photo by Jole Jolevski in 1957 year on mountain Bistra, Macedonia

It is enjoyable to watch the genuine Sharplaninec, the one in the mountain; his walk, his movements, his strength, his grace, his self-confidence, his independance;

     It is enjoyable to watch the genuine Sharplaninec, the one in the mountain; his walk, his movements, his strength, his grace, his self-confidence, his independance; the royal posture as king of the mountain where only one look can change the thiefs mind, one movement can change the minds of the hungry wolves, a scent in the air can prevent the blood-thursting bears in the wild mountain.

     They have that expression as a call of the wild, their image does not look as a usual dog, but as if a wolf and a bear have mixed to create it. The eyes, as if drawn by order, when required to turn your mind away from bad thoughts, the eyelids nicely tightened, there is no skin hanging, just enough, just as it should be. The body firm and tight; the walk self-confident and light; coldblooded and reasonable before the danger itself; filled with strong will and desire to maintain the wining position, with minimum excitement, but under the complete control to actively protect and defend his kingdom. He does not only posess the black belt, but he also posesses the tenth dan black belt.

MECO od KEF, son of AGA & BELA

MECO od KEF  7 months old

MECO od KEF  3 years old

                         A song for Sharko

Snow is early at gigantic heights.

Mountain Shar's sheepfolds are all white.

The snow cheated the shepherds it fell all night.

The sheep are gone as if shoot right at sight.

Where is Mecho this morning, is he nowhere to be found, too.

Is he with the sheep, what awaits them, too.

Months have passed, spring has sprung.

Have they all by the wolves been hung?

Now birds burst in song and streams gurgle from snow meltdown.

The sun shines brightly and hillsides are in green all the way down.

To the ancient sheepfold people come along.

For  blood thrust 500 sheep are all gone.

Shepherds are in seek of what the blizzard covered.

Nowhere in the mountain may the sheep be discovered.

All hope was lost after many days passed,

when suddenly from the mountain side the sound of bells at last.

Now on Shar as if all white has gathered.

Flock and offspring return home altogether.

Not just Mecho, all sheep are here.

Around them merrily run about a herd of lambs dear.

The wolf that lurked the flock is now dead.

Skies eternal may be his witness, Mecho was there when there was dread.

On the mountain top Mecho is proudly standing.

On and on the sheep he is counting.

Lambs love him dearly as an older brother.

They listen to him carefully, as if he were their father.

And Mecho shall be Mecho questions of no wage.

All that come from the village Gari are friends of age.

He defended them, protecting them one by one,

all that and more just for a bun.

Has one heard since King Marko's times

of such a warrior as our Sharko ones upon a time?