Shooting the Dogs
It makes the tough decisions of the city look pretty easy.
Shooting the Dogs belongs to the following groups:
All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical and Short stories - Spherical ScriptingsIt is tough country out beyond Gundagai; not many trees, low hills and thin grass. In summer the place is all glare and dust. In winter the frost can be as thick as snow. The merino sheep here grow fine wool in their hunger –19 microns or less. After the sweat of the shearing sheds, the wool eventually makes it to the mills of Milan where its turned into “100+” suits. Managing these sheep are steady men and their dogs.
The dogs live on chains in the yard. When visitors come up the drive they set off a right racket. There are only ever 4 or 5 as the farmer needs no more. They are treated with a kindly familiarity. Each dog known by name: Georgie, Alice, Badge, Blackie, Screwie (short for Screwloose). There is also Jess, the farmer’s first dog. At almost 18 she can barely walk and can be a mean bitch. The farmer has a love for her and she alone of all the dogs knows what lies beyond the farmhouse door. She was a great worker in her time and most of the dogs are related to her in some way.
The great passion of the dogs, aside from dinner, is working the sheep. It only happens every 3 or 4 days and that is their time. They become what they were born for when they are unclipped from the chains. The farmer shouts out the odd command: “get back”, “go-round”, “behind” or “speak up”. The last request is met with a staccato of barks that will move even the dullest sheep in the yards. For long stretches they work without commands as they seem to be able to look towards the farmer and guess his desire. Generally there is one dog, but only one, that knows right from left. The farmer can shout, “left Alice” and she will move to that side of the mob. Folks from the city don’t notice but the farmer smiles inwardly at how clever she is.
Every couple of years the farmer needs a new dog to replace one that is getting old or is injured. He will take his top bitch and mate her with a neighbour’s dog he knows is a good worker. Out will come five or six brown balls of fur. The bitch will suckle them protectively. The farmer will watch them as they grow. None are named. In due course they earn their own chain. They strain to be taken out with the other dogs to work the sheep. The farmer is careful here because a new dog can cause a mob to split or worse. He introduces them slowly and watches. It is hard to guess his thoughts at this point.
Over time each of the dogs learns the basics but some learn quicker and some seem to know what is required before the others. The farmer watches. Is that dog a little lame? Does that dog bite too hard when asked to “nip”? Does that dog move left with Alice when I call? He watches. And he begins to judge.
The first one isn’t the hardest. There is always one dog that wasn’t meant for the farm. It will be late in the day. The farmer will walk up to the dogs and release just the one dog from its chain. This is rare and the free dog is dizzy with the treat. The farmer will gently rough her round the ears. He will look at her with a terrible kindness and may reach into his pocket for a bit of dried food. They will walk out. She is young and won’t walk close like the older dogs know. For the moment the farmer doesn’t mind. His thoughts are elsewhere. He carries the old sawn-off 22 (its not strictly a legal gun but is very convenient). They will walk for a little while and then perhaps a little while longer. The farmer says to himself he wants to be out beyond where the other dogs can hear. He gains a little more time in the presence of this unnamed dog. He calls her to him and all-trust she runs up and delights in his special attention. The rest is quick. A single shot.
The hardest dogs are the last. These are the ones who could almost make it. They are almost named (the farmer has the inkling of a name in his head). He walks even longer with these ones. He will drink an extra beer in the evening after he returns. At the end there will be just one, good dog from this litter and he or she will be named.
Wendy Slee
I come from a farm, and have learned there is no room for feelings where animals are concerned. At times you have to be “heartless”.
It breaks me. I cannot bear what gets done, the things I see and hear.
Yet I am sure that if the animals are nurtured in the life they have, that those quick fleeting seconds of death are honorable and unrecognized for what they are. It is we humans who carry the scars of each and every death.
This is a horrifying yet true story….and I recognize the truth in the farmers actions….what a hard and horrid task….one that I take my hat off to, as I could never do this, no matter what.
