Our Dog, Belle

Belle is our Great Pyrenees.  She's a good girl.  A BIG girl, but a good girl.  Lately we've had some fierce storms that blew through our area.  As big as she is, she's a big baby when it comes to bad weather.  She hides under my workbench in the garage.  She will also beg and Tricia caves in and lets her come into the house.  She parks her big rear end in the half bathroom by the back door.  The next morning the half bathroom smells like "wet dog."  Not good.

She's been barking a lot at night.  We know that there are stray cats in the area and that may be what she's carrying on about.  Or we know that the neighbors have dogs.  If there are any other dogs in the proximity of Belle, she lets them know that this is her territory and it's off limits to her.  Regardless, she barks loud and we worry that it is bothering the neighbors.  We've apologized to them on her behalf.  They say it doesn't bother them, but we think they're just being kind.

Belle's job is to be a livestock guardian dog, but fulfilling that job description started off in less than stellar fashion.  When we first got her and put her with the animals, she promptly chased the chickens and ate a few of them.  She also ate the valve stems and mud flaps off the pickup truck.  She also had a penchant for chewing through the brake lines on my car.  I drove to work with no brakes one day.  "My dog is trying to kill me," I thought.  Those shenanigans cost us some money.  I'm glad to say that as she's grown older, she's grown out of most of those bad behaviors.  Except for digging holes.  That dog excels at hole-digging.  Not your garden variety hole, but 'fall in the hole and sprain your ankle' holes.

Fact of the matter is, we love that girl.  She likes to sit out by the barn in a dog house that I built many years ago for a puppy we had named Cutie Pie.  Cutie Pie was stolen!  What type of individual steals a child's puppy?  It is heart-breaking to lose a dog.  By the way, have you ever seen the movie, "My Dog, Skip?"  Wonderful movie.  I highly recommend it.

Stoic Belle

I think she'd like it if we stenciled her name on the dog house.  To be honest, I didn't think she'd fit in it.  She's way bigger than Cutie Pie was!

Smiling Belle

Belle just likes being around people.  She likes her people.  If we're outside, she's gonna come find us and get some attention.  Sometimes her desire to be the center of attention is overwhelming.  A few Saturday mornings ago I was on the back patio reading over my Sunday School lesson.  Trying to read over my Sunday School lesson...

Our dog, Belle, made it very difficult to get any Bible Study done on that particular morning.  Who could deny attention to that face?  Not me!

The Surveillance State

To say I don't like modernity is an understatement.  Oh, for sure I like the ease and efficiency that certain technological advancements have afforded us, but I wonder if it's all worth it for what you lose.  I don't think it is worth it at all.  I don't like the fact that information about us is being gathered and sold.  If you google search a product or ask a question, pop up ads appear on your computer and phone.  If you talk about something, your phone is listening and you will receive ads for the topic of your conversation.  It is really just too much!  The genie, it appears, is out of the bottle, and I don't see any way of getting her back in.

But now I am going to contradict myself.  With the predation we've seen on our chicken flock, it is high time to get Belle, our Great Pyrenees guardian dog out protecting her charge.  Our problem is that Great Pyrenees LOVE to roam.  They don't stay where you want them to stay.  Highway 26 is just east of us and it is a very busy road.  Belle has gone across the road, and I don't think she understands the danger.

For that reason, we have a collar on her with a long tie-out cable to keep her from roaming.  We allow her to roam supervised each day and take her on walks with a lead rope.  But like us, she desires FREEDOM!  We looked into some GPS collars, but they are doggone (pardon the pun) expensive.  Finally we settled on one that allows you to set a radius.  It is not the Cadillac of dog collars.  It is more the Nissan Sentra.  This one costs $99.  We worked on setting it up, playing with the dimensions of the zone and calibrating the center.  This took some trial and error and walking around, holding the collar, listening for the buzzing.

The way it works is that you charge up this collar.  It will hold a charge for 12 hours.  Belle roams free, but when she gets to the edge of the boundary, the collar beeps, vibrates, and administers a shock.  Now, I know that may sound cruel, but if it works it is less cruel than being on a tie-out or running the risk of getting hit by a car.  The beeping, vibrating, shocking is designed to keep Belle within a big range of acceptable roaming.  At least that is the idea.  It has a 90 day money-back guarantee return policy.

