we caught him, two minutes later, he had killed ten of the twelve chickens.  Based on this experience, I would say Boston Terriers aren’t “Farm Friendly” in my book.

What Makes a Dog “Farm Friendly”?

Every homestead is different, but most have a few things in common.  The commonalities include: open space including fields and ponds, gardening, chickens and other small animals, possibly goats, cows or horses, and finally predators.  Let’s take them each in turn.

One word before I start is that none of this is set in stone.  If you look up low prey-drive dogs you will see Doberman Pincers.  If you look up high prey-drive dogs you will see Doberman Pincers.  So, there isn’t 100% agreement on any of this.  It is just my experience… which is limited to about 50 breeds that I have actually had out on my homestead.  Keep reading for some additional recommendations on picking the “right” dog.

Open Spaces Including Fields and Ponds

As I’m writing this story I have a client’s Shih Tzu sitting next to me in my chair. Shih Tzu’s are small, loyal, friendly, good alert dogs, and great lap dogs.  But they are not great dogs for open fields and ponds.  Why?  This one took a happy run through my field and pond yesterday only to return covered in thorny sticks, briers, and filth.  He had to get both a bath and a blow dry.  It took nearly an hour to deburr the dog’s long hair (not fur) from all the junk it picked up, bath it and blow dry it.  This is not an “all-weather” dog by any means.

Some dogs have hair instead of fur.  This includes dogs like Shih Tzu’s, Yorkies, mini Poodles, and Maltese.  These dogs may be hypo-allergenic, but they are not field-friendly.  Field-friendly dogs have fur not hair, preferably slick fur like Pointers or durable fur like Great Pyrenees.  We had a long haired Spanish Mountain Mastiff dog on our farm who never got a bath in his whole life.

Dogs with fur instead of hair shed. The shedding keeps them clean and renews their coat.  Dogs with fur instead of hair generally have two coats. The undercoat is like a T-shirt, soft, comfy and warm. The outer coat is like an armored raincoat, waterproof, and biologically tough as fingernails.  Our Mountain Mastiff didn’t need a dog house, he wore one on his back 24/7.

Another issue with open spaces is that they require good Homing Instincts.  If you have acreage there are ways for dogs to get off the reservation.  When dogs wander onto other farm and ranch properties they can (and do) get shot, or lost, or get you in trouble.  You want a dog that knows how to “stay home.”  Great Pyrenees are great at this, as are labs, sheepdogs, mastiffs, and golden retrievers. Lots of smaller dogs also stay close to home like chihuahuas, pugs, spaniels, and corgis.

Finally, fields have snakes and other critters in them.  I prefer to have a dog who is alert to such things.  My preference when I walk through a field is to have my dog off leash tracking back and forth about 10 feet in front of me, looking for trouble.  Dogs that are good at this are pointers, hounds, labs, and spaniels.

General rules for a good “field dog” are dogs that:

• Have durable slick coats of fur, not fluffy hair.
• Can shed water and rain so they don’t constantly need baths.
• Don’t wander too far from home.
• Are active and alert to dangers.

Dogs and Gardening

This issue is simple.  You don’t want a dog that digs for fun and profit.  This makes spaniels a little less farm-friendly than some others.   This is not a non-starter because you can teach your dog to stay out of the garden (see Training); it’s just easier to not have the issue in the first place.

What dogs really love to dig?  Think terriers and hounds.  Jack Russel Terriers, Dachshunds, Highlands Terriers, and Beagles all love to dig.  Dogs that are made to find moles and gophers will dig your property from one fence line to the other.

Generally, the larger breeds aren’t really diggers.  A lab might dig a round hole to lay in, but they generally don’t dig holes like it’s their job, unless they are really bored.  Shepherds (Australian and German) don’t dig much.  My favorite farm dog, Great Pyrenees, don’t dig.  Mastiffs are another example of non-diggers.

General Rules for good “garden” dogs are dogs that:

• Don’t dig for fun and profit.
• Can stay out of restricted areas when trained to do so.

Dogs with Chickens and other Small Animals

I believe that chickens lay so many eggs because they are so easy (and fun) to kill.  I’ve seen a snake kill a chicken, raccoons kill chickens, birds of prey kill chickens, and dogs very often kill chickens.  What you are looking to avoid in dog speak is called “prey drive.”

