The Great Klamath Roundup

The Great Klamath Roundup

By J. Charles Dill 

The dogs had assembled in one locale 

They knew what had to be done 

Their masters took it so seriously and all 

But to them it was all just great fun 

Snipe stared intently down the field so distant 

A long pasture of grass and cattle 

The master’s whistle and his calm insistence 

Made it all look like it wasn’t a battle 

Snow ran the field with a blazing outrun 

The audience let out with a wow! 

She came up behind from out of the sun 

And she brought in the very last cow 

Red who acted real nonchalant 

Took his turn to shine in the sun 

While Blister tried the others to taunt 

Neither one of them actually won 

Then came His turn to run the whole show 

He felt His work was the purest of art

The new-dog-in-town that nobody know’d 

From then on though they'd all know Dart 

With the most graceful of gates His outrun He did 

A wide swooping sprint of elegant delight 

While master and horse with commands still unsaid

Dart worked them left and then He worked right 

Come-by and Away, Stop and Walk-Up 

With a focus that came from His confidence 

He worked that herd and a record time went up 

Dart was one with the field and the fence 

But when He put them away is when the crowd went wild 

He closed and latched the gate Himself - it’s true! 

And the horse and rider just simply stood by 

As Dart took the keys to the Ford truck too 

He got Him a drink after doing His job 

Then He bowed for the spectator’s view

This collie was not just a working dog 

He could put up all the horses to boot 

The tack in its place and the horses all groomed 

He would pull on the trailer rope gate 

He poured a cool drink for his cowboy friend too 

Jumped in the truck so they wouldn’t be late 

And as they drove off with that buckle in hand 

Dart turned as He so often did 

He winked out the window as they slowly drove past 

And the crowd was a mass dumbfounded 

But then Dart awoke from his afternoon dream

His master’s command and a quick leash jerk

It was time now for Dart to be part of the team

And go out and do some real ranch work


Copyright © 2010 J. Charles Dill

The Case Of The Feral Dogs

The Case of The Feral Dogs 
(My dream of November 15, 2009)

Early this morning, I was attending a party in Cottonwood. It was about 4:30 AM. The house? A pastoral country home, parents gone of course, a bunch of kids drinking beer. Other than that, it was well behaved. It seemed that I was the only adult there. As I walked in the front door, I noticed a long narrow stairway to my left. It rose, gently twisting clockwise about ninety degrees. To my right, the stairway continued downward into a basement area. There were kids standing all along the stairway. Surprisingly, the music wasn't too loud. 

The young folks didn't seem to mind me mingling in with them. I strolled up to the top of the stairs, spoke amiably with a few of them. I'm not sure why I was there really. It was all quite surreal. I didn't know anybody. I was clearly way older than any of them. I remember cautioning a few of the young folks on the dangers of drinking too much. We spoke of things. They were all quite polite. 

Then, I left - on foot.

It was a country dirt road, lined with country wire fence on either side. There was enough moonlight to see, plus I knew that the sun would soon appear. The road took a path across a small stream with a large tree in the middle. The stream was bordered by what you would expect, riparian trees and bushes. One such tree had grown right smack in the middle of the stream on a small island, and it was likewise situated in the middle of the dirt road that bisected the stream. To ford the stream would require getting my feat wet only up to my ankles, but taking my shoes off would solve that problem.

As I considered this, another issue arose. To my left, I became aware of a presence. It wasn't sound or sight that gave them away; more of a sixth sense that something was in the tall grass. Then, looking back to my right, I noticed that there were cows bunched together near the big tree in the middle of the stream. They were agitated, clearly. I then heard the first rustling in the tall grass. Creatures, multiple creatures, moving to my left, just off the road. The cows up ahead reacted with still more nervousness, huddling near the tree on that small island.

