You can always count on miracles from a collie

Everybody knows that sheepdogs are the wisest, most intelligent and loyal dogs in the world. Don’t believe me? Look at the story of Pero, the four-year-old working sheepdog who just made it home after a 240-mile trip back to his former owner. That journey says everything about the supreme qualities these animals have.

Hearing about Pero brings tears to my eyes as I write this, looking with pride at my own beautiful dogs.

It is lambing time here on the Cumbrian fells and so, of course, it has started to snow. Without these dogs next to me at this time of year, my job would be impossible. Our bond is so close not just because I love them, but because their value to me and other farmers is immeasurable.

As the 18th-century Scottish poet James Hogg – known as the Ettrick Shepherd – put it, without sheepdogs, the whole of mountainous Scotland would not be worth sixpence. We farmers know the same to be true of the rest of the country: collies are vital to the agricultural economy of the hills and fells.

A collie has brains, beauty and stamina, with a natural ability to herd sheep. Like Pero, they also form an unbreakable bond with their owners. I know that mine would go through fire for me. I may teach them to use their inbred wisdom to herd sheep, but I’m also controlling their natural instinct to kill – and so every one of them needs treating as an individual, because they respond to different things. Sheepdogs are not machines – they do best with someone who can get inside their heads. My dogs and I know exactly what the other is thinking because we have a mutual trust and respect. We are best friends.

There have been many of them over the years. One of the wisest was Trim, who slept on my bed every night and with whom I won One

Man And His Dog in 1990 – the first woman to triumph in the competition. The final task in the trial was to shed off – that is, divert away – a single, red-collared sheep.

Before I even had time to think and give her the command, Trim came through the smallest gap to take charge of that one sheep. It was perfect. The judges commented on my skilful handling – but it was nothing to do with me. It was because my lovely dog was so bright, and we had such an amazing bond.

Another character was a three-legged dog called Lad, given to me by my thenhusband, who had a heart as big as a bucket and taught me more about sheep and sheepdog handling than any human being. Lad lost a back leg jumping a fence when he was young, but he had tremendous courage, and adapted well to his disability. We won lots of trials together – and the men didn’t like being beaten by a woman with a three-legged dog.

Currently, there’s Tsavo, a five-year-old bitch who is wise beyond her years. Recently I was gathering some escapee Swaledale Hoggs and I sent her to get them. She took the correct line – but then didn’t appear. Instinctively, I knew something was wrong and I ran after her as fast as I could. She was caught in a wire snare with the loop around her neck. She wasn’t struggling, but standing stock still. She knew she would be strangled instantly if she moved – and she also knew I would rescue her.

The amazing qualities of these dogs, and the many more I have owned over the years, is why they are my life and passion. They mean everything to me. As the story of Pero proves, you simply can’t beat a sheepdog.