Prey drive is a tendency of a dog to want to sight, chase, grab, play with, and kill (on purpose or accidentally while playing) small animals.  Some dogs with high prey-drive are terriers (Jack Russel and Yorkshire), Doberman Pincers, Beagles, Australian Cattle Dogs (different from Australian Shepherds), Weimaraners, Whippets… and Boston Terriers as noted previously.

Prey drive works for dogs that need to hunt, corner, and kill small animals.  It’s not so good for dogs that need to co-exist or even protect them.  I had a Spanish Mountain Mastiff as one of my personal dogs on the homestead.  At first, he wanted to kill chickens, but I trained it out of him in a day (see Training.)  So “some” prey drive isn’t a non-starter if you are willing to fix it early.  Mostly, however, you want to avoid it.

Dogs with very little prey-drive are Pugs, Brussels Griffon (a dog I really like personally), Labs and Labradoodles, Golden Retrievers and Goldendoodles, some Mastiff breeds, and my perennial favorite homestead dog, Great Pyrenees.

Good small-animal dogs:

• Don’t kill small animals.

Dogs with Large Animals

Some dogs are made to work with large animals.  Any dog with the word “cattle” or “shepherd” in its name is probably a good cattle dog. Australian Shepherds, Australian Cattle Dogs, German Shepherds (particularly the low, stocky lines), Sheepdogs, Collies, and Corgies are also good with larger farm-animals.

The question is this: do you want your dog to “run” the herd, “guard” the herd, or just “ignore” the horse?  It depends on the types of animals you have and your goals.  Cattle can be run, herded, and moved.  But if you have a single horse and a dog that wants to pester it while you are trying to ride, that can be a problem for you,  the dog, and the horse.  You could get thrown, the dog could get kicked, or the horse could run into a fence and get hurt.

I have never, personally, run cattle.  I had a cow once and I had a client’s 8-month-old Australian Shepherd.  The dog, with no training or encouragement from me, knew exactly what to do.  He had never seen a cow before, but his instincts kicked in 100%.  With a little exposure and minimal training, that dog could have helped me move a herd across a pasture, I’m sure.

I also worked with a young low-body German Shepherd around a small herd of cattle.  He seemed to know what he needed to do.  The cows didn’t like it, and he needed a little training to tamp down his enthusiasm, but I could tell that he “knew.”

With my small goat-herd, I used my favorite field and farm dog, the gentle Great Pyrenees.  They are not only calm around all animals, they look like a sheep or a white goat, so they are good at guarding a flock against predators.  In this case, I wasn’t looking for help herding.  I was looking for a “shepherd” to look over the flock.

The Spanish Mountain Mastiff I had was also great with guarding.  One night, I was out camping in the woods.  No tent, just sleeping on the ground under the trees.  The next morning my mastiff came walking up with a giant gash that went up the side of his ribs.  It was deep, almost to the bone.  Why?  Some wild bores (who have razor sharp tusks) tried to come into the woods where I was sleeping.  The mastiff fought them off, receiving a deep gash in the process for one of those tusks.  Not to worry, he was fine.  I sprayed the cut with Blue-Kote (an antiseptic for cattle) twice a day and it healed up within a week.

Good large-animal dogs:

• Work the herd (if that’s your preference)
• Protect the herd (if that’s your preference)
• Or, just leave the horse, or whatever, alone.

Dogs for Homestead Predators

This brings us to predators.  Chickens, rabbits, goats, calves, sheep, quail, ducks, rabbits, they are all dinner on the hoof (or paw) for coyotes, wolves, birds of prey, snakes, raccoons, cougars, bobcats, lynx, and more.  That’s where homestead dogs earn their keep.

Barking, chasing away, and defending; depending on the dog, it will do one or more of those three.  Let’s take my precious Great Pyrenees and my Spanish Mountain Mastiff as examples.  They lay around in the middle of the field or at the edge of the herd all day.  They barely move.  The Pyrenees, in particular, can look dead they move so little.  But when something shows up on the edge of the field they get up, stare at it and bark.  If it doesn’t run away then they start moving toward it, barking more.  In the end, if the doesn’t leave then they will attack it and run it off.  That’s a good field-dog.

The other type of predator walks on two legs and wants to steal your riding lawn mower so he can buy methamphetamine. The mastiff was good for that work as well.  The Great Pyrenees, less so.  German Shepherds, Doberman Pincers, and Rottweilers are good at active defense against people.  Smaller dogs and dogs that bark are good at intrusion alert, but less so at actual defense.

