Friday, June 2 – Sunday, June 4
RVSue and her canine crew are camped along Little Wood River at Pagari Bridge, northeast of Shoshone, Idaho. The sheep story continues from the previous post.
Each morning approximately 1,700 sheep are brought to the river by our camp.
The sheep are controlled with expertise . . .
By a herder and a horse . . .
Along with two border collies . . .
Under the protection of two Great Pyrenees . . .
One of the big, beautiful, white dogs shows his age.
Despite his stiff joints, he performs his responsibilities of guardian well. After cooling off in the river, he inspects our campsite on all sides for potential threats. Surely he hears Reggie and Roger throwing a conniption fit.
From my hiding place between the Perfect Tow Vehicle and the Best Little Trailer I greet the great dog with a few words. I want to make sure he knows I’m not a threat.
(Click link to read the story about a woman on a bike encountering a Great Pyrenees guarding sheep.)
No obsequious tail-wagging from this professional!
He acknowledges my presence with a stare, retaining the reserve of a dog on-the-job (next photo). He’s standing in our “front yard,” between the BLT and the river.
The flock passes under our bedroom window on the other side of the BLT.
(You can see the route they take in the first photo of this post.)
A sub-group starts to come around the outdoor room side of the BLT.
(That’s our trash bag hanging from the side mirror.) Apparently the sheep saw the Great Pyrenees (above) go that way. He immediately brings them around to rejoin the main flock.
What about Reggie and Roger?
I previously pulled back the Reflectix from the rear window to allow the crew a view of the goings-on.
Quite naturally, my two guardians are not happy with what they see!
On the last day of the sheep being moved across Pagari Bridge on their way to summer grazing in the mountains, I exercise what is commonly known as . . .
Bad Judgment.
Well, I’m not going to be real hard on myself here.
You see, at the time of the incident, I didn’t know Roger very well. He’d only been with us a couple of days and I had no idea he could dart out of the BLT through a partially opened door AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
Yep, that’s what he does, the little critter.
It’s Sunday, the last day of the migration past our camp. Since I already obtained several photos, I’m not outside awaiting the arrival of the sheep. I stay inside with the crew.
Then, when the last of the sheep pass by our windows, I change my mind and decide to grab a few more shots. It’s that persistent urge to record everything with my camera that I cannot deny.
I open the door just enough to squeeze through . . . .
And there goes Roger!
Like a rocket, he tear-a$$es after the rear of the flock, crossing back and forth, barking furiously.
I don’t have any photos of Roger’s performance because I’m too embarrassed and I don’t want the herder to see me taking pictures!
The herder glances over his shoulder at the raving, canine lunatic.
He sees Roger as insignificant and ignores him. And the border collies are too busy working to bother with a crazed chihuahua!
The herder, dogs, and sheep move away from our campsite.
Roger returns to me at the door of the BLT and I toss his hiney inside!
“Good thing those white dogs are on the front end of the flock or you’d be in big trouble, Mr. Roger Dodger!”
I’ve seen sheep funneled between those two striped signs three times before, but I’m still fascinated to watch it happen again, this one last time.
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rvsue
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