The Fat Ewe Farm has had quite a lot of dogs since its inception. In 2010, the year of my retirement and my plan to move to Thorhild, build a monolithic dome home, live off grid and build an organic permaculture farm, there were Josie, my trusty, then 13 year old border collie, Sofi, my daughter's border collie, Mikey, a rescue border collie that I was rehabilitating for rehoming and Anna, my brand new baby Scotch collie puppy (think Lassie). All of these dogs were female and all except Anna were spayed. 

The farm where the plan was to be executed was pristine and lovely, but Waste Management bought 17 quarter sections around it to create a class 1 landfilll, so an organic permaculture farm could not be located next to a dump! I put it up for sale and went home to White Rock after a short sojourn hanging out in a large shop living in my 32 foot motorhome. I boarded my horses and sheep, sold my Canadienne dairy cows, and had to rethink my plans. Josie, Mikey, Sofi and Anna came with me. Mikey was ready to find a new home and I got the best situation any dog could ever want. She went to live with a millionairess in Langley, a widow with no children who hired a dog walker for her and brought her fresh liver when she picked her up. Mikey, after her initial life of being tied on a 6 foot chain with no reprieve, must have thought she went to Heaven. She did! only on Earth. 

We found the Fat Ewe Farm then, in Elk Point and moved in March of 2011. Soon thereafter, a little fellow named Petey joined the posse, followed by Joseph, a rough collie for Anna to marry when they grew up, even though she was a little older. Petey disappeared one day, never to be seen again. Anna was hit on the highway and the next week, I lost Joseph. I was beside myself and cried all the time. I got a fence built as soon as I could, but it was too late for my friends. This is not the place for rough collies. 

Josie was not doing well, losing control of her bladder more and more until she basically had none. It was time to say so long to my much loved companion. I swore I would not get another border collie. None could ever come close to Josie. But I missed her so very much, that I started to look at border collie litters of pups. One day, this little fellow came up to me, looked me in the eye, put his tiny paw on my leg, ran to play and came back and sat beside me, looking into my eyes. Of course, that was Robbie and he came home with me and is now my constant companion. He is not Josie, but he is my dog. 
I had been reading a lot about livestock guardian dogs and living in harmony with the predators. i did not want to get a gun. I needed a pack of dogs that would keep the predators at bay, who were born and bred for that work and who bonded to the livestock they guarded. I found Harley. 

Harley was no longer wanted and if he did not get a home, he was going to be shot. So I rescued him and brought him to the farm. I was told by his previous owner to tie him up and leave him and to be careful around him until he got to know me. He is a big dog, possibly only 2 then, but the vet said possibly 5 years old...hard to tell. Harley fought the coyotes but he needed back up. One dog is not enough for a pack of bad guys. So Charka came.
 
Charka was the only black pup out of a litter of 11, all others including the parents being white. No one could explain him. He was bigger than the other puppies and was off by himself. I really liked him and chose him. Charka was difficult as a teenager, killing ducklings as he played and Robbie and he chewing up a lamb they were playing with too. Bad Charka. He also jumped the fence to go across the highway to visit the dogs there, so I tied a pallet to him. He could jump the fence and not get hung because the pallet was 10 feet behind him, but that stopped that. He still jumps the fence and goes to the end of the driveway, but as far as I know, he does not cross that deadly highway, thank goodness. 

Then I heard of two tiny Maremma puppies, which is what Harley was. They were sisters living with sheep in Saskatchewan and 'not working out' so were going to be terminated. I met the owner after driving 2 hours in a blizzard and loaded the little girls into the truck . They were scrawny and terrified. One limped. They would pull wool from the sheep and run and hide and eat it and scarf down any grain they could find. That is how they survived. The wool had bulk to make them feel full and the grain gave them some substance, but they were starved. The one who limped, Jade, had been kicked and suffered a hip fracture which was healed incorrectly. There were not 8 weeks old as I was told, but closer to 3 months, just emaciated.  