With over ten years of dog training experience, I can say that my personal choice is to alert me, and possibly scare away an intruder, not to have a dog that literally attacks people.  Here’s why.  An “attack” dog is like a loaded gun with a brain of its own.  Does the Rottweiler know the difference between a pillow fight and an assault, or can it tell if Billy from next door is a danger or just selling cookies for the band fundraiser?

I don’t like families, particularly with children, owning dogs that can seriously hurt people and who have the mentality to attack (aggressive Pit Bulls, Bull Mastiffs, some Great Danes, and Rottweilers, in my experience)  I train these dogs regularly, and people who own them will swear they are gentle giants.  But 275 people every year are killed by dogs.  Over 50% are family members or friends of the family.  About 75% of the dogs that kill are Pit Bulls, and Mastiffs (including Great Danes).  Rottweilers and German Shepherds also make the list, just as a minor contributor. I would never personally own a Pit Bull.  Not because they are all bad, but because there are BETTER BREEDS that I can trust 100%.

One last word on guard dogs.  I hate Chows.  Get one if you want… but don’t get one.  They are very often mean and they bite people.  They don’t kill people, but they bite them and they aren’t good family dogs.

That being said, I had a Spanish Mountain Mastiff that was a great dog.  He did corner two people in his life and scared the pee out of them (I think they needed to be cornered).  Luckily he didn’t actually attack them.  If he had, I would not have been able to stop him.  Balance these thoughts with the actual dog you are considering.

If you EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER (is that enough?) think that your dog is in ANY WAY a real danger to children or family members (or even people walking by your fence) then get rid of the dog.  I don’t care what people on TV say about “it’s the owner, not the dog” or what breed apologists say about their breed. NO CHILD EVER DESERVES TO BE BITTEN OR ATTACKED BY A DOG.  It is always 100% the dog’s fault.  Get rid of the dog.  That’s ten years of experience and 6,000 dogs trained giving that advice.

Dogs should not be used as weapons.  Buy a gun if you want a weapon, not an attack dog.  At least the gun has a safety and can be locked in a safe when not needed.

Good predator-protection dogs:

• Know their role
• Have the body type to fulfill their role (like staying outside 24/7)
• Can be scary looking… but…
• Are safe to family, friends… and also safe to (well-intentioned) strangers.

Training

I’m a dog trainer.  I train indoor dogs to not bark, jump on people, pee on the floor.  I also teach family dogs to behave, calm down, and walk properly on a leash.  Finally, I deal with dog “behavioral issues” such as biting, leash aggressiveness, prey drive toward other family pets, etc.  I’m not primarily a “farm dog” trainer.

Some people will disagree with this advice, but I use an electric collar with a remote control for most of my field- and farm-dog training.  Most of the issues you have with a homestead dog will be excessive barking (particularly at night), digging or getting in the garden, and small prey drive (chickens in particular).  A shock (yes it should shock) collar like the Micro IDT Plus by D.T. Systems is a great solution for those problems.

Get some training or find a good video from someone like D.T. Systems.  Shock collars that also vibrate are an excellent tool when you are trying to train a dog to not do certain things at a distance… like killing chickens.  Obedience trainers will disagree.  That’s their choice.  I think a little training with a quality shock collar gives a homestead dog a great life of work and joy.

Conclusion

All dogs are different, but there are strong “breed tendencies.”  If you can try a dog out before you keep it, that’s a good thing to do.  If you get a puppy, introduce it to homestead animals very early in its life.  If you want the dog to bark, encourage it when it happens.  If you don’t want the dog to bark, discourage it with proper training.  If you know your goal for your dog, you can pick the dog for your homestead.

Bank on one thing: whatever issues the dog has when you’re picking it out will probably continue throughout its life.  If the dog seems skittish, then it is skittish.  If the dog pees on itself when you go to pet it, it’s too timid.  If the dog is overly confident and doesn’t seem to care about you, then it probably won’t care about what you want when you get it home.  Don’t just take a dog because it is cute.  They are all cute.

What dogs do I have?  I had a Spanish Mountain Mastiff for my field work and a pug for my personal lap dog.  They both passed away not too long ago.  For a while, I had an old, Great Pyrenees who was old when we got him and only lived a couple years.  I have since moved away from farm animals, so I don’t currently have a personal dog.  I do, however, board and train dogs for others.  Right now I have a client’s Doberman Pincer laying with her head on my leg and a Shih Tzu curled up on the pillow next to me.

Happy Homesteading.

The post The Ultimate Guide to Farm-Friendly Dogs appeared first on Homestead.org.

