Hi all! My name is Callie. I'm a Maremma Sheepdog - one of the breeds called livestock guardian dogs.

This is me when I was a puppy. Everyone thought I looked like a little lamb. Wasn't I just adorable?

Last month my brother Augie was interviewed for our mom’s GRIT blog. Now it is my turn to talk!

Augie told everyone a lot about livestock guardian dogs, but what I really want to tell you is what we do all day.

First, I have to tell you that my day is not like the day of every livestock guardian dog. That is because we all have different jobs, depending on where we live and who we live with.

Most LGDs (that’s short for livestock guardian dogs) have more animals than Augie and I have. They also have bigger animals than ours.

Sheep and goats are the most common friends of LGDs. Some LGDs have horses, cows, pigs, alpacas, or poultry. Usually the dogs live with the animals and stay in the pasture with them. Those that have several types of animals to watch over may make their rounds from pen to pen.

Some LGDs don’t even have any animals - they just have people to guard. Augie and I know a nice retired mama LGD who now has the job of watching the farm owners’ children. She goes with them wherever they are playing around their farm.

See, there are two main reasons people get LGDs to live at their farms. One is to live with livestock and guard them from predators - that’s what most LGDs do. The second reason is to guard the property and prevent intruders from entering it. Augie and I? We do both.

Our parents brought Augie and me home because coyotes, bears and cougars roam through their property. Our job is to make sure those wild animals don’t come in our four-acre fenced area. Dad and Mom wanted dogs with courage to relentlessly keep those big predators away, whether or not we had livestock at our farm.

So Augie and I came here to protect our property, the people that live and visit here, and whatever livestock is inside our fences.

Here's another picture of me ... how did they know I'd been snooping in the fire pit ashes? I thought I looked totally innocent!

Before we arrived our parents got some chickens so we would have some livestock to guard. But we also bonded quickly to our human mom and dad. Don’t tell them, but we consider them our sheep.

Mom and Dad have eight grownup kids and thirteen grandkids. We’ve bonded with all of them, and now they are our sheep too.

There are some friends who come here a lot and others that have come only once. But we always remember them, even if we haven’t seen them for a long time. And when they are here, we will take care of them.

Sometimes new chickens come, and sometimes the ones we had will leave us. A few weeks ago Augie and I got some pigs to guard too. We are still getting used to them.

When I was little, I found some cool places to rest.

Well, let me tell you about my day now! It’s hard to say when my day starts, because LGDs are really on duty 24/7. We dognap (I don’t know why someone named naps after the feline species) off and on but we are always ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

But let’s start with the morning. That's when Augie and I are usually the most tired. We have been very busy during the night, so we rest a lot in the morning. One or both of us gets up now and then to patrol our perimeters, peek in on our chickens and pigs, and say good morning to any of our people that are out and about.

We like to walk around with our dad and mom (always hoping for a pat on the head, a scratch behind the ears, or a belly rub). We bark at the free-range chickens that try to eat our kibble. We sniff the air if an aroma is drifting by, and we bark if we hear a strange car coming up the road.

Many times a day we do our patrol routine. We walk along the fence line and mark it, if you know what I mean. This lets other animals know that we are in charge here. We cross our fenced area through the orchard and around the garden.

When we came to our new home, Augie taught me how to patrol our fences. We both learned from our moms and other Maremmas, but Augie continued to teach me.

We circle around the pig paddock and the chicken pen and make sure everyone’s doing fine. If there’s a problem, we take care of it if we can. When a chicken is feeling under the weather, we will lie next to it till it feels better. Sometimes a chicken just doesn’t get better and we wait for a person to come and take it away.

Augie and I walk all around the utility barn where our parents live. No, they are not animals, but their house is inside the barn. We have never been inside our family’s house. Sometimes we look in the window to check on them. Once in a while if the door is open we will stick our heads inside and look around, but Augie and I always keep our feet outside on the porch.

We walk through the barn and check it out. If there’s a mouse we can catch, we will do it. If we can’t catch it, we will bark at it. A lot. Sometimes a pen of baby chicks is in the barn and we say hello to them. I know they feel safer knowing we are there.

In between patrols, we like to rest some more. We also eat our kibble when our dad brings it, and we drink lots and lots of water. But sometimes we’re just not hungry for dog food because we dined on rodents during our patrol walks.

Our work load is light during the day, because most of the threatening predators sleep during the day. Occasionally some deer or wild turkeys get close to our fences, but we bark at them. We also bark at the neighbors’ cows.

Here we are, a couple of sentries patrolling our perimeter.

When evening comes, Augie and I are well-rested and ready for a busy night. This is when we really shine. Nights can be exhausting, but they’re very exhilarating.

First of all, we pick up our patrol schedule during the night. We make more frequent perimeter walks, and we stop and bark at any smell or sound outside.

Almost every night, a pack of coyotes walks across our property down below our fenced area. We are always vigilant, visible and audible so they know we are the bosses. They keep on going but sometimes they pause to test us. Not for long though - they get the message real quickly. No free chicken dinners at this farm!

Though the coyotes still cross our property, our family has not seen any sign of bears or cougars close to our fenced area since Augie and I have been here. That’s because we do our job so well!