Jade and Jenna would never be large enough to fight predators, but they are the sentinels, the watchers and first alerts. So, two more Maremmas with Pyrenees, just a quarter, were selected to join the pack. 

Mike and Joe were only 5 weeks old when they came to the farm. Their mother was hit by a car and killed and the owners wanted those who bought puppies to take them. I called the vet to see what had to be done. Fortunately they were eating and drinking on their own and though they would have greatly benefitted from being with their mother for longer, they would survive with care. They were two rolly polly little balls of white fluff with black eyes and noses. Soooo cute! Mike and Joe lived with the sheep until they were teenagers, then they were removed to keep the lambs safe from rough play. Mike stays with the sheep most of the time, though Joe is very social and is often found meandering around the farm. 

Since the dogs have been adults, with Harley to teach them the ropes and ways of the guardian dog, the pack is formidable and works together like magic. Robbie is not permitted to join the pack because he is not made to fight predators. His job is to help me gather and move the sheep and he does. He also chases the foxes. 

These livestock guardian dogs have kept the farm predator safe for years now. Harley no longer works. He retired himself this year and spends most of this days sleeping on the porch or in the winter, in the porch. Jade, Jenna, Joe, Mike and Charka do the work. Harley does stand up and bark and sometimes will join the pack, but mostly he knows his fighting days are over. He has many scars to prove it. Mike is the most fierce and if I was a coyote I would run if I saw him coming at me. He is huge, likely over 6 feet tall on his hind legs and he weighs 145 pounds. He is clever and fearless. Joe follows him and together with Charka, the three big males are enough to keep the bad things away. Jade and Jenna will join in a chase but seldom a fight. Good thing. They are just too small. But they are also pretty fierce when they have needed to be. 
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I love my dogs. I cannot imagine life without them. I do not need a gun to feel safe, even walking at midnight in the bush, which I have done on numerous occasions. Dogs are a blessing. I am grateful for those fuzzy friends, over and over and over again. Bless them, my dogs. 

The dogs are all afraid of loud noises, including gunshots and thunder. We have had some thunderstorms lately with a lot of rainfall. The big white dogs, Mike and Joe, are brothers and both run from thunder. They have dog shelters made from the plastic inserts in 1000 litre totes, but they do not use them. There are also summer dog houses and their winter ones if they want to use them, but they don't. Instead they like to crawl in small spaces. 
Recently I sold my trucks. I had three of them for some reason and decided that I no longer need to keep two vehicles since I bought the Volkswagen Touareg SUV. I am getting a trailer hitch put on it real soon and plan to get a small flat deck trailer and a small livestock trailer, or possibly rent the latter since I only need it once a year or so to take lambs in for butchering. There was a canopy on the Sierra truck, which I had taken off  prior to selling it. I thought that if I could not sell it separately, I would use it around the farm, maybe for a chicken shelter or something.
So the thunder was rumbling in the distance and the dogs were in their usual panic. I did not see Joe, which is not unusual, since he would normally have crawled under the truck by then. But wait! What is that in the canopy? 
Well, sure enough, it was Joe. He had a fondness for that old truck and slept under it a lot. I left the window open thinking he just might like to use it as his dog house. It was a bit low, but if he could get under the truck, he certainly could squeeze into the canopy. And he did! 
So, I think I will move the canopy to a safe location near the sheep and it can be his shelter during the rain storms. Mike and Joe never share the same shelter, at least not so far, but that one is certainly large enough for the two of them and even two more. Harley does go into his summer house and so do the other dogs, but Robbie comes in the house with me. Charka has been scratching up the screen door to get in during storms, and I did allow him to come in yesterday to save my door. I am pretty sure he would not go in the canopy if Mike and Joe or one was in there. He does not like to bend down and crawl like they do. 
The old truck canopy will be perfect for summer. I am positive it is not warm enough for winter, but I will fill it with straw just in case. Ta da! Reinventing the dog house at the Fat Ewe Farm! 