We have been trying it out as time allows.  We put the collar on:

It takes a minute or two for the collar to link up and find the GPS coordinates.

The flashing light lets you know it is linked up and ready.  Time to test out the fence without a fence.  A virtual fence, you might say.

And then...  You let her go.  Belle immediately ran around like she always does.  We watched her as she went way out into the pasture and noticed that when she got near the set boundary, she acted funny, no doubt noticing the buzzing.  She changed directions and walked back into the safe zone.  For the rest of the day she wandered around... FREE!

At one point I went looking for her as I couldn't find her in the pasture, but I soon found her.  Can you see her hiding place?

She has a nice hole that she has dug under a log.  We call her the "log dog."  It's a good spot.  If I was a dog, I think I'd hang out there as well.

No sir, I am not breaking any laws that I know of, but I don't like being tracked, surveilled, spied on, controlled, or watched.  But if this thing works, it will be a win-win for Belle.  I will admit that a part of me thought this collar would have been great to put on the kids when they were teenagers.  Just joking, of course.  Or am I?

We sing an old hymn at church called "Come Thy Fount of Every Blessing."  It was written before the Revolutionary War.  I thought of the words to the third verse, as I was watching Belle with her new GPS collar:

O to grace how great a debtor

daily I’m constrained to be!

Let that grace now, like a fetter,

bind my wandering heart to thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

prone to leave the God I love;

here’s my heart; O take and seal it;

seal it for thy courts above.

We are all prone to wander, aren't we?  We're different than the animal kingdom, though.  We have a soul and we have free will.  While we have a sinful nature that we constantly battle with, if we are believers, the Holy Spirit prompts us and convicts us, (much like Belle's collar) to remind us to stay within a boundary that would bring glory to God.  Because we have free will, we can ignore the conviction and do things our own way.  In so doing, like Belle, we put ourselves in danger.  

We will continue to test out the collar on Belle.  She did great the first full day.  Like me, she's prone to wander.  May the Good Lord take care of us both!  If it works, Belle can take care of our flock.

Will They Survive The Winter?

We recently re-watched one of my favorite movies, Gladiator.  There are numerous quotes in that movie that are inspiring and motivational.  In the beginning scene of the movie, Maximus is victorious in battle and is having a sober discussion with the emperor regarding the emperor's health, his legacy, and the future of Rome.  Here is an excerpt from that talk:

Maximus: They fought for you and for Rome.

Marcus Aurelius: And what is Rome, Maximus?

Maximus: I’ve seen much of the rest of the world. It is brutal and cruel and dark, Rome is the light.

Marcus Aurelius: Yet you have never been there. You have not seen what it has become. I am dying, Maximus. When a man sees his end… he wants to know there was some purpose to his life. How will the world speak my name in years to come? Will I be known as the philosopher? The warrior? The tyrant…? Or will I be the emperor who gave Rome back her true self? There was once a dream that was Rome. You could only whisper it. Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish… it was so fragile. And I fear that it will not survive the winter.

Dramatic?  Yes.  Sometimes in our pasture, it can be brutal and cruel and dark, too.  There can be epic battles and bloodshed that can leave bodies strewn across the landscape in macabre fashion.  I'm getting ahead of myself.

I came in from work and Tricia said, "It was a bad day on the farm."  "Oh? I said, "tell me about it."  She explained a harrowing melee that took place out back in the pasture that morning.  I walked out over the "coliseum" where the murderous rampage took place.  

Feathers filled the ground as the wind gently blew them.

A ghoulish massacre had taken place!  It wasn't just feathers.  Why, body parts and other detritus littered our once happy, pastoral land.  

Oh, woe is me!  Whoever did this - a pox on your house!  The deceased that fell on that rueful day include a rooster and three laying hens.  The slain were gathered and placed ceremoniously in the compost pile in the garden where they were mourned and then covered with wood chips.

