WEALTH OF THE LAND

Press, Volume LXXII, Issue 21938, 12 November 1936, Page 12

WEALTH OF THE LAND

JUDGING AT THE SHOW A DAY FOR EXPERTS RESOURCES OF THE CITY DISPLAYED Every sight, sound, and smell of the land is concentrated into a few acres at the Royal Show. It is easy for the city industries to display their wealth and enterprise day by day in streets and shops; but it is only once a year that the farmers, on whom all the outward show of the cities ultimately depends, can make such an expansive gesture. “Here is what the land is doing, they can say to the city. On judging day the show grounds are a place for serious business. Later there will be a relaxation, when the judges have assessed the merits of the most ponderous bull and the most diminutive bantam rooster. But yesterday the sideshow men had to shout to an almost empty alley, for the city visitors, on whom the side-shows depend m great part, were absent. The crowds were at the sheep and pig pens and round the show ring. To feel at all at home the “outsider had to cast a knowing look at the passing cattle or pause for a sympathetic study of one of the larger pigs. Even so, there was a feeling that the pig’s sleepy wink told that he had spotted the impostor. New Noises Some years ago, and still in fiction, the noises of the farm were the crowing and cackling of fowls, the bleating of sheep, and the lowing of cattle. The city visitor was wakened at impossible hours by such sounds. Even at the show it was usual to comment on the various animal noises. But there is no doubt that times have changed. The animals are still there, and as vociferous as ever. But the noisiest section of the show is the space for the display of farm implements. ' In the green stretch behind the Agricultural and Pastoral Association’s offices there is sufficient evidence that farmers are becoming “machine minded.” The thump of diesel engines and the clatter of tractors, once only an undertone, drowns for some distance the noises of the stock pens. And mingled with the animal smells is the smell of burnt crude oil and kerosene. The machines and implements are, however, a pleasantly bright relief; new paint makes splashes of colour which will one daj* be stained with the good soil of Canterbury farms. Animal Ways Cattle, the aristocracy of the dairy lands, stroll stolidly round the judging ring as if it were only at great sacrifice of dignity that they condescended to take part in the affair at all. The ring is impressive, especially with’ thought of the years of accumulated wisdom which has gone to the breeding of such animals —bred not as nature first made them but as man now requires them. The pig pens are smelly. No one seems to mind that, least of all the pigs; and for some obscure reason these pens are more visited by ordinary observers than any others in the show, in spite of the smells. The pigs have a natural unconcern. Given sufficient clean straw they will sleep for the best part of the day. A Tamworth may lift his aristocratic long nose when he is prodded by an expert stick, but for the most part silence and sleep reign in the pens, except where there are families. The small pigs are restless; they tumble round the old sow, who seems to have adopted the modern principle of “not interfering with the child’s development.” Bleating, bellowing, barking, and general clamour. Wheezing melody from the steam merry-go-round and shouting from the side-shows*. Clatter of a dozen tractors. Everywhere a literal claim to be the “big‘noise” of the show. And the central purpose of the whole, which should not be forgotten by the city people, is to show the living growth which is also the life of cities; and to improve by keen competition the quality of the goods New Zealand sends to market.