No it’s not mid west America, however having only recently finished two weeks of branding, with one mob of cows walked back to their paddock today, it feels like it. Our crew of six- including myself and my father, busied ourselves mustering and walking mobs of cattle in from their paddocks. Once in the stock yards they are drafted up, with the cows separated from their calves. It’s a noisy job, with the little fella’s calling to their mums and the mother’s bellowing in annoyance. Down the narrow race the little ones are pushed, right into the arms of our welcoming team who expertly id them in the ear with a property tag, plus an NLIS (national livestock identity system) device which acts as a barcode so any buyer both locally and internationally knows where the meat has come from. A brand comes next, bulls become steers (unless his breeding suggests otherwise) and before they know it they have rejoined their mothers. This year went like clockwork. As far as I know there were only two ‘busters’. One fall from a quadbike and another from a horse. There was also roping, swearing, disobedient dogs, a stockwhip cracking, dust, heat, wrangler jeans, riding boots and buns! My mother’s scones of course.