That'll Not Do

Newer Handlers Deserve Better From the Sheepdog Community

This article contains five stories from five handlers who were relatively new to the sheepdog scene at the time of the events in question. Their stories have been recounted here with their approval. Each event has been corroborated. Names, locations, genders and other key identifying details have been removed.

---

Story 1 The Nursery Trial The trial was a small one. Intended to be low key, educational and fun... it was for veterans and newcomers to stretch their young dogs ahead of the upcoming trial season. But like at many trials, volunteers were needed to make it run. So when help was called for by the organizers, some newer handlers raised their hands. The thankful host soon dispatched one of those relative beginners up to help set sheep. After all, what better trial than this for an enthusiastic newcomer to help out AND get a little spotting experience? But it wasn't long until... disaster! An Open handler had sent their dog only to see it cross on its outrun and drive its sheep back toward the set-out pens. The novice volunteer and their dog tried to hold things together... but it wasn't to be. When the dust cleared, the judge awarded a rerun. A lucky break for the Open handler. No big deal. Charitable, even, on the judges part. But this was a small and friendly trial so there was plenty of time to have a little grace. But not everyone got the memo. "I'm the one whose run you fucked up!!!" the Open handler would later scream at the newbie as they crossed paths, either utterly oblivious to or wilfully ignoring their own culpability in what had ocurred. "Now I get a rerun!" For the newcomer, the encounter was like a hammer blow to the heart. They haven't volunteered to help at an event since.

---

Story 2 The Training Day The newer handler was excited to be attending a learning day with their border collie. They mostly worked cattle, but were keen to try and build their skills on sheep, too. Organized by a local stock dog club, the event was meant to give novices a chance to practice a course under the helpful guidance of seasoned veteran handlers. A safe place to try something new -- and, maybe, a way to help bridge that daunting gap between working your dog at home and traveling to new fields to run in front of a judge and an audience of strangers. Though the novice's dog was fast and pushy, over the past few months their partnership had started to show signs of promise on sheep. It was taking whistle commands at range, doing some nice outruns... even starting to flank cleanly and demonstrate feel. This training day would be a chance to hopefully build on that and get exposure to the dream of trying sheep field trials down the road. But when it was finally their turn to try the course, the run didn't go great. Their dog was excited and not nearly as responsive as it had been during the last few practice sessions at home. Nothing criminal, and not even anything too far out of the norm alongside the other novices there that day. Nor did their dog endanger any sheep's lives or hides. Arguably, it was exactly the kind of run you'd expect from a young dog and a new handler trying out a field course in a setting meant to be judgement-free. But there would be judgement. And muttering. And clearly audible snide remarks of 'cattle bred' from some of the 'mentors' and 'veterans' present. Later, for all to hear the newcomer would be told all the ways their dog and handling were inadequate. How they had no grasp on the basics and needed to start over. How they had shown how ill prepared they were to try a course like this. Then, they'd be escorted to a separate area to work in a round pen, away from the other novices while the learning day continued on. The newcomer would leave feeling doubtful that sheepdog trialing, and the community around it, was right for them. They haven't attended another 'learning' event organized by their local club since.

---

Story 3 The Threat The veteran handler's run was not going well. From a rough lift onward, the sheep were increasingly disgruntled and resistant to the dog. Frustration was seeping in as things went increasingly sideways. Nothing shocking -- just a handler and their dog trying to make a go of it on a cold and windy day at a challenging trial. Finally, mercifully, something occurred which gave the judge grounds to call the run off. Seeing the run come to an end, the exhaust volunteer sent their dog to retrieve the sheep. The trial had designated exhaust volunteers, including a few relative newcomers, to ensure a quick flow between teams and to prevent tired dogs and handlers from having to clean up their own runs. At this particular moment, the individual at exhaust was one of those newcomers. But the veteran handler, it seemed, was not ready to relinquish control just yet. As the exhaust dog came around, the veteran handler continued to whistle their dog on. Clearly intending on marching them to the exhaust pens by themselves. Ignoring the exhaust dog in the process. "It's ok, I've got them!" the exhaust volunteer exclaimed from the pen a hundred yards away. The veteran handler ignored them. Kept whistling their dog on. Trying, it seemed, to do an assisted drive. The sheep weren't having it. "I've got them! Call your dog please!" the volunteer repeated, a little louder. Still, the Open handler pressed on, whistling faster for their dog to keep trying to push. The sheep were now nearly up against a fence, refusing to go anywhere as two dogs worked them at cross purposes. "CALL YOUR DOG!" the volunteer finally shouted. There was a pause. Silence. The spectators in the crowd looked on. Reluctantly, the veteran handler called their dog off. With only the exhaust dog now pushing on them, the sheep began to move at a steady pace. Later, the open handler would make the long walk over to the pens to scold the volunteer where no one else could hear. "I don't know who you think you are telling me to call my dog off," they would say quietly and menacingly as they approached. The volunteer would offer in return they were just doing their job. "Oh Yeah?" The Open handler would reply coldly, "well this community is a lot smaller than you think, and you can bet I'll be sure to have a lot to say about you from now on". From all accounts, they've lived up to their word.

