Old Friends
The shepherd and the gamekeeper are men in sympathy, for one is dependent to some extent on the other. In the eyes of the keeper, the shepherd is one of the most important persons on a farm. And where there is not a good understanding between the two men the keeper will suffer loss in game, and the shepherd not only in sheep, but in rabbits. With rabbits to spare, the keeper's first thought is of his friend the shepherd. The shepherd is vigilant by night as well as by day, and may watch the interests of game without detriment to his own charge. And it is a pleasure to the keeper to run his eye over the fold when he passes that way to see if all is well. He comes to the rescue of many a sheep on its back that would have remained on its back until dead without his timely aid; and he saves the shepherd many possible disasters through the flock breaking from the fold, when the sheep might come to destruction by over-feeding on green-stuffs. Through the long nights of the lambing-time the keeper may give the shepherd his company over pipes of fragrant shag, and pots of heart-cheering ale—hands, hearts, and ale alike made warm by the little stove in the shepherd's movable house on wheels. Look well at a shepherd's back, and you are likely to see a keeper's old coat.
What Shepherds enjoy
Shepherds like their pot of beer—and some of them are wondrously fond of a fight, and so may become useful allies to the keeper when poachers are to be dealt with. We knew a shepherd who would always be especially retained to help the keepers of an estate at times when pheasants were liable to be shot at night. His appointment came about in this way: the head keeper, during the absence of an assistant, had employed the shepherd to watch, and had dosed him with half a gallon of beer to keep the cold out before sending him off on duty. The beer and the night air were not without effect; and when presently a human form came stealthily along in the shadow of a moon-lit ride, the shepherd was in grand fighting trim and spirit. He waited his chance, then sprang like a lion on the intruder, gripped his throat, bore him to the earth, and belaboured him in hearty fashion. He was about to tie him hand and foot when he saw that he was tackling his own master from the mansion, who, having been dining with a neighbour, had chosen to walk home by way of his woods. So impressed was the master with the shepherd's valour on behalf of his pheasants that he gave him a sovereign, and retained him on the night staff at five shillings a night—and half a gallon of beer.
Lives of Labour
Like most country workers, shepherds and gamekeepers may go through a long life of labour without ever taking a holiday, possibly without thinking of one. We hear of eight-hour days for factory workers and discussions of an ideal work-day of six or even of four hours; but seldom a word is spoken for those country labourers, the length of whose toil is limited only by daylight—when it is not carried on as a matter of course into the night. Farm hands may work through all the days of the year; for where there is stock to be fed work is never-ceasing. Yet it is reasonable to suppose that holidays are as needful to the countryman as to the townsman, and that if the farm labourer or the shepherd were sent away to the sea every year for a fortnight's rest and change, he would work with a new energy that would more than compensate for the work lost. It would be something at least to break the deadly monotony of the daily round, even if the labourer had no ideas for profitably spending a holiday.