So when I got my land in Texas, I confidently fenced off an area, put up a little shelter, and installed two lovely Nubian doe-lings, China and Marigold, both pregnant.

One cold winter night, with the sleet blowing horizontally across the fields, I did not hear the goats calling me when I got home from work.  I grabbed a flashlight and told my husband to stay at the house (city boy, with a very soft spot for the goats). The flickering beam of the flashlight confirmed my fears.  The fence had been dug under by dogs and my beautiful goats lay dead, marred only by the gaping holes in their throats.

It was over a year before I could talk my husband into trying again.

The new goats, Alice and Trixie, were put into a different pen, adjoining the back porch.  Whenever we were gone, or at night, they were locked up onto the porch. They found this to be really really boring (even for goats) and were not even remotely potty trained, making the porch toxic and stinky in short order, even though we’d bedded the whole thing with straw.

My search began for an LGD: Livestock Guardian Dog.

LGD’s are dogs that are not herders, nor are they attack dogs.  They are exactly what they are called: “Guardians”.  Their job is to live with the stock and make sure nothing gets in to hurt, steal, or eat it.  Their first line of defense is just their size; they are enormous.  If size and a menacing bark do not deter, they will place themselves between their charges and perceived danger.  If all else fails, they will resort to violence, and woe to anyone on the receiving end of over 100 pounds of angry dog.

In this country, we see mainly three breeds of LGD’s: Komondor (Komondorok plural), Anatolian Shepherd Dogs, and Great Pyrenees (Pyrs).

Komondorok have white coats that grow in cords, like dreadlocks.  They are cautious by nature, and tend to bond to only one person or immediate family, and are creepily formidable when stalking a stranger.  The Komondor Club of America stresses the importance of obedience training and socialization of the young puppy to help assure that your adult dog will be a stable member of society.  These dogs are very intelligent and tend to think for themselves, so if you fail to establish your role as “alpha dog”, your Komondor will happily assume he’s in charge.

The coat requires a lot of care, and when they get wet, they stay wet.  Really.  For weeks.  I am skeptical of how well they fare in a southern summer, but I have seen some here in Texas, so I guess they do alright.

Anatolian Shepherds are also generally cautious, with the Anatolian Shepherd Dog Club giving the same advice about socialization and training as the Komondor club, but there are exceptions to every rule.  The Austin Zoo has one who sleeps on the porch to the gift shop like a giant Welcome Mat that you have to take a BIG step over.  Their coat is more like a Lab or German Shepherd, short and thick, and they come in various shades of grey and brown.

My personal experience is with Pyrs.  I chose this breed for a number of reasons: they are the most friendly to strangers (anyone is calmly welcomed unless proven untrustworthy), their fluffy white coat sheds nicely into a summer coat with a minimum of brushing, and most importantly, because I got one for free.

Galut was the one remaining pup from a litter of 10, and her mother was, frankly, tired of motherhood.  In a fit of annoyance, perhaps after hours of her puppy yapping nonstop into her ear while she was trying to watch her stories, Galut’s mother grabbed her by the scruff and shook her, giving her a nice puncture wound. (I have honestly felt the same way about my own offspring on more than one occasion.)  Her owners just didn’t want the hassle of treating it, and “poof”, I had my LGD.  Galut was 10-weeks old and over 25 pounds when she came home.

There are various thoughts on the proper training of these dogs (Great Pyrenees Club of America has a several).  Some say they can’t be proper guardians if they are treated as pets, and advocate tossing them in with the livestock and having no contact with them whatever – no petting, nothing.  Although Galut went to live with the goats, not in the house, we have always made a big deal out of her, petting, baby-talk, the whole nine yards, and she guards just fine.

They DO make good housedogs.  In fact, the next time we are in the market for a housedog, a Pyr will be what I look for.  In the absence of livestock to guard, they become excellent babysitters.  I’ve heard of more than one Pyr pushing toddlers away from danger, and they not only tolerate small fry (goat kids OR human kids) crawling all over them, they adore it.

Even as a puppy, Galut never jumped up on us, and if I need to catch her and she’s being playfully (but annoyingly) evasive, I send my 5-year-old in after her.  He just grabs her collar and brings her to me… a 45-pound boy leading 110-pound dog.