One of my best livestock guardian dogs was missing for 5 days. It was very unlike him to be gone anywhere for any length of time. Although he is an excellent guardian, once he has done his job, he was always home, sleeping at the door. He is as much my guardian as he is for the many animals here at the Fat Ewe Farm and he is very loved by my female (spayed) Maremma, Jade and best friends with the old boy, Harley. 

The dogs work as a pack and on occasion, even though I do not encourage it, the border collie joins in the predator work. That is why, when Harley was home and Charka was not, I began to worry. Harley had a gash and bite on his leg, quiet severe and a few bites on his back, so I knew they had all been fighting for real, not just barking and chasing. I treated Harley with antibiotics, but his old arthritic bones were sore and tired and that wound was nasty. It has been two weeks and is primarily healed. 

But where was my Charka? 

Charka was not home when I went out to do chores in the morning, but when I went out at noon, there he was, wagging that big shaggy tail and looking at me with those adorable brown eyes. I hugged him and then he followed me around doing the chores, and curled up in the hay to have a sleep, relaxed in the sun. That is when I checked him over thoroughly. I saw bites and scratches and lots of chunks of fur missing, but he was fine overall, so I thought. 

Only in the next few days, the wound on his neck began to open and I saw his throat was slit deeply, then that the wound encircled his neck. He began to stink and I called the vet. I would have to bring him in as soon as possible. Getting Charka to do what he does not want to do is not easy. He would not go into the truck , nor a livestock trailer we had. He can get aggressive when he feels threatened, so we do not try to make him do things for everyone's safety, yet 99.9 % of the time, he is the biggest, sweetest teddy bear ever. 

The wound kept opening until I was aghast. I could not believe the extent of it and the deep cut. There was a second cut closer to the top of his head. I called my hunter friend and was told he was likely caught in a wire snare trap. One kind of trap will allow the animal out if he is lucky. Charka is lucky, but it cost him a lot of pain. He also was very thin from not eating for 5 days. Finally, in desperation, I got the Vermillion vet clinic to send two technicians out to sedate Charka and take him in. 

We discussed options once he was shaved and they reviewed the injury. It was very deep under his throat and less deep at the top of his head. It was infected, even though I had administered antibiotics (good thing). The vet said his idea treatment would be to surgically clean the cut, removing skin from both sides and then stitching it together. The total cost of treatment, fetching him, medications and pain killers would be estimated at $2500 or so. I asked if he would make it without the surgery. Yes, he would, with a slower recovery and he would require much more care, being kept inside for at least a couple of weeks and taken out on a leash. They did put a halter on him since he cannot wear a collar. 

So, Charka is home. He is sleeping in the porch. I will gladly keep him in and take him out on a leash to keep the wound from opening. He is on the mend and will be OK. 

But what about the snare traps? Charka is my friend, my dog, my family. A coyote or wolf is not, but they do not deserve to suffer from these horrendous traps either. Snare traps are easy for the trappers, but they are not at all humane. The poor critter cannot move and could easily slit the throat seriously enough to bleed to death. That would be a blessing. Most often, that does not happen , and the poor, helpless animal suffers, dying a slow death in excruciating pain, starving to death and dehydrating too. Sick. Do what you can to speak to anyone you know who sets these traps. Tell them to quit. No living thing should be made to suffer in this way. 

I am grateful for the outcome for Charka. Your kind thoughts and prayers were most welcome. Charka will survive and be around to chase more critters, greet you at the farm gate and bark at the bad things in the bush. But the coyotes and wolves will not be so lucky. Can you please help ban snare traps?

The story has finally come together. 

Charka was missing for 5 days. He came back very thin and very hungry and likely dehydrated. Obviously he had not eaten while he was missing. I checked him over carefully and saw some bites and missing fur, but nothing really major. I gave him a shot of long acting penicillin and let him stay in the porch as much as he wanted to, so he would not tangle with anything again. Harley came home that night Charka was missing, but with a terrible bite or slash wound to his foreleg. It is mostly healed now. Charka was not so lucky. 

For the first while Charka was basically Charka, wagging his tail and following me at heel around while I did the chores. I checked him every day, smelled him, in case he had a wound that was infecting, but he was fine. 

