We had Easter at Chabo, my parents' property which joins Bottle Tree Creek, the property we are acquiring this Friday. We had young bulls to muster and sort in anticipation of this year's sale season, choosing which bulls will suit which sale, which bulls will be available for paddock sale, which bulls will meet their destiny via the meatworks. They're kinda the short straw yard. We also got cows in off the mountain, taking a load out of them for the meatworks, before heading to Bottle Tree Creek to muster and count cattle there prior to purchase.
While not so many years ago we always mustered this place with horses, a combination of time restraints, children and perhaps age/wisdom have resulted in us using bikes these days. I tag along in the wagon, picking wildflowers, taking photos, singing along to the radio,
... sliding into washouts.
With driver's side door fimly wedged against terra firma, I clambered over gear stick and handbrake making my way through skyward pointing passenger door, wondering what the best approach might be with the boss. I was to meet Matthew at a dam still many miles away, and set about walking to a closer water, to await his return. Thankfully he had come upon a small group of cattle closer and was bringing them onto the same water. I wondered just how much trouble I was going to find myself in, when his mob of fourteen cows noticed lone walking woman in the wilderness, Steel the not-so-much-a-wonderdog by my side and split in fourteen directions. Fortunately I made it to a large tree and waited for Matthew and Fred the Wonderdog to find me, out of sight of bovines. As they came closer and I stepped from behind tree, over the noise of the bike I could still make out the words "What have you done"?, as the midday sun bounced off the angled roof of the Nissan some several hundred yards away and hit said boss in eye.
As he motioned for me to hop on behind, it became a frantic competition for position with Fred the wonderdog, Steel the not-so-much-a-wonderdog and myself all vying for top spot. Within several hundred yards I'd managed to dislodge both of them and was clutching for dear life, fingers entwined through one of Matthew's belt loops, other gripping to rack behind bike, which was imprinting its pattern into my rear end.
On a positive note, we managed a clean muster and vehicle has since been removed with minimal damage.
Marital relations are returning to normal.