Who did this and what shall be done?  We thought Ricky Raccoon had been dealt with.  Tricia explained the battle.  A dog with no collar had come underneath the perimeter fence and onto the property.  Bloodlust led the canine to commit wanton murder upon our flock of feckless fowl.  Tricia let Belle loose to chase the dog off of the property, but not before four fowl fell in foul fashion.  

But how did this happen?  Border security had let us down.  The strong fence that had once protected us had fallen into disrepair.  Fences DO work!  But our fence over time had rusted out at the bottom, leaving us vulnerable and unprotected.  The thick wire the anchors the fence rusted, allowing a foreign invader to shimmy right underneath.  Innocent lives were lost.  The rightful inhabitants of the land must be protected or we are poor stewards and not worthy of our position.  

But we learn and move forward.  We repair the breaches.  To work we go.  The rest of the fence is still good.  It's just the bottom wire.  I'll try to replace the bottom wire, so to speak, by replacing it with some barbed wire.  I wrapped the wire around the corner post and stapled it.  Then I got my come-along and a chain and pulled the barbed wire tighter than a Victorian corset.

Then I used wire to wrap the barbed wire into the bottom of the existing hog-wire fence.  That lifted the bottom of the fence off the ground a little, exposing an inch or two of space between the ground and the bottom of the fence, so I'll come back and stake it down between t-posts.  That patch job should keep marauding murderous hordes off the farm.

"Are you not entertained?" Maximus might say.  Hopefully with the integrity of the fence restored, perhaps the remaining twenty-something odd hens might survive the winter.  The jury is still out on the republic.

Unlikely Friends

And the wolf will dwell with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little boy will lead them. Isaiah 11:6 (NASB)

The Bible tells us that in the Millennial Kingdom, members of the animal family will live peaceably with other animals and with humans as well.  What a sight that will be to behold.  As we listen to the news and learn of senseless violence and hatred and see many of our cities are becoming unlivable, we pray for this time of peace to come quickly.  According to Bible prophecy, however, there are many things that must take place between now and then.  God, give us the strength to endure.  May you find us faithful when you return.

I happened upon an event that made me think of that verse.  Cats are, by nature, independent animals.  They do their own thing.  Dogs are more friendly.  Dogs AND cats together are like oil and water or fire and ice.  But not all the time.  Check out this photo of our cat, Ginger, and our dog, Belle: 

It had been raining everyday (Raining cats and dogs, you might say) for two weeks.  Belle was miserable out in the pasture so we brought her into the garage after the first day.  At first Ginger kept her distance, but she warmed up to Belle, it seems.  She and Ginger have struck up a friendship.  The canine and feline have put aside their differences and have decided to give peace a chance.  

Introductions are in Order

In three days, it will have been 10 years since we first started this blog.  Where does the time go?  A good friend of our daughter suggested it might be a good idea to introduce the animals on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  What a great idea!  Over time, we've talked about each one, but it is a stellar idea to introduce each of them with a short bio.  

We live on a five acre piece of land with 3 acres in pasture.  As we introduce the animal family, you'll have two revelations: #1 That's a lot of animals on a little bit of land, and #2 These are some truly strange people!

Here.  We.  Go...

Here is Ginger, also known as "Gingivitis" or "Fat Cat."  She is an outdoor cat who loves to hunt.  We'll find the remnants of birds, mice, rats, moles, squirrels and various and sundry varmints that she occasionally leave us on the door mat.  Experience has taught us to look before we take that first step.  I'm not a 'cat person,' but Ginger is allowed from time to time to come inside.  

This is Belle, or affectionately known as "Bellie".  She is a Great Pyrenees Livestock Guardian Dog.  The name sounds helpful, but Bellie is a work in progress.  As it turns out, she eats live chickens.  Guarding them is a lofty goal as she's turned out to be the "fox" in the henhouse.  Literally.  She loves to roam and dig gargantuan holes wherever she goes.  She is a sweet dog, though, and we are trying to teach her, patiently, and overlook her shortcomings in hopes that she can be rehabilitated from her wayward proclivities.

