Nourishing Bites | Scottish Homecoming
Sir Archie | There’s always time for joy.
Each morning, I am greeted by a squeaky yawn and a very wiggly nose. Archie, our seven month old collie pup is usually content to keep on snoozing in his plush dog bed until I head for the kitchen door. Then he is at my heels, ready as ever. He stretches out his long, lanky body, reaches his front legs way out, and with a deep bow, opens his mouth widely and loudly. Then his nose and tail dance in a kind of reverberating wiggle on a continuous loop until I open the door and together we set out into the world.
As Archie and I make our morning chore rounds, checking on goats, filling water pails, and feeding Slim Pickings and Olivia, he is never underfoot, but always near. He may race ahead, or lag behind (depending on where the coyotes, deer, and rabbits have passed through the night before), but there is no doubt in my mind he will circle back or catch up to give my hand a playful goosing and check in. As I walk up the long gravel lane with Archie zigzagging behind, I sometimes laugh, thinking- am I leading him or is he herding me? The truth is probably a mix of both!
I have never had the company of a dog who chooses my company over the vast and intriguing options available at the farm. And as tiresome as it is to chase down an errant canine from the canyon, or the front field, or the tomato rows (yes, Samson, I’m thinking of you…), I can’t very well blame any of my canine friends. From a dog’s perspective, farm life is a panoply of endless smells, critters, sticks, holes... things to investigate! Everywhere! All the time!
For the first half of my chore routine, I let Archie focus on getting his wiggles out. He is not leashed or restrained in any way, and I don’t expect his undivided concentration. He is, afterall, a mere toddler. Nonetheless, I am continuously amazed at his devotion to me and his instinctual understanding that we have work to do. He waits patiently at the gate while I put fresh bedding down for the goats, and he gives the cats a wide berth from their hay bale perches while I fill their water dishes. I am not waiting on him or wasting time extracting him from the intriguing smells of the woods. He has a circuit, for sure, but when I head up the lane, or out to the field, I call for him and he appears. It is truly as if he was made for diversified, small farm life, in which we all must wear multiple hats, and perform multiple jobs. And, in fact, he is genetically exactly meant for this life.
Collies originated in Scotland, and from the beginning, they were bred to do much more than herd livestock. These highly versatile farm dogs are typically extremely loyal to their families and their farms. Described as, “devoted, graceful, quick on their feet” Collies know it is their duty to keep everything (and everyone) in order. Reading the history of this breed has been immensely helpful in understanding Archie himself. Now, all of us are our own, unique blend of genetics and curious peculiarities, but all in all, it is a newfound joy for me to have a dog who is absolutely, perfectly suited to our farming life.
Sir Archie has integrated himself so well into farm life, it is incredibly easy to forget he is still just a puppy. Of course he chews and chases and sometimes whines to go out at 2 a.m. (cuz the smells are good and the moon is bright!), but all in all, I am absolutely in awe of how well adapted he is, and how content we all are at his presence at the farm. One morning up at the big barn, I came around the corner upon Archie, sitting intently in the chicken yard while Chubby the hen and her three week old chicks crossed in front of him, a mere two feet away. I held my breath that a great catastrophe would not unfold… but it was as if this pup had seen baby birds dart and bob and peep and hop a million times before. He was curious, but in a calm, curious sort of way. Then he took on a sort of School Crossing Guard persona. “Make way roosters, baby chicks coming thru!”
Whoa, I exhaled in relief.
Whoa, I inhaled with awe!
It was as if he was made for this environment, for this farm life— I have to keep reminding myself, why, yes… of course, he is.
“The American Working Farmcollie, also known as the Old Farm Shepherd (Old Shep), was once the most popular dog in the country. As descendants of the old working collies from the British Isles, the farm collies were versatile dogs, indispensable to farmers in the 19th and early twentieth centuries.
