So far, we had made great strides in training. Some of this was by accident, some due to our understanding and interpretation of Anatolian behavior, most was due to Erick’s constant help and backup. We were not fluent in Anatolian yet but were learning. The more we learned how they thought and worked, the more they taught us. Move over, Diane Fossey! Anatolian behavior over the years has amazed us. Some of it was similar to our Pyrs, other behaviors were quite different. Our Anatolians were now working well as a bonded pair. Harika was still perfect - experienced, wise, the brains of the outfit. Bubba was fully grown - weighing in at 160 lbs., he was the brawn, or as our son calls him, “the heavy artillery”.
I had read about Anatolians’ hatred of snakes and how they attacked them on sight. Perhaps the puppies’ destruction of hoses were because they reminded them of snakes. One afternoon as our grandchildren came in from the field Harika and Bubba gamboled around them. Suddenly, they rushed ahead, ruffs up. A snake had appeared on the driveway 15 feet ahead. Harika and Bubba separated and immediately attacked the snake. Lunging from both sides, they alternately grabbed it, shook it, and tossed it away before it could twist to strike. Each time they would jump back out of striking range then attack again. I had never seen such fast response in a dog – their movements blurred in action. In their native Turkey there are many poisonous snakes, and this must be an inherited genetic response. Perhaps only ancestors that could kill snakes survived back in the mists of time. Baymule’s Pyr, Paris, delighted in hunting out and killing every snake she found. I wonder if this is a trait of all livestock guardian breeds that originated in places with poisonous snakes. Having killed the snake, both Harika and Bubba returned to the children and sniffed them from head to toe to make sure they were ok. Then they went to the field and checked each individual sheep.
Bubba and Harika know where the sheep belong. Their sheep belong on the field, and they know each individual sheep that is there. In the morning the sheep are turned out into the field. The dogs have already checked out the field and are at the gate to the fold to welcome them. Around dusk the sheep all come to the gate of the fold to be put up and fed for the night. The dogs remain with them until the evening feeding is finished. If one was missing, Harika would fetch us and show us where it was. This “Timmy’s in the well” behavior was unmistakable and had occurred several times. Once an injured ewe did not want to make the steep climb back to the barn. After accompanying the rest of the flock to the gate, Rika ran in circles around DS1 preventing him from moving. He came and got me since she was acting so oddly. Counting the sheep, I realized that we were one short. After our experiences with coyotes, I looked in the bottom of the gully. The ewe was laying at the south end. I told DS1 I would walk down to check. In order to get to the bottom of the gully you have to walk from side to side on a switchback sheep path. Using my crook for balance I started down the path which took me in a north direction. As I started onto the field Rika relaxed and became happy but as I started down in the opposite direction to where the sheep lay at the bottom, she became distressed. Her downturned tail and ears showed her disappointment in my lack of understanding. I reached the first switchback and started down the next leg. This time I was going south. Rika was happy again until I reached the next switchback. As I headed north again, she seemed to shake her head in disgust. When I finally got to the bottom of the gully the "dead" sheep was revealed to be gimpy and unwilling to make the steep climb. Hauling the ewe to its feet I started her up the path. Rika bounded along happily now that I had "rescued" her sheep.
When my mare died of old age on our field, both dogs sat on guard over the body all night. In the morning the truck came to remove her. We put the dogs in the house while her body was winched onto the flatbed. In the house they whined and howled. After the truck left with the carcass, they ran to investigate where she had been, then tracked the truck to the gate and paced back and forth in front of it for several hours. Now when we lose a sheep, we let the dogs examine the carcass for several hours before putting it outside the gate for animal pick up. When the truck arrives to remove the body, we bring the dogs in the house. Our knowledge of Anatolian behavior has broadened, and “strange” behavior can be explained.
