What's that you say?

No doubt about it, some of our farming Kiwi-ism’s sound ridiculous to an outsider, a mystery and an education. Most industries have their own language, but sheepdog language is a cut above the rest.
If a visitor to our country heard a sheep farmer telling his dog to ‘Get in behind’, they would surely block small children’s ears. ‘Get behind’, I can understand or ‘get in’ is fine if you want the animal to jump into the ute.
Then there’s ‘Come-by’ and ‘Away to me’ and that other South Island dog command, ‘Welago’; sounds like a breakfast cereal but no, it is a message for your multi-lingual, very intelligent collie to go left and surround a flock of woollies.
I became fully conversant with this very peculiar language during my sheep farming years.
Thankfully, I was born with a naturally loud whistle that was not dependent on my having to put two fingers into my mouth, to call my dog. Spare a thought for the shepherd who having just assisted birthing of one of his flock is forced to get his dog’s attention by the fingers in the mouth method.

I once owned a large huntaway called Sam; he was prone to disobedience which forced me into the fairly common ‘coarse command’ method (swearing profusely). Until I discovered it was not altogether his fault. On a routine trip to the vet, (the dog not me) I was informed by the veterinary surgeon that Sam was totally deaf. Whistling and bellowing had no effect upon the poor animal. From then on I resorted to wild gesticulating. Flailing my arms around in the middle of the paddock, pointing left or right, made me look like a traffic duty policeman with a bee down his shirt. If anyone had seen me they would have thought that I had gone completely bonkers. They would have been convinced that my dog was also barking mad because old deaf Sam spent most of his time walking backwards so he could see my hand signals. I resorted to a suggestion by a well meaning idiot, which was to give the dog a hearing aid. Sam was never the same after he peed on the battery and received a very nasty shock.
Talking of strange language and sayings, for sheer amusement you cannot go past some of the English cockney tradesmen. They have a talent for putting what they want to say into one word. In London the Rag and Bone man could be heard but probably not understood by outsiders.. ‘Ragbollbowe’ Which translates into ‘Rags, Bottles, Bones.’
Then there was the friendly fish guy in Dymchurch by-the-sea, his cry was completely indiscernible to any but those in the know, ‘Coclemusselwelk’, easy to follow in the written word but a foreign tongue to the ear.
One of the strangest mixes of words came over the loud speaker on Ashford Railway Station in Kent England. The next train stop after Ashford was the village of Wye after that came the picturesque village of Chilham then down the track to Chartham and finally to the City of Canterbury. The Station Master had a strong Kentish accent and believed in the economy of words; outsiders were always taken aback when they heard the destination announcement, ‘WHY KILL’EM and CART’EM to CANTERBURY!’