---

Story 4 The Call  The novice handler was pretty proud of their dog.... and themselves. They were right to be. Just a few months earlier, they'd rescued the border collie pup from a home that wasn't working. It had been exposed a bit to stock there, but not under the best circumstances. When it came to its new home it knew no commands. It was nervous and pressure sensitive. The first time it was brought to stock it would leave the area the second a sheep looked at it. Maybe it wasn't cut out to be a stockdog? But the handler didn't give up on the young dog. They figured that even if the dog had an unfortunate first home, maybe it could turn into something with time and effort. After a month or two spent building a relationship, the novice began to bring the dog to sheep. They had some help from a local trainer, but for every minute spent with a mentor they put in 20 by themselves with their dog. The results were pretty dramatic. Now the pup was happy, keen and learning fast. It was picking up commands quicker than it seemed anyone could even teach it. Most importantly, it adored its handler -- wanting to be near and around them as much as possible and eager to please them on or off stock. Soon, instead of strategizing ways to keep the dog focused on its work or to feel confident in general, it became a challenge to peel them off their stock when a session came to an end. One night the novice handler put their young dog on a new challenge: an arena styled course. They'd never tried something like that before and wanted to see how it would go. It went incredibly well. So well in fact that their mentor took some video of what followed. From outrun, to fetch, to driving with sideways pressure and even negotiating sheep through some narrow spaces... the dog took almost every command with gentle but growing confidence. The sheep, though flighty and easily spooked when worked by other dogs that night, were calm throughout -- as if the young dog had a way of just melting the tension out of them. Barely commanding above a whisper, the newer handler moved dog and sheep around a course that not many could not have done as smoothly or as cleanly on their first try. The response to the footage was immediate. It got thousands of views and dozens of folks reached out asking how the dog was bred or whether it was for sale (it wasn't). Most of all though, everyone just seemed happy to see the results of a feel-good story of a Novice handler that had rescued a young stockdog from a bad situation and, with time and effort, turned it a happy and forward partner. Everyone, that is, except for one individual. One night the Novice handler got a call from a number they didn't recognize -- a local 'Open' handler who they had never trained with and barely knew. The Open handler was 'concerned'. Said the dog looked unsure and told the Novice they should rethink their training or else the dog would "shut down" and "lose its desire to work". Told them their training and handling was too hard, and how it was working "wasn't normal". The implication was obvious: you don't know what you're doing. And you should doubt yourself, doubt your instincts and depend upon me. But the unsolicited 'feedback' didn't track with the Novice handler -- it seemed like the opposite of what was happening when their dog worked. Especially given where it had come from and with how its confidence and skills were growing each week. And besides, wouldn't the Open handler have asked some questions about the dog's history, or wanted to grasp some context, before leaping to conclusions if they were truly just trying to help? So they thanked the Open handler for their 'concern', ended the call and to their credit kept moving forward. The dog in question continues to get better and better.

---

Story 5 The Malcontent The up-and-coming-handler knew the trial was keen to get help at set out and, figuring a small and friendly event would be a safe place to chip in and learn, offered to head up with their dog to do what they could. The trial host was grateful for the offer. As the newcomer began setting runs, though, it quickly became clear it was hard going. Though a newer handler, they had a LOT of dog and were struggling a bit to get sheep to the pin consistently and calmly. Of course, learning to set is not exactly an easy skill when you're starting out, and even at a smaller trial there's always that pressure of not wanting to get it wrong that adds to the challenge. Fortunately, a well-known top handler was present that day and, seeing how things were going, made their way up to assist. But they didn't do so by hustling the newer handler out of the job and replacing them. Instead, they helpfully spent a few moments offering advice as to how the novice could make things easier on themselves and their dog.  It worked like a charm. Suddenly, the sets were easier and calmer. The advice helped settle everything down and set both dog and novice up to succeed. It hadn't taken too much and now a first-time setter was finding their feet and building experience in a region that all too often has to rely on the same small handful of handlers to set at trials. Later, that Novice would have multiple competitors come up to them thanking them for doing the job. Indeed, at that point they maybe could have gone home feeling confident in what they'd learned and how they'd developed during their time up top. But then some news made its way to them that changed all that. After the trial was over, the novice was told how one Open handler down the field had been making a loud and large show of saying, to anyone and everyone who would listen, that the newer handler "never should have been up there", that they would "fuck up everyone's runs" and that they were "too stupid to set". Suddenly, the day's achievements didn't feel as warm as they had moments before. And so, predictably perhaps, the newer handler hasn't volunteered at another trial since. Who could blame them?

---

Closing Thoughts Is This Who We Are? It's easy to think of stories like those above as outliers -- a few bad apples maybe going a bit too far in some isolated incidents. But talk to a few novice handlers (or those who were recently novices) in the North American sheepdog scene and it starts to become clear pretty quickly that experiences like these are common. Everyone, it seems, has at least one or two stories to tell. What's more, in all but one of the stories above, the 'veterans' involved were at the time sitting directors/board members on one or more local and national organizations whose stated purposes are to 'promote and grow' the community of working stock dogs and handlers in North America. Brazenly violating the values and mission they're supposed to be championing. So the question becomes: why is this the case? Why do we allow it? If we love training, working and competing with sheepdogs as much as we say we do... why aren't we more intolerant and outspoken about putting an end to the very behaviour that arguably poses the greatest threat to its growth and future? Because it's not inflation, the cost of keeping livestock or PETA that will cause this thing we all love to dwindle and fade. The problem is us, the Open handlers. What we say, how we act and what we permit to occur to the next generation. We're not doing our part. And that'll not do.