Washington is green, green, green, to California eyes. Since two of my sisters went to college in the Northwest, and I once lived for a short time in Portland, I'm familiar with the verdant fields, the cloudy skies, the plethora of slugs. I had packed rain gear and wooly sweaters. So the weather decided to be North Carolina instead, just for my trial weekend. 85 degrees 85% humidity.

Once settled at the trial grounds, I was determined to not fritter away my fragile concentration on chatter and watching other people's runs, but I was introduced to many people and it was difficult to pull myself away. I found refuge behind a barn, in some shelter from the glaring sun, and sat communing with my dog, practicing yogic breathing, and visualizing the perfect run. After a small eternity, it was my turn next.

It was ASCA Course B, which begins with a take pen. The pen was unusually large and rather narrow, not the easiest design. The sheep were big and wooly, very different than the slim nervous barbado sheep we were both used to. Bonnie went deep and around the edge, attentive and slow, just as she ought. I opened the gate wide, and stood well away. I had noticed that the generality of handlers had simply let the sheep run out of the gate and up the field, which went against the grain of all my training and Bonnie's instincts: Don't Lose Control Of Your Sheep. So instead, when despite Bonnie's correct calm behavior the sheep thundered out the gate like an avalanche, I let her continue out to pick them up, as we did every practice.

Uh oh. Bonnie focused on the leader and turned on the overdrive. I yelled at her to get out and started running at her, but by that time she had already turned the leader and brought the whole bunch back to me. I barely had time to shove the gate shut before they arrived. I latched the gate and remembered to try to let them settle down.

It seemed like so many sheep! They each looked twice as big as a barb. They were doggy school sheep which packed themselves around me and threatened to lift me right off my feet. Bonnie was now totally charged up and was barking her sharp high anxiety bark. I told her to shut up, which of course was totally useless. But she soon quieted anyway.

Keep them off the fence was engraved in my mind from my last lesson at Sherry's, so I struggled up the middle of the field with the sheep surrounding me, and Bonnie wearing excitedly back and forth behind me. Oh, here's the panel already! Aim your sheeps' heads at the middle of the hole. I moved out and away and let Bonnie walk them through.

Now we're in the cross drive. Don't let go control of your stock, Sherry had told me, even if they're going in the right direction. ASCA judges aren't partial to that Border Collie "drop and drift" style.

So as they fled ahead of me toward the second panel I flanked Bonnie around me to head them. She stopped them on the fence and I walked between her and the sheep to reposition myself, as I'd been taught, and she put them through the second panel herself.

The way back to the repen I was mainly concerned to Not Lose Control of My Stock, and stay on my feet. That was probably entertaining to watch. At the repen I remembered one last thing, which was to flank my dog around to position my stock at the gate. When they were all peeled off the gate and their big fat wooly heads were all pointing at the opening, I could open the gate in safety and they neither took the gate off at the hinges or swept me into the pen with them. This was just gate-sorting technique Bonnie had performed hundreds of times. Done.

There was a surprising amount of applause and praise, for a kind of barky dog and what I thought were pretty darn obnoxious sheep. But my duck run was coming right up so I put it out of my mind. I figured I'd qualified though, which was my highest goal.

The ducks: Bonnie's take pen work was just right, steady and careful. Then everything went south. I was treating the ducks like sheep, and ducks are not like sheep. A dog cannot wear a little too close behind ducks without spreading them all over the arena. A dog can't walk through her downs without splitting the ducks. Bonnie tried and tried, she was listening to me but I wasn't telling her the right things. When the timer called out the three minute warning I had ducks in three corners of the arena and Bonnie and I were completely frustrated. I gave up and called time on myself, praised my dog for her effort, put the ducks away, and left. Oh well.

The rest of the day was enjoyably spent meeting more people and dogs, watching runs, and doing my best to stay out of the sun and keep my dog cool. Although I perceived the presence of various less-than-warm-to-each-other groups, it was a pleasure to see that people still showed up despite this, unlike California where I knew several people with the "wrong" lines of dogs who simply didn't compete in ASCA any more. Another difference was the presence of a goodly number of "other" breeds. I have never been to a California ASCA trial where there was anything much besides Border Collies and working Aussies. Here there were also Beardies, Terverens, a Bouvier, and, most surprising to me, some Rottweilers who turned in admirable performances. I wondered whether there was a connection there; where I lived I had often heard from AKC herding breed people how unfriendly they found ASCA trials.

The sheep for Open and Advanced dogs were remarkably light, and only excellent dogs did well with them. The cattle ranged from challenging to impossible for almost all the dogs. I thought this was not so much due to the cattle themselves, although there were a few truly awful sets among them, but that the cattle arena was simply enormous, and the experience of the handlers and dogs in general wasn't up to the job of moving cattle such a distance against a draw.

My hostess showed what she and her dog could do on cattle that day, despite their nearly complete lack of experience on cows. She has a natural-born cowdog, a pure talent. I am coming to think that is the only kind of cowdog worth having.

At the end of the day, they took third in Started Cattle, and I took third in Started Sheep after two Other Breeds (which breeds, I never did discover), the second place being decided on time since we had the same number of points. And we bade goodbye to all, until tomorrow, and drove and ferried back to Vashon. We relived and analyzed our runs via videotape, and talked until nearly midnight again, not the brightest behavior, since we had to get up at dawn again the next day.