(I am the one hiding under the bed with my fingers in my ears, crying, so I cannot hear the gun…..)
Jessica Tremp
oh god Martin, you’ve nearly got me sobbing violently here at work…i’d love to say ‘how cruel and awful’ but i know damn well that it is also honest and that people who buy their little kids toy dogs or cute puppies are usually committing far worse…especially when they realize the dog has grown too big or the ‘toy’ can’t come along on holidays…these dogs have names too…
Cathie Tranent
I could never do this, but neither could I live with the twists and turns of mother nature’s warped sense of humour. It’s a fact of life (and death) on a farm, you need to earn your keep.
A farmer friend of ours allowed his children a pet pig only after they acknowledged that it would ultimately become bacon. Harsh but fair.
Rose Moxon
my kids will take the dogs!!! this is wonderful martin.
Pilgrim
People will ask why these farmers don’t give the dogs away to people in the city. This would be far worse. The dogs are meant to run large distances and being in the suburbs with the odd walk around the block would kill them slowly. We all know people who have working dogs – when they really should have a Pekingese or Cavalier Spaniel.
As for keeping them. The farmers simply can’t afford non-productive dogs. It cost $3-500 a year to feed a working dog and there is not the luxury of keeping more than are needed.
Paul Louis Vil...
For a complete city slicker I’m drawn to the cruelty but the realist inside me understands the need. This is quite a piece Martin. Thank you for sharing.
Jessica Tremp
Martin, I know exactly what you mean…I had a border collie x Kelpie a few years back, Tess, she was my absolute everything and I always felt so guilty for not having a wide open farm for her to run around on…I’d take her for runs, throw balls until she was utterly exhausted and my guilt somewhat washed away for another night. They are the best dogs in the world and so loyal (but that’s another story). But yes, if i get a dog again and am restrained to city living, I will be forced to reconsider my breed choices…
Damian
Nicely done Martin, I thought it captured the feel of it. I grew up on a farm, so see nothing but the truth of things here. Farm living is based on life and death, although the killing is always hard at first.
Suzanne German
Martin that’s fantastic! what a read…and how educational…so many wouldn’t know about the lives of these sheep dogs and their farmers. Felt so connected to these dogs….you really put so much life in to this piece….Love it!
micmac
I just put my old dog to sleep with the vet.gentle touch ,I thought I was ok until I read your wonderful writing .It’s just been 4 days,thanks to you I realise I still have to cry a little….xxx…Gigi
Trish Cooper
Oh my…...sooo sad…..i know that this is one of the realities of farm life, but it is still soooo sad to think about…you captured I think everyones heart with your portrayal of this….You truly are a gifted writer….You have that very important quality that a writer needs to be great….you get your reader involved and captivated from the fery first line…..and hold our attention to the very last line…..what an amazing gift you have…thankyou for sharing this…Trish
David Haviland
Always 2 sides to a story and very rare that someone can convey both sides so well n a single story. Loved this.
Melinda Kerr
Great piece of writing Martin. I have a border collie in the city but have been blessed. She’s the most laid back girl you could meet. Even the vet says ‘she’s the exception that proves the rule.’ I thank God every day I have had such a lucky break as I couldn’t stand it if she needed more and I couldn’t give it. The next dog won’t be a border ‘cos I know I won’t get that lucky twice. Great work Martin.
Stacey Hatton
What a powerful piece of writing. I had no idea they would kill the puppies that aren’t good for the farm. Why don’t they just sell them? I can see the sad truth in this piece though. Very well written.
Pilgrim
Stacey
They don’t sell them because other farmer’s wont buy dogs that aren’t good workers and while city folks might buy them (or take them for free), working dogs generally make very bad pets. They need to walk and run huge distances and they are bred to work sheep. Without this they tend to go slightly crazy.