After a long night of patrolling and barking, Augie and I are ready for a break. That’s when our morning begins - and the daily routine starts all over again.

LGDs that live with sheep and goats have a similar routine, but they do some other things that are really cool. Some of them get to help when babies are born! They will stay near the mamas and keep other animals away to give her privacy. An LGD will help keep the first baby warm and dry while the mama is delivering a second one. When the babies get older, the LGDs watch out for the little ones and even let them climb all over them. So they get to be midwives and nannies.

Here I am all grown up, a fine example of a livestock guardian dog.

If you’d like to know more about livestock guardians, you can read about us at our family’s blog Rural Living Today. Here is a post on Livestock Guardian Animals (LGDs, donkeys, and llamas). And this one is about the fine, intelligent, hard-working, brave, beautiful, wonderful, charming, dynamic, modest dogs like me: Livestock Guardian Dogs.

Thanks for stopping by! I have to go congratulate that hen that is singing her egg song. Why do they always want to tell the world that they laid an egg? Chickens!

Two valuable members of our family are our Maremma livestock guardian dogs, Augie and Callie. They watch over our chickens and the people who live and visit within their assigned territory. Though coyotes, bears, and an occasional cougar traverse our property, none of those intruders are allowed within our fencelines. 

 

 

 
Augie and Callie are usually very busy day and night doing their patrols and checking on everyone and everything on the farm. But this week, Augie took the time to write a post for our family’s blog, Rural Living Today. After reading it, I asked Augie if I could interview him for this GRIT blog.

The huge fluffy dog agreed, and we sat down for a chat. Here is what he has to say.

Augie, we understand that the term “livestock guardian dog” applies to a group of dog breeds used for centuries to protect and defend flocks of sheep and goats. Tell us more about these breeds. 

Well, there are several breeds of LGDs (that's short for Livestock Guardian Dogs). Of course, I am partial to Maremma Sheepdogs, since I am one, but the others do a good job too! The most common in the western world are (in alphabetical order) Anatolian Shepherds, Great Pyrenees, and Maremmas. The Akbash, Kommondors, Kuvasz, and Tibetan Mastiffs are also becoming better known outside of the old countries.

How are the LGD breeds alike and different? 

We all have some basic instincts that are the same. We all work hard to protect and defend our stock and our property. But there are differences too. Some breeds bond more to the stock or people, and some bond more to the boundaries they defend. Some are more likely to grow fond of children, and some would rather not be touched and petted very much.

How are the LGD breeds different from other dog breeds? 

LGDs are wired instinctively to do whatever is necessary to protect our charges. We will even give our lives for our flocks and our people. We were not bred to be pets, though we are nice to have around and some of us really like people. We weren’t bred to be show dogs, as the focus on beauty and obedience could distract from our effectiveness on our jobs. We are not herding dogs, though we can herd our stock into a corner to protect them if need be.  

 
Can LGDs be trained for obedience? 

Why yes, we can be taught to sit, wait, come, stay back, and those kinds of things. If we know you are the alpha, we will obey. But our inner instincts will override our wish to obey if we feel there’s a danger. Don’t be surprised if I suddenly take off for the far corner of the property to scare off a coyote. If you tell me to get back when a stranger is there, and I sense you are in danger, I will want to stay at your side. I’m not being rebellious or disagreeable; I’m just letting my top priority and instincts take over until the danger is gone.

How do you LGDs learn your job? 

Well, first of all, we start watching our mothers when we are very young. We will go on patrol with them and they’ll show us how the LGD work is done. Later we learn from other LGDs how to treat the stock, how to be watchful for threats, and how to bark different barks. The other dogs will teach us, train us, and correct us.   

Do you need people to train you too? 

Oh yes, definitely. They should show us our area to patrol and introduce us to our stock and people in the family that we are to guard. They should let us know what is normal and routine around the farm so we will know what isn’t. As puppies we shouldn’t be left alone with stock that might hurt us, or with little critters that we might play too roughly with. If there isn’t an older working LGD to teach us, the humans have to do the training. We will instinctively guard and protect, but we need to know the rules of your farm. 

 
What are the basic requirements of a home for an LGD?

First of all, we work best in a team, so we prefer to have a partner or two. We need clear boundaries—good fences—that tell us what area we are to protect. We need a strong alpha human with time to work with us, making expectations clear and showing us what to protect. On a more practical side, we don’t usually like enclosed houses but we need shelter from extreme weather. We need lots of water and good food—plenty of it, because we are large dogs.

Is there anything else you’d like humans to know about LGDs? 

Yes. Please don’t scold us for barking. LGDs bark! We bark day and night. We bark to warn far-off howling coyotes to stay away. We bark to tell passing deer and bears not to come any closer. We bark to announce approaching vehicles and anything that is out of the ordinary or does not belong. Yes, we will even bark at raccoons and chipmunks. Now, I don’t mean we should be allowed to bark for no reason or taunt the livestock with barking. Correct us for that, but please let us do our job-related barking.

