276 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



farm east of the Missouri River having 

 a flock of sheep is the exception and not 

 the rule. And why? 



Not because sheep-raising is naturally 

 unprofitable. Presenting her owner with 

 a fine lamb or two every spring, giving 

 him a nice fleece of wool at the beginning 

 of each summer, and yielding a goodly 

 lot of savory mutton at the end of her 

 career, a good ewe is no mean invest- 

 ment, normally. 



If the farmer has a field overrun with 

 briars, a flock of sheep will do the work 

 of two or three grubbing-hoes. They 

 will live where cattle would starve, and 

 thrive on grass too short for anything 

 else except goose pasture. The farmer 

 loves a flock of sheep about the place. 

 Then why does he not have them? 



the farmer's plaint 



Here is his own answer: 



"Only a few days ago the last of my 

 sheep were driven away. I watched 

 those old Merino ewes and their foldy- 

 necked lambs walk down the road and 

 out of sight, and, as I watched, a lump 

 came into my throat and the tears were 

 not far away. 



"Now these ewes are gone. Because 

 I have lost interest? Far from it! I 

 would walk farther to see a good Merino 

 than any other animal that lives. Be- 

 cause I think tariff changes have knocked 

 the industry into a cocked hat? No, for 

 I think the future of the industry is 

 bright, and that the "golden hoof" will 

 be worth as much — perhaps more — in the 

 future as in the past. Then why ? The 

 one reason for present abandonment 

 would be shouted by thousands of shep- 

 herds if the question were put — just 

 dogs! 



"Old stuff? Maybe to you, but it's 

 ever new to the sheepmen of eastern 

 Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia, 

 and to flock owners everywhere. The 

 man who has walked out to his pasture 

 and found dead, torn, crippled, bleeding, 

 scared sheep will appreciate what I say. 



"My farm is bounded on two sides by 

 small towns, with a joint dog population 

 of two hundred; one mile away, on the 

 third side, is still another village, and 

 two miles in the remaining direction is a 



fourth — the last two with more dogs 

 than people. We found our sheep dead ; 

 we found them with throats cut and legs 

 torn off ; we found them one time huddled 

 together in the farthest corner of the 

 field, another time scared into the public 

 highway, and, again, chased four miles 

 from home. 



"The foreigners' dogs chased them; 

 the neighbors' dogs chased them ; dogs of 

 all kinds, seen and unseen, had a whack 

 at my Merinos. 



" 'Why don't you shoot the marau- 

 ders ?' queries one. 'Why don't you poi- 

 son them?' another asks. And 'Why 

 don't you keep your sheep at the barn?' 

 another wants to know. 



"But can a farmer who gets up at half- 

 past four in the morning, finishing his 

 chores, eating his breakfast, and reach- 

 ing the field by seven, sit up all night 

 waiting for the dogs ? Or do you expect 

 him to violate the law that prohibits the 

 setting of poison? Or should he, after 

 having followed a plow from sun-up to 

 sun-down, have to drive his sheep in 

 every night and out every morning?" 



A HUNDRED THOUSAND SHEEP KILLED 

 ANNUALLY BY DOGS 



Alas ! how many farmers who loved 

 to have gentle-faced, soft-bleating sheep 

 and gamboling lambs around the place 

 have given a negative answer after trial, 

 and how many others have been deterred 

 from sheep-raising by seeing the ravages 

 of the unrestricted dog in some neigh- 

 bor's flock! 



The Department of Agriculture esti- 

 mates that more than one hundred thou- 

 sand sheep are annually sacrificed by the 

 unrestricted dog. Some dogs kill one or 

 two, others continue the attack until all 

 the sheep are destroyed or crippled. 

 Still others chase the flock till its mem- 

 bers die from exhaustion. 



Many of the States have laws under 

 which taxes on dogs go into funds for 

 the reimbursement of farmers for sheep 

 killed or crippled. But the appraisers 

 cannot take cognizance of the damage 

 done to those members of the flock that 

 escape actual destruction or injury from 

 the teeth of the attacking brutes. 



The dogs work both singly and in 