The distance back to the house was only a half mile or so, and I knew that there was also a house about a half mile ahead. These cows should not have been out free to roam on the road to begin with. It was a little bit of a mystery to me, but I stayed calm. I moved closer to the grass from which I heard the sounds, and I caught my first glimpse of a dog. It appeared to be a pit bull mix, black, body posture was projecting hunt mode. I heard other sounds off to the left, then saw other dogs, perhaps three or four. They were working as a team, as a pack. 

I have had some experience working border collies, and I understand a little of a dog's instinct to hunt. I also know of instances when dogs have become feral and killed livestock. There are even some cases in which people's pets have gone out at night, packed up, and killed as a team, returning home to their unsuspecting owners. Where I live, a person can shoot a dog attacking his livestock. But, here I was, stuck in the middle, between a pack of dogs on the hunt, and several bovine huddling around a tree in the middle of a stream.

Then, startled, I heard a crashing noise from behind me! It came from the opposite side of the road. I turned quickly, remembering that when any of the canine species hunts, they will use pack members to distract while others come around from behind. I thought for certain that I had become prey. To my surprise however, I was not met by the gleaming fangs of a dog, but a small red brown calf instead. It had been hiding stealthily in the grass right behind me. 

The dogs were after the calf. 

Of course, I thought, why go for a full grown cow with a young calf handy? The calf recognized the fact that I had created just the diversion that it needed to run back to the safety of the cows who were hunkering by the tree. As it did so, the dogs closed in. I raised my hands, and I growled loudly in a low baritone voice. As one dog cut away from the others, I made a squealing kind of sound, the kind of sound made by prey, high pitched, which diverted the dog's attention for just a split second. It worked. The calf was back with the three larger cows, leaving me in the road alone. 

Facing the dogs at all times, I walked slowly backwards. They kept a cautious distance. I reached the stream. We (me, the cows and the calf) walked across the stream together, down the road for a ways, the dogs keeping their distance behind me. I was between the cows and the dogs. We came to a tee in the road, and a small ranch house. There was an open gate that I deduced to be the proper home for the cows. They seemed to think so too, as they walked through the gate with no hesitation. I closed the gate behind them and turned around to observe the dogs. They had vanished. 

After seeing that all was okay, I took the road to the left and began walking. The sun would be up soon, and for the next little while I would pay special attention to the goings on in the grass next to the road.

The Last Cowboy & Corral

The Last Cowboy 
&
 Corral

An old cowboy sits by his TV windows,

To the world. Channels that barely work,

From commercials to static and even some snow,

And a new truck sold by a slick haired jerk.

This cowboy’s ways are all memories now,

A time when a dog really was needed,

A quarter section reserved just for the plow,

And the need to be annually seeded.

Cattle to be roped and brought all in,

From the hills to a safer locale,

With his sidekick he calls “My very best friend,”

A collie whose name is Corral.

With a Yippee-I-O and a Yippee Ki-Ay,

He strums while he’s out on the range,

The mesquite burns long until early next day,

He’s The Last Cowboy with Corral and the sage.

He’s simple - and he’s the only one left now,

As he sits and flips through the TV glass,

Thirteen channels of Go-Man-Go!

How he yearns for that simpler past.

Corral understands this cattleman’s mind,

He’s shared it with him through and through,

And he’ll stay by his master’s heel ‘til he goes blind,

But he has traded a boot for a shoe.

                                                                      

j. Charles Dill

Copyright © 2010 J. Charles Dill

Dogs In Heaven

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”

“This is Heaven, sir,” the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.”

The man gestured, and the gate began to open. 

“Can my friend,” gesturing toward his dog, “come in, too?” the traveler asked.

“I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.”

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

“Excuse me!” he called to the man. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.”

“How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to the dog.

“There should be a bowl by the pump,” said the man.

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

“What do you call this place?” the traveler asked. 

“This is Heaven,” he answered.

“Well, that's confusing,” the traveler said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell.”

“Doesn't it make you angry for them to use your name like that?”

“No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.”


Author Unknown