This is Rosie, or Rose Ethel, as we sometimes formally address her.  She is a Jersey cow.  She's getting up there in age - about 13 years old.  She's given us many calves and given us gallons and gallons of fresh milk.  She does not like hot weather.  In the summer, she can be found lying in the shade, panting.  Like a pig, if she finds a muddy spot, she's not above lying in it and getting herself filthy.  She's gentle, as most Jersey's are.  

This lady is Clarabelle, or Clarice, for short.  She's also a Jersey cow who is about 10 years old.  She's a sweetheart.  We have been milking her everyday for the last year and four months.  We just dried her off.  She gives A2/A2 milk which is highly sought after.

May we also introduce you to Elsie.  Elsie is Clarabelle's heifer.  She's quarantined in a separate pasture as we're weaning her.  If allowed to be with Clarabelle, she'd nurse her, so she stays by herself.  That's why she looks forlorn.  The rest of the animals are just on the other side of the fence and we do put the goats in with her to keep her company from time to time, although she and the goats aren't fluent in the same language.

This little lady is LuLu.  LuLu is Rosie's heifer.  You may be wondering about the contraption in her nose.  It is a weaning plate.  The plate keeps her from nursing on Rosie while we dry Rosie off.  The plate doesn't hurt her (other than her feelings, perhaps).  She is industrious and figured out the first day how to continue to eat grass with it.  In a month, we'll loosen the wing nut and pull it out.  

We are watching the cycles of Rosie and Clarabelle.  When they go in heat, we'll mark the calendar and bring them down the road to be bred by a registered Jersey bull.  Late this fall or early winter, we'll bring Elsie and LuLu down to be bred by the same bull as they'll be of breeding age by then.

Meet Annie, the Nubian goat.  She's a dairy goat, originally from Africa.  Despite being black in color, the heat doesn't bother her.  She's the oldest goat on the farm and has given us many kids.  Her momma was Nellie, our first Nubian we ever got.  Goats multiply almost like rabbits since they lots of times have twins or triplets.

Here's Matilda.  We call her the "opportunistic one," because she'll always find a way to sneak stealthily into the barn and clean up any sweet feed the cows left behind.  She's fast.  Poor girl just lost both of her kids during kidding.  They were her first kids.  

This fellow is named Buckwheat, or Buckster, for short.  He's our Nubian buck and is quite a prolific gentleman who has fathered more animals than we can count.  He uses his head as a battering ram.  He also stinks something terrible!  We try to keep our distance from him.  He has an impressive beard.

This doeling is named Kaleidoscope.  We call her Callie, for short.  She's named appropriately for her multicolored face.  She's Annie's kid and was a bottle baby, since Annie had mastitis.  She cries incessantly for a bottle whenever we see her and like to jump up on you and get right in front of you when you're walking.   

May we introduce you to Mocha.  She's named for her light coffee latte colored spots that cover her body.  She's Agnes' daughter.  She and Callie are besties and they run around all day getting into all sorts of mischief.  If I had that energy, I tell you what...

Here is Popcorn, or Poppy, as we call him lots of times.  He's named that because when he was just a little guy, he'd jump around just like popcorn in a hot skillet.  He is the only other male ruminant on the pasture other than Buckwheat.  

And the last member of the goat family, Agnes, or "Horned One."  She was picked on mercilessly by the other goats when she was just a kid.  We did not de-horn her.  Now, despite her small stature, her horns have enabled her to gain prominence and now she's the de facto boss, exerting her will, by ramming the others with her horns.  The others have paid a steep price for their earlier bullying of her.  Agnes has never forgiven them.  She can be a mean little momma, for sure.

We have more chickens that we can name, so we call all the hens, Sally, after Sally Henny penny from Beatrix Potter stories we read to the kids when they were young.

And finally, here is Sally and Sally putting in a hard day's work at the office, laying fresh eggs for us.  Happy hens, to be sure.  It's a good life.

And there you have it, the animal family that make up the menagerie at Our Maker's Acres Family Farm!

Belle is a Lot of Trouble

Our Great Pyrenees dog, Belle is something else.  Believe me, she is a sweetheart, but she has not yet proven to us why she has the "Great" in her breed name.  She has been a great menace.  She is supposed to be a livestock guardian dog, but she eats our laying hens.  Predators eat our chickens when she is in the vicinity and she doesn't so much as bark.  I think Belle and the predators are in cahoots.

