Yesterday I spent a day in the sheep yards. Well, a days work at the shed always has soft edges, which I am thankful for, because there is always domestic life calling too, which gets me off the hook early.
It was me with the drench gun and Damo needling and running around like a mad chook as we were crutching. I love the monotony of this work. Where you are constantly trying to find your rhythm. Push through, crouch to pick up the head, nestle your knees in, lift the chin, drench spray in the mouth. That’s on a good one, often it’s railroaded as the ewe shakes her head in your hand or worse, bury’s it under the developing udder of another highly pregnant mumma. After, it’s always a dance, manoeuvring yourself through the crammed stream of sheep and onto the next patient. But I like it. For the same reasons I like mowing the lawn.
In it’s constant repetition - race after race - there’s not much time to think of anything else, only the task that’s right in front of you. Sure enough, a …