"THE SHEARING OF THE DOG."

Otago Witness, Issue 2929, 4 May 1910, Page 83

"THE SHEARING OF THE DOG."

By Texas Jack. (Paper read before the Dunedin Club.) There is' an old saying which most of us

know and have doubtless twssd tim.es -without number —"It is nice to watch othei people working." To look on and sweat whilst others do the work is one of the greatest pleasures Providence ever bestowed upon unworthy mortals. The saying is true of all sorts and conditions of ma, and inoi less so of the restless schoolboy. Take the village blacksmith, for example: "From mora till night he works, as a rule, And children earning heme from, school Have larks with the sparks,.And pass rude remarks." To the boyish mind all farm work has ab-~ sorbing interest, whether it be following the double furrow, sitting on the cultivator, watching the binder as it eats its noisy way round the crop, jr -iding on the dray it leading-:n time. He is overjoyed when the thresh'ng c-omb'ne "sets" between the stacks to assist (?) chaffy to draw aw.ay his sheets of chaff, to take an handful of oats or wheat from the "firsts" spout, and consider its colour and hardness as his elders do. He is in the seventh heaven of delight if a gocd-natured engineer permits him to sit ,in the tender of the. throbbing traction ! engine and watch the belt running endlessly to the drum of this mill and back to the whizzing flywheel again. All these are interesting to the. youthful mind, but sheepshearing runs them all very olose, it it doesn't beat them. The swift dexterity with ! which the sheep is. caught and thrown on to : its back, the swift play of the glittering I blades through the wool, and the altered ! appearance of the sheep after the process — these are a.ll interesting to the average observant schoolboy. So it was with my brothers and me a good manj years ago. when with our old dog Ponto we walked I about a mile up the road to see a flock : getting shorn. It was getting near the close : of day. and the flock wias just about cut out. All were weary, for shearing is hard work, whether it be "The rinsrer who'd shorn his hundred j As they'd never been shorn before, To the youngster toiling bravely "Who bad tomahawked half a score." We knew all the men, and they welcomed us by waving us towards what was left of their afternoon tea. Whilst we were eating the old dc£ lay down in a cornier, pa.ntinp-, with about half a yard of red tongue hanging out. Presently one of the rnen finished his last sheep, and shot it in the direction of the do.or with skilful knee as he shouted, "Wool way!" to the classer. Then his long sinewy arm shot out, an iron hand fell on the dog's tack pa-w, and amidst a chorus of protesting howls Ponto was in (he late departed sheep's place. Straggles were futile, as lenees '.nd left hand heed him firm, and the glittering blades took a long furrow through his thick matted hair. He was a retriever, and as shaggy «s a rag mat. Presently a melancholy yelp announced that a portion of d.og had gone off with the hair. An ugly red elilipticail cut appeared on his brisket, and. amidst cries of "Tai 'ere!" and " Spring back, for I 'ates the smell of a rouseabcut," a large dab of ccal tea was laid on the wound. The flying blades slid round the dog's classical form in great style, taking a short cut across his back, firld leaving © flowing mane.. His tail was trimmed to within three inches of the point leaving a bonny tuft, and after sundry dabs of tar on various spots where parts of the dog had left along with the hair, the shearer stood up and sontemplated his handiwork with considerable , satisfaction. " Ain't he. a love'y lion?" There was a general shout of_ .'aughter, in which the dog made a bolt for" somewhere else. It was out of the frying pan into the gas stove with a vengeance, for he got into a pen with an old ram, who gave him some of the hardest knocks he had ever run up against. I managed to get him out before the ram had quite killed him, and let him go. What became of him for the next week he alone knows, and the secret lies buried with him, for he never told us anything about it. I somehow fancy he felt ashamed of himself.