As I drove up this afternoon, Belle was in the garage.  Beautiful.  Now I have to park outside the garage and far away from her.  The last time I parked close to her she chewed through my brake lines on the car, emptying the brake fluid and leaving me without brakes on a scary ride home.  Not only did this empty my brake fluid, but it emptied my wallet paying for the repairs.  

Back to today - I asked Tricia why Belle was in the garage as I had repaired her kennel.  Tricia informed me that Belle escaped her kennel.  We had her in the pasture with the reasoning that she would 'grow into her role,' getting to know the animals were her charge.  Good thought.  Belle had other ideas.

She jumped over the barbed wire fence and escaped leaving 'fingerprints' at the scene!  

We don't want her roaming around the neighborhood.  Although we live in the country, we still have neighbors.  We don't want her to get hit on the road.  We also don't want her to get pregnant.  As I type, I hear her barking in the garage and we're wondering how we teach her to do right.

We rescued an old stop sign from a ditch in the country.  I mounted it on the wall out in the barn after using a Sharpie to add a lyric from the Supreme's 1965 hit to the sign:

I wish Belle would 'stop in the name of love, before she breaks our hearts. Think it over, Belle.  Behave!

Meet A New Arrival at Our Maker's Acres

Saturday morning we woke up and milked the cows earlier than normal on a weekend morning.  We had a mission to undertake.  In a painful situation that happened that I'd rather not talk about, we have to replace Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees.  How can we ever replace Big Boy?  I don't know.  We had several parameters...  We had to replace him quickly.  We wanted a puppy, and we wanted another Great Pyrenees that looked just like Big Boy.

Tricia got on one of her livestock-related forums and located a Great Pyrenees puppy in Colfax, Louisiana.  Colfax is located about 20 or so miles northwest of Alexandria, Louisiana.  That made it about 130 miles away.  We decided to drive my car.  Due to not having a pet carrier that would fit in my car, we rolled the dice and brought a tarp, some cardboard, and a towel.  Should be okay, right?

We arrived in timely fashion and met the owners.  Their Great Pyrenees had a litter of a half dozen puppies - 3 girls and 3 boys.  They were born on January 14th, so she was just 8 weeks old.  We had picked out the female that was all white.  We paid the owners, put the puppy in the car and began heading home.  The puppy seemed very content, but suddenly began drooling excessively.  Tricia was holding her in the passenger seat and had her sitting on a big, yellow towel.  Good thing.  The puppy must have gotten car sick, because just outside of Alexandria, she threw up all over the towel.  Fortunately, the half digested dog food ended up on the towel and not on either of us or the seat of the car!  After that was finished, she was fine.

We got her home and welcomed her to Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  She checked out her surroundings and was really digging the attention.

Look at those big feet!

She is a very happy puppy, and I think she is going to fit in just fine.  She's got a lot of fur and has white eyelashes with eyes that look just like a persons.  She is fat and healthy.

Benjamin was in from college and he rushed out to see her.  He took her to the barn.  She is a livestock guardian dog, we wanted her to familiarize herself with the livestock she'll be guarding.  The cows were inquisitive and sniffed at her and drooled all over her.  The chickens seemed to pay her no mind.  The goats, on the other hand, were freaked out by here.  Annie, our Nubian momma goat began making weird noises.  She doesn't like her at all!

For being only 8 weeks old, this little girl is a monster. I told Tricia that she had better pick her up all she can, because pretty soon, she won't be able to.  Tricia obliged...

I did too!

Now we don't have a name for her yet, although we've narrowed it down to two - either Belle or Bella.  I think we'll wait a few days and see which name seems to fit her best.  For the time being, she's living in the barn.  We're being very protective right now, as we don't want the cows to step on her and hurt her.  In time she'll learn to respect them and give them space. 

We're happy to have little Belle/Bella at our place, and we think she is a great addition to our farm.

