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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Thu Jul 20, 2017 11:40 pm

'The Drover' - Page 26:

Chapter 4

Harry soon found sufficient work to carry him throughout the year along the stock route from Cunnamulla to Bourke. His father retired and settled in Bollon.
Harry hired an aborigine, Henry Shillington, as camp cook, who lived on the aboriginal reserve south of Cunnamulla. His tribe were one of the original aboriginal tribes before Cunnamulla was named, after the area was settled by whites in 1800’s at the time Cobb & Co used the town as a depot. Aboriginal meaning for the name of Cunnamulla is long stretch of water.
There were two aboriginal reserves, one on the north of town, known to the town folk as Paris, situated on the banks of the Warrego River; and the other, south of town in the sand hills, known as Hollywood. How they received these names is a mystery.
Aboriginal families didn’t live in the township, except for a couple of families, who had their own homes. On the reserves, aboriginals lived the best way they knew how.
Normal use for their home was a one thousand gallon water tank, cut in half, to use as shelter to accommodate two families or more if visitors arrived.
They cooked on an open fire at the front of their shelter and slept inside out of the weather. Over 200 families lived on the reserves. Most were happy living under these conditions. Some of the men folk worked on local sheep and cattle stations whilst others, like Henry followed droving employed as a cook or ringer to support their wife and children.

Harry was droving mobs of sheep from Cunnamulla to Bourke along the Warrego River four to five times a year. On one particular trip he and Henry were the only two in camp.
Harry recently purchased a Bedford Truck to use rather than the wagonette and celebrated his twenty-first birthday on the road.
Henry set up camp near water for the night, on the border of Queensland and New South Wales, opposite the town of Barringun; and prepared their dinner in a camp oven. Their meal was lamb chops; potato; unions and damper. He unloaded the swags from the truck and waited for his Boss to bring the mob of sheep into camp.
After the sheep were housed in the brake, Harry settled his dogs and returned to the camp. He was visited by a young woman riding a horse.
‘How ya going?’ came an unfamiliar voice. He looked at the rider, his mouth dropped; he felt a rush of blood to his brain. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman in these parts before. Words failed to enter his mind.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Wed Jul 19, 2017 10:35 pm

'The Drover' - Page 25:

Early the next morning Harry’s father left the camp and told the others he would catch up with them in a couple of days. None of the others knew what was happening, only Harry. He would follow his father’s suggestion and meet him on the boundary of ‘Ray Station’.

Harry’s father was waiting for the mob when they arrived at the gate to the boundary of ‘Ray Station’. He ushered them through and rode up to Harry, ‘I’ve got permission. We follow this road through the property and it’ll bring us out not far from Adavale.’
‘Great.’ Harry replied.
After a couple of weeks they arrived at Wakes Lagoon to meet the manager, who’d contacted the manager of Dyvenor Downs and arranged to pick up Davey, Malcolm and Snowy.
Before Harry and his father left to return to Cunnamulla they bid farewell to the three men and promised to catch up with them again if they were out that way. They thanked them for their help and a good drove.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Tue Jul 18, 2017 11:48 pm

'The Drover' - Page 24:

At the camp that night Harry whispered to his father, ‘do you know where to go from here?’
‘Yeah, I thought we’d bypass Quilpie though. Malcolm wasn’t feeling too well the other day after we left Toompine. It must have been the wind blowing the smell of alcohol across the plain. It affected him.’
‘Where do we go then?’
‘Across through Ray Station, it’s owned by the Tully family. They’ve owned it since Patsy Tully drove through these parts in 1853.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I listen a lot to others and they tell me. Anyway, its old folk lore that the Tully and Durack families discovered this area in the mid 1850’s and took up properties in the area. It’s history son.’
‘But that’s not the stock route.’
‘No – I’ll leave early in the morning and go to the homestead to speak with Mr Tully to see if we can go through ‘Ray Station’ to Adavale.’
‘Okay Dad, I’ll keep things going until you return. How long do you think