Being on a mixed livestock farm..cattle, sheep, occasional pig and a nefarious goat on occasion, there comes time for a bit of planned maintenance. Cattle involved getting them across the main road..holding up the traffic, to let them get across. I became adept at listening for vehicle noises, and shunting them across..on my own plus Diddums dog, in between cars, meant not having to stop them, and bear the brunt of awkward questions, and suchlike. Worked well.we had stockyards, where we could pen them up, and a crush which enabled us to get really close, to administer medcines and suchlike. Sheep were easier to handle..but there were more of them..needed a different style of logistics.
Angway, came the fateful day, when dad decided that I needed a talking to. The fact that I was working with a mob of sheep at the time didnt register..or matter, maybe, at the time. The talk was ..of prime importance…anyhow, ..and these sheep were hoggets..sigh..around twelve months of age, and skittish as all getout. Older sheep tolerated as much betterer,..
So. Two long, narrow pens, one sheepey width wide, chockers with teenage sheep..I had just finished giving them all a drench..put liquid down their throats by aid of a mechanical..gun if you will. You let them go..open the gates down the bottom, let them run out..you could even be crafty, let one side go, close the bottom gate, open the top gate, let the other side go, and hope el sheepeys get the idea that theres a way out, and fill up that yard without me having to do much work. Sort of worked, but I was in trouble if one of the undrenched sheep hopped over the fence..another sigh..all sheep had to have a dose of drench..no point in some of them missing out!
Back to the story!
Here I am, trying to load these yards with finiky, adolescent baabaas, with dad holding up the works, fair in front of them. There was no way they would..willingly..run towards the old sod, especialy at short range. I suppose he thought I’d have no other option but to hear him out..but uh uh! It was a lot of work, but I managed to load the two pens with sheep..all the while getting an earbashing from dad. Got them all drenched..but to get them out..run towards dad, even though it looked like an escape..no way known. So, address the problem. dad. “dad,”….nah, he wasnt having that, not interrupting the flow.
Now, the father had a hearing problem..not quite as deaf as a post..comes of shooting big popguns off during the war..on a destroyer….so there was noo way he could have heard what I muttered to myself next. “You silly old bastard”. “Huh! You can’t talk to me like that!”
Turned on his heels, and walked off.
Well, sigh of relief..then from behind me, a chuckle. -Well, that worked!
Bloody hell! Peter, from down the track a ways.
How long you been there? Long enough! You could have given me a hand!..Nah, you were having too much fun…and so it went. But he had the final word. ” If my father had done that to my brother Colin, he would have stood it for one second..marched up to his father, bent him over, and injected that drench fair up his….., and yelled..now f-&_# off!..you get the picture! Colin had a short fuse, and no patience..unlike my sometimesgoodself..
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And your father..part 2 — No Comments
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