(76.) Particular forms induced by certain limits.—The character which a predominance of heat, or cold, impresses on the animal as a whole, extends also to individual parts of the body. The sheep of South Africa are, as all the world know, remarkable for the magnitude of the tail, which forms an immense fatty appendage. The sheep of Persia, Tartary, and China, are distinguished from all others by the tail forming a double globe of fat. The North of Europe, and North of Asia, are overrun by a breed in which the tail is almost wanting, while that of Southern Russia, India, and Guinea, stands pre-eminent from the elongation of the tail, and, in respect to that of the two last named places, also of the legs.
(77.) Influence of vegetation on form and disposition.—Vegetation influences, to a great extent, the form and disposition of the animal. Such changes may be brought about either by the plenty, or scarceness, of the herbage; or by the nature of the country on which that herbage is produced. Animals found on hilly countries are always widely different from those of the plains. Their bodies are light, their legs long, and their habits of that unquiet kind which renders them hostile to any thing like restraint. It is for these reasons, that when once a flock attaches itself to a range of hills, and becomes suited to the means of subsistence, it may preserve itself for ages apart from neighbouring varieties, and present, after a long series of years, those qualities in their native purity for which it was noted by the earliest observers. The sheep of a level country are distinguished, on the contrary, by heavy bodies, short legs, and easy tempers. They are, in fact, constructed on Dutch proportions, and are imbued, as a natural consequence, with those imperturbable and steady-going habits so characteristic of the bulbous bottomed Hollander. Subdued as they are by the nature of their locality, they readily submit to man, who tutors them at will, and works on them those profitable changes from which have originated our improved varieties. As connected with the unquiet dispositions of hill sheep, I may mention the prevalence of a notion, that domesticated sheep cannot by any possibility become wild. From all that I have seen, and read, I am led to believe, though the sheep, according to Greek, Roman, and Oriental philosophers, was the first animal domesticated, that when at liberty it will soon return to its primitive and instinctive habits. Bonnycastle, in his work on Spanish America, remarks, that sheep are found in a state of nature, in the northern parts of New Spain, "having multiplied to an extraordinary degree in the wide-spread plains, and savannahs." In ascending our Scottish mountains, every one must observe the state bordering upon wildness, in which the sheep appear, roving in detached but well-led parties; bounding away to the most inaccessible places on the approach of danger, and peering from the eminences in all the pride of scornful independence. Professor Blumenbach at one time doubted the possibility of domestic sheep ever becoming wild; but his opinion was changed on perusing the work of Vincentius, where there occurs a remarkable passage, in which Nearchus, when speaking of the desert island of Cataia, on the coast of Caramania, says, that the inhabitants of the neighbouring islands yearly carried thither sheep, as offerings to Venus and Mercury, and that, in course of time, they became wild in the deserts.[ [13] Constant attendance is, therefore, called for on the part of man, to ensure that untroubled reliance on his care so conducive to the welfare of the flock, for even on a temporary cessation of his protection, those instincts, which can be subdued but not eradicated, are brought into operation, and their presence will go far to retard the advancement of those qualities, on the perfection of which a profit can alone be hoped for.
(78.) Breeds required for Britain.—Of the numerous breeds at present in our island, a few only are indispensably necessary for the continuance of its prosperity. These stand, according to Marshall, thus:—A very long-woolled sheep, as the Lincolnshire, or Teeswater, for the richest grass lands, and finest worsted manufactures—the New Leicester, for less fertile grass land, and for rich enclosed arable land, on which the fold is not used; intended to supply coarser worsted, stockings, coarse cloths, blankets, and carpets—a middle-woolled breed, as the Wiltshire, the Norfolk, or the Southdown, for arable lands on which folding is practised, and for cloths of middle qualities—a fine-woolled, as the Ryeland, for the finest cloths; and a hardy race for heathy mountains.
Some argue, and rightly, that only three breeds are necessary for Scotland, inasmuch as only three are required by the nature of the country. Scotland may be regarded, in an agricultural point of view, as divided into highland, upland, and plain. The highland consists of primitive rocks, covered by peaty soil and heath, on which these indefatigable gleaners, the black-faced sheep, alone can gain a subsistence. The upland is formed by the transition series of rocks, covered with grass; and to it the Cheviots appear indigenous. The plain is formed by alluvial deposits, covered with rich pasture, and capable of supporting races of large sheep, as the Leicesters.
Sheep are the only kind of live-stock which ought to be kept in mountainous districts, especially when green crop cannot be cultivated. Sheep-farming must necessarily prevail in the Highlands, where there are few tracts suited for the pasturage of black cattle: The value of its adaptation to the natural circumstances of that district is proved by the rapid progress which it made, and the profits which resulted to the individuals with whom it originated. Places which formerly were not of the slightest utility, now yielded heavy rents. The spots among the mountains, susceptible of cultivation, were found to be advantageously kept in grass, to serve as pasture for the flock during the rigour of winter, and it was well ascertained that more than double rent might be paid by stocking with sheep in preference to cattle.
The Dishley sheep are excellent specimens of what may be done with the form of an animal, when the endeavours of the breeder are seconded by a pasture suitable for the intended breed. They are admirably adapted, as every breed ought to be, to the soil and situation where they were called into existence; and their crosses are now spread over most part of the country; principally the corn districts, as they are supposed to be the most profitable kind on farms where the best tillage crops are combined with the fattening of livestock, though Marshall supposes they will only be reckoned profitable so long as other breeds of long-woolled sheep remain with thin chines, and loose mutton; or, in other words, that there are plenty of kinds which would prove equal, if not superior, to the present, if they only received the same studied attention.