But then, a couple of days ago, his fur around his throat was wet. I checked him again and was shocked! He had a 3 inch deep gash opening up. It looked like a clean cut, as though some one had taken a sharp knife and slit his throat a bit, but there was no blood. 

Then yesterday the gash opened right up and it was about 2 inches into his flesh under his jaw and went clean around his neck. I am not familiar with devices that would cause this and asked my hunter friend, who immediately said he was caught in a snare trap. How he got out, I don't know, because if someone approached Charka, he would have torn them apart. Maybe that is how he got the gash. 

Charka can be tied up, so he was used to the feeling of something restraining him around the throat. But if a person came near, he would have desperately pulled away. Maybe that was his demise. He would have torn that person apart if he could not get away. Charka is that sort of dog. He is a teddy bear, so sweet natured and very gentle, but he cannot be made to do something he does not want to do. He is very wary and suspicious of things. And he has an uncanny ability to know when something is up. 

I tried to get him into the truck, but that dog , who is normally at my side, took off and was nowhere to be seen. Today, my son got a livestock trailer and brought it over, but Charka would not go near it. I called two vets. Neither of the closer vets will come out for a dog. The vet in Vermillion said she would come out and sedate him should I not be successful getting him loaded, but the cost is very much. It is travel time and her hourly rate. 

And Charka needs surgery. The skin and flesh that is cut is rotting and needs to be removed, then he needs to be stitched. The stitches will have to be self dissolving stitches or I will face the same ordeal trying to load him to get him back to the vet's . The cost will be astronomical, but I am not the sort to even consider shooting my friend. I know he would give his life for me protecting me from a predator. Would I not give him his life? 

A rescue organization is trying to find someone to come and help load him, possibly sedate him first. If that fails, I will have no choice but to ask the vet to come out and sedate and load Charka. Maybe I should start a gofund Charka ? At any rate, he needs your intentions and prayers. Please think kind and happy thoughts for his complete recovery. Please. 

We come. We go. No one is immune to death. It is unnatural for a child to predecease a parent and yet, that, too, happens. Pets are like our families, albeit they do not share the longevity of humans, but they can be loved as much and possibly even more than human children. 

Charka went missing and was gone for 5 days. He was not there when I went out to do a quick round of morning chores around 9 am this morning. I looked for him with hope and promise and hung my head again, with tears in my eyes, not seeing that big black dog with the gentlest brown eyes, looking back at me, searching my face and looking for some love. But when I went out at noon, there he was. 

His head was down and he was very thin. Some of his coat was recently matted and his eyes were dim. I was elated to see him and hugged him gently, not knowing his state. He followed me around awhile, then laid with his good friend Jade, but he soon fell asleep in the warm sun and soft hay. I came to him to check his body then, while he was relaxed and not in any way threatened. Robbie was challenging him and wanted a fight. I whacked Robbie on the butt with a bucket and sent him away and he growled at me. I grabbed his collar and put him down, still growing at me. He has never done that before. Something was amiss. I made sure he understood that I was the boss and then took him to tie him up and went back to Charka. 

Charka's face is swollen badly. He was definitely in a fight and won, but paid the price at the same time. His throat was attacked with multiple bite wounds, his collar likely saving him from something more serious than what I saw. I felt his body for broken bones and further injuries. It appears that the worst was the throat under his neck, and he had a few more bites here and there, but nothing as serious. I came back with a shot of penicillin, long acting, and later gave him Metacam, a pain reliever for dogs. These things I keep on hand. Having over a hundred animals on a farm, there is always something that happens whether it is a cut on wire or a gash from a tree branch, a puncture wound or bites. I do not automatically use medications, and if the next day or two the animal appears to be recovering without swelling and other problems, I let them do so on their own. Charka definitely needed help. If the swelling of his face does not respond within 24 hours, he will have to see the vet. Last time it was Joe, who had an abscess in his cheek. $350 later, a shunt for drainage and antibiotics for a week, Joe was on the way to recovery, slowly. 

