Border collies tap into the herding mentality at national cattledog competition

Standing on a hill overlooking a green pasture, Rachel Ritland and I watched a group of cattle at the bottom of the valley. I pulled my jacket tight against the frigid wind, but Ritland, co-director of 3rd District of the United States Border Collie Handlers’ Association (USBCHA), didn’t seem to mind. She focused intently on the scene.

We were watching the USBCHA’s National Cattledog Finals. An annual event, the Finals bring handlers from out of state and sometimes out of country. The 2025 contest, held Oct. 16-19, took place at Hoover Angus Farms around eight miles from Shannon City, Iowa. 

Iowa’s border collie handler community has grown into a herd over the last few decades. Everyone at the event attributed this to Bob Johnson of Tingley, Iowa, a mostly self-taught collie coach. After gathering some wisdom from handlers in other states, he began to hold his own workshops in Iowa.

A few feet away from Ritland and me, separated by corral panels, handler Michael McNutt stood with his dog Teagan. Teagan was competing in the Nursery Championship (for dogs under 4 years old), but later that day she would also compete in the Open Championship. 

McNutt, a retired farrier, was tall and slim and looked every bit a shepherd. He could have been James Cromwell’s stunt double in Babe. Teagan, a young border collie with the characteristic feathery, black-and-white fur, watched the cattle in intense anticipation. Occasionally, she danced around McNutt’s feet in excitement. 

When McNutt released Teagan, she ran wide around the pasture, avoiding a straight line to the cattle in a maneuver called an “outrun.” Her body quickly became a speck in the distance. Then, she disappeared behind a rise in the landscape. 

Teagan reappeared behind the cows. She began the “lift” — the process of meeting the cattle and beginning to move them. From the lift, she moved into a “fetch,” or bringing the cattle in a straight line to the handler through fetch panels, two corral panels set in the middle of the field. 

Before reaching McNutt, Teagan turned the cattle away from him at a 90-degree angle in a “drive” and moved them through drive panels, also two corral panels. 

Teagan, or any other dog competing, is judged for each of these actions as well as a few others: in a “sort,” the dog and handler use gates and panels to separate cattle into groups, and in a “pen” they move the cattle into an enclosure. 

At the top of the hill, McNutt whistled commands to Teagan or called out terms like “come bye” (flank around the cattle clockwise), “away to me” (flank around the cattle counterclockwise), “there” (stop flanking and drive the cattle forward) and, of course, “that’ll do” (the job is done). 

Relieved of her duties, Teagan flopped into a bucket of water to cool off. She panted. Her pink tongue lolled out of her mouth. Her satisfaction at the job well done seemed as great as her excitement before the trial began.

When McNutt called, she jumped from the water. In her eagerness, she splashed anyone in range and ran after him.  

This article is from Little Village’s December 2025 Peak Iowa issue, a collection of stories drawn from Hawkeye State history, culture and legend. Browse dozens of Peak Iowa tales here.