Other Working Animals on the Farm

With cows and goats and chickens on the property, one needs a little help.  I kind of talked about the help that we have on our little homestead farm a while back.  This weekend I was able to take some photos of our laborers that live in housing that we provide as remuneration for their hard work to ensure that our animals were safe.  These hardworking individuals are tasked with a multitude of duties that keep them busy, night and day, with rarely a day off. 

I thought I could reintroduce you to our... ahem... interns or working staff.  First there is Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees.  While technically a livestock guardian dog, his idea of guarding and protecting chickens proved to be not exactly what we were looking for.  One day we encountered him guarding our flock.  Sounds good, but the hen he was guarding was bleeding and flapping her broken wings as he was eating her.

Big Boy was banished from the pasture and now is a "watch dog."  He is posted outside the garage and barks his head off relentlessly at passersby and wandering dogs, cats, possums and squirrels.  Here is a photo of our busy animals in action - Big Boy and Ginger.

Ginger is our barn cat.  The idea is that she would live in our barn and hunt rats - except she doesn't reside in the barn.  She lives in our garage and hunts Cat Chow that's poured in her bowl.  She's gotten a little fat and instead of stealthily creeping up on rodents, her primary instinctual craving is for naps in the sun.

Sometimes, if particularly motivated, she'll roll over and change positions.  Due to Ginger's lack of relentless and energetic pursuit of pesky rodents that inhabit our barn, rats have multiplied faster than rabbits and we've resorted to allowing snakes, rat traps, poison and buckets of water do the job of dispatching the rodents in our barn.  Which works out quite nicely for Ginger, giving her more time for napping in the sun.

But she occasionally catches and kills and eats small birds.  A couple of weeks ago, we found remnants of a squirrel that she devoured.  Only a tail and a foot remained.  It must have been a very slow squirrel.

While Big Boy and Ginger might not be perfectly suited to do their appointed tasks, they're part of our family, and we accept them, warts and all.

A New Home for Promise

Promise was our dog that we rescued from a shelter.  I lose track of time, but I'm going to guess it has been six years ago.  After Benjamin's first puppy, Cutie Pie, was stolen, we visited a shelter in Lake Charles and came home with Promise.  Promise was a pretty female Beagle-mix and she was a lovable dog.  She showed promise, but sadly, things never quite worked out.

Promise's demeanor was extremely hyperactive.  Extremely hyperactive.  She would run and jump up on people.  When the kids were younger, she would knock them over.  Her incessant jumping made you not want to be around her.  She would knock you off-balance, get you dirty, and basically make you go crazy.  I know I told her a hundred times, "Promise, if you would just settle down, people would love to be around you.  You push people away!"  But she never learned and her lack of calm and absence of serenity always sent everyone heading in the opposite direction.  Did I mention she liked to eat chickens, too?

One of her redeeming qualities was her barking.  I won't lie - this 'quality' drove us crazy at times.  She barked loud and often.  She barked at Big Boy (our dog), other dogs, strangers, possums, chickens, the moon, the cows, the goats, the cats, and her shadow.  This attribute, however, endeared her to a friend who was over visiting.  He asked if we might be interested in giving her away.  He lives near a busy road and wanted a dog that would bark at people.  Promise seemed like the perfect match for him.  Our friend has five other dogs that she would be able to run around with and he lives on a farm with cows and goats.  We talked about it briefly and quickly agreed that this would be a great opportunity for her!

This afternoon as we walked by Promise's dog house (that still has Cutie Pie's name above it), we commented that we are missing her.  But we are happy for a new beginning for Promise in a place that is just a better fit for her.  I know she'll be happy!

Like Pavlov's Dog

I remember in Psychology class in college we learned about Pavlov and his dog.  Pavlov began studying his dog's salivation while it ate.  Odd thing to study, I know.  He began to notice that his dog would salivate when he would walk in the room whether he had food or not.  His theory was that dogs salivate naturally, but they could be conditioned to associate food with different things.  For instance, he rang a bell when feeding his dog.  After doing that for a while, he observed that when he would ring the bell, the dog would salivate regardless if he had food or not.  In this way, he determined that dogs could learn responses and be conditioned to do certain things.

