New competition for one man and his dog Is there nothing that distressingly young people won't invent? Just as I was coming to terms with Tumblr, a social networking site that 26-year-old David Karp sold to Yahoo for $1.1 billion, the newspapers announced that a schoolboy had devised a system to speed-charge mobile devices. Now I read that Marc-Alexandre Favier, a student at the Harper Adams agricultural college in Shropshire, has devised a robotic replacement for the sheepdog. Instead of a Border collie, zig-zagging over the fells, buzzing drones will herd flocks from the air. I feel dizzied by the energy of youth. These intellectual Apollos hurtle past on their chariots, leaving the older generation to gape after them in amazement, spattered with mud from their wheels. Only, if I may be allowed to put in a word of experience, not all good ideas work in practice. Not, that is, in the peculiar circumstances of the British countryside. Mr Favier hails from France. The French, occupying a larger and emptier landscape, informed by a different cultural history, may be ready for robots. But different conditions pertain around Britain. For one thing, much of the hill country will soon be occupied by windfarms, which would shred any small, remote-controlled aircraft that ventured within the reach of their turbines. All right, I exaggerate. But remember, more seriously, the uplands are also visited for pleasure. Anyone who imagines that the walkers and birders who holiday in the Lake District or Yorkshire Dales won't object vociferously to the presence of whining flying machines doesn't know the passion with which countryside users defend their space. A few years ago, a battle took place over the noise of speedboats on Lake Windermere; the speedboats lost. Despite the existence of the historic Windermere Motor Boat Racing Club, whose premises are an attractive country house designed by C F A Voysey, speeds are limited, for the most part, to a sedate 10mph. Admittedly, microlites - those pesky lawnmowers of the skies - continue to exasperate Lord Lloyd-Webber, as he communes with his muse at his country house on Watership Down. But even if the drones weren't shot down on grounds of noise, Mr Favier would still face selling to British farmers to whom computer technology isn't exactly second nature. They're generally closer to his grandparents" generation than his own. I don't say they're conservative. Things have changed from the days of the Second World War, when many farmers - among them Adrian Bell, author of such rural classics as Corduroy and father of the former broadcaster and MP Martin Bell - were still using horses. They were suspicious of fertiliser. But that was after nearly a century of agricultural depression. Britain's inability to feed its population was cruelly revealed by the U-boat menace, and farm improvement became a national priority. Despite the luddite refusal of the green movement to accept GM crops, farming in Britain is now as sophisticated and innovative as anywhere on the planet. We have tractors controlled by satellite, dairy units remotely operated by technicians sitting miles away, perhaps in another country. But the average age of a hillfarmer is about 60. Hardly ancient, you may say: the prime of life. But given the difficulty that the over 50s have in operating the TV remote, the thought of mastering a gizmo that directs a miniature drone will surely be beyond many of Mr Favier's target market. Secondly, a dog isn't interchangeable with a machine. Farming is more akin to a vocation than a profession. It demands long hours and solitary habits. A dog is a better friend than a robot. Dogs are as important to some species of town dwellers as they are to country folk. The urban homeless form exceptionally close bonds - so much so that they may turn down settled accommodation because it would mean parting with the dog who is their one devoted friend, on whom they rely for bodily warmth on a cold night. But rural dogs can form even closer relationships. A good sheepdog doesn't simply follow the whistles and calls, as in the familiar TV staple One Man and his Dog, but can read his master's mind. He understands what the master wants him to do, without being explicitly told. Will a robot do that? I don't see how. An attempt was made by the Oxford University Computing Laboratory in the 1990s. After a lot of mathematical modelling, combined with analysis of video of herd behaviour, the scientists gave up with sheep. They redirected their attention to ducks. Mr Favier's drone is a tool; unlike a dog, it doesn't have an intelligence of its own. Will some readers join me in saying a quiet prayer of thanks? Homo sapiens has learnt how to do a lot of things, from creating a handgun from a 3D printer to one day sending Sarah Brightman into space. But it has not succeeded in replacing the animals whom we love. This is particularly true on the farm. Listeners to The Archers will know that the trend in dairying is for bigger and bigger units. But those cows will only produce a high yield of milk if they're contented. They need people. We need animals. It's a law no robot can change. Clive Aslet is editor at large of 'Country Life