(Happy to see that Bud has fully acclimated to the new create, after we put food there and some treats for a couple of days with the gate open. He’s been left in the house twice for several hours, and went into the crate happily, and stayed quietly. He has no fear of it now, tonight he is dozing in there with the door open.)

I was much impressed with Bud’s rounding up of the stray ewe Giselle today, and Bud is now a rock star, he’s getting plenty of messages. I ought to say in all honesty that Bud is not a herding dog and cannot ever be a herding dog.

Social media is full of praise for this entitled creature, he has a lot of faith in himself for sure, and so far, is fearless around other living things (except humans).

But Bud cannot replace Red, as many have suggested or learn how to herd sheep by watching Red and Fate (he sure can’t learn from Fate, who doesn’t herd sheep) or any other dog.

I owe it to the herding dogs to advocate perspective and reality. Herding is one of the most arduous, complex and physical work that any breed is ever called upon to do.

I have used the term “herding dog” to describe Bud more than once, I mean it ironically and in humor. I need to be more careful about that. Bud has done some herding, which is remarkable enough, but I need to explain why he isn’t and can never be a herding dog.

Kathy wrote on Facebook this sweet note: “I think Red is Bud’s mentor, and probably a grounding influence, and Bud has decided that his job is to learns and do what Red does. Bud wants to contribute in a positive way and he is.”

I love this note, but have to be honest. I have no idea what goes on inside the mind of a dog like Bud, or any dog. And while Kathy is right, Bud does seem to look to Red for information about how to live on our raucous farm.

But the reality of it is that he can’t do but a fraction of what Red does with sheep, and Bud spreads chaos as much as order. I love the dog I call the Little Bastard, but he is only fleetingly positive. Ask the cats, sheep or chickens.

A number of people suggested that Bud has come to the farm as a sort of miracle, to replace Red, who is ailing. That is not a possibility, for him, for me, or for the farm. I owe him more than that.

What are Bud’s motives? My guess is Boston Terrier instinct, they are scrappy, curious and joyously disruptive. But I can’t say that I know, I can’t get into their heads.

Herding dogs require enormous stamina, the ability to weather extreme cold for hours and extreme heat, working and running under the hot sun.

They must outrun fast stock, get ahead of them, drive them by weaving back and forth, side to side, for miles and many minutes or hours. Red will sit out in a snowstorm or sub-zero weather for hours, if necessary.

I’ve often seem his completely covered his head and body with snow, with just his eyes sticking out. He will not abandon his post. Bud would perish in that kind of environment.

Fate runs so hard and fast in the summer, we fear heatstroke and keep buckets of water around. She can go long distances without water, in warm weather Bud needs to gulp fresh water nearby and often. He has no natural way of cooling off, the way the lean dogs with long snouts do.

Bud is a small dog with a short snout, small lungs and short and stumpy legs. In the strong sun, he pants and slows dramatically, and he hates to be out in bitter cold for more than a new minutes.

Herding dogs almost all have long snouts, this is how they  warm themselves, the air passes through their snouts and gets warm and thus warms up the body. Bud has a short snout, he has no way to warm up his body, and no coat to keep flies and burrs and thorns and mosquitoes off.

With a short coat and little body fat, he couldn’t survive outside in bitter cold for long.

Nor could he cool himself in the summer. Fate has long snout, which can cool air, rabbit-like legs to push off on when she runs. Bud runs like a duck, his legs stick out and flop in every direction. Fate can cover four or five times as much ground as Red can with one step.

But would not last long behind a flock of panicked sheep.

And sheep love to panic.

A herding dog works in all kinds of weather, he or she can run for miles and miles, keeping sheep from bolting or running in the wrong directions. Border collies in the British Isles take huge flocks of sheep out for miles in search of grass, stay with them all day – running much of the time – and then bring them back to their farm.

They run through hay and barley and alfalfa fields that Bud could never see through,  or jump over, he would get stuck in there and probably lost.

They turn flocks by getting in the leaders’s face – higher up than Bud can go – and nipping or intimidating them into slowing or herding. Sheep think border collies are wolves, they respond to Bud, but are not afraid of him enough to obey complex orders or to be maneuvered into a pen or barn.

Bud has certainly learned many things from Fate and Bud, but herding commands are not among them. I’ve said “come bye” or “away to me” a thousand times in Bud’s presence, he does not respond to the commands at all. If he was paying that kind of attention, he would do outruns like Red.

It would be cruel, even abusive to put Bud in Red’s shoes if and when Red is gone, I would never do that to a dog with his small organs and short legs. When it’s cold or hot, Bud asks to go inside, not work. Bud rises above my expectations almost every day, but I need to keep mine in check.

I don’t know what is going on in Bud’s mind, or what it is he wants, or what he thinks he is doing. I don’t claim to know. I do see him protecting Red from rebellious sheep while he is sick.

I think he is having great fun, has a great ego and has surely drawn from his beloved Red. He also just loves running around and chasing things and minding everybody’s business.

I wouldn’t take it any farther than that. He’s a lot of fun to watch.

Like the biologists, I can only be sure of what I see on the outside, we don’t know much about what dogs and other animals are feeling on the inside. They can’t tell us, and feelings must be spoken to be known. Mind-reading dogs is mostly speculation, not fact.

I owe it to the herding dogs, including the border collies, to make it clear that their work is intensely physical and complex, requiring great poise, restraint and presence (Bud is not strong on these traits) and a body that can go and go, on unfriendly terrain, in all weather, at all times.

I can’t believe what they endure, how obedient and responsive they are, or how brave and committed. Bud will abandon a sheep in two seconds if there is food nearby. Red won’t eat a steak thrown on the ground if he is working the sheep.

Bud would not relish sleeping out in a barn with sheep, as herding dogs often do, or running off foxes, badgers, even coyotes while the sheep graze.

Red will sit in the same position until he starves, if asked. Bud’s attention span is about five seconds. I know, he is tough to photograph, he is rarely still.

It is great fun to think of little Bud as a herding dog, and nothing would make me happier. And his evolution  here has stunned me, more than once.

But I am his steward, as well as his human, and it would be cruel to push him too far in that direction. I’ll let him decided for himself how far he wants to do, and keep a close eye on him.

But  you will never read or hear me seriously calling him a herding dog, (I shouldn’t do it in jest either) or thinking he could replace Red and his work.