Hop Dac
my parents have a friend who’s a pig farmer and occasionally they’ll take their dogs out ‘roo shooting. they had a big one called ‘boss-dog’ that was a greyhound-staghound cross. boss-dog would train the younger dogs how to muster the kangaroos and also to order them to come back to the hunt should they (the young dogs) get too far away. a big kangaroo will reach down to bear hug an inexperienced dog and kick its guts out if it’s not careful. anyway, i dig these stories of rural life, there’s something very disarming about them.
Madeleine Biancon
I totally understand why farmers have to this, I have lived on a farm all my life and have seen many animals die over the years it is horrible but usually for the best..
And I, personally, would prefer to have this done than see the poor dog go stircrazy in a tiny courtyard in some city.
I really like this piece and enjoyed reading it.. Very well written.
Jason Moses
Beautifully written, Pilgrim. I love the short time I’ve spent in the country, and have often thought that I couldn’t do stuff like this.
EmptyHead
Nice piece. Great setting.
AnnH
Thank you Pilgrim. I was too moved to immediately respond to this . You so appreciate and have expressed the bond of love and respect between a farmer and his dogs. Jess ( Yap) died peacefully in his arms from the vet’s gentle needle and lives on in three bright eager faces and the joyous barking at the first sign of the boss.
nick board
I know nothing about farming, but i appreciate the power of this narrative, and the insight that it gives. Thankyou a beautifully composed piece.
MissKristy
Oh god…I could be violently ill right now…
Reality is hard to take..especially when you have an interest. I so wish I could hug my dog right now. All dogs in fact.
MissKristy
p.s I have a working dog..a kelpie that needs to run. I live in the suburbs but I make sure she gets what she needs too. She is my Queen…I worship that dog.
AnnH
The three workers had a great time over Christmas New year, (lots of sheep work with family to help) but a young labrador has joined the dog family as a family (human) pet but of course he has to be with the kelpies to play and be one of the pack. He just has not got the instincts but in the yards his bark is great and he is trying to learn from the workers how to get the boss’s praise.Above all this is what they all strive for. It is very interesting to see how an intelligent dog is actually learning something that is not in his breeding.
deliriousgirl
WoW! Stunning piece of prose. Simply, elegantly constucted—but with a powerful punch!
I love it even though I’m crying.
LOVE AND PEACE, jen
Evangeline Than
Powerful writing, Pilgrim. I hope you don’t mind if I link to this from an external website.
Pilgrim
Evangline, feel free to link.
picketty
I have qualms when I have to thin out the vegetable seedlings….....i guess this is the same sort of thing but a leap away form the world of cabbages and tomatoes.
Leon Walker
This is wonderfully written and a glimse into an unfamiliar culture for me. It is warmly and clearly presented and the spooky ghost of compassion is floating around in here. Excellent work!
bluebubble927
Tears fell to my keyboard as I read your moving story. Both of my dogs put their head on each of my knees possibly feeling my saddness somehow and knowing it was linked to something canine. Your story is so wonderfully written in the way it shows the business of the farm. Most of the people now a days don’t have any idea where their food or clothing gets it’s start from. Your heart wrenching story gets down to the nuts and bolts of if without lacking the much needed compassion concerning such a difficult subject. Well done! Excellent job!
Bev Woodman
Wonderfully told, I felt every bit of your story, I felt your pain and understand how the bush life/death tactics all work. Its a hard but rewarding life and these dogs are so much a part of it – there is no room for displayed softness but underneath I know how it all feels – Your story brought back so many memories of a sheep property my dad worked on at Bow near Merriwa and the many times we spent there. We knew the work dogs were there for one reason and that was to work and I was taught very early in life why they were chained up and why they didn’t lead the same life as the homestead dog. Thank you for sharing this story – I’m still crying!
Pilgrim
replied
Bev, thank you for your comment. It is just great to share detailed stories and to hear the responses. The more I write this sort of stuff the more I remember, the more alive I become.