I noticed the same thing with our cows.  Now, dogs are way smarter than cows, but cows still associate things with food and learn responses to certain stimuli.  Our cows right now are hungry.  It hasn't rained for a while and the grass is not coming in strong yet.  They moo loudly even after being fed.

I use a rotational grazing system to cycle the cows through several paddocks, always moving them to fresh grass.  These paddocks are separated by electric fencing that I roll up using a reel.  The cows will eat most of the grass down in the paddock and then it is time to move them to the next one.  I roll up the reel that separates them from the fresh grass and they come running!

As I crank the reel to roll up the electric fence, the clicking sound of the ratchet on the reel attracts them as they associate that sound with fresh grass.  They come a running!  I'm sure it starts them salivating, too.

Where in the World Did Big Boy Go?

Big Boy is our Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog.  That is a misnomer because we found out the hard way that Big Boy liked to eat our chickens rather than protect them.  As a result, Big Boy now roams free outside of the pasture.  We have a large 30' cable that we clip him to from time to time as he has a penchant for roaming all over the countryside and neighbors bring him back.  Several times we've had to drive down the road and pick him up.

He still has all of his male (ahem) equipment, so I would assume that he is seeking lady friends, but he is a free spirit and likes to roam.  One day I was approached in my front yard by a neighbor who, as politely as he could, mentioned to me that Big Boy had marked his territory at his house by peeing on his chrome Harley Davidson motorcycle.  Being a free spirit can get you in trouble with the neighbors! But for all intents and purposes, he is a good dog.  He barks at strangers that drive up in the yard until he gets to know them.  He catches and kills possums and other varmints.  He is protective of us and I appreciate that.

He has some bad habits other than chicken killing, though.  Big Boy digs holes.  Big holes. Everywhere.  You would think that he would stick to one hole, but no, he doesn't.  He digs a crater, lays in it for a while, and then digs another crater elsewhere.  It drives me nuts.  When a good rain comes, all the loose dirt from his digging washes away, leaving us with an erosion problem.  In the photo below, you can see his replica of the Grand Canyon underneath the trampoline and to the right of the trampoline, in the center of the photo and then in the bottom left of the photo. When we walk out to milk the cows, we have to exercise caution to not fall in the holes and twist an ankle.

Big Boy's holes are exceedingly annoying to me, but we still like him.  He's almost like one of the family. We all have our warts and "issues," don't we?  Saturday morning when we all left for the livestock show in Lake Charles, we saw Big Boy laying in a fresh-dug hole in a new place.  I shook my head.

When we returned Saturday night, Big Boy was nowhere to be found.  I didn't think much of it.  He was probably out on "maneuvers."  But Sunday morning when he wasn't home, Tricia and I became concerned. Did he get hit by a car?  I didn't see a big white carcass anywhere in the road.  Did someone steal him?  Well, they'd return him once he commenced to digging up their yard.  When we got back home from church - still no Big Boy.  Although we didn't verbally express it, we were all worried.  It was quiet and different around the house without the big guy.  We were sad, but kept a stiff upper lip.

Sunday evening we were driving back from Evening Services at church.  Our church is about a mile away from our home.  I was driving and Tricia was in the passenger seat with Benjamin in the back.  Suddenly, Tricia yelled, "LOOK!  THERE'S BIG BOY!"  I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that I almost ran off the road.  She scared me with the yelling.  Sure enough, walking in the ditch on the west side of State Highway 26 was the big old white hole digger himself.  I honked the horn and he recognized us and quickened his pace.

We drove on home and got out of the car and clapped and called him.  Pretty soon he came trotting up to us.  He was dirty.  It looked like he had walked through mud. And he was tired.  Exhausted, even. For the next day and a half, he wasn't the same. He laid around and rested.  Why, he didn't even have the energy to dig any holes.

Tired Boy

Tricia theorizes that he missed us, thought we were in trouble, and set off to find us and rescue 'his people'.  He may have followed us to Lake Charles (41 miles away) for all we know.  While I was happy that our erosion problem slowed down for a few days, it was sure nice to have Big Boy back home.  Welcome Home, Big Boy!

