DOG LORE.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXII, Issue 68, 15 March 1912, Page 8

DOG LORE.

(lly Laverack.) Tn the picturesquely situated tov.nship of To Worn, where events are few and far between, the local sheepdog trial stands out, a prominent land mark, in the long, laborious year. It occurs in the month of March, on the 29th and 30tb instant, when even the' East Hoad weather has its clement and sunshiny moods, and on the appointed days we all go—men, women and children—to the wide upland pasture, not with any appearance of undue haste, as the love of excitement increases with gratification and a town man will often walk ten miles to see tho almost incredible sagacity with which the working collie performs' his arduous tasks;, his eyes shine with wistful intelligence,' and nowhere in the world arc man and beast more indissolubly one than among tho hills of New Zealand sheepland. His faithful friend accompanies the farmer everywhere, to market, to auction mart, and round the fields in the peaceful idleness of Sunday morning. Small wonder that between tho two arises tho bond of perfect comprehension, and master and servant understand one another, without the.aid of words. “The word friend does not exactly depict the dog’s affectionate worship. Ho is our intimate and. impassioned slave, whom nothing discourages, whom nothing nn pels, whose ardent trust and love nothing can impair.” The course at the dog trial to-day, as is always, is 200yds long, clearly marked with flags beyond which the sheep must not be allowed to stray. Obstacles have been put up in the shape of open gateways or of flags and posts; and the dog’s duty is to drive his throe charges between them or else to guide them outside to the right or the left, as the rules direct.!, Tho judges take their places in the middle of- the course, and the owner of the first competitor stands near the pen of hurdles erected at the far cud. A rope is passed round his arm and secured to one of , them to make cure that he does not venture out of hounds' in order to assist his dog, for it is beast wisdom that is now to Ire praised and glorified. Sheep have been lent by a farmer who has not entered for the trial, each one of tho trio a ipcmbcr of a different flock, and a fresh lot is supplied to a new candidate. A flag is waved and the dog drives them from the starting, point, while tho crowd, hardly warmod up, watches him critically .to pee. how ho “frames.”. The first competitor, is cautious and well up to liis work. He proceeds quietly, taking .care not to hurry and porsefcute thq timid .creatures, but directs them in a masterly manner round and ■ between the flags with evident if. dignified enjoyment of ‘his task. !!i His ■owner is only allowed to guide him by whistling or waving a stick, and the wise animal obeys the mute orders with uncanny comprehension. How much patience, how many hours of companionship, have led to this perfect understanding between man and beast uninitiated strangers' can oiily 1 ' 'conjecture.'' 11 >'• :

I '. ■ i ■ f -1 (, ) t ;,i I, ; J * I I j Rifleshot, scarcely succeeds ns well as the final of the trial, the important operation of penning, at which liis ,piaster is, allowed to assist. Ihe dog’s duty consists in driving the Sheep into the pen, of hurdles, While the man secures them by putting up a fourth as gate. In this instance tho sheep turn on the dog, stamp their tiny round foot, and it is only after many blandishments that they consent to “walk into my parlour.” A time limit is, of course, fixed, five minutes for the penning, and I see my neighbour, a stout, apple-faced farmer, take out his watch and shake his head.

The next dog is a juvenile, making his first appearance in public. He begins well but becomes nervous and flurried and drives bis sheep to the wrong side of the course. The sight of liis master’s face makes him pause in indecision, when the tethered one waves his stick frantically, and at last, iii defiance of the rules, bursts out in mild expostulation. “Non, laddie, what bo ye a’ heein’ ?” my friend the farmer chuckles. “What’s the Use, mon ? That baint the language t’ dorg gits at yam.” “Ay, and a gay givicl thing, too,” dryly observes liis wife, Many dogs take their, turns, some good, some bad, some middling''-for the trial is a two days’ business.''Yet through the long hours the speet'afars never grow tired, rather their interest quickens as time goes on. Tho afternoon is waning when wo have tho most exciting event of all. “Why, t’ lari ’un wins,” announces my neighbour.

“1’ lari ’un” is a slim black tyke with a streak of white down his nuizzlg. Ho is a don- of infinite self-pos-session and walks slowly past the heads of the sheep without even glancing at them, though mysteriously they always turn in the direction he dosires. When every obstacle in the course has been successfully passed ho has an extra minute left for panning, and this critical business is 'per-formed-with the ease of a king of his craft. He must be well within time, as his master puts up the hurdles' the latter doing his part so badly that the sheep nearly escape, for the man is obviously much more agitated than the beast. A deep Whanga “Hurray” greets the return of the victor, but lie remains the image of bored indifference and does not even wag his tail. Whan, all is over the prizes, silver goods to be kept for generations in the farmhouses, are presented, while the lads and lassies press round to pat the -successful dogs, the true heroes of the day, who-have striven and triumphed for the sake of glory alone, having been straight out to win and run no dead ’un.