Originally published in the Napa Valley Register on October 25, 2021There is nothing quite like them. They are cute yet rugged, tender yet fierce, and (mostly) independent yet loyal. I’m talking about farm dogs – the constant companions ambling next to a farmer, getting caught in ankles, trouble and our hearts. Instead of contemplating the uncertain future of farming in California, let us instead take a moment to celebrate the certainty of canine companionship on the farm.
Make no mistake, a farmer may think they own a dog, but in fact, the dog claims and owns the farmer. All dogs have the instinct of pack and family, but a farm dog’s connection to the wild is so direct and primal that “belonging” takes on a whole meaning. Belonging to a farm dog is their job in the literal and figurative sense. They will protect your body, soul, and land from the harms of injury, depression, bobcats and ground squirrels.
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I currently belong to two farm dogs and am the now-grown child of many previous farm dogs. Looking on the other side of the pack hierarchy in the adult “alpha” position, I get to analyze and appreciate how farm dogs treat the “betas” of the pack: children.
Farm dogs claim children like lambs. When visited by a human mother and her newborn, my friend’s sheep guardian dog inspected the baby closely, then proceeded to pee on the mother’s leg to indicate their acceptance into the flock.
One of the German shepherds I grew up with used to follow me and my pack of cousins while we roamed the fields of a dairy farm. On the day my family lost track of my 4-year-old cousin for several hours, we finally found him wandering through the prune orchard with the dog protectively at his side. A farm dog’s tenderness and awareness for children shine even more brightly in the farm setting because they can make a true difference in a child’s safety.
Parallel to a farmer, a farm dog also has a connection to the land. If I take my dogs away from the farm, even on an outdoor adventure, I sense underlying insecurity and loss of self.
Only when I open the car door so they can run out and chase coyotes and smell their favorite haunts and corners again do I realize that my dog is as tied to our land as I am. Perhaps it is this partnership, this shared satisfaction in caring for a bit of this planet, this knowing where the quail hide and the vultures roost, that makes our relationship easier than any other. With their dog, a farmer is not self-conscious about how much they work or why they care so much for their land. The dog gets it and will be by the farmer’s side from dawn to dark.
While farm dogs can be obedient and intelligent, they always have a few triggers that turn them reckless and impossibly annoying. A farm dog can make their farmers sick with worry, frustration, and finally resignation when they insist on chasing tractors back and forth across a field. And when they enter the “hunt” for an animal, you remember how few nucleotide differences exist between a dog and a wolf.
My husband once witnessed from the shower window our two medium-sized dogs trying to take down a deer. What proceeded was a futile attempt to call the dogs back and a chase through the orchard dressed only in flip flops and a towel. The drama ended when I finally caught the dogs in the middle of a creek so the deer could safely escape.
Finally, of course, let us not forget the most common source of ire: a farm dog’s obsession with feces. Whether from cats, calves, a potty-training baby or an isolated rancher miles from a bathroom, you can be sure the dog will find it and turn it into a delicious snack.
In all love stories, there is heartbreak too. Farm dogs’ fates often end tragically and painfully. You can try to shelter your dog from all the dangers of a farm, but a farm is dangerous, and a dog is independent -- and, yes, a bit dumb. Farmers have to accept that while their dogs are important, they are still animals, and the rules of life and death on a farm are much more present and unforgiving.
Farm dogs are dirty, troublesome, heart-breaking, and obnoxious. So why do we keep them? I’ve asked this question of many farmers, and I think it comes down to the reason we all love dogs: namely, their unconditional love and support.
Inevitably, a farmer encounters some days when disaster strikes, they want to give up, and not a single human can provide comfort and hope. That is when their dog comes and sits down next to them, wags its tail in the dirt, and just listens. After a few ear scratches and a smile, the farmer gets back up and keeps going … with their dog at their heels.