Peggy finished preparing the quilt, and Emily flopped down on it, patting the space next to her. “Here, Kyla, sit with us!” Once her new friend sat, taking the dance shoes she had tied together to hang around her neck and placing them beside her, Emily asked, “Do you know why they’re called border collies?”
Kyla smoothed the fabric of her kilt over her knees. “When you have family with a sheep farm and dogs, get to know border collies pretty well—but there are a lot of ideas about where the name ‘collie’ came from. One thing I do know—because my uncle told me—the sheep industry of the areas near the border between Scotland and England grew and grew. So about a hundred years ago, they gave the collies that made it possible their own name—border collies.”
“Now that’s something I didn’t know,” said Alice. “Em—I used to wonder about that too. I thought at first it might have something to do with their markings, but then I realized they didn’t make a border. I never took the time to find out the real story.” Movement at the end of the field where the starting gate was located caught her attention. “Oh, are they starting?”
A kilted announcer walked far enough onto the field for the crowd to see him. “Lassies and lads, the first final of the Sheepdog Trials will be Single-Dog Herding. Using just their voice and staff, the shepherds must direct their dog to move five sheep through the gates to the pen on the far side. Our judge for the day is Scottie Shaw. Will the first competitor please take your place!” The announcer retreated, and the judge strode onto the field.
Annie chuckled when she saw the man’s clothing. “I’m guessing Scottie won’t be participating in the Bonnie Knees competition.” Though the man was wearing a kilt, he was wearing it over a pair of khaki pants. He also wore a wide, brimmed hat.
Wally harrumphed. “That’s the only way I’d wear a kilt too.”
“Maybe the judge is sensitive to the sun,” Ian suggested. “A fair amount of people are having to watch out for sun exposure these days, either because of medication they’re taking, skin cancer, or just because their skin burns easily.”
Annie sobered. “I hadn’t thought of that, Ian. You have a very good point.”
Kyla shyly entered the discussion among the adults. “Mr. Shaw has judged at the Games since before I was born. He started wearing pants with his kilt when I was just starting to dance. Mom said he had a knee replaced and has been wearing the pants ever since. She used to tease him about being vain, but it made him turn red, so she stopped.”
“Red in embarrassment or anger?” Peggy’s question came out in a rush, as though she couldn’t resist the question.
Kyla half-smiled. “Maybe both? But I like Mr. Shaw. He always asks about my dancing and comes to watch when he can. Today, our competitions were too close together for him to come.” She kept her eyes on the area where the shepherds positioned themselves at the start of each run. “Watch him while the sheep are out. He’s a great judge and knows everything about sheep and training dogs.”
As the first shepherd, a woman in jeans and light denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves, took her place, Annie watched the judge. Had he known her grandfather? Shaw was not one of the clans that used the juniper for its badge. Was he perhaps related to one of the families that did? If he’d been judging at the Games for so many years, maybe he would know something about the sporran or ferrules. Should she try to talk to him after the finals? Glancing at Ian and thinking of the concerns he had voiced, Annie was no longer as eager to share the photos of the items, as she had been when they first arrived at the Games. Something told her to wait and watch.
There was plenty to watch. The woman held a staff in one hand, and a whistle was in her mouth. Her border collie stood beside her, alert and waiting for her first command. Once the volunteers released the black-faced sheep, the shepherd sounded two short whistles. Instantly, the dog moved toward the sheep. As he neared the sheep, another whistle came—wheet-weeeo. In response, the dog began to move clockwise around the sheep until he was behind his charges, and the sheep began to move toward the first obstacle.
When the sheep approached the targeted gate, there came another whistle command: hee-hee-hee-hee. The collie immediately slowed down to prevent the sheep from missing the gate.
Ian released a low whistle himself. “Wow! That is one well-trained dog!”
Kyla turned toward the mayor. “Mrs. Grant’s been training dogs for a long time. She breeds border collies, and she can read a pup like a book. Uncle Leathan always says she’s his stiffest competition.”