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Published: November 4th 2012
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Well it's been 8 months since I last wrote a blog. Largely because I've been idle and spent most of my non working hours surfing or chucking shrimps on the barbie. But it's also because once I arrived in Australia I was submerged into the normality of western culture and I no longer spent my days being chased by dogs; being accosted by Thai men; getting lost on active volcanoes; being rescued from sinking ferries or being stung by deadly jelly fish.
Except for the odd Cane Toad licking bet Aussie life has been too civilised to blog about, until a couple of months ago when I decided to scrap my suburban hobo existence and take a stock mustering job in Queensland.
Here I am, week nine of a thirteen week contract slap bang in the middle of Queensland, sweating away in 40 degrees, drinking rain water and castrating sheep with my teeth. For fun. The remoteness of the farm has become pretty normal. We're 150km from the nearest town, Winton, which itself is a 22 hour bone shaking journey inland from Brisbane. Now after nine weeks on the farm a trip into town really feels like a simple,
'pop into town'.
I was employed as a Jackaroo, to muster cattle and sheep and do property maintenance along with all the other dogs body jobs around the 65,000 acre farm. The weeks have shot by in a whirlwind of panic and confusion. There's about 11,000 sheep and a few thousand cattle on the station so we are never short of a job. Beginning at 6.30am and ending at 7pm has been the norm for the last couple of months.
When I first arrived the farmer gave me a farm map showing the fields and buildings. Simple I thought, until I realised one morning when mustering cattle that am Aussie Paddock isn’t the same as a British Paddock. There I was with instructions to muster my way through the middle of a paddock, mobbing up cattle towards a bore when I suddenly realised I had no idea where the fences were; where the bore was; or where anybody else was. I was in fact marooned in the middle of a 15,000 acre featureless paddock without the foggiest of which way to head whilst wishing I had actually listened to the bosses Crocodile Dundee like speech about the sun
direction.
Anyway, after a couple of weeks mustering became easier, instinct took over and I began to enjoy the whole experience. Speeding along on a bike through a dry creek trying to suppress a grin whilst you try to 'seriously' push a mob of cattle out of the creek was always a highlight. As is the experience of finding a mob of cattle in one of the 10,000 acre paddocks and suppressing the overwhelming desire to start shouting down the CB radio, 'Enemy contact made, back up required'. As the cows chew the cud and your colleagues think you're a nut.
Drafting cattle took quite a while longer to enjoy. Avoiding the near beatings and spittle I reckon I'm about there, but only after nine weeks. As the boss prods down cattle it's my colleague's and my job to separate them in a holding pen into different yards. Pretty simple with fully grown cows but a nightmare when a group of young weaners heads through. Having managed to separate a few young heifers from the drafting pen I was stuck with a spooked young steer who charged off towards the departing heifers, which I stupidly blocked, ramming my
hand between the blocked gate and 300 kg of steak. Needless to say I received a bollocking from the boss for not blocking the bastard properly whilst I cradled my withered claw. It was swollen and useless for five weeks during which time I was known delightedly by my colleague as ham fist.
Most of the station's cattle are decent tempered and pretty chilled out, but now and again we'll end up mustering in a few of a neighbouring farms cattle. Often Braham cattle they stir up easily which are known for their flightiness and enthusiasm for charging. It's a tense but exhilarating moment and I can’t help but grin as we draft them off whilst scuttling up the yard fencing to avoid a pounding.
Possibly the best job is being sent out to do a water run. Bearing in mind the farm is 263 km2 it takes about 4 hours to check all the farms billabongs and troughs; fixing fences and checking on stock whilst getting the opportunity to spot Emu's, Red Kangaroos, King Brown Snakes and decent spiders.
I better head off. This is my first day in town for quite a few weeks and
a cold Aussie beer is calling.
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Glad you are blogging again
Keep those blogs coming.