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He came into our lives quite by accident. We were gathering up our cows from winter ranch north of Winnemucca. By chance I asked the wife of the ranch foreman if she knew of a good cow dog someone might be willing to sell. She pointed to this little Border collie who apparently wasn’t aggressive enough to suit her husband, and that he planned to get rid of him. So she said, “take him home with you.” And we did. That’s how “Will” became part of the Rafter Seven Bar M ranch. From the very beginning it was obvious this little dog knew what he was doing. The problem was I didn’t. So we went to school together so I could learn how to work him. We learned on sheep, and watching that dog was a wonder. He’d gather them up and move them in the direction I wanted them to go with little encouragement from me. He was only a year old, but he had the instincts and breeding. I couldn’t help but wonder why his previous owner wanted to get rid of him. From the day he arrived at the ranch he hit the ground running. He watched for my cues when we were sorting springer calves from the mama cows, and if some Ol’ cow went on the fight because she’d hear her calf balling, “Will” was right there to take her on. He had no fear, which was really amazing seeing how we were raising Texas Longhorns, and they weren’t afraid to sword fight if pushed too hard. There was one day I really worried about him. We were branding and vaccinating our calves. “Will” was doing his usual good job of herding the calves back to their mamas, when all of a sudden a calf lashed out with his hind leg and hit that dog right in the head. The blow knocked him out cold. I thought he’d been killed, but as I ran over to him, he slowly got up, shook his head a few times, and went right back after that calf. You could hear that calf balling all the way back to her mama with Ol’ “Will” right on her heels. “Will” was the star of the show when we would put on cattle demonstrations for our guests. We’d use our performance horses to pen the cows, and when we finished, I’d have “Will” gather them up and take them out the gate. The problem was, on a hot day, he’d get half way out the gate then suddenly stop and jump in the horse trough to cool off. No amount of yelling or coaxing could get that dog out of the trough until he was cooled off. (You can’t insult a cow dog.) Then he’s calmly go back to work. The most amazing thing was, he had those cows so dog broke they’d stand at the gate and wait for him. The guests loved it. And I guess “Will” did too. He learned to appreciate the applause and would wag his tail when he’d hear the cheers and clapping. There were times the cows would be down in the canyon brushed up because of the heat. To try and brush pop them out by horseback wasn’t enough. But “Will” got so good at it all I had to do was trail ride. If there had been a way for me to teach him how to close the gate, I’d had stayed home altogether. The day finally came when the ranch and cows were sold. I couldn’t take “Will” with me, and so it was decided to leave him there. The last I heard he was enjoying retirement and was getting pretty gray around the muzzle. That changed this week. A cowboy who used to work for me called me and said that “Will” had died peacefully in the front yard. He was 15 years old. His death conjured up a flood of memories of the days when we worked together as a team taking care of our critters. He was a good will ambassador to the ranch, and was always out front to greet the visitors who came to our bed and breakfast, as well as the tour groups looking to find a slice of the real west. He was all Border Collie and he lived to work cows and to please me. He was always there when I needed him, and he’ll always be here in my memory. Have a safe journey Ol’ pard. We’ll be seein’ you. |
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