Life is fragile. We who are healthy sometimes spend little time concerning ourselves with living or dying. Here on the farm, I am much more in touch with how precious life is and how quickly it can be snuffed out untimely. Then there is my old ram, Bob, who has had a very good life and now, is just letting go slowly. I picked him up today, the second time he has been down and unable to stand on his own. One morning I will come out and he will be lying there in peace, the old soldier gone home. 

Sometimes baby lambs are born backwards and do not live, not often, actually only once in my 6 years playing farmer, but it did happen. Or a kid goat simply does not make it. New life is anticipated and babies are loved, but an old life like Bob, well, there is something so very touching upon the departure of a friend, be it four legged or two. 

I am so relieved Charka is home. He will once again sing to me when I come home, greeting me at the gate with his big tail wagging his body and those beautiful brown eyes, so full of love, searching my green ones, just vying for a moment of my time and pat that ensures his love. We never know when, how , where or why. But life is a gift and today, my gift has returned. With gratitude in my heart, I will sleep well tonight. 

Charka came to the Fat Ewe Farm at the age of 10 weeks, a black ball of fluff with kind brown eyes. He was from a litter of 11 puppies, 10 white, and his parents and grandsires were white as well. No one had any explanation at all for his colouring. But I fell in love with that dog right away. He was much larger than the other pups, too, and stayed off by himself with another puppy. The pups were not handled at all, as they were livestock guardian dogs and the thinking then was hands off.

I brought Charka home and put him on the porch with a bowl and a dog house. Robbie was already here and two rough collies, Anna and Joseph, who both met their demise on the demon of a highway bordering the farm. The dog across the highway was not spayed and was in heat, so Joseph went there a lot and Anna followed, that is until they did not come back. First Anna was hit and then a few months later, Joseph. I had the yard fenced by then, but too late for those two. I did not want any other dogs ever near the highway. 

Charka was a rough teenager and took a liking to chasing the duckling and ducks, playing hard, accidentally killing them and then eating them. Everyone told me to get rid of him. Once a dog has tasted blood then he will never be a good dog. Gads! I did not believe that at all. I tied Charka up outside my window and watched him closely. When I was outside he was free to run, but when he started going across the highway, I tied him to a pallet, which he dragged around the yard, but it would not go over the fence with him. As far as the ducks went, when I caught him killing the last one, I beat him with it and yelled at him and kept at it until he rolled on his back and submitted. Then I put the duck on the ground beside him and every time he so much as looked at it, I yelled at him. Case was closed. Charka never went near a duck again. 

Charka was always first at the gate to greet me and he sang. He would sing in his hello voice, his big shaggy tail wagging his body. Those loving gentle brown eyes always stole my heart though. Charka got porcupine quills when he was young and would not let anyone come near him. He was in such misery. Finally, I got a horse tranquilizer and gave him enough to knock a horse out, but Charka would not allow himself to go to sleep. Stubborn boy! Two days later, he must have been such terrible agony because the quills were working their way inside his mouth and face and some men and I cornered him with area carpets and forced him into the kennel. I shut the door and they loaded him into the truck and off to the vet's we went.Almost 400 dollars later, I picked him up in my smart car. That was not smart! He sat on my lap all the way home. Here I am with a 150 pound scared dog on my lap trying to see the road around him. 

Charka did not come to the gate yesterday. He did not sing for me. He was not at the porch or in the dog houses. He was not there this morning either. My son and I combed the quarter and did not find any sign of him, and not many prints, though with the melting snow, it was somewhat difficult to tell exactly how fresh the tracks were. I did see a lone wolf last week, running as fast as he could down the far second fence line. The dogs have been chasing coyotes too, but they are never out there alone. Gentle as Charka is, I think he could hold his own in a good fight with the back up of the pack. And it is just so unlike him to not come home right away. 

I am going to hold out for his return, safe and unharmed. I already miss him immensely. What would I do without my Charka dog? Sigh, big sad sigh. 

