STORIES
GERANEN  
BOERBOELS
In this section I will put actual experiences I've had
with my Boerboels.  I tell these stories to help others
understand what type of dog these Boerboels are and
to help those considering this breed to better
understand the power, intelligence and selfless
determination inherent in the breed.  My dogs are my
heroes.  They often save me from dangerous situations
here on the farm.  They are loyal, loving, intuitive, and
fierce when needed.  They are not a dog for everyone.  
Heroes are great to tell stories about, but the reality of
what it takes to be a hero is sometimes more than the
average person is willing to acknowledge.  Just as we
rely on our armed forces, our police and our firefighters
to protect us from harm, the Boerboel was developed
to protect and help farmers in South Africa.  This
rugged country required an equally rugged dog to
protect against a wide assortment of dangers.  They
were required to help with the livestock and to protect
their human family as they went about a working  farm.
 They were bred to have a love for children, to protect
with their life if necessary and with no thought to their
own safety.  A Boerboel is a very intelligent animal as a
result of this breeding.  They require an "alpha" owner
and early obedience training.  These stories are here
for your entertainment...Enjoy!

Denise Geranen
Rocky Comes Home

Rocky was our first Boerboel.  We adopted him from a vet clinic where he'd been
abandoned    by his owner a few months earlier.  When I found out they were using him for
blood transfusions and anything else their patients needed at the clinic, I couldn't let him
stay there another day.  Besides, his eyes spoke to me.  I had never seen such intelligence
reflected in a dog's eyes  When I brought him home to the family he seem to know just how
to greet each child.  (We have 5)  Rough enough for the boys, yet gentle with my daughter.  
He would quickly pick up on any game they wanted to play, no matter how stupid or inane.  
Rocky was excellent with guests and would play with all.  We had someone doing some
remodeling on our home.  The man had been at our house daily for the last  2 weeks.  Every
day the man would play games with Rocky on his breaks and the two seem to be fast
buddies.  Until the day our deck in the back was to be torn down.  With the first board
knocked loose, Rocky stopped him with a growl.  We had to put him up until the deck was
done as, clearly, Rocky felt that man had no business tearing up our things!  On another
occasion, we had a salesman open up our storm door to pet Rocky.  This man was also a
play pal of Rocky's.  He'd been coming to the house once a week for over a year and made it
a point to play with Rocky for 30 minutes or more.  This time, however, I didn't want to deal
with the man so I didn't answer the door.  Rocky barked to let me know someone was at the
door.  It was a bark that told me it was a familiar person.  Suddenly that barking turned to a
toe curling growl.  I knew the man had opened the door.  To Rocky, this was stepping over
the line.  I had not greeted the man, so he obviously was not welcome!  Later that night, the
saleman returned and told me if he didn't know Rocky so well, he would of thought the dog
was going to bite him when he tried to open the door.  I assured him that Rocky would have
bitten him because he was not invited!
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Kimber The Chicken Wrangler

When we first moved to the farm, Kimber was about 8 months old.  We had moved from town
and it was a move she obviously approved of.  The grass was high, the squirrels were thick and
the pond was spring fed.  What a life!  There was a problem though...Ticks.  Lots and lots of
ticks.  We had to do something and quick.  Not wanting to use spray that might harm the dogs
and cat, we opted for the natural choice...Chickens.  With no adult chickens to be found, we
ended up with a dozen little chicks.  If you've never been around baby chicks, let me tell you
about them.  They cheep, they run (fast), they hop, they flutter their wings, they're always on the
go.  Every night I had to corral the little devils and put them in a coop for the night so the
coyotes, raccoons, owls and any other varmint wouldn't serve them up for dinner.  Kimber was
always being a good girl and stayed back and watched me each evening, try to catch those
chicks.  A storm was moving in one afternoon and I was exasperated trying to hurry up and get
those chicks put up.  They weren't cooperating.  I had just about decided to just let those little
boogers ride out the storm on their own  when I looked at Kimber who sat patiently watching
everything.  I thought what the hell and told her to get them.  She did.  Keep in mind she had
watched me catch these chicks for a few weeks and she'd never missed a day.  She didn't go
after those chicks and try to eat them, which frankly, I expected she might do.  She did push
them toward the coop and around it's edges into my waiting hands!  We made a team and got
all but 1 into the coop.  That last one though, was too fast for me.  After 4 or 5 attempts and the
rain starting to come down hard, I was ready to give up.  I think Kimber sensed this and went
after the chick, catching it under her paw.  She held it for me until I got there!  We spent the next
20 minutes in the barn waiting out the storm and telling her what a good girl she was!  Since
that day she has often help me put up the chickens and still catches them with her paw to hold
them for me.  Even when we later got another 20 chickens, she handled them like a pro.
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Shirley And The Bull

Living in the country has its perks.  Peace, quiet, nature, running
streams, gentle winds, etc.  But when you have a problem in the
country, it's YOUR problem to deal with.  There's little or no help
 unless you have good neighbors.  But if your neighbors ARE the
problem it can get really interesting.  Our neighbors have
cows...Correction...cows AND bulls.  Bulls, not bull...as in more
than one.  (Try 4-5 bulls)  There is not enough pasture for these
cattle and as a result they often jump or plow over our adjoining
fences.  One day my daughter was visiting and heard the dogs
going nuts outside. She went outside and waddled around the
corner of the house (she was 9 months pregnant at the time).  
What she found was a VERY large Limousine bull running toward
her with the dogs hot on it's heels.  The bull saw an easy target
in my daughter and went for her.  Out of nowhere, Shirley cut him
off  and, attacking his head, she stopped him dead.  He was less
than 6 feet from my daughter.  Shirley turned the bull and put him
back over the fence.  It wasn't until then that we noticed how
badly she had been hurt.  Now Shirley was no novice to handling
these cows and would of never have gotten hurt moving them
anywhere.  But in this situation there was no time to do anything
other than what she did in order to save my daughter. Shirley
only stands about 24' at the shoulder and weighed at that time
about 115 pounds.  The bull's weight has been guessed at
1800-2000 pounds.  What she did was, to me, nothing short of
amazing, but the story doesn't stop there.  We use an old dairy
barn as a whelping barn.  It sits high up off the ground.  A couple
of hours after the bull incident my daughter got on the ride on
mower and started out into the field.  We had put Shirley in the
whelping barn to restrict her movements and to aid in her
healing.  She saw my daughter and crawled into a feed trough,
part way up the wall and, reaching a window and pushed her body
through shattering glass everywhere.  Dropping about a story and
a half, bleeding profusely from wounds caused by the glass,
Shirley went after my daughter.  Shirley clearly felt she needed to
stay close and protect.  After another visit to the vet, we finally
conceded and hooked up the trailer to the lawn mower so that
Shirley could go wherever my daughter went.

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  SEE STORIES 2
      FOR MORE
An Afternoon Nature Hike

I often take dogs to a wildlife reserve where there are trails for horseback riding and
hiking.  One day I met a couple of riders with their border collie.  The collie came running
towards me and Shirley stepped in between.  I'm sure the dog was not being aggressive
but Shirley didn't like his approach.  She warned him back with a low growl and when he
didn't pay attention, she grabbed him by the back of the neck and pinned the dog to the
ground.  She did a slow squeeze on the dog's neck until he yelped submission.  She then
let him up and, still keeping her body between me and the dog, she let him go.  I had never
seen anything like this before although I had heard reports that some South Africans
trained their Boerboels to catch goats this way.  
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