Farm Fresh Blog

The sun rises and ushers in the daily roll call. I stumble out, coffee in hand, to count heads and see what drama lies waiting to smack me over the head with a stick this morning. I toss hay to the sheep and release the chickens. Theirs is a neighborhood requiring burglar bars and a strong police presence. They march out like happy citizens, pausing briefly to salute the sun before they begin their day gleefully unaware of the dangers lurking beyond.

The farm collies race to the pasture ahead of the Livestock Guardian Dogs who begin a deliberate area patrol.

While house dogs sniff the pasture like caffienated suburbanites scrolling their yahoo feed for the morning news, the Guard Dogs sniff the same spots like seasoned police officers reading a daily crime analysis report. The collies point and gawk at what they smell, sending giddy tweets to each other. "Read this!"

The Anatolian shows no such enthusiasm. He is annoyed, offended, insulted. Coyotes have tagged the fence line. He paints over their graffiti and glares into the wind.

Maybe they are watching him. Anatolian watching. A dangerous sport for a coyote.

The collies continue their play as the Guardian Dogs finish their patrol. The chickens have taken their chances and already pecked their way out there. Still six. Canaries in a coal mine.  It's safe to put the sheep out now.

The Guard Dogs settle down near the chickens and watch. And the forest watches back.