Like their ancestors, the American Farm Collies excelled at herding, guarding (both livestock and the family), hunting and predator control. Their duties varied from protecting the baby from snakes to moving the bull. Over the years, however, the focus of American life moved from the homestead to the urban areas, and as small farms became swallowed up in larger corporate farms or urban sprawl, the need for this type of all-purpose farmdog had all but disappeared. In its place came myriads of specialized breeds – companion dogs, hunting dogs, guardian dogs and herding dogs.” ~American Working Farmcollie Association
You might have noticed that earlier I wrote that for the first half of morning chores I leave Archie to his nose and boundless curiosity. Once we get to the chicken coop, our freelance arrangement comes to a halt. Archie follows me right to the chicken coop door, and then I pen him in a small holding area while I tend the flock. Once I’m done, the leash comes out, and he and I informally begin puppy school. He and I work on learning how to communicate. We practice sitting and staying and lying down and waiting at gates and leaving yummy mouse carcasses right where they are. Our puppy class doesn’t last long- just the length of the big field from the east barn down to the vineyard, but it’s a crucial part of our day that I am grateful for.
You can imagine how “much” time we farmers have these days for extracurricular activities. One crucial strategy I employ often is finding ways to make daily habits serve multiple purposes. I don’t carve out special time just for training Archie, as much as possible, I make every part of every minute I spend with him a learning opportunity. I don’t focus on huge achievements, but rather little successes that build, one on another. Like developing muscles, consistency is key.
Aside from the general benefit of practicing good habits daily, our puppy school arrangement came about because Archie has a case of what I call chickenbrain. When he sees the birds outside their fence, his mind and countenance soar off into a different world in which nothing else exists except him and all those feathers that are on the wrong side of the fence. He gets so intense! Of course, he was bred for this too.
In his unrestrained, untrained, youthful impatience, he cannot stand the disorder and chaos, and he will race back and forth doing everything in his power to convince those chickens to get back inside.
This all came into clear relief for me two weeks ago, one afternoon. Brad and I were out harvesting in the field. Archie ‘helped’ by sitting on the golf cart seat. When we were finished, we let him off to stretch his legs and he zoomed up a row of tomato plants, disappearing briefly. The next thing we heard was flustered clucking and a Barred Rock hen came blasting out toward us with Archie hot on her heels.
He somehow knew she was in the vegetable field, but how? And after all these mornings helping me do chores, he inherently knew chickens belong over there, not here. Wow!
Before we could say a word, Archie chased that chicken all the way up to the barn. I completely underestimated the seriousness with which he took his work because I told Brad, “Let’s head down to the packing shed and unload our crates. I am sure when we disappear from sight, he’ll come bounding down to find us.”
I called to Archie telling him “Let’s go!” Then Brad and I headed off.
Three minutes later and no Archie.
So I walked back up to investigate.
That pup was standing in the grass at the corner of the field, his long nose pointed straight at ground. And of course, nestled down in that corner was the Barred Rock hen, with nowhere to go.
Archie, under the power of chickenbrain, could not hear me calling, could not pay attention to anything but his job. I have no doubt he would have stayed out there all night, keeping that hen from intruding on the tomatoes, if I had not come out to pick her up and lift her back up and over onto the right side of the fence.
Once I did just that, Archie raced off around the rest of the fence to check for other feathered trespassers. All amped up from his experience, he could not relax and I had to fashion a makeshift baling twine leash to pull him away from chickenland. All the way back from the barn to the house we instituted ad hoc puppy school. I worked with him to keep his attention on me via a series of stays and downs and comes. By the time we got to the big apple tree, he had returned to his good natured, silly, take nothing too seriously puppy self. I uprooted a giant pigweed and shook it free of soil. This set him all a-wiggle and we played tug of war for several paces before he raced off down the path to Brad, tripping over the stalk and shaking it left and right for good measure. As he bound off, I thought to myself, there is such joy in finding where you belong in this world and inhabiting that space fully.
Archie has helped me see how I sometimes suffer from what one might call farmbrain. I am devoted to the end of the row, to the weeding or sorting or thinning or tending. My vision narrows, and I cannot focus on humans or timelines or commitments or conversation. I am in the field, with work to do, me and the Earth, the Earth and I. For a time, nothing else exists…
As I learn about and grow more attached to Archie’s buoyant spirit, I see this farm and my work from a new perspective. Just like this beautiful smooth coated Collie, I feel as though I was made for diversified farm life.
And like Archie, I too have Scottish ancestors, so his arrival in my life feels like a happy homecoming.
All in all, if I had a tail, it’d surely be wagging. ~AJ
Helping Transplant Spring Fennel | Let’s just be together, shall we?