THE IDEAL OX.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4441, 22 August 1901, Page 3

THE IDEAL OX.

(By “John in the Bush.”) Bos, Bovis, the Bull, Bison, or Buffalo, the father of our domesticated ox, was a proud, haughty and magnificent animal when seen in his haunts, careering over the rolling prairies or llannos or wide champaigns at the head of his harem, with poised tail, waving mane, and spreading horns. “What a contrast to his patient, timid, corpulent and degenerate progeny. Tuberculosis, or rinderpest, butchers shambles or galling yoke had no terrors for him then =not even the sportsman’s bullet or spear troubled him much. The fire of battle was in his blood then, and he could at least die game—a foeman worthy of the steel. It was surely sport fitting for a king to go out with spear and lance to meet the charge of that haughty white hull of old Britain, wit?, his shielded shoulders, bristling mane, fiery eye, and piercing horns. But he wag conquered, corralled, yarded up at last, and condemned to hard labour for life and the epicure’s dinner when dead. The sentence broke his heart and quenched the fire of his spirit, and now he submits to he kicked and whipped and goaded without a murmur—or at most a faint protest—and he_ lies on the meadow or stands chained in the stall and placidly gets fat for the alderman’s table—the roast beef of Old England. And, as if these were not indignities enough, they began to upbraid him for being too slow to get ready to die. for having. too much hone, for being too lanky and thin behind, too thin in the flank, and too much horn. So they fed him and bred him till he had barely bones enough to carry his beef to market. He grew sickly and delicate, and often died of consumption and heart disease, and his feet began to rot for want of exercise, and his month to swell for want of the rasp of his prairie grass and his browsing in th e forest. They called it rinderpest. Now they have to nurse him and doctor him and give him pills, stable him, put blankets on him, and mostly hand-feed him; he is helpless as a baby. Then they have divided him into tribes, and given them names—such as the Shrothorn and the Nohorn, the Hereford and the Devon, th e Ayrshire and the Jersey, and many more, and more amaking. V* l , i Bos Bovis he soon in that old land t Ho will b« a jmountain of fat; but he

will want more doctors than his masters, and will have to he carried around in a case, for he will have no legs to walk on. He has recovered a little of his pristine glory and self-respect in these colonies under the Southern Cross, where he has roamed at his pleasure and restored his health and vigour and renewed has muscle. He has also lengthen ■ ed his life to. five or six years in place or three. But soon he will be fenced in, yarded in, and bred in, to please the butcher, till his old troubles will over, take him again. His master is hungry, he cannot wait, and he must_ be ready to di© at three years again, instead of five or six. “Be easy, my masters all; split the difference, and make it four. It will be better for me and better for you in the long run.” We have most of the types here now. hut our colonial cattle are a hardy, healthy lot as vet, and will stand a little pnre-bred blood just to sweeten them, and the Shorthorn is the favourite, I think, for that purpose. He is a kindly, plastic animal, and blends well with any other breed, either for beef or for milk. But he is too delicate for colonial usage when full bred. He can’t stand the cold nights of winter without shelter. I think the Polled Angus or Aberdeen Humly comes next. He was developed as a worker, and, still retains much of the hardiness acquired from his working father. I can claim to have helped to specialise this typo by working the hull as n horse. The canny Aberdonian did not see the force of allowing his hull to go idle .and get into mischief by breaking fences and fighting with his neighbours. Ho put_ a collar on him, and yoked him alongside the spare horse in the plough for a year, or perhaps two. He then called in the vet. to operate on him, ana soon turned him out as prime. beef. The horse did not like his mate much, and his horns still less; and tho hulls with the smallest horns, or no horns at all, were selected; so he soon came to bo a poly; and, as they liked a dark or black colour to match th e horse, he soon became a darkie; and as he worked hard he developed much muscle, and became deep-chested, and so ho bequeathed all these qualities to his offspring. and they soon became a fixed type of black polies. About forty-five or fifty years ago. when stud herds began to come in fashion, a ’cute Aberdonian brought him out as a pure-breed, and carried all before him- The black poly was then a prime milk-r, as wo" as beef.preducer and worker. I think they have bred the milking qualities pretty well out of him now, hut he is still hardv, and makes good mixed beef and plenty of it. Breeds such as the Hereford have been developed by crossing, and you oan see a dash of the Welsh monntain blood in him still. Now, I think it i$ clear that we should not encourage too high breeding on the farm or station.* _ Pure-bred herds require more attention and care than it would he profitable for us to give them here, and thev are much more subject to disease. Of course, pure-hred sires will always bo wanted for our colonial herds; hut when they get to half or three-quarters it is time to call a h a }' : - and brace them up again with the pristine blood. Good colonial sires should cAso he a feature of our shows alongside the pure bred; you will find him thcheapest doctor.