(79.) Varied nature of the food of Sheep.—Sheep will take, sometimes from choice, sometimes from necessity, to food of a directly opposite nature to what they have been used. "The mutton," says the Rev. George Low, writing of Orkney, "is here in general but ordinary, owing to the sheep feeding much on sea-ware, to procure which these creatures show a wonderful sagacity, for no sooner has the tide of ebb begun to run, but they, though at a great distance, immediately betake themselves full speed, one and all, to the shore, where they continue till it begins to flow." The sheep of Iceland are content during severe winters to feed, and be preserved, on messes of chopped fish-bones, being all that the ingenuity of their masters can provide in the way of a precarious sustenance. During the long continuance of snow-storms, when the herbage is beyond the reach of their utmost efforts, sheep are known to devour the wool on each other's backs, and, in some instances to acquire a relish for this unnatural food, which adheres to them through life. This, though on first thoughts hardly credible, is scarcely more wonderful than the partiality which cows display, when instigated by the depraved appetites created by pregnancy, for blankets, and any similar domestic articles which may be exposed to the gratification of their longings.
The Puruk sheep of Ladusk, in the Himalaya mountains, is, as described by Mr Moorecraft, in the Transactions of the Asiatic Society, in respect to the varied nature of its food, a most remarkable animal. "The Puruk sheep, if permitted, thrusts its head into the cooking pot, picks up crumbs, is eager to drink the remains of a cup of broth, and examine the hand of its master for barley, flour, or a cleanly picked bone, which it disdains not to nibble; a leaf of lettuce, a peeling of turnip, the skin of the apricot, give a luxury; and the industry is indefatigable with which this animal detects, and appropriates substances, so minute and uninviting as would be unseen and neglected by ordinary sheep; perhaps the dog of the cottager is not so completely domesticated as it is." That Mr Moorecraft is correct in this statement of its omnivorous propensities, there cannot be the slightest doubt, as any farmer can testify from what he has seen of lambs reared by children for amusement. The celebrated John Hunter showed, that a pigeon might be made to live on flesh, and that its stomach became adapted to the nature of this food: and I have somewhere read of a sheep, which, after being long on ship-board, and accustomed, from scarcity of vegetables, to an animal diet, could never after be prevailed upon to take to grass. Nor need these circumstances excite surprise, since the food of every living creature is, for a certain period at the commencement of existence, limited to such as is purely animal. But to keep to our subject. Those in the habit of opening the stomachs of sheep, must have remarked the eroded appearance which the inner coat occasionally presents. This phenomenon is owing to the action of the gastric juice, which, if competent to turn at once from the food with which it is mingled to attack the texture which has secreted it, will also be, during life, capable of digesting with tolerable ease, such dead animal matter as may be brought into contact with it.
In regard to vegetable food, they will, when necessary, devour such as is even of an acrid nature, and calculated to poison any animals but themselves. Thunberg, while in Southern Africa, frequently noticed sheep eating, with impunity, the Mortimia acris, the Rhus lucidum, and the Lycium afrum, which are all of a poisonous nature; and, in this country, hemlock is known to be quite innocuous to sheep. What is poison to one animal often constitutes a wholesome food for others, and that which will, when given in immediate large doses, destroy an animal, will, when taken in a gradually-increasing allowance, prove extremely salutary.
(80.) Influence of the food on the quality of Mutton.—Diet has a powerful influence on the constituents of the body. A rank succulent pasture taints the flesh, or renders it insipid and unpleasant, while a dry aromatic herbage communicates a delightful flavour, and enables people versed in the pleasures of the table easily to discriminate between turnip-fed and grass-fed mutton; and again, between the latter, and that which has spent its existence on the hills. In Touchwood's Syllabus of Culinary Lectures, appended to the Cook and Housewive's Manual, by Mistress Dods, we are briefly informed, that "the black-faced, or short-sheep, are best for the table, though more depends on the pasture than the breed." More, in fact, depending on feeding and management, than on the variety of the animal, though this of course is not to be neglected. A notion has been advanced in this country, that artificial pastures are less nutritious than natural ones, and that the animals which are raised upon them are, consequently, of a laxer fibre, and the flesh less wholesome, as well as less savoury. This, I have no doubt, is perfectly correct, as many diseases may be traced to such improper food, and what is calculated to produce in some cases actual disease, cannot fail to prove at all times capable of retarding the advancement of the animal. These soft succulent pastures appear not to be positively poisonous, but to be negatively so from their deficiency in saline matter; the rapid growth of the plant preventing the elimination and absorption, of many of these ingredients with which the soil abounds. This is proved by the greater necessity which exists for the use of salt in the food of the herbivorous animals of hot climates, than in that of such as inhabit temperate, or cold latitudes; vegetation being in the former more rapid in its details, and in certain states of the atmosphere hurried in the extreme, while in the latter the process proceeds with that leisure which enables the plant to make good the measure of its constituents, as it increases in size. In many parts of North America it is well known, that, at certain seasons, the wild animals make eagerly for the salt licks; and, following up this hint, the settlers easily induce their oxen to keep near their dwellings, by serving them periodically with salt. When the wild cattle of South America had greatly increased, it was discovered that they could not exist unless they had access to streams which had acquired brackish particles from the soil. If salt, in places devoid of it, was not furnished to them by man, they became stunted, unfruitful, and the herds soon disappeared. Even in this country, the free use of salt is found to be highly beneficial to our domestic animals, preventing the occurrence of many of those diseases which are otherwise sure to follow the use of food such as is mentioned above, and ensuring that sound health which is so conducive to the accumulation of fat.