To Finger Whistle......

or not to finger whistle.....that is the question.

My finger whistles are coming along.  There are days that I can slip my two pinkies into my mouth and a sound emits between them that could be recognized and taken as a command.  And yet on the very same day, next breath.....I blow and shudder as my opportunity for input is passed up with spit and air spewing forth, followed by my seemingly uncontrollable outburst of tourettes.   I've already confessed to finding myself face-up in the field, vultures circling, after a longer series of attempted whistles left me fainting.

At a recent lesson with a nameless instructor (God forbid I be labeled a name-dropper) Oh what the heck...Patrick, said to me words I have not heard for a few years....."though that whistle sucked (my translation of his word), I could understand your meaning and your dog should have taken it."   I do believe he told me something very similar when I started to use a stainless whistle and again as I switched to brass. 

Those whose finger whistles I admire tell me to hang up my precious, my beautiful brass whistle.  Stop carrying it with me.  Force myself to use my fingers.  They will come with time.  In return, I find my book of excuses providing me with fabulous material....."my finger whistles sound perfect at home."

Yesterday, I pulled in a group of sheep to administer their 8 way, worm them and trim a few hooves.  I left my whistle in the car.  Nell, bringing the girls in, was a thing of beauty.  She worked the pen and chute with maturity and patience.  When the group was ready to drive back down into the bottom pasture.....after all the close work, I found Nell full of push and lacking pace and finesse.  I slipped my two pinkies into my mouth to give a little input and experienced the full knowledge, and taste, as to why I might want to stick with my favorite brass whistle!  Times like that, I am glad my place is small enough for a good verbal command to be heard. 

Seize the day!