I grew up with corgis, on a small farm. Our neighbours had an overgrown paddock out the back of our place, they wanted us to get something to agist on it (so they could get it eaten down, plus stop the government taking the land - a long involved story) so we bought ten sheep. Not quite the usual Aussie sheep station... but how do we get the sheep back into the pen at close of day? The only dog we had that was capable, was our smallest corgi. She was about 2 feet high if she stood on her hind legs. The grass was three feet high...
The first few times she herded the sheep, she had to bound like a rabbit. You could hear her thinking, at the top of each bound, "Where are the sheep? Where are the sheep? Where are... oh, there they are!" And when she had them localised, she'd run at ground level through the grass and suddenly appear yapping and nipping at their heels, giving them quite a start.
Sadly, the sheep learned very quickly to head for home with out being herded, and they did a brilliant job eating the grass down to croquet lawn standards.
Then there was the Hereford calf we once had... I've written an epic poem about her and the tricks she played on my father.
When I was a baby, my mother could put me in the play pen and leave me unattended, guarded by our nursemaid dog, Pete. No stranger would set foot inside that gate while Pete was guarding. But out of the play pen, I could do anything I liked to that dog. I remember trying to wiggle his teeth to see how they were attached, and trying to get a grip on his tongue with thumb and forefinger, but it was too slippery. He also would shake his head so I couldn't get my fingers too far down into his ears. All the time I would be crawling over this dog, doing what I liked to him and he would sit there, not moving away, just putting up with it. I remember being taken outside by my eldest sister who wanted to take my photo with the dog. It's the only photo we have of him. In the photo I would have been maybe two years old. He died a couple of years later from tickbite, the year I started school. Maybe if I hadn't been at school, I would have found the tick on him.
We only have two budgies as pets at the moment, and a few chooks (hens) for eggs. I just saw the budgies a few minutes ago in the bathroom (where they like to hang out all day) and they were on the floor peering through the floor-length windows at a BUTCHER BIRD on the other side of the glass. The Butcher Bird looked very interested, would have loved to get to the budgies for dinner. But the budgies were trying to play with it...
Thank goodness for beak-proof glass!
Marg
