March Came in Like a Lion

While February 2018 was "precariously dry" as I wrote in my journal, March came in like a lion, precisely on March 1st. We had rain and wind, and rain and wind again. Raining so much it became hard to work the dogs and the sheep got stressed. One of our Scotties got really sick but with care and medications she pulled through. Sometimes you wonder why Mother Nature has to do it all at once?

Mr. Technicolor continues to grow... (photo by Barb McP)

We went to Sonoma Wine Country, and we went to Zamora; two Open runs at each trial, and all four runs, RTs. No scoreboards in this post. :-) At least I got these pictures of the boys at Zamora before I left for home:

I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed, but I've been telling myself that I will not get really upset over these spring trials, as I knew they would be really hard. In three of the four runs, Spot got out to the sheep. That is huge. In two of the runs, we got the sheep at least partway down the field. Lots of the teams could not do that. Each trial has its tricky bits, Sonoma has the draws and Zamora just has the immense course. Both have the range ewes who are not Spot's forte. Still, his outruns are improving, and we are both less nervous than last year at this time. We are trying. I know how much work I have put in with the lessons and practicing and trying to analyze our best strategies, and pretty much don't care what anyone else thinks. March was hard on me. The cold and wet weather seemed to exacerbate my foot and leg pain to the max, again. I made an extra visit for acupuncture. Super grateful for that help.  Super grateful also, for the friends who provide feedback and support on the sheepdog journey. Gloria sent me the Teddy Roosevelt quote, "the man in the arena." OK, so I'm the woman on the field with a dog (LOL) but it does seem to fit:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.