I went to an event over Memorial Day that I’ve held off on writing about until now because, honestly, I kind of don’t want word to get out.
But getting the word out is like the one job of a journalist, and I am nothing if not committed to my craft, so I guess I have to tell you about the annual Soldier Hollow Classic Sheepdog Championship and Festival.
The Soldier Hollow Classic Sheepdog Championship and Festival is exactly what the name suggests. The event launched in 2003, making good use of Soldier Hollow, which had served as an Olympic venue one year prior. Handlers brought their dogs from all over the world to herd sheep, competing for the fastest and most efficient time. Now, 23 years later, it has become a spring highlight for many a Utahn and many a visitor.
I attended for the first time over a decade ago and have since tried to attend as often as possible, because it is an awe-inspiring spectacle featuring the world’s smartest dogs and the world’s most patient handlers.
I am thankful that I watched “Babe” hundreds of times in my youth, because it gave me a basic understanding of how a sheepdog competition works. For those who haven’t seen the 1995 cinematic masterpiece about a kind-hearted pig who herds sheep by asking them nicely, here’s the quick and dirty rundown:
The competition takes place on a field where sheep are placed at a distance from the starting point. In this case, they were hidden behind some trees way up on the hill. To start, the dog, which is most likely a border collie or a kindhearted pig who speaks lovingly to sheep, stands at the bottom of the hill next to their handler. Then, at their handler’s command, the dog runs in a wide arc to approach the sheep from behind without startling them. The dog then approaches slowly to get the sheep moving.
Moving where, you ask? Moving in a straight line toward the handler, then through a series of gates. Then, the dog separates specific sheep from the herd and moves them to a certain area. And finally, the dog guides the sheep into a small pen. The judges then score the run based on precision, time and the dog’s ability to remain calm.
At the Soldier Hollow sheepdog championship, many pairs of handlers and dogs attempt to complete the course. Some succeed and some don’t. But every attempt is remarkable to behold. It’s like watching two creatures, one human and one beast, communicate telepathically. It’s truly the most thrilling sporting event I’ve ever been privileged enough to spectate, and I’ve been to Jazz games in the Donovan Mitchell era.
It’s also the sporting event that has made me feel the worst about myself as a dog owner.
I get that border collies are the smartest breed and that I should not try to compare my mini goldendoodle — who, let’s be honest, chose looks over books — to them. But it’s tough not to compare after spending a day watching border collies work.
My dog is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen in my entire life. A true stunner. And a true blond (derogatory, which I’m allowed to say because I, too, am blond). Half the time when I throw a ball, she looks at me like I’m the idiot and refuses to retrieve.
This morning I watched her lift her paw in a point and stalk slowly toward … a piece of paper in the backyard. She often barks at her own reflection in the front windows, mistaking herself for a dog outside. She insists on rolling around in the grass after every bath, essentially undoing the bath and triggering everyone’s allergies. She tries to pick fights with every 90-pound pit bull she sees on our walks.
I can only imagine the kind of chaos that would unfold if I sent her to wrangle some sheep down a hillside. And in my heart of hearts, I know that if I really put my mind to it, she could be a well-trained sheepdog.
But the truth is, I kind of love how intelligently challenged she is sometimes. Watching her try and hunt that loose piece of paper really made me laugh.
So we won’t be entering her into next year’s championship. But my family and I will be attending to watch, in awe, again. Then returning home to our dog that isn’t allowed downstairs because she can’t tell the difference between carpet and grass and therefore uses the carpet as a potty spot, and remember how much we love her.