And that reminds me of some good names for LGDs. How about Bob Barker? Sir Barksalot? Barkley? Tree Bark? Almond Bark? Okay, now I’m getting a little out there with names. Better go do my patrol and stuff that I’m good at.

Thank you, Augie Doggie, for the enlightening interview! For more insight into the life of Augie and his sister, Callie, see Augie’s post at Rural Living Today. 

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School .   

It has been two weeks since our livestock guard llama, Louise, passed away leaving her partner, Thelma, in charge of guarding the sheep. I’ve since come to realize, unlike Cagney and Lacy, the division of responsibility was never equal. Thelma isn’t security team material, she’s more like the bad teenage babysitter that is so concerned about what the young alpaca boys next door are doing she lets all her charges run wild. In an effort to pick up the slack, Willamina the Great Pyrenees has taken on the added responsibility and has been pulling a lot of double shifts.

  

Willa and I have had our differences over the years, but she does finally seem to be outgrowing her wild youth and maturing into a responsible adult. She still has the occasional outburst of energy. Now that she resides exclusively with the alpacas that are taller than her though, she doesn’t seem to want to play chase as much. It seems to only be the smaller animals that trigger that impulse, like the great chicken chase last summer. 

It happened during the routine nightly ritual of tucking all the animals in for the night. It was a complicated system; a certain order had to be followed to keep the peace amongst all the livestock residents. The goats needed to be tucked into their goat grotto first so that the sheep can cross the goat pasture to get to the barn. Only then could Willa be let out to start on her nightly patrol. The chickens had a pasture all to themselves so we didn’t have to worry about them. Chickens are smart enough to tuck themselves in at night so all a farmer has to do is shut the coop doors behind them. I had just finished shutting one of them that night when I heard the ruckus begin.

It seems Prius, a hybrid hen, had jumped the fence and landed in the goat pasture -- where Willa was. I hadn’t noticed her out there because of all the tall grass, and frankly wouldn’t have been looking for her back there because we’ve never had one of the large breed hens jump the fence before. I’m not sure who scared who first, but all of sudden the dog was jumping up and down barking, the chicken was squawking and feathers were flying everywhere. There were at least 200 yards and two fences between me and the mayhem. In my panic, I actually thought for a second I would jump one of the fences as I took off in a flat-out run to save Prius. Then, almost as if I could hear the screeching tires in my head, I remembered that I don’t have super human strength or the ability to fly, and so I had to resort to going all the way around and through the gates; a much less direct route.

I was screaming at Willa as I ran to “leave it,” a command the other dogs grasped easily in obedience class but Willa never did. Even when I reached them she still didn’t want to give up the now lifeless chicken. It didn’t seem like a good idea to reach my arm into the jaws of a Great Pyrenees and take away its new found snack but I was only armed with an empty plastic coffee can in my hand that probably only weighed an ounce. I threw it at her anyway; she didn’t even notice. I was more than a little hysterical by this point. In the end it was my hysteria that finally got her to let go. It was if she stopped to say, “What is your problem, lady?”

I scooped up the chicken and stumbled back through the tall grass and brush to the chicken pasture. Prius wasn’t moving. She was wet with slobber and half her feathers were missing. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not because I was actually hyperventilating myself. I had witnessed the 100 pound dog pounce on the 2 pound chicken, so she had to be dead. I was beyond furious, having difficulty breathing and it was getting dark. I still needed to finish locking up the chicken coop so I left the lifeless little body just inside the door and planned to bury her first thing in the morning. I stayed mad at Willa all night. Mad because she chases chickens. Mad because she wouldn’t “leave it.” Mad because she made me throw the can at her.

It was raining the next morning when I walked out with a shovel, still angry. I opened the chicken doors and out scampered the chickens. Once they passed by I looked in to get Prius only she wasn’t there. Then my brain caught up with my eyes and I nearly gave myself whiplash when I turned to see that Prius had just walked past me with all the other birds. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “She’s ALIVE!” I thought. “What in the world?” Apparently chickens know how to play dead. Or she was in shock. Or she came back to life as a zombie chicken.

 

No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t stay mad at Willa. She was just doing her job; if that 100-pound dog really wanted to kill that 2-pound chicken, it really would be dead. I now think she was trying to help catch it. Since then we’ve locked the chickens up first and conducted a beak count before releasing the hound. We are still working on that whole “leave it” thing.

Unlike Thelma, Willa absolutely earns her keep around here. Each evening of late just after I tuck everyone in for the night I hear the blood curdling howling start; there is a pack of coyotes camped out in the ravine behind the barn. I suppose they are using the spring-fed pond as their winter watering hole. It sounds as if they are coming within feet, not yards, of the perimeter fence. Willa makes it emphatically clear where the boundaries are in case they’ve forgotten, going so far as to have created a rut where she patrols back and forth.

We are bringing another rescue llama in to keep Thelma company and hopefully refocus her attention back to the sheep, but it is Willa who allows me to sleep at night. Bringing up a livestock guardian dog from a pup isn’t easy, they will try your patience, they will bark at harmless croaking frogs for hours and they might even try to eat a chicken or two. Waiting them out is worth it though, eventually you will wake up one day and suddenly realize they have quietly become worth their weight in gold.