Any dog will tell you that muster dogs are much easier on the cattle and sheep compared to quad bikes and motorbikes and helicopters, which are going to stress any animal out.
And they don’t break down or fail to turn up or complain about the weather or the long hours or the food. They just need a pat and a shared bowl of tucker at the end of the day.
I suppose it’s a good thing that a lot of farmers are turning back to dogs after trying out all the expensive and fancy technology — although there’s nothing cheap about these dogs either.
They cost around $35,000 and, apart from myself, I can’t think of any dog in the world worth that much. The Boss reckons a good dog is worth more than a worker and you can’t get a man for $35,000 — but I can’t think of a man worth that much either. Certainly not The Boss. I’d take $100 for him.
But getting back to the fuss about Muster Dogs. They sent the dogs to different properties around the country and set three, six, nine and 12-month targets the dogs would be judged on and the ooh-ing and aah-ing is going on and on because they are doing a new episode at each point to check on their progress.
So at three months they were expected to sit, stop, stay amongst distractions and come when called. And that’s a piece of cake — I was already in a management and leadership role at three months, although The Boss might say I was perfecting the bullying of my brothers and sisters, particularly at meal times. By six weeks I was three times bigger than my little sister Belle.
At six months they were expected to show herding skills, jump on to a bike or in the back of a ute and walk beside their handler without a leash. I could have taught them herding, having honed my skills herding the missus towards my food bin on the dot of five o’clock. This necessitates pushing my way into the house, standing in her way if she tries to retreat, blocking her way out of the passage and nudging her along with my nose and trying to get her in the same state of excitement as me. I’m an expert.
And walking beside The Boss was a much earlier lesson. He carried a spring steel horse trainer with him because he doesn’t like a dog pulling on a leash — and a smart dog learns not to get in front the first time it lands on his nose.
At nine months they were expected to resist distraction as well as sit, stop and hold around the sheep or cattle. Then they had to work the animals from the sides as they got into mustering stuff. This is essentially about intense focus of course, something which I have honed to an art form where any kind of food is concerned. Focus on anything else is pretty much a waste of time.
At 12 months, looks like there will be a competition to see which of the five muster dogs — all from the same litter — does the best job of rounding up a mob of sheep or cattle and driving them through a gate or into a yard.
It’s a tough call, to be honest, doing what usually takes a muster dog three years to do, and little Annie, a poised black and tan kelpie, currently shows the best class — though her doting grazier boss, Frank from Clermont, seems to have put a lot of time into her.
Three others are all pretty good — Chet, Spice and Gossip also put up a good show. And then there is Lucifer, the free spirit of the bunch and a rascal. It was clear from day one he wasn’t going to fit in with anybody’s plan except his own. Like me, he thinks the first rule in life is to have a good time. Woof!