Mustering - The Pointy End of Things
Cattle were pulled in to the water mill resting areas and corralled by the buggies not needed to chase down more, trying to keep them calm and not breaking out. No fences here. Occasionally someone would make break for it only to be herded back in. When new cattle arrived there was much bellowing and mooing checking out the new ones coming in.
“Same as last year Frank, they round us up, keep us here for a while then take us down the road eh!”
“Pretty much Clive, pretty much”.
It was not all straight forward by any means and I got to understand the true meaning of Bush Bashing. The Jesus bar on the passenger side was heavily gripped as there were no seat belts. Real cowboys don’t use seat belts.
Lots of dust, lots of crashing around at high speed through dry scrub chasing down cattle and ‘persuading’ them to join the growing mob at the wind mill and trough. Many resist, at least initially, until they’re tired then they toe the line a bit more. Breakouts are real and often.
One recalcitrant bull as big as the buggy was chased down and harried for a long time through thick scrub. The buggy eventually caught up and rammed the bull from behind several times to little effect. Eventually he was brought along side, the passenger side, my side, remember the extra plating there? A game of push and nudge at speed ensued getting rougher and rougher until the bull was knocked over and pinned against a tree. Annoyed as fuck was he. Frothing mouth, rolling red and white eyes and mean looking horns belting the side of the buggy inches away from the open window and me. Mind you I would be angry too being on the end of that kind of treatment plus being scarred shitless no doubt.
He got away only to be run down, quite literally, twice more before being pinned under the vehicle, it rising up and down with his laboured breathing. The station manager hopped out and went round to his back end and was trying to castrate the bull with a pocket knife it turned out. Luckily for the bull it wasn’t sharp enough and there was no other nut removing equipment in the buggy. Eventually he was let out from under the buggy with no harm done plus retaining his knackers and ran off into thicker scrub ultimately getting away. Next year sonny, next year!
Other than a lot of really rough driving through dry creek beds and scrub no more close encounters of this kind were had. Not by this buggy anyway. Several punctures occurred and were fixed in the field with spares and the front brake lines ripped out and sealed off by a pair of grips. It’s rough out there.
On several occasions the chopper pilot requested a face to face to plan the next mustering area. A flat piece of clear ground was found and a tete a tete had to come up with a new game plan. Up she went, off the buggies went and it all started again, all day, no breaks.
By mid to late afternoon three mobs had been rounded up, consolidated and moved through to the ‘main’ road back to the holding yard at the old homestead some 20km away. Buggies were assigned and cattle escorted slowly and calmly as possible. Breakouts periodically occurring and being quelled. Our fear was a Grey Nomad campervan would come flying round the corner in a cloud of dust and clattering rocks and spook the cattle but fortunately this didn’t occur. Testament to the remoteness of the place.
Finally all mobs were pushed back to the holding yards and the gates closed. It was estimated we had rounded up about 200 head of cattle with some pretty good, valuable bulls amongst them. Destined for market within the next few days after being sorted then trucked out by roadtrain. At $1400 a head the numbers soon add up on a 7000-9000 head station.
Early evening and time to head back to the homestead – we’d been at it for 12 hours. I had a quick word with the chopper pilot and she agreed I could ride with her back to the station because I wasn’t too heavy!! The joys of being light!
Today will be a hard act to follow for a long time I suspect.
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