LAND OF ROCKS AND RIVERS DEEP

Press, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22195, 11 September 1937, Page 18

LAND OF ROCKS AND RIVERS DEEP

We arose early to get a good start for Tarndale with the sheep. The second gang joined us, and the usual lies were swapped. The pack horses all grazed together once j more, the two packmen exchanged experiences, and the first and second gangs' dogs greeted each other in their own quaint fashion. The sheep drove easily and were in the Tarndale paddocks early. Wattie was there to greet us, his bald head nodding a welcome. On the table in the hut was three weeks' mail, and we were hungry for it. News from home—news of the world—something to read! And always 'for some those pink envelopes, fat, I suppose, with affectionate sheets of pink paper. We each subscribed to a different daily or weekly paper, so we had a good selection. It was my habit to wrap my lunch, whenever possible, in something worth reading. But it is rather disconcerting to find the most exciting bits of news buried in plum jam. We drafted the ewes from the lambs in the morning. The lambs ran about in the yards calling for their mothers; but the old ewe* stood patiently, quite content to be without their lambs. Our next job was to eye clip the lambs; for many of them were wool-blind. ,We did them in an open race, and it was a a long and tedious job, catching each lamb and cutting away the wool from its eyes. On some places j only one eye is done, the idea being that a sheep can see enough thatj way. But we did both eyes'. Our; shears were not. of the best, as they had been discarded by the shearers at the station, ancL shearers don't throw good shears away. Dipping After the eye clipping came the dipping, and with lambs this is simple. Unaware of the fate awaiting them further along the race, they ran unprotestingly up and were pushed into the dip without any trouble. How different with the ewes! They knew what was coming to them, and the whole gang of us sweated and struggled and almost carried each ewe up to the dip and shoved her in. The Tarndale dip is an extremely good one. It is the usual length—a sheep takes about one minute to swim along it—but it is much more than the usual width, and sheep can swim two abreast. This width makes for quick work, because sheep can be tipped in as fast as they come. In a narrow dip it is sometimes necessary to wait some time while an elderly ewe paddles slowly out of the way. But dipping a big flock is a slow job. The dip has to be refilled, the powder mixed, and the sheep allowed to drain thoroughly. The short spells are welcome, because it i& terribly strenuous work. We had two men on the "crutch" pushing the sheep s heads under, and seven men at the race. We changed places frequently, because the men at the race soon became tired. And we worked full out all the time. In a few days the work at Tarndale was finished, and we put the ewes out on the Saxon for the last time. The ewe lambs also went there, but on a different part of the block—they were weaned at last. The wether lambs went on to the station block, where they would spend the winter. . The Rainbow did not look inviting, as it had a good coating ;of snow. The old hands prophesied a tough time for the straggle, but they were wrong, and we had nve

