2018 May June

loody murder as he shook her and tossed her out the gate. That set
the tone for Jake and every generation of geese to follow over the
next 14 years. She learned to keep out of their reach but was not
afraid of them and soon learned she could push them into taking
wing away from her ferocious barking and jumping back and forth.
She was a little lacking in working style, but she was self-taught
after all. As the years went by they established a sort of truce and
they would ignore her and she them when they were wandering
the farm yard.
Jake grew to be a great working partner for me plus a great
companion to my daughters. The dog lived free and was never on
leash or collared. She only ever had rabies inoculations by the farm
vet; in fact, only ever saw the vet when he came to the farm.
Well, that was not exactly true. One summer day I couldn’t
find her. She never strayed off the farm and all the dogs understood
the boundaries of the farm yard, the ditch line in the pasture to the
west, the north fence line to the pasture, the big Jack Pine in the
turn of the drive way and all around to the far side of the barn and
the pig pen. The only time they would go past these markers was
with me, be it on foot, snowshoes, or horse back. I looked in all
the possible places and no Jake. So I told the other dogs to stay
home and walked over to the neighbour’s farm on the other side
of the small valley. They were both in town at work, but we both
took care of each others farms when needed. We did have one new
neighbour across the road and they were not the nicest of people.
Their garbage bin was over flowing and they just tossed garbage
from the house always falling short of the bin. Ravens and the tracks
of many scavengers covered the ground as local wildlife took this
free food.
I walked past the mess and down the hill, over the wooden
bridge then up the hill and turned in to my friend’s driveway.
Walked up to her goat barn and there was Jake standing with her
brother Higgins. She looked pathetic, tail dragging and head low.
Ya, she was sick all right. So walked her home and drove to the
vets in town. Seems she was one of the scavengers of the sloppy
neighbour’s garbage and had a case of garbage gut. She was soon
fine after a short course of antibiotics. I educated her on the dangers
of sneaking down past the bush and crossing the road out of sight
of my house. She never went there again. I
thought all dogs were this easy to train.
As the years passed Jake proved her
worth as a working dog, she would go to the
back pasture a quarter-mile back down the
rock gully to fetch the horses and cows who
pastured there in summer. I liked to check
them over and always dished out some feed
to keep them coming up to the gate ever
day. Jake knew the name of every animal
on the farm. If I asked her to get Bertha,
for sure within minutes Bertha was at the
gate and I could just take her to tack up
for a ride. If I was milking my dairy goats
one word from me and Jake would send a
doe by name in the door. No matter what
order I milked she would bring the named
animal to me be it to milk or to trim feet.
My daughters were growing up and had
discovered the best fly-free place to sun
bathe was the roof of my low barn. They had a wooden ladder set
up and would climb up to enjoy the sun and often had girl friends
over from the next farms up the road. Soon Jake discovered she
could climb ladders and would be up on the roof in a flash. I could
see her from the kitchen window. However as adept at climbing
up, she never did master going down and I was always called to
get Jake off the roof. I would climb up put her over my shoulders
and hold her with one hand and carefully climb down. Poor Jake
didn’t like this part her legs out stiff and her feet all claws, if only
she would learn to back down the ladder she would not have to
endure this indignity. I even tried to teach her to no avail. Every
time I would get called to come get Jake off the roof. Sometimes
she would climb up just to enjoy the view, I don’t know what went
through her mind, but I would see her sitting waiting to be carried
down.
I decided to breed Jake to a nice black and copper dog on a
farm owned by two bachelor Finnish brothers who must have been
in their 70s but still farmed their 300 acres. Cutting firewood from
the wood lot, growing grain to make rye and wheat flour, oats for
horses, and other grains, plus taking in huge stretches of hay for
the 40 cow calf pairs, they farmed the traditional way. They never
used pesticides or any chemicals on their animals or crops. I had
asked if I could use their dog and they had said yes. So when I
thought it was time took Jake over and she was as the saying goes,
pasture bred.
To be continued . . .
Leah Swatko is a life member of
ASCA and Judge Rally, Obedience,
and Provisional Breeder Judge. She
resides in North Ontario, close to the
North Shore, with her dogs.
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92 AUSSIE TIMES May-June 2018