As our flock grew, we began to separate the sheep into groups in different locations. The main flock went out onto the field from the night fold every morning accompanied by their watchful guardians. Breeding ewes and the chosen ram were in the breeding pen. The rest of the boys were confined to the communal ram pen. Ewes ready to deliver went into barn jugs. Ewes with nursing lambs occupied an adjacent pen with a creep. This system worked well, but occasionally all the sheep had to be rotated. Breeding rams would have to be exchanged. Bred ewes, and ewes with weaned lambs would rejoin the main flock. Ewes close to lambing would be sorted out and removed to the barn jugs, while open ewes needed to be moved into the breeding pen. And of course, weaned ram lambs were sorted for auction.
Our flock know the routine of being herded into various pens. The ewes follow a bucket of grain or flake of hay. They are sheep - where one goes, so go they all. Except - as fast as we sorted and began to herd the chosen sheep to the new location, Bubba and Harika rounded them up and herded them back into the previous location! At first, we thought it was a mistake. Bubba was young, he was getting in the way because he didn’t understand. Orders to “Back Off” occasioned only slight hesitation. Shouting made Bubba more determined to return the sheep to their original location. This scenario was repeated every time the sheep were moved. Harika and Bubba wanted the sheep to stay in their assigned pens. They kept giving us exasperated looks. After a particularly grueling 2 hours in the summer heat, the sheep were stressed, and we were exhausted. Taking a break, I remembered how shouting in the lambing barn had made Bubba more determined and aggressive towards the ewes. Maybe this was something like that. We took the easy way out and kenneled the dogs. With them watching attentively from the kennel, we sorted the now flighty sheep into the appropriate groups and moved them. Turning the dogs loose, we watched as they went from one pen to another sniffing each sheep in turn. Finally, having greeted every individual in the flock, and identified their new location, they returned to fling themselves down at our feet panting.
That was when I realized what was happening. Moving different sheep to different pens completely reordered their world. Harika and Bubba did not like change. Every morning and at intervals during the day the dogs routinely check each pasture. Changing sheep from one location to another is upsetting since new danger may be there. The same thing happens when moving to a new home. In the new place the dogs must learn where the predator danger is, the safest place to put the sheep when danger approaches, the best place to watch over the flock, etc. When we move to Texas our dogs will need several months to readjust. Understanding the reasoning of your Anatolians is paramount. This should have been apparent to us from the start, but we have a slow learning curve as Anatolian owners.
Most LGD protection is heard rather than seen. Perimeter patrols, nightly barking, territorial marking – all keep predators in check. Wild predators prefer not to fight unless necessary. Injured predators can’t hunt, severely injured predators die. Flight or avoidance of protected areas is preferred unless driven by starvation. We know our dogs are working because we haven’t lost any animals. We have faith in our dogs although we have not seen what happens if a predator defies them. One of my neighbors was lucky enough to witness exactly that.
Our sheep were grazing in the gully as their lambs played. It had been a wet winter and the lush foliage was higher than their heads. The dogs were peacefully dozing on the upper slope. Suddenly our neighbor, Bob, roared up our road in his truck. Almost too excited to talk, he gasped out that he had a story to tell me. He was working on his property and watching the little lambs playing. A movement on the other side of the fence caught his attention and he saw a big coyote. It kept jumping in the air to watch the lambs over the top of the brush. Suddenly, it hopped over the 6’ fence and ran toward a couple lambs. John grabbed his cell phone and tried to dial my number to warn me so I could save the lambs. This would have been an exercise in futility since once outside the house I would have had to cover 150’ of pasture then climb down another 150’ of extremely steep gully wall before getting close enough to try to frighten off the coyote. As he tried to dial the phone, John noticed a flash of yellow on the hillside. Looking over he saw both Anatolians racing down the hillside, completely silent. The coyote had almost reached the lambs when it happened to look up and see the dogs converging on him. Turning he ran for his life. Just as Harika and Bubba reached Mr. Coyote’s tail, he managed to leap back over the fence. John said he had never seen dogs run so fast in his life.
Excited, I called Erick to report the fabulous rescue. After bragging about my wonderful guardians, I wondered why they had not barked. Erick told me Anatolians bark to warn off predators. If predators disobey those warnings and come after the flock, Anatolians will simply kill the predator. Harika and Bubba were not in warning mode. They meant business and were coming after the coyote to “terminate with extreme prejudice”.