The Story of Wool

by Sara Ware Bassett

To his dogs he was a god! Still, with all their devotion, the collies evidently understood that the sheep were their first care and they never deserted their watch to accompany Sandy when he went on a hunt for water-holes or more abundant feeding grounds. They were wonderfully intelligent animals—these collies. Donald constantly marveled at their cleverness. They were quick in singling out the slow or wayward sheep and would bite their heels to hurry them along. They also recognized the leaders and it was to them that they communicated the directions Sandy gave them. Yet Sandy seldom spoke to his dogs. A motion of his arm and they would spring forward and follow out his wish. Only when he commanded it did they bark. With their drooping, bushy tails and sharp noses they reminded Donald far more of wolves than dogs. Sandy was kind to all of them, but it was Robin and Prince Charlie of which he was most fond. They had been bred from dogs his father had brought from the Old Country, he explained to Donald. There were few persons in the world for whom he cared so much. Once when Robin had been lost on the range the herder had traveled the hills three whole days to find him.

"What makes shepherd dogs so different from other dogs, Sandy?" asked Donald one day.

"Some of it is in their blood. They seem to want to herd sheep—they can't help it. Then some of the credit of a fine sheep dog is due to his training. Why, I was months working over Robin and the Prince. I had them with goats and sheep from the time they were born. As soon as they were big enough I began teaching them to come when I called 'em. A good dog has got to learn to come to you when you speak. If he has done wrong he has got to come and be punished. Some dogs will run away when they see that you have caught them doing the wrong thing. You cannot let a sheep dog do that."

"But how do you train them so they won't?"

"I will tell you. It seems a heartless sort of way, but I had to do it. I tied them with a long piece of rope; then I called them. As soon as they came I spanked them good and hard, and afterward I'd pat them and give them a scrap of meat. They understood in time. They would come anyway—sure thing. If I whacked 'em it was all the same to them. By and by when they got so they would mind, I didn't have to whack 'em, and now it is seldom I lay hand to 'em. It was no pleasure to me, I can tell you, and I quit it just as soon as I felt sure they would walk up like gentlemen whenever I spoke, no matter if they knew beforehand that they were to be whipped. You can see why this had to be, Don. Of course you know such dogs have the nature of wolves. In fact the better the shepherd dog, the more like a wolf he is. Now a wolf is a born enemy of sheep. Sometimes the wolf in a shepherd dog will get the better of him and he will turn about and kill the lambs instead of guarding them. If a sheep-dog is once a killer he has to die. You can never be sure of him again. So you cannot turn a dog loose on the range unless he will come to you when you speak."

"I suppose he might start killing sheep and you would not be able to get control of him," ventured Donald, much interested.

"That is just it! He must come even if he knows he is to be shot the next minute. There is no safety for the sheep unless it is so. My dogs would come to me willy-nilly."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes, unless you have been months and months, as I was, getting them to do it; and even then it is rather wonderful. But a thing quite as wonderful as that is that they know every sheep in the flock. Let a ewe from another fold come in and they will scent her quick as lightning. And there is something else they will do: they understand well as ourselves that sheep will walk right over ledges and into pits, one after another; so the collies will stand guard at the edges of such places and warn 'em off. What is that but human, I ask you?"

Donald nodded.