“Listen, children to a story
That was written long ago.
About a kingdom on a mountain and the valley folk below…”
One Tin Soldier – (The Legend of Billy Jack) -Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter
So maybe that’s a little dramatic, but bear with me.
Billy Jack is my all-time favorite movie.
To me, the ultimate take away of the movie is the paradox of Billy Jack himself. A kind of half-hippie, half-warrior of goodness, love and peace, who, when witnessing injustice, resorts to blind resistance, violence and rage.
Why?
Because it’s all Billy Jack knew to do.
But wait, there’s more! The gift of this movie just keeps on giving.
The ice cream shop scene is epic. It represents the water-like flow of our journeys on earth and how the flow moves not only our lives, but that of others as well. Sort of like a spiritual synonym to the physics of inertia.
The repercussions to each character – even the characters not present for the ice cream shop scene – are vast and provide endless subject matter for discussion.
If you have read our blog before, you know I am somehow going to bring this around to dogs – in particular – my dog Boo Rowdy.
Right here is where that all begins.
Boo has an issue I refer to as her “Billy Jack Syndrome.”
Because sometimes, she just – goes – berserk.
I know that vets discourage assigning human diagnosis or traits – especially those of mental processing make up – to dogs.
I have no formal or clinical education in medicine so my conclusions are that of someone who only possesses a heightened level of observation and a good sense of energy fields to understand the workings of grey matter, whether human or canine.
I base pretty much everything about anything on my observations and my belief that there are no coincidences – that the paths of our walk-abouts provide specific opportunities to choose – or choose not to – elevate our souls.
We are all works in progress.
Except for Liam.
I like to think that sharing some of Boo and my journey might help the next person, even if it’s merely a spark that ignites a new concept, direction or process of thought – even if your life is NOT about dogs.
Although I shudder at the horror of that, I do know those people exist. And that’s cool.
“Raising Boo” is a creaky wooden roller-coaster trestle with high peaks and low valleys. It is a continual learning process. Through it I collect, ingest, mull, apply, massage and discard behavioral information.
Recently I was talking with my neighbor and she introduced me to the term “sensory-seeker” and explained it.
I was floored.
She had identified and slapped a name on a root issue I had been struggling to grasp well enough to be able to search for a definition of.
I believe Boo’s Billy Jack Syndrome is not reactive behavior in the classic sense of what I understand reactive behavior in dogs to be. Our work right now is to define Boo’s mind and help to give alternatives to – if not completely free – Billy Jack.
The term proprioception refers to the individual’s ability to sense body movement, position and balance. Sensory-seekers desire increased proprioception.
With humans, the individual may present through tighter hugs, physically demonstrate a desire to crash into objects, speak loudly or haltingly and react adversely in social communication to satisfy this need. They are often desirous of feeling pressure or actual physical contact – in essence, they seek to increase the sensory stimuli of whatever the event or subject ”is.”
Boo struggles to contain her desire to physically and very rapidly work the stock – because it makes sense to her – due to her make up she wants to over-experience the stimuli to satisfy this need.
In her social skills, she presents behavior that is highly desirous of heavy contact. Sitting pleasantly and being petted is rarely enough.
Denied, her frustration can lead to Billy Jack hapkido-ing around the ice cream shop and when the dust settles, we are both crawling out with a cargo hold of baggage to work through.
So we quest to learn in a way that works for us. It’s not always traditional and it’s not always successful and we entertain a lot of trial and error.
Still we are blessed, as each time Boo and me are presented with a locked door, we are gifted a shiny new key with which to unlock an exciting new stream of consciousness.
If your dog doesn’t come with a model-specific owner’s manual – it’s up to you to write it.
Much of Boo’s manual – which we refer to as “Boo-Think” – has been developed based on what we have learned at Draxen Farms.
Sheepherding, like baseball, is a sport of great variables – many of which are out of the handler’s control. Each outcome is the direct result of the handler or player’s knowledge and experience of – and ability to – execute the fundamentals through the many variables the game presents as it plays out.
Around April Boo and I plunged into a serious mid-season slump. We had entered into a train of thought a friend of mine refers to as “toilet bowl racing.”
Then the rains came.
Once the Farm dried out, we found ourselves flooded out of the front area where the short fields are to work in the big field in the back.
There’s something about the big field that is special to Boo and me. It’s where I initially “heard” Boo during our first summer at the Farm. Back then we worked on a line all through the summer months to learn about the sheep and about one another.
Life lessons well learned allowed me a peace in trusting an answer would come. With patience, the treasure – a shiny new key that was owned by someone else – would surface in the time frame it was supposed to.
In the meantime, we would pick up our tools and plough.
I thought that going back to restrictive work would bring about a spark, but I was wrong.
Mike sensed that the line was frustrating Boo and he was right. Boo knew she had moved beyond that and was resentful – sort of like putting training wheels back on a bike for a kid who had experienced soaring down the street on two wheels. Though letting her off the line and having a “go” at it often resulted in an appearance by Billy Jack and when that happens – we have to stop.
Pushing her to see if I can “handle” the event that may occur is not an option. Our communication becomes muted and these occurrences are difficult to walk back from.
Boo more than anything wants to please me. She becomes bewildered – which only makes her try harder – in a way that she chooses.
The results can be catastrophic.