Most trainers will tell you not to trust the dogs around newborn livestock until the dogs are over two years old, and I have to agree.  For the first two springs, I tied Galut in a corner of the goat-pen with a 20-foot chain till the babies were several weeks old.  She was just too much of a puppy herself.  She was so thrilled with the new playmates she’d grab them by the leg, hold them down with a giant paw and lick them till they almost passed out.  Just like magic, the spring she turned two the over-exuberant teenaged puppy became a calm, benevolent matron.

I do have trouble when a baby goat imprints on her instead of its mother.  Sometimes it takes the better part of a week to convince the little one that, cozy as Galut is, lunch comes from Mother.

With their size, you would expect LGD’s to eat you out of house and home.  When an LGD is working on a large ranch in a remote area, the Gravy Train is scarce or non-existent, and these dogs have been bred accordingly.  I feed Galut a one-pound coffee can of mid-quality dry food twice a day, and to be honest, the goats eat about 1/2 of that before she loses patience with them and scatters them with a giant “WOOF”.  A friend of mine has to feed her dog away from the goats, because her goats are not impressed with her dog’s “WOOF” and ignore him.  It is indicative of these animals’ temperaments that they will go hungry before hurting one of their charges.

LGD’s can be found through online clubs, word of mouth, or newspaper ads. Unless you are interested in dog shows, registration is not important.  As with all big breeds, hip dysplasia is a concern, and I would take it as a very good sign if a breeder had his/her dogs x-rayed to check for soundness, since dysplasia is hereditary and a dysplastic dog can’t do a very good job of guarding, will have a shortened lifespan and a lifetime of pain and discomfort.

It is important to get a puppy and raise it up with your stock, or a young dog who has been raised with stock.  Our first “freebie” Pyr was an adult stray and she’d obviously never seen goats.  She wanted to chase them, plain and simple, and promptly moved on to a home with two old ladies to care for and who love her right back.

A lot of folks let their LGD have free run of their property.  This is fine if you have A LOT of property.  Your LGD will decide how far his/her territory goes, and your neighbors may not appreciate the big doggie that keeps pushing THEIR kids back into YOUR yard.  Galut lives in the goat pen with the goats, and once when a coyote decided my chickens were a daily-special buffet, I turned her loose in the horse pen (mostly heavily wooded) for a few days to convince the coyote to move along.

Prices are hugely variable.  You can pay up to $1000.00 (or more) for a puppy with a fancy-shmancy pedigree if you want a show-dog.  For a well-bred LGD, out of working parents, expect to pay from $150 to $500.  Every once in a while, if you keep your ears open, make your desires known and have patience, you will luck into one like I did.

Whether your LGD’s charges are goats or toddlers and the predators are coyotes or burglars, these dogs will spend their lives keeping their family safe.  When I have Galut filling the entire backseat of my car for a trip to the Vet, I look into those calm big brown eyes gazing over my shoulder.  Even though she has never growled at anyone, I know that she would not hesitate to protect me.

It’s a good feeling.

The post Livestock Guard Dogs: Just Like Lassie, Only Better appeared first on Homestead.org.

Coyotes have learned to exploit the food resources of an area on par with any other mammal. Unlike the wolf, whose numbers have plummeted in the wake of human civilization, these highly-adaptable predators have expanded their range. Roaming every state in the continental U.S. from sea level to high mountain ranges, their living spaces run the gamut from desert, swamp, and tundra to grasslands, brush, and dense forests.

Although they prefer fresh-killed meat, coyotes will eat almost anything, including garbage, pet food, eggs, carrion, insects, and fruit. They have adapted to live practically anywhere, and—despite the best efforts of farmers and hunters to cut down their numbers—they are thriving in the city and country, and everywhere in between. Coyotes thrive in habitats where wooded and cleared areas merge, as these areas are usually rife with prey such as deer and small mammals (coyotes are more likely to kill fawns and older or sick individuals rather than healthy, adult deer).

Males here in the Blue Ridge max out at around 40 pounds and females at 31 pounds; farther west, they tend to be smaller. What they lack in size, they make up for in persistence and hunting prowess. Hunting for the most part in the twilight and pre-dawn hours, they move stealthily, blending into the landscape to sneak up on wild prey like rabbits and rodents. These cagey predators tend to steer clear of areas with a lot of human activity, but if an opportunity presents itself, they are tenacious and will wait until when no one is around to go in for the kill.

