The Local Pound..
This story didnt make it to the AMA site either. Even now, forty years later, it still looms large in the locals memory, and is a tad on the sensitive side…
So. Mum came tearing across the paddocks..Bill Bill Bill, our cows were on the road again, and LE$%^&^, is taking them to the pound.
Now, LE$%^&^ is my attempt to..hide the name of the local..law enforcer…see, I am not so sure that publishing the full story wouldnt have Ramifications..even now! LE..is Law Enforcement,,,as distinct from Cit..
So, a bit of history. We were in the middle of a drought, we were hand feeding, and I had gotten used to the idea that when the cattle broke out of the paddock they were in, that it was because they were a tad short of tucker, and I had better up the feeding regime.
Now, breaking out of their paddock wasnt a big deal, but breaking out of the farm onto the highway through town..was. You dont let your stock onto the main road unattended.
So, LE$%^&^ had collared said cattle, and was taking them to the local pound, whereby I would pay a fee to extract them.
Involves taking them through town..past the school, over a hill, around a corner, past a fair few shops, up toward the church, left past the police station, into the pound.
These cattle werent used to being That close to people, or cars and trucks, and would have been tricky to get to the pound at the best of times. However..this day was thursday…the day of the week when there are market stalls and people all over the road along which these cattle would have to pass.
Scene set! LE$%^&^ had enlisted the help of council workers to hurry the cows along the road.
I raced into town, and saw our cattle in the pound. As well, on the way in, there was a council worker letting one of the calves back into our paddocks from off the main road.
Must admit that I was curious. How did they manage it? Through all that noise..perhaps there was a technique that I could learn. Anyway, I went into the council chambers, saw LE$%^&^, and proceeded to ask..how did you manage to get those cows through the markets and such?
I agree, a tad insensitive..or so it turned out! THOSE COWS MADE FOOLS OF US. THREE TIMES WE GOT THEM TO THE HILL, AND TWICE THEY TURNED AROUND AND HEADED OFF.. I tell, you, Mr Shaw, that if I see one of them with a nose through the fence in future, I’m going to shoot it off!
Ah! not a happy vegemite, so it was eyes front, nodding in appropriate places, and not asking anymore questions!
Unfortunately, one of the councl workers was ..maltreating.. one of the cows, and it got to one of the business owners in town..who said..CitA^&^*&*(, can you do something about that? CitA^&^*&*( had a rather large motorcycle, so he put the choke on, hit the start button, and of course it emitted a most satisfactory..backfire…that was the first time the cows turned around.
Needless to say, that the street cleared, and the town went to the side of the road..and watched. As you would.
At the social hob of the town that night..the RSL, the place was buzzing. Everyone wanted me to press a complaint about..who ever it was..dragging one of the more stubborn cows along the bitumen on her knees, blood and skin peeling off. I heard more of the story..the aforesaid business owner owned up to his part in the whole affair, then went to talk to LE$%^&^, who’d just walked in. Hmm! I decided that LE$%^&^ had suffered enough, any lessons were thoroughly learnt by then, and that I was going to keep a low profile for a wee while.
Not over yet!
Over the coming months, any stock on the main road anywhere near that town produced a hurried phone call..Bill Bill Bill, your cows are on the road again! SH#^&!…ang on, (no theyre not!) Where abouts? 6 or 7 miles south of..our local town. Phew…ah, ring Doug C.! his cattle!
Or..5 miles north of our town…ah, ring Mike G., his sheep…
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