Boo – like Billy Jack – although fearless – is a gentle soul and highly empathic. Their shared paradox being a side that exists to satisfy their sensory needs for over-experiencing the stimuli presented – their perceived need for full satisfaction.
Because that’s all they know.
I believe that new paths can be created which will help Boo choose an alternate route when she comes to a crossroad that can lead to a Billy Jack moment.
I also believe that the more Boo learns new ways to think, the less Billy Jack stirs, which in turn will lessen Boo’s need for her process of sensory-seeking.
So with no clear answer in reach, we did what all slumpers do. We trusted the process, dialed back and worked on our foundation.
It was a mechanical, grinding period and although we were having fun, we weren’t having the type of fun we knew we could have as we learned.
This year, Mike’s co-trainer Laurie had changes in her schedule that allowed her to spend more time at the Farm.
One afternoon in July Laurie asked me to tell her about Boo. She didn’t have to ask me twice. Laurie was “fresh eyes and ears” as she really hadn’t seen Boo in…action. That day, she had watched us work, listened intently, asked me some questions and said she’d think about some things and talk to Mike.
A week or so after I had talked to Laurie, Mike told me that she had an idea for an exercise called the “wagon wheel” for Boo and he felt it was going to be really good for us. Boo loves to learn by playing games – Mike knows this too.
The sheepherding idea behind the exercise is to teach your dog an outrun. Lisha demonstrated the exercise with her Border Collie Skye, and then Laurie demonstrated the exercise with her Aussie, Trekker. Although both are herders, Border Collies and Aussies work very differently and she wanted me to have a visual of the difference.
There’s a little something for your owner’s manual.
Half way around the wheel the first time, Boo “got” the rules of the game. That didn’t mean she wasn’t trying to change them – but she did get it.
And even more importantly – she – and I – were having fun.
We lit up.
For the wagon wheel exercise the sheep are in an ex-pen in the middle of an open area to ensure that they don’t move. This works great for Boo as she is very sensitive to the sheep’s movement.
The handler chooses a starting area and places the dog in a lie-down, reinforces the stay, and then walks away and out from the circle and the dog, encouraging the dog to take a wider berth around the stock when the handler gives a flanking command.
When the dog is parallel to the handler, the handler halts the dog, asks for a lie-down and repeating the same sequence, moves to the next “spoke” of the wheel.
To start, I held the check cord and moved Boo out and away from the stock in the direction of the flanking command. We kept our spokes a short distance apart.
At first, Boo consistently insisted on turning in toward the stock as well as taking an average of five small steps after I asked her for a lie-down. Laurie explained that this was Boo’s way of “claiming the space” that is mine – not hers.
I believe that when Boo does this she is not only claiming the space to be hers, she is also presenting her need to “sensory seek.” With Boo, we refer to out of the Boo-Box-Think – and that there may be more than one type of behavior at play – and I “got” this one as soon as I added up what Laurie and Mike were telling me.
After some discussion with my Sensei team behind the fence, I corrected this behavior – and communicated to Boo that she need not apply her sensory seeking to play the game – not by speaking but instead through transmission of mild if not indifferent energy – and picking up the cord and leading her back to the proper place, showing her that her attempt to claim my space is not acceptable and that I would not give it any energy.
This is all done in a very calm, positive and productive energy field that the game easily enables us to create and maintain – and build on.
By the time we finished our initial come-bye circle, we were getting the hang of it. We then tackled the away circle, which is not Boo’s preferred flank. That first time was very difficult, but by the time we got around the wheel, Boo knew what I wanted from her and better yet – she knew she did not need to sensory-seek.
Billy Jack did not awake.
Laurie couldn’t have picked a more perfect exercise to present to us as our new key. She asked if we had one more come-bye in us and we did.
Halfway through that third circle, Boo demonstrated that she not only understood the game but also her desire to perform it properly and according to the rules.
My Girlie glowed with a pride that I could not only sense – I could see. She knew she did not need to call upon Billy Jack to understand, perform and complete the game.
This is a beautiful thing.
We performed the exercise once more that day on each of our flanks. We left the Farm pretty high.
A recent Monday was our fourth week of wagon wheel work and the light is shining very brightly at the end of the tunnel.
Boo is pushing out far and wide on her commands and is being consistent with what I ask of her. Mike has made some key observations on how my movements affect Boo. We have made his corrections and we move forward – sometimes we forget and have to reset, but so far, it’s been very, very good.
We are very excited to begin working on some modifications to our wheel once we completely master the basics of it. These modifications will set up us for new growth in our herding work and although that is the main purpose of the exercise, it – as our work at the Farm always does – teaches us far more than sheepherding.
Heading into the fall, it feels so good to have been presented our mountain treasure – a shiny new key firmly in hand. Standing in our bright new room, we aim to sort out some baggage, work to close the door to the ice cream shop – and bring about some peace to heal the paradox of Billy Jack.
One Tin Soldier rides away.
Well, maybe two.
“Heading down south to the land of the pines,
I’m thumbing my way into North Caroline,
Staring up the road and pray to God I see headlights…
And I ain’t a turnin’ back, to living that old life no more…
So rock me Momma like a wagon wheel,
Rock me Momma any way you feel,
Hey, Momma rock me…”
-Bob Dylan and Ketch Secor