A Musterer on Molesworth (SPrCIALLT WRITTrN FOB THX PRI9S.I [By BRUCE STRONACHJ

clear days. But we lived a damp life. Wet feet and damp blankets arid clothing are guaranteed to kill, we are told; how lucky we did not knowit then! The rocks were slippery, and we had to kick steps in the snow, but on the whole the Rainbow was kind to us, and on the sixth day we arrived back at Tarndale. Visitors at the Homestead The homestead was full of people: two parties of deerstalkers, one party of trampers—the word "hiker" had not then arrived—and a gentleman of the road. This last was a well-known old chap who still roams the country. I have met him on several stations. He spends his .life tramping from station to station, staying here and there for a week or two as a wood cutter or cook, and then moving on. He carried, of all things, half a dozen of the latest novels in his swag Religion was his long suit, and'he was very keen that we should join him in a prayer. Ihe usual reception greeted his request. The trampers—an elderly man with his two daughters—came from Tophouse, and were on their way to Hanmer. The two girls sang to us, and we enjoyed it immensely. Both parties of stalkers provided comedy for us—we could get fun out of anything. One party consisted of an Indian Army colonel and his friend. The colonel was all that he should have been in looks and temperament, and ran true to the best Poona form all through. I fell foul of him at once. It was our habit to play Rugby football in the evenings, and our .ground was a space between the huts and the dip. At one end was a bank, with two sticks stood against it, to mark the goal. At the other end was a fence, and the gateway; in this was the other goal. Well I was to blame, but how strange it seems that the colonel should have travelled thousands ot miles from India's sunny climes to arrive at the gate just as I was scoring a try. I was collared, but too late, and I scored between the posts and also between the hind legs of the colonel's pack-horse. A brilliant try' The packhorse lashed out at me but struck me on the shoulder with the upper part of his hind leg, and failed to kick my brains out. This annoyed the colonel. Continuing his efforts, the horse bucked his load off and broke a camp oven to pieces. This annoyed the colonel more. He told me a lot of things about myself, and the musterers listened respectfully and delightedly. Every time he stopped for breath l, apologised, but that only, seemed to encourage him. However, he got a lot of deer later on and was extremely decent to us when he calmed down; but he was very touchy. Indian fare, I suppose, had thoroughly curried his liver. In the other party was a lad about' 16 years of age, and his father decided that it would be a good idea for the boy to have his meals with us. This was so that he could listen to our rough conversation and get a little experience of life in the raw. We were not pleased. Mac suggested that we have our meals with them instead, and absorb a little refinement—and some better food! However, he came in to us, and I am afraid that we did our best to give him something to remember. The conversation was frightful. It was not very nice of us, but the idea was a mistake. Wild Cattle During the interval between the Rainbow and the last muster of the Saxon it was decided that we try to get some wild cattle out of the creeks at the head of the Rainbow river. The manager, the head shepherd one musterer, and a packman were to be the party, and there was fierce competition for the musterer s job The most important qualification was that the dogs should not be gun-shy and desert at the first shot We all swore that our dogs were not afraid of a rifle, but someone foolishly fired one and there was not a dog left in sight. It was most disappointing. They shot some cattle, got some yarded in the Rainbow yards, and the musterer who had been finally given the job did not fasten the gate properly. All the cattle got out and went home again! It seemed, strange to think, as we walked out to Team camp, that it was our last muster. And except for the cold nights, it was a pleasant muster. Some of us were short of gear and had found it necessary to patch our socks with pieces of cloth, and to* stitch up our trousers with binder-twine. Our boots were wearing out, our teams of dogs were not as good as they had been, owing to the distemper, and we felt glad that the season was nearly over. We had no bad weather at all, and arrived at Molesworth without losing a (jay Away on Holiday In a holiday atmosphere we drafted off the ewe lambs and took them over to the Elliot. We crutched the ewes in quick time, using the machines. Then we put the rams out. The season was over as far as sheep were concerned, but I had two small jobs to do. The first was to pack some supplies to a rabbiters' camp near Tarndale; the second and final one was to assist Jack to take a mob of fat cattle down to Culverden. I was not to return from there, but was to push off to my winter quarters at Parnassus. We went up to get our cheques—a very cheery scene. At a table sat the clerk, with a big book of signed cheques. Beside him sat the manager, to see fair play. There were lots of deductions to be made for candles, tobacco, matches, etc.; and those of us who kept accounts were very particular in checking things. But most of us took whatever was given to us, remarked that we had "thought it would be more," and went away. I found that I had smoked six pounds of tobacco, earned £l3O, and had worked on 22 Sundays,' Christmas Day, New Year's Day, Good Friday, and Anzac Day. Next day we ran in our hacks and shod them, and the following day the majority of us set off for our homes, some to ride to Blenheim, some through Tophouse to Nelson, and some through Hanmer to Canterbury. One was going to ride across the Clarence Reserve to Kaikoura. I got my loads of rabbiters' stores ready for the journey out to the camp, and retired that night to an almost empty whare. It was miserable without the rest of the chaps, and I was keen to get away. (To be continued.)