Jam. A fitting name for him. He gets into jams all the time. Mostly because of his unbridled instinct. A woman from NYC—new to the ranch—stood looking at him in the back of the truck a few days ago and said, "you know, he looks like a bad motherfucker.” Yes. Exactly. If someone from so far away got this, you know he’s gotta be pretty special.

And he is. As much as he has a killer instinct, he is a supreme lover boy. He’ll come up to me when I’m sitting outside in the mornings drinking coffee when he is most full of himself running around, jumping, turning, absolutely unable to contain himself, and sit there in complete control pushing against my knees as close as he can get and just stare at me with the biggest, softest, most loving lover boy, yellow eyes you can imagine. And just stare right into the middle of me while I melt.

He’s son of Rash, our red border collie, bred by Puck, Nick’s hanging tree dog. Jam has short, red hair with a bit of white on his chest and a tiny white tip at the end of his tail. His medium size is misleading because he looks bigger. 

In the mornings he runs ahead of me when I am walking from my house to where the trucks are parked, waiting to see which one we’ll be using. He jumps in and floats cloud-like right over the high side and into the pickup box. If we are on a bike, he jumps up in front of me and sits there perched like a bird with his paws on the handlebar, looking straight ahead as if we are already moving. If we are saddling up, he is so bothersome because he cannot stop moving around everywhere. If I am walking out of the house with my fly rod, he goes bananas and heads up the creek, full speed. Meredith calls him my shadow because no matter what I am doing, where I am going, he’s right there beside me.

Sometimes I am so proud of him, and sometimes I am so pissed at him. He can be so incredible, and because he forgets completely about me when focused on cattle. 

I’ve had him gathering cattle half a mile away from me, doing everything so perfect I can’t believe it. Other times, he’s right in front of me in a cow’s face pushing her out of the herd, the opposite of where we want her. But mostly he is such a handy dog, worth five good men. 

He can bring the back of the herd up if I’m in the lead or on one side, he can push in either side if the herd is pooching out. He can turn the lead back, or turn it one way or the other. If we have calves that come out the back end running back, he will retrieve them back into the herd.  There’s not much he cannot do.

A few weeks ago, he disappeared for a few days. He had just lost his collar with our phone number on it. We had pretty much given up, thinking he had jumped into someone’s truck passing through. Then one day Wes sent a group text: "Jam is back!!" He was gaunt, as if he had not had water or food for a while. Other than that, he was acting fairly normal after his initial excitement of seeing us. I’m not sure what happened, but my guess is that he did get into someone’s truck, but when he had a chance, he ran home, possibly a long way because he was hollowed out so. He is used to going long distances with us on horseback, knows the trails and mountains well, so I am guessing that his good sense of direction and comfort traveling long distances enabled him to get back home.

Anyway. Meredith and I are happy with our boy Jam back. It’s great, as everyone knows, just having a dog in your life. But when your dog has a special aptitude or skill that helps you in your work, what a feeling.