To market, to market.

We had a big day in the cattle yards yesterday. With a number of contracts with various feedlots and abattoirs on hold with all the wet weather it was a 7 till 7 day. One of the contracts had been delayed by 3 weeks and with another rain change heading our way tomorrow we were determined to get them mustered, drafted and trucked before the dirt roads became inaccessible again. It was all hands on deck with two quads, a horse and Dad in his trusty toyota landcrusier which he drives like he’s riding a horse and we are talking about a man who could leap frog onto a bare back horse in his younger days. You’ve got to watch him some days. As his doctor told him recently when he had his eyes checked for his license, ‘Ian, I’d rather be behind you when you’re driving than in front,’ I can attest to that! The grass is long, the ground damp and the mellon holes can put a bike four feet into the air if you’re going too fast. Not that that ever happens if you’re wheeling 400 head towards a set of yards and their fresh and fiesty and prime fat with oats. By days end however, when the job was done and rest of us were b——- , Dad was striding up the back path a smile creasing his dirt covered face. Mum hovering at the back door gave a brief shake of her head at his fast, ‘must be time for a whisky’ approach. ‘Hip replacement?’ he grimaced, ‘what hip replacement.’