The Show Must Go On, A Village Production

September 7, 2022

(I’m going to apologize in advance as there is a lot of sheepdog jargon in this post  that many readers may not understand. I suggest meekersheepdog.com for clarity.  Usually I’d take time to explain, but this post is written expressly for “the village” on opening day at the Meeker Classic Sheepdog Trial 2022.) 

There are “gamers” and performers, and those that can just pull it off in a clutch, and fifteen years ago today eight year old Mirk did just that. His story sits nestled inside a bigger story of the “show going on” which I’ll share with you today on opening day of the 2022 Meeker Classic. Here goes….

It was around 5:30 pm on Wednesday, September 5th with one dog left to finish the first day of preliminary runs at the 2007 Meeker Classic.  That first day is always good to have in the rear view mirror as it’s one for working out the kinks. We had no idea how easy the day had been, but we were about to find out.  It had been a mild fall day topping out at 80 degrees just after lunch, followed by clouds and cooling temperatures which was a blessing for those dogs drawing up in the afternoon.  One dog and handler team to go, Llona Brandenburg and Mirk.

The skies to the west looked ominous as they turned from overcast to angry in minutes; yet it was calm with no wind or rain. Looking east and up the field neither the handler, the clerks nor Judge Peter Gonnet had any idea what was lurking just behind them to the west. Llona walked to the post with her 8 year old  Border Collie and waited for her sheep to settle at the top.  She sent Mirk and he swung out wide and deep on his outrun which would take him some 500+ yards out and around and ultimately coming in behind his sheep; Mirk was all business knowing the task at hand and what was expected of him no matter the weather. 

Meanwhile, within moments of his release, the wind velocity went from zero to relentless with twisting gusts, pelting rain and thunder.  I made eye contact with Peter and his nod indicated we’d call the trial on account of the weather. The course director shouted at Llona, but she was laser focused on Mirk and couldn’t hear a thing.   The wind howled yet stronger and Llona struggled to stand.  Peter made his way out onto the field, giving her the message to call her dog, and that she’d have a rerun in the morning. 

By now debris was flying onto the field, and I lost track of what happened to Llona and Mirk just as the large grandstands were lifted into the air and flipped up and over the fence, landing upside down in the infield. Dear God, what was unfolding before our eyes?  Were there people under the stands? 

The next 20 minutes was life in a blender as Mother Nature reeked havoc with her hurricane force winds of over  65 miles per hour, pounding rain, mini twisters and thunder. A beautiful trial field and venue was reduced to rubble in a matter of minutes. Tents were twisted like  pretzels, every building and ticket booth upended (except the Wilbur Barn), souvenirs, trash and t-shirts scattered from one end of the parking lot to the other. 

It seemed everyone that fled did so in slow motion, not knowing what to grab and hold down or to flee with their life. Specifically, I remember hanging — feet off the ground— onto the clerks tent in an attempt to weigh it down so the clerks could gather their computers and equipment and run. My husband and a few handlers showed up to assist and more than doubled the anchoring weight(s) to secure the tent frame for the equipment reconnaissance. We hung there, stunned, knowing that during the storm's fury there was nothing we could do but wait it out and pray that no one was hurt or killed.**Side note…2007 was the first year Joe's agency wrote the insurance for the Meeker Classic (and of course it’s newly destroyed $8000 tent).  As we hung there together, he winked and said, “Hey sugar, thanks for the business.”

Just as they say there is a calm before the storm there was definitely an eerie moment of silence after when the storm abruptly lifted. We were momentarily frozen, almost afraid to look at the devastation for fear was there were people pinned under buildings  or grandstands. Then we sprung into action and there was no time for lamentation and immediately an army of handlers and volunteers were on the same page and set to work. The first order of business was to make sure everyone was safe and the second was to do what we needed to have sheep on the field and preliminary runs going by 7 am the next morning. Llona and Mirk would be first up with a re-run,, of course. 

We spread out and moved into crisis mode looking for casualties. It was amazing, without much instruction, the troops were mobilized. Everyone, yes, everyone pitched in and those that we needed showed up. No  sooner did I pull out my phone to dial Smith Ranch to see about a tractor than Davey and Lora Smith from across the road showed up  in their tractor and front-end loader and set to work “uprighting” large objects like grandstands and buildings.  Klinglesmith’s brought their camper for use as the new clerks “tent.”  The list goes on and on as we pieced the trial field back together.

The storm hit the vendors particularly hard and all but one of them had their tents destroyed in the storm. Miraculously, Andy and Susi Goettel’s tent was spared. A man named Tom Zulim introduced himself to me from Enterprise Products and offered to do anything.  I checked him once on his generous offer.  “Really, anything?” I asked.  He was serious.   Tom Zulim arranged and paid for two large vendor tents to be delivered to the trial site the next day. Tom became a longtime friend of the Meeker Classic.  The vendors would be open Thursday. 

Meeker Classic souvenirs including  t shirts and sweatshirts were wet and muddy and were blown from one end of the parking lot to the other. I’ll never forget the look of devastation on Jeremy’s face when I caught up with him near his booth site. Jeremy is the owner of Chaos Ink who does all the Classic’s screen printing.  He just knew his profits and our souvenirs were lost. Wait! Not so fast. I made one call to the County jail and I got permission for release of additional trustees to help us collect soiled and displaced souvenirs. They spent the next few hours at the laundromat washing, drying folding and sorting all the t-shirts that were on the shelf and ready to sell the next morning   Problem solved.

Now with all this work, of which I’ve only scratched the surface in mentioning, and all these tired wet workers, who rolled out the hospitality matt but Gus and Christine Halandras. They fed, and hydrated our cold and tired volunteers for the better part of the night. No one went away hungry, thirsty or without a hug from the Halandras’. They must have fed upwards of 40 people. It was was “something” really something, and of course the food was fantastic. 

Before I get too far down this story's path I should double back to Llona and Mirk.  If you’ll remember amongst all the chaos and the microburst I lost track of them, so yesterday I called Llona to confirm what happened with her and Mirk that day  so long ago. After the judge told her to call her dog off she headed towards the outfield to find Mirk. Now that was easier said than done given the veracity of the storm. She couldn’t hear anything, and the last thing she remembered seeing was the grandstands land just behind her as they flipped onto the infield. She knew Mirk couldn’t hear her either, so she walked toward him until she couldn’t walk anymore and finally sat down near the fetch panels and waited for him.  The wind let up just a little just enough so she could see the outline of 5 sheep headed straight towards her.  Mirk hadn’t wavered and amidst the fury of Mother Nature he’d put his head down and stayed on task and brought her his sheep. “What a dog that Mirk was,” Lona said yesterday as her voice cracked. “I really loved that dog.”

As you might guess, runs did start at 7 am Thursday morning, and yes the show did go on. Mirk and Llona were first up and courageously went to the post again for their re-run. The new tents arrived by noon and by the weekend you could hardly tell anything had happened. I’m still shocked there were no casualties, and so proud to have been part of this “village production” that included handlers, volunteers and vendors. It was truly a marvel of community. As for Mirk, he didn't see what all the fuss was about, and it was just another day at the office for him, but then again Border Collies at Meeker are like that. 

The show ALWAYS goes on at Meeker, and it’s ALWAYS a village production. 

Looks like a nice clear forecast today, but you never know. 

Good luck handlers.