As the sunlight reaches across the brush-covered fields of Rhoden Farm, caressing the wind-woven grasses and reflecting off the farmhouse windows, the goats are waking up.
Nestled between the horse barn and the round pen, the brown and white Boer goats slowly stretch their way back to standing on all four hooves after a night of peaceful slumber. They shake their white-furred tails as their brown faces emit the first hoarse “mahhhs” of the morning. They begin their morning graze, nuzzling the ground for the weeds they’ll pluck for breakfast from among the still richly green blades of grass on this chilly October day.
About twenty feet away, from a cozy vantage on the dusty ground, the goats’ caretakers have been up for hours, taking turns to ensure their wards’ safety.
Now, it’s Ian’s shift.
With the sun barely risen, the watchman seems almost asleep. His back to the goats, his dark eyes drift closed as the sun slowly inches higher, the pinks and oranges of sunrise giving way to the soft grays and muted colors of morning.
A barely discernable thud prompts a resounding bark from Ian’s Anatolian shepherd lungs, and the fawn-colored canine leaps to his feet. The dog barrels around the corner of the horse barn, instantly in pursuit of whatever threat might be lurking just beyond.
His companion, Bonnie, rolls over, knowing she’s now on guard. Her gaze flits across the quietly bustling herd, her coal black nose wrinkling inquisitively, tasting the air for the potential threat.
After a few moments, Ian returns, flopping down near Bonnie. The two lounge for another half hour in the warming morning light as their herd slowly moves farther from the safety of the pasture’s corner. Eventually, the dogs lug their lanky limbs off the dusty ground to catch up to their goats, trotting devotedly, ever a few yards behind.
Ellice Pierce, Rhoden Farm manager, said ACU acquired its first Anatolian a couple summers ago, after the death of the goats’ first guard, a llama named Houston. The first dog was a gift, but after seeing its effectiveness in protecting the herd from West Texas predators like coyotes and bobcats, three more puppies were added to the ranks.
The pack guards about 120 Boer goats at Rhoden Farm, located about 10 miles northeast of Abilene, Pierce said. The goats ensure research possibilities for undergraduate ACU students, and the dogs insure the goats.
According to the American Kennel Club website, the Anatolian Shepherd Dog originated in Turkey more than 6,000 years ago. Bred to protect herds from predators in Turkey’s rugged landscape, the dog followed Turkish shepherds in a nomadic existence, forever accompanying the herd and ensuring its safety.
This breeding resulted in short-haired, fawn-colored dogs, with faces that look as if they were dipped in chocolate. Males may reach 29 inches in height at the shoulder and weigh as much as 150 lbs, according to AKC.
The matriarch of the pack, Pita, is several years older than her three young counterparts. Pierce describes her as the most wise and reliable of the dogs. Frequently, Pierce said, she’ll drive in from town and hear Pita hoarsely barking, having spotted a snake. She will keep the snake cornered until Pierce comes to kill it, which – judging by the sound of Pita’s bark – sometimes has taken hours.
Ian, the second oldest of the pack, is highly intelligent and eager to please, if a little headstrong, Pierce said.
“He’ll test his limits a little bit more, but he’s a little bit more outgoing,” Pierce said. “He’s pretty adventurous. He kind of gets himself into a little bit more trouble, because he’s always looking for something new to do.”
The two youngest, littermates, are Bonnie and Clyde. Although very shy, both are dedicated goat guards, Pierce said.
Anatolians were bred to guard livestock, so much of the goat-guarding skill is instinctive. However, some training is required. To instill a heightened sense of responsibility to the goat herds, pups frequently are sent out with a more experienced guard dog, which the youngster can emulate until it successfully learns the ropes. The pups also may spend the night in safe enclosures with the goats.
By the time the puppies reach a few months of age, they’ve already grasped the basics of their job, said Tiffany Lutz, junior animal science major from Harmony, Pa.
Lutz, who has worked with the Rhoden goats for research purposes, remembers when Bonnie and Clyde first arrived at Rhoden. The two sometimes were separated to shadow the more experienced dogs and occasionally found themselves in pastures next door to each other, on opposite sides of a dirt road.
Lutz remembers driving down the road and seeing two small, white puppy heads peering above the grasses, through the barbed wire fencing at each other. But at the sound of vehicles, the heads would pop back down into the brush, guilty puppy expressions almost saying, “I’m not here! I’m not here!” Even then, the youngsters realized when they were slacking.
Since “hiring” the Anatolians this year, Pierce said she already has seen a great improvement in goat retention numbers. Last year, the herd lost a little less than half its kids to predators, but she said it only lost 5 of about 75 this year, shrinking the percentage of kids lost from 40 percent to 15 percent.
Without the dogs, the goats would need a human guard, someone to watch the herd at all times, including during the night. Even when the goats are locked in enclosures for the evening, danger exists, said Pierce. Predators like bobcats could slip through fencing to wreak havoc on the herd.
Despite the herd’s two large, horn-endowed billies, goats just aren’t made to protect themselves well, Lutz said.
“They’re not the smartest animals. They’re just not made to take on a coyote.”
Although a personable canine, the AKC site cautions that the Anatolian breed is a “superior” guard for livestock, but is not a “glamour breed.” With too much energy and intelligence to be content as an average family pet, they are best-suited for work, a distinction Pierce says she works to reinforce in Rhoden’s posse.
Pierce feeds the dogs and offers encouragement and minimal companionship, but the animals are not pets. Too much attention, she says, and they might start preferring human company to that of their hoofed wards.
That’s not to say the dogs are cruelly banished to the wilderness with herds of goats; it’s really their preference, Lutz said. The goats give the Anatolians purpose and, in their own canine way, fulfillment. It’s a job, but it’s one the dogs seem to take on willingly and even enjoy.
“I think they like it, because you can’t mess with their goats,” Lutz said. “Don’t take their goats away. They wouldn’t know what to do if you took their goats away. I think they are really happy.”
And that job satisfaction is important, because as Pierce said, the pack performs a crucial role on the farm.
“We couldn’t have goats without them,” she said. “The goats would all be dead. If somebody came and picked [the dogs] up today, I wouldn’t have goats in a week. It would not take long for them to become – lunchmeat.”
Pierce said the dogs enjoy their work, and they understand exactly what their duty is, filling an irreplaceable role at Rhoden, sometimes with shocking intelligence
“Sometimes I feel like they look right through me.”
The dogs are wholeheartedly dedicated to their goats.
As the sun sets, Ian once again gazes out at his herd, Bonnie lounging by his side. His ears perked for sounds of predators, he scans the brush for danger.
The pair has accompanied the herd all day and now settles in to guard them for the night.
Ian’s tail twitches absentmindedly, and Bonnie gently sighs in contentment. A goat guard’s work is never done. And that’s exactly how they like it.