Across Asia Minor on Foot
by J.W. Childs
Within this traveler's account, published in 1917, we find a section about the shepherds in Turkey and their magnificent dogs. The author, W.J. Childs was not a dog lover, but provides an eye-witness description of the Kangal Dog. For a long time this book was out of print and very expensive when copies emerged for sale on the book market. Recently, the copyrights have expired and the text can be downloaded in full from several places, or an inexpensive paperback copy bought from several printing services. This is a link to the scanned text on Google Books.
pages 164-166
"Beyond Kayadibi the country dogs were the largest and most savage of any I met. In build they were like Newfoundlands, but larger, with black head or muzzle, yellow body and long curling tail. From nearly every flock that fed within a half mile of the road a dog would presently detach itself and come lumbering across country to the attack. I had no doubt the shepherds set them on – a well-known trick of Turkish shepherds when a foreigner is passing – but I also more than half suspected Mehmet of somehow prompting the shepherds.
There never was a foreign traveler in Turkey who did not long to shoot dogs. To do so, however, is almost out of the question, for Turkish law, and still more Turkish custom, effectually protect these monstrous beasts. In theory you are entitled to defend yourself against them, even to the point of killing; but in practice may not do so, except at great subsequent personal risk. At law it is said to be hard to justify the killing of a dog; the law, however, may be faced lightly compared with the rough and ready measures of the countryside. A cry like a jodel goes from hill to hill for a shot dog, and brings the country-folk out with firearms. They do not stop to argue, but open fire upon you as a public enemy. If mounted you may gallop for your life and escape, though having to run the gauntlet for miles. And if coming back you take care not to return this way, and even avoid the road indefinitely, for memories against you are not only bitter but long.
So as a pedestrian I went in hatred of country dogs, all the more for the enforced respect I had to show them. Nothing in Turkish traveling, indeed, -neither filthy khans nor universal dirt, nor risk of disease, nor chance of robbery, -equals in unpleasantness this plague of savage dogs.
If attacked by dogs once on the road beyond Kayadibi, I was attacked a dozen times in the day. After three or four undignified skirmishes, in which the beasts, bounding into the air and flinging foam, kept just outside the reach of my heavy steel – pointed stick, I climbed into the araba whenever a flock of goats or sheep appeared ahead. I hoped Mehmet would not attribute this new way of traveling to my dislike of dogs. Sometimes I thought the faintest trace of smile appeared on his face when I waited for the vehicle, but I attributed the idea to a sensitive imagination. This changed way of traveling pleased my driver immensely. Whenever I mounted the araba he would whip his horses to a sharp trot or canter for a half mile, and then at a word stop for me to get out.
I felt certain, however, that weak-eyed Mehmet had not penetrated my motive, for the flocks were not always easy to see. But disillusionment presently followed, and in the way it came took me unawares. Walking before the araba I heard Mehmet cough out: “Kopek” – dog. I could see no flock, so believed he was announcing the bogie man, and wondered how self-respect required me to deal with this display of insolence. Then in the same warning voice, as if doing no more than his duty, he exclaimed “Ikki” – two. By this time I felt sure we come to a crisis, and though respecting his wit, meant to teach him a lesson. But he had truth on his side right enough, and pointed out two immense yellow creatures lying near the road some fifty yards ahead. Thereafter I made no more pretence, nor did he: and his alertness was such that for the rest of the day he was ever discovering dogs and advising me to ride."