One spring a few years ago, I saw a coyote in my neighbor’s field nearly every morning hunting mice and voles. It’s not unusual to see a coyote out hunting during the day when they need fresh kills to feed their growing pups. This one probably had hungry mouths to feed back at the den. Rodents and rabbits were plentiful, so it had no reason to bother our chickens and risk a run-in with our dogs or us. It’s only when natural sources become scarce that they are forced to resort to killing new-born goats, sheep, calves, pigs, and chickens, even small household pets. 

Deterrence has had little effect.

The trouble with coyotes on the homestead lies when they find easy prey on your land. We had a small flock of chickens that we kept for the eggs. The howls that Dan Flores called America’s “original national anthem” in his book Coyote America were a reminder to make sure the chickens were locked up and our dogs were safe inside the house. To homesteaders, farmers, and ranchers who raise livestock for a living, the howls take on far more urgency. Unattended small animals are easy prey for a lone coyote or a pack of family members intent on taking down a meal.

Some counties have placed a bounty on coyotes, but these programs have not been very successful. Harvesting coyotes, whether for fur pelts or other economic incentives (such as bounty hunting) does not have any significant impact on coyote numbers. Their populations are limited by food availability, which means that if a coyote is killed or dies in an area where prey is available, a vacuum is created and another coyote will move in. Coyotes also have a biological mechanism that triggers larger litters whenever their numbers drop.

When humans eradicated bigger predators like wolves and cougars, coyotes evolved to take over the job of keeping deer, rodent, squirrel, rabbit, raccoon, opossum, and feral cat populations in check. They also raid Canada Goose nests, eating some of the eggs and burying the rest for later. Particularly, in the southern U.S., where deer are smaller, they kill enough deer in suburban neighborhoods to keep their numbers in check. And by eating deer, they play a role in the control of Lyme disease, which is spread by deer ticks. 

Defend your living space.

Wildlife managers admit that coyote eradication programs have largely failed and are encouraging livestock producers to focus instead on changing their practices to reduce predations. Coyotes are smart, observant, cautious, and elusive, so keeping them away from your pets and livestock can be a challenge. Simple solutions like keeping expectant animals and newborns in confinement, using electric fencing, keeping chickens in a predator-proof run, improving dead livestock practices so as not to attract predators, and using guard animals such as dogs, llamas, or donkeys will help deter predator attacks.

Livestock guardian dogs such as Great Pyrenees, Anatolian Shepherd, Kuvasz, Komondor, Maremma, and Rottweiler are breeds known to be effective herders and stock protectors. They can protect livestock in flock/pasture operations, on open range, and in feedlots not only from coyotes, but also dogs and black bears. It’s best to start with a young guard animal that will bond with your sheep, goats, poultry, or other stock. Successful guard dogs are trustworthy (will not harm livestock), attentive to the flock or herd, and aggressive toward predators. These traits are instinctive in livestock guard dogs and easily developed with proper handling and training.

Llamas and donkeys can also be useful to ward off predators. Typical responses to intruders include alarm calling; walking to or running toward the predator; chasing, kicking, or pawing the predator; or herding the sheep and positioning themselves between the sheep and predator. Curious and protective, donkeys will investigate disturbances within the herd and will bray, chase, and even attack pasture intruders. Once pursued by a donkey in full chase mode, dogs and coyotes will keep their distance. Just like other mammals, coyotes teach their young which situations to avoid, so taking measures to protect your stock will pay off down the road.

In addition, when working to protect livestock from coyotes, be sure you aren’t inadvertently encouraging them to come onto your property with sloppy habits. For example:

1. Keep garbage cans secured in a locked shed until it is almost time for your trash to be picked up.
2. If kept outside, make sure that your garbage can is strong and sturdy and has a tightly-fitting lid.
3. Clean discarded birdseed around your bird feeders, and keep feeders up high so that coyotes cannot get to them.
4. Keep your pets indoors at night, and accompany your small pets when they go out during the day.
5. Avoid leaving water dishes out in your yard for your pets.
6. Don’t leave dog or cat food out overnight.
7. Keep cats indoors.
8. Secure your compost by keeping it in locked bins.
9. Close all openings under and into buildings to prevent their use as den sites.
10.  Remove brush or bush-hog to reduce the cover that predators can use to sneak up on domestic livestock.

It’s been said that nature abhors a vacuum. When humans wiped out the apex predators that were essential to maintaining a naturally functioning landscape, we opened the door to another talented hunter. The opportunistic and adaptable coyote moved into the landscape to fill the void. Where there is prey, there will be predators—it’s nature’s system of checks and balances playing out.

The post When Coyotes Threaten Your Livestock appeared first on Homestead.org.