The Inglorious House Arrest of Big Boy

Big Boy is our Great Pyrenees Livestock Guardian Dog.  With a simple, descriptive name and a  3 word, six syllable job description, you would think that this was a match made in heaven.  Big Boy's price tag was right for us - he was FREE! (Red flag #1)  We learned that he had been shot many times because he liked to roam (Red flag #2) and neighboring farmers had peppered him numerous times with their shotguns.  The previous owner was worried that Big Boy's continued roaming and/or the farmers' improved marksmanship, would spell doom for Big Boy's chances at survival. That's where we stepped in and adopted him.  We needed a guardian dog to preside as Sergeant-at-Arms and keep our birds safe from predators.

We placed him in the pasture and Big Boy returned to his night patrols - jumping over the perimeter fence and roaming down our road.  I heard a neighbor shoot at him once.  I installed a higher fence on a portion of the pasture and placed Big Boy back in the pasture, only now tethered by a 30 foot heavy duty cable. Unfortunately, while the cable cured him of roaming, Big Boy developed an affinity for the taste of chicken and brutally massacred a few of the birds he was supposed to be protecting as they came into his radius of reach, becoming the proverbial fox guarding the hen house.

Bad Boy, Big Boy!  He was removed from the pasture at that point and positioned as a sentry on the outside of the fence, cabled now to the trampoline.  He has effectively done a long-range job of protecting the flock, and we have not lost a single bird to predators (or Big Boy) since.  He's treed a raccoon, barked incessantly at passersby and has "somewhat" earned his keep, I guess.  He spends most of his time digging enormous holes under the trampoline, and is of much enjoyment to visitors who laugh at his penchant for sitting or lounging on the trampoline.

The other day, after about a year of good time served, Big Boy sat before the parole board, which included me and Tricia, and with a unanimous vote, Big Boy was granted parole, with a probationary period.  Tricia led the ex-felon out to the pasture and followed him around as he patrolled the perimeter.  He even behaved himself around the chickens!  Unfortunately, leopards can't change their spots.  In the blink of an eye, Big Boy pounced on a big fat Aracauna hen and if Tricia hadn't been lightning fast, Big boy would have devoured that bird faster than poop goes through a goose.  The nervous hen, minus a few feathers, ran off clucking nervously, lucky to be alive.

Big Boy is once again incarcerated, proving that the recidivism rate is high among dogs, too.  I like my freedom and I like things to be free-range.  I wouldn't want to be tethered or caged and so Big Boy's house arrest due to his repeated parole violations is a constant source of angst for all of us. When it rains, we unclip him and bring him in the garage, where he lays around on the cool concrete, making us step over him and isn't productive at anything except stinking up the place with the pungent scent of "wet dog".  Tricia will put Big Boy on a leash and walk him around still, but when not in the closed garage on rainy days, he's on the trampoline, on his cable.

The other day I drove in, opened the garage, and Big Boy darted out of the garage. Did I mention that he doesn't come when called?  He's also called Bad Boy from time to time.  Well Bad Boy took off down the road.  I was on my way to the pasture and had no time to get a posse together to go get the escaped inmate.  I went on about my work and by and by noticed Big Boy furtively darting around the neighbors houses.  Then, with a guilty look on his face, he came lumbering back home, only being followed.

A neighbor drove slowly behind him on his gleaming Harley Davidson, shiny chrome blinding me in the sun.  As I grabbed Big Boy's collar, he pulled the rumbling bike nearby and said, "That your dog?"  I answered, "Yeah, he causing you problems?" To which he replied, "Well, he's not hurting us but I could sure do without him lifting his leg and peeing all over our stuff." (I cleaned up my neighbor's language somewhat.  This is a family blog.)  Ouch.  His "stuff" was no doubt the gleaming chrome Harley. Big Boy was marking the Harley as his territory and my neighbor wasn't going to release his claim on the asset to the beast.

Big Boy was returned to the penitentiary with the quickness due to his inability to learn a lesson.  I can't help but think of this very appropriate verse from Proverbs:

Proverbs 26:11 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

11 Like a dog that returns to its vomit
Is a fool who repeats his folly.