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free herding lessons. Her “girl, Tara,” was in the car, she said, and it took Patricia a second to realize she was talking about a dog. She and Tara had been coming to Fran for two years.
    Jess checked over Patricia’s forms.
    “Lots of us have barter arrangements with Fran because we can’t afford the lessons. Fran doesn’t turn anybody away for money. Some of us clean up, move the sheep, haul hay,help train, take care of the farm. But we also need people around here who can afford to pay. Keeps things in balance.”
    Well, thought Patricia, that was clear enough.
    Jess explained that she and Dave would be given a number—theirs was 23. Jess would pin it to Patricia’s back, and use an elastic strap to put it around Dave’s back so Fran could see it. When it was Patricia and Dave’s turn, Fran would ask them to walk around the pen two or three times so she could see how Dave acted around sheep, and then she would either ask Patricia to leave the testing area with Dave or to unleash him and see what he did.
    It was important, Jess said, for Patricia to be quiet and not shout at the dog. That would only make him more confused and excited. Just take the leash off and walk around the pen. Once in a while, when Fran tells you, stop and see how the dog reacts to where you are. Two or three times, she’ll tell you to turn around, and see what the dog does, whether he runs off or notices.
    Patricia did not have a good feeling about this. She couldn’t even get Dave to sit down in the house, or stop jumping through windows. How would he react around sheep in an open pasture?
    Patricia got into line. Up ahead, she watched an Australian shepherd walk around the small corral as the sheep backed up and hunched together. The dog barked, then circled, then barked again. After a few minutes, Fran, who was standing behind a table at one corner of the test area, shouted for the woman to unleash the dog. She did, and he circled the pen steadily for nearly five minutes.
    Patricia noted the dog’s focus, his intensity, and his calm, qualities Dave did not possess. When the woman called him, he lay down until she came over and put the leash back onhim. She had never gotten Dave to do that. It was clear that Patricia was far out of her league here.
    The next dog, a German-shepherd mix, pulled his lead out of his owner’s hand, lunged over the fence, and grabbed one of the ewes by the leg, dragging her around the tiny ring. Everyone froze. The ewe was bleating piteously, terrified.
    The woman shouted frantically for the dog to get off, along with a number of people in line. Other dogs barked, the sheep panicked.
    Fran Gangi got up out of her chair, vaulted the fence, and, using a shepherd’s crook, hooked the dog around the collar and pulled him off the ewe, who was bleeding, although not seriously.
    The line had practically disintegrated as the crowd gathered around the fence to see what was happening. Jess asked that everyone get back into their places.
    “Oh, my God!” shouted the woman. “Zeus, bad dog! Bad dog!” Patricia thought she was hysterical at the sight of the sheep, lying still in shock, and her dog, who had wool streaming out of his teeth. Fran had tied the dog to the gate, and now she turned around and glowered at the screaming woman. “Will you just be quiet?”
    Patricia expected Fran to kick the dog and its owner out of the test, but she didn’t. Instead, one of the women who worked at the farm handed Fran a tube, and she turned the ewe’s head, held her down, and applied an antibiotic ointment to the leg.
    Patricia was struck by how calm Fran was. People got back into line. The dog seemed to settle. The injured ewe got up and jumped back into the small flock. She and the othersheep munched on some hay that had been thrown in by one of Fran’s helpers.
    “A few bite marks,” she said. “She’ll be fine. Susie, make a note of the ewe’s number, will you? Number 165. We’ll check on her later and