DOMESTIC ANIMALS "WILD" 353 



to accompany the shearing gangs on their rounds from station to 

 station. 1 



Of the dog as a wild animal, Tutira has had but little experience. In 

 my time there has been but one on the run ; it has been fortunate in 

 that respect, for a pack of wild dogs is one of the greatest curses a 



1 One brought up on the station was quite a character. "Tommy, " as he was afterwards 

 christened, when discovered some miles distant from the homestead, and selected out of five 

 or six others, was a very baby but a day or two old. Taking thought of his frailty I had yet 

 a long day's work to do he was swaddled in the waterproof strapped to my saddle, the reins 

 drawn through a stirrup-leather, and my horse given his freedom. There were no fences in 

 those days ; the liberated nag trotted home without a halt to the homestead gate, where he 

 was caught, the saddle removed, and the suckling exhumed safe and sound. "Tommy" had 

 been taken if I may say so, translated so young that he grew up to consider himself half-man 

 and half -dog, or rather half-man and half-puppy. He romped and ran with the station pups, 

 who pretended to worry him, holding on to his long ears, growling, panting, yapping. He was 

 very well able, however, to take care of himself, and could at any time terminate the play 

 with a vigorous fling of his nose right and left. His more serious hours were spent in our 

 company. He fed, if not with us, yet at our hands, at first drawing his milk from a teapot, 

 later being promoted to a little trough of his own. The old dogs free and unchained condoned 

 his presence as dogs do, accepting him as one of the eccentricities of masters whose whims 

 are law. It was odd to see their greetings, to watch the nostrils of the two animals meet : 

 on the dog's part, the cold curiosity of the salute, the instant disillusionment ; on the pig's, the 

 brusque discourteousness. His chief friend was the married man ; him he followed every- 

 where, even into the water, for the story that pigs cut their throats swimming was apparently 

 unknown to "Tommy." At any rate I have seen him swim after his friend in the boat and 

 be lifted dripping and stiff out of the lake like a great black baby. With increasing age he 

 became an adept at filching bones from the kennels of the chained-up dogs. It was then an 

 advantage to him that he was conscience careless, that the higher standard of ethics reached 

 by man and dog were unknown to him. There was no concealment of his thefts he knew no 

 better law. The dog, on the other hand, was handicapped by a deeper insight into the nature 

 of things. After the first instinctive snarling rush to protect his property, conscience awoke 

 in him ; remembrance obtruded itself that the black marauder was in some way the property 

 of his master, that he was tapu, that he himself as a dog had perhaps done wrong even in 

 resenting the theft. Consideration like an angel came and whipped the offending Adam out of 

 him ; at any rate it was the dog who would bolt to kennel with his tail between his legs, whilst 

 the pig brazenly enjoyed the stolen goods. It was impossible to watch "Tommy "and deny 

 to him a genuine sense of humour. Often to our woolshed drafting-yards he would follow the 

 shepherds with their dogs. There it was that his peculiar sense of fun found expression ; a 

 satisfaction that never palled was the stalking and rousing of a drowsy dog. The jest had 

 probably its origin in chance, or in congenital rudeness, and only became with repetition estab- 

 lished as a habit. After a long morning's work and not infrequently a gorge at the gallows, 

 the satiated sheep-dogs are wont to lie half-asleep in a comatose or torpid condition in the 

 shade of the rails. That was " Tommy's " chance : like a man attempting to outwit a horse 

 hard to catch, his method was at first to contrive to be noticed moving away from his destined 

 prey. With indeterminate movements he would further lull his victim, then advancing cautiously 

 and quietly, would violently punch the dog in the paunch and listen to his howl of mingled 

 anguish and surprise. I do not remember in " Tommy " any ostentatious sign of satisfaction : 

 his line was that the dog's body had happened to meet his nose, that the whole affair was 

 an accident. Watching from the yards, we used to credit him with the sly impudence of 

 glancing up with head aslant after the manner of pigs, as if pretending to pause and listen, 

 in doubt as to whether his ears had deceived him, whether he had really heard or not heard a 

 howl of anguish. He would then continue his pretence of searching for something on the 

 ground. Sometimes, with the predilection for wandering that characterises the pig race, 

 " Tommy " strayed far afield. One morning, noticing on the hillside what I mistook for a wild 

 pig, I put the hunting dogs on his trail, and arriving breathless on their heels found the three 



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