Mike and Joe are sibling brothers that were bought to stay with the sheep. They are mostly Maremma with about a quarter Great Pyrenees , though MIke looks like a Maremma and Joe looks like a Pyr. They were brought up with the sheep. As pups they lived with the lambs, that is until they used a lamb's ears as a chew toy. They were severely reprimanded and put on watch outside the lamb pen. Then they went to the ewes. 
Although they are livestock guardian dogs, and do have the instincts to guard livestock, they still are dogs and need to be trained. They need reminders of where they belong and how to behave with the sheep and lambs. Thank goodness they did not pose any problems with the free ranging birds, not even once. 

Joe is a people dog and so far, would prefer to come out of his pen to be around people, especially if there are visitors. There are 4 other dogs that guard the general farm, but Mike and Joe specifically guard the sheep and goats. When they go out to pasture, the dogs go with them. Ofen Joe will sneak back and sleep under a tree during the daytime, but Mike tends to stay where the sheep are. The night is when they are working. 

The Fat Ewe Farm is at the base of Moose HIlls, where there are acres and acres of free grazing lands and many forested areas that are not inhabited by people. Bears, coyotes, wolves, cougars and even wolverines and badgers live in them hills. Without the dogs, the small critters on the farm would be prey. I am happy to report though, that since I have these big beautiful dogs, the only loss the farm has had is a baby goat to a fox last year. Foxes are the hardest for the dogs because they are sly and quick and silent, unlike coyotes, who announce their presence miles away. Still, one tiny loss when other farms have tremendous losses, is very special and it is all because of these wonderful big white fuzzy mutts, oh and Ofcharka, the black fuzzy mutt. They are not mutts really, but they act silly sometimes. 

I love the dogs and could not do what I am doing here alone without them. I am single and alone. They watch over me and the animals and would give their lives to protect us. I don't own a gun either and am not afraid to walk in the forest at night if I need to. The dogs are with me and will protect me and because there are so many, it is too much trouble for predators to bother the animals here. They would rather go where the prey is much easier. 

Mikey is my favourite (shhh, don't tell the others), but I love them all. In the photo they are watching over the lambs as the moms are grazing nearby. That is how it should be. Sweet big dogs and little tiny lambs are made for one another - and for me too!

Sitting on the throne of judgement is really a matter of perspective. 

Is a person fat? Well, how fat? When compared to another who may be 100 pounds heavier, a few pounds overweight doesn't seem so much. 

Is that much money enough? Again, look at the alternatives. When there is a lot of money, a lot of money is spent. When there is less, less must be spent. Compared to what you used to make, perhaps you are a lot poorer, but compared to those who do not have homes or jobs, you are still rich. 

Wanting what we have and having what we want are almost the same thing, IF the perspective is also in balance. 

My farm life is very wonderful. I have more than enough of everything except time and money, but I have enough money because I have the power to earn more when I need it. There is not much I can do about time, or is there? I can sell some more animals until the time that I have is enough for the work I have to create that balance. Then there will also be some time for recreation and fun, though at present that does not happen.  Again, it is a matter of balance. 

Loving what we have and having what we love are related. There are some not so great aspects of owning a farm and being alone in a foreign province where the locals are very cliquish and unfriendly. And for every bleak side there is that silver lining. I have a farm. I have followed my passion, again. I have made another dream come true and am living the life I created, my own reality. 

Really, whether we judge ourselves, others, our lives, our wealth, our poverty, or anything else at all, it is just a matter of perspective and changing how we are looking at things. I am choosing to be filled with joy and be happy. I am the master of my own destiny. You can be that empowered too. You can if you allow yourself to be. You can. 

Ofcharka is a special dog, not an Ofcharka that is the breed, but a livestock guardian dog just the same. His mix is Anatolian Shepherd, Akbash, Pyrenees and Maremma and no one knows where the black colour comes from exactly. He was one of 11 pups, 10 white and then him, and both parents were white. I did find a sometimes black guardian dog breed with the same kind of markings as Ofcahrka, a Karakachan, but Ofcharka does not have that breeding in him that I am aware of. 
But Charka, or Sharky, as I fondly call him, is not well. He has a skin infection that causes him to scratch his skin all the time. He has lost lots of his fur and the fine down that was matted underneath is very thin. It is good we are going into summer. 
I have asked the veterinarians around here if I could bring a blood sample and skin scraping in, but they said no, I have to bring the dog. That is impossible. When Charka got porcupine quills in his face last year, we gave him enough tranquilizer to put a cow to sleep and he still fought every time I came near. Finally in the wee hours of the morning I gave up and went to bed. I was unable to coax him anywhere because he is too smart and knew something was amiss, plus he was in pain. 

