Woolly jumpers

They're not noted for their intellect, so how do you coax sheep into believing they are finely-honed racing machines? Zoe Ash got set for the Sark sheep races - and attempted to find out THE going was good to firm, said compere and 11 times Grand National jockey Lord John Oaksey, so I was ready for some big wins in Sark.

Now in its 19th year, the annual sheep races have always been a popular event. But this year extra boats, full to bursting with passengers, were being dispatched from Guernsey. It seems that these days we're all catching on to the Royal Ascot of Sark.

I joined them with a degree of trepidation. It was all urban myth to me. I wanted to know exactly how you coaxed sheep - by nature rather woolly-headed animals - into finely-honed racing machines with a competitive streak.

The action took place at the Millennium Field next to the new Island Hall and when I arrived, there was an air of anticipation. People were setting up a fete alongside the track and stocking the 'baa' for the day ahead. But I was becoming anxious. There weren't any sheep. Surely they were integral to the whole thing?

I needn't have worried. They arrived to a heroes' welcome looking ? well, a little sheepish. But they could have been bluffing.

The animals, trained by farmer Dave Scott, were all from the same flock and so technically all pals. This knowledge fuelled my theory that they had all been secretly training against each other - sneaking out in the dead of night to do press-ups against the hay bales and taking protein shakes, then denying it the next day.

Former National Hunt jockey and columnist for the Daily Telegraph Lord Oaksey was concerned. 'I don't like the way that sheepdog is terrorising the sheep,' he told me. 'I think he must be the starter.'

Family connections in Sark brought him to what must have been one of the trickiest commentating jobs of his career, performed from the relative luxury of a trailer at the far end of the track.

His mother-in-law lives in the island and he claimed that wife Rachel had roped him in, although he didn't seem to have taken much persuading.

I asked him how his experience as a Channel 4 racing pundit had prepared him for the heady day's sheep racing ahead.

'Well, I did race in 11 Grand Nationals. That might help me a bit, but this is the first-ever sheep racing I've commentated on,' he says, looking over his spectacles and raising an eyebrow. 'The going looks perfect. And fast for the sheep. I should think they'll thrive.'

With his knowledge of form in horses, I wondered if he'd noticed any sheep that looked like a sure bet and the self-professed worst tipster in the world told me about a letter he recently received.

'Dear b*******,' it began.

'I got the impression it wasn't from one of my biggest fans,' he said.

'It went on to tell me my tips couldn't be more rubbish if Channel 4 bought me a forklift truck.'

He did voice some concerns that the sheep were racing straight towards him, but as it turned out, his worries were relatively unfounded. The sheep ran pretty much wherever they wanted. Generally shepherded towards him, to his and everyone else's amusement, they also made regular stops for grass eating.

Turf accountants, or bookies to you and me, were on hand to offer odds on the sheep and it seemed rude not to have a flutter. Deciding to stick with my normal method of betting - favourite name or, in this case, coloured jacket worn by teddy bear jockey - I headed over.

Victor's Exile in the first race seemed like a good bet. Commentator Trevor Kendall talked him up as being from an excellent local stable and having four trainers. He was, in fact, the only multi-lingual sheep in the races and sounded as if he could have given Red Rum a run for his money in his day. But I had my eye on Sheep Ahoy. I liked his name and his rider was wearing a pink jacket.

Although Lord Oaksey called for a photo finish, there was a clear winner - and it wasn't my sheep. This was a theme for the afternoon's races, five in all, and I seemed to be permanently standing next to someone who'd placed a winning bet.

But it wasn't all about sheep: a host of other events entertained the crowds in between races, while the sheep were getting their breath back.

Like the competition to find the best men's waistcoat. Runaway winner Colin Smith's was fashioned by his 18-year-old daughter, Kirsty, and started life as a fleece from the Salvation Army.

But Colin may not have clinched the title if winner of best ladies' hat competition Emma-Jo Rose had got to the races slightly earlier. Her boys, Jude, 2, and four-year-old Jaden wore fantastically-decorated waistcoats featuring farm scenes on the front and seascapes on the back. They helped their mum over the space of a week to put together her winning nautical headgear.

Another highlight of the afternoon was the judging of Miss Sark Princess. With more than 10 entries, it was hotly contested, with entrants aged between five and 10 putting up a spirited fight for the title. Winner Serena Brown is a newcomer to Sark - but not to the Channel Islands. She previously lived with her family in Herm. As Miss Sark Princess, she'll be involved in several forthcoming events in the island, including the Harbour Carnival.

The races became more spirited throughout the afternoon but the sheep had clearly had enough by race four, when they had to be cajoled up the entire straight using the stalls as prods. Not even over-excited sheepdog Tess could make any impression. Lord Oaksey was amazed.

'Well, in all the races I've seen, I've never seen the stalls being used like this before,' he told the crowd.

But it was in the final race, the NatWest Offshore Sprint or 'sheeplechase', that the runners excelled. Spotting the home straight, they needed no encouragement and practically launched themselves over each bale of hay, to the delight of onlookers.

As the sheep were being de-jockeyed and herded back into the trailer, some looking smugger than others, I reflected on the day's events.

How, I asked Lord Oaksey, would he go about describing this to Horse and Hound readers?

'I would say that it's an event where almost anything could happen,' he said. 'That's the only certainty there is.'

He was right. And as it turned out, I was about as good a tipster as Lord Oaksey himself. With the day drawing to a close, I asked bookmaker 'Dodgey' Dave Cocksedge how he thought the charity event had gone.

'It's been non-stop all day: the generosity of the Guernsey people has been marvellous,' he told me.

'Everyone's really entered into the spirit of things. We've done really well.'

With the afternoon's takings - a staggering £12,100, double what the event made last year - going to The Professor Charles Saint Sark Medical Trust, it was, all

in all, not a baa-d day at the races.