Thursday, 19 August 2010

Wascally Wascals

These cheeky old girls have been giving us quite the run-around the past couple of weeks. Running high in the hills at Chabo, they've been enjoying the peace and solitude offered by the high country.

Unfortunately for them, their holiday was over.
Fred the Wonderdog, his ever-energetic son Steel and the boss had other ideas for them, one of which included a one-way ticket off the place.

After mustering Chabo two weeks ago, these girls weren't even sighted.
Second round found them, but unfortunately a neighbour's bull who'd taken to running with them, was definitely not interested in coming to the yards. In the mayhem that followed all escaped into the wilderness, not without some frustration on the part of dogs and men.

Third attempt, with no neighbour's bull in the mix, saw the precious old dolls make it nearly to the yards, when one particularly nasty heifer, who had been looking for out since the beginning, spied her getaway point and departed. The dogs could only do so much in thick scrub, and thus the mob was again blown.

Until yesterday...ding ding...Round 4.
Finding the little renegades on a watering point near the boundary, we slipped them through the fence, into the neighbours and walked them to their yards. Off their own beaten track they walked along like little sheep.

Under the very watchful eye of the boss, who by this point was quite frustrated by their rascally ways.

Meanwhile I enjoyed the views and offered as much advice as I thought necessary.
An important contribution I thought.



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