Finally a bunch of young men and I took two large area carpets and forced him into a kennel and I shut the door, then they lifted the kennel onto the back of the truck and I took him to the vet's. I believe Charka would bite even me if I tried to force him to do something he does not want to do. 

But he is the gentlest, most submissive of all the dogs in every other way. When I call him, he usually comes and lies down on his back. He loves to be petted and sings when I come home after being away. Charka is first at the gate to greet strangers and me, and he usually wags his tail and is more of a nuisance wanting attention than a guard dog, but I have seen him not wag his tail and not be happy when a certain truck came to the farm. The driver quickly turned around and drove away. Dogs know things. 

I sent a message to a dog rescue hoping they could help me with Charka. I think he has a yeast infection on his skin and he and Jade, who has yeast in her ears which Charka continually licks, are sharing the problem back and forth. Jade has been to the vet's many times and gotten prescribed medicines for her ears, but they never work because Charka is still licking them all the time. I want to help Charka, but am at a loss as to know what to do. The vets will not come to the farm to treat a dog either. Poor fellow. 

Last summer I mixed Borax and hydrogen peroxide in water and poured it on him and it did fix his problem temporarily. As we move into warm weather I will do that again, and hope it will cure him and then I can treat Jade's ears and they will stay clean . I love my dogs very much and am sad to know they are not happy and uncomfortable. But darn, those who can help just won't .Darn! 

Charka is a great dog. He is going to be 5 at the end of this year and I have a feeling his breed will not be long lived. He already has white whiskers around his face, like an older dog. He is alert and active and guards the house and yard with extreme dedication. I love that big boy!

Having livestock at the base of a mountain, or rather, a very large hill, which is called a mountain, in northeastern Alberta means that there are plenty of predators around. The coyotes have been out howling and yipping, but the livestock guardian dogs are barking right back at them,warning them that this is their farm and they are not welcome here. I must say, those dogs are pretty formidable, especially the big boys, Mike, Joe and Charka. Harley has retired himself for the most part, choosing to sleep in the dog house most of the day and half the night. He does come out to see me and to have a bite to eat, but he leaves the "work" to the young boys. Joe and MIke have been staying with their sheep much more now, which is great. There is also Karin Llama and Dolly Donkey living with the ewes, and llamas and donkeys do not like coyotes. 

But do the dogs protect the farm from human predators? I had a discussion tonight with  a friend who is installing a sophisticated alarm system complete with three camera, one at the driveway and one at the house, and the third at the shop. The alarm is directly transferred to the police, fire and ambulance who can view the cameras and see what the problem is. They can listen and watch the intruders. The cost of the system is $70 per month, which is high, but the theft in this area has grown rampant and is out of control. There have been many job losses and people are getting desperate. Drugs play a huge part as well and some alcohol is usually involved. 

I actually don't know if the dogs would hurt an intruder. I am pretty sure Robbie would. The hair on his back has been raised on more than one occasion by a person coming near the house and his teeth have been bared too. If Robbie, who is the pack leader, reacted to a stranger in a negative way, I am almost thinking the other dogs would too. The size of them is plenty to deter those who are up to no good, but if they were high and had a gun, they would just as soon shoot the dogs, only there are a lot of them. I would hate to see Ofcharka mad. He has really big teeth.

So, while the dogs do a superior job of protecting the farm from the animal predators, except the ravens, the jury is actually out on whether or not they would tear up a human the same way. I just sure hope that we do not have to find that one out. Dogs know when some one is not to be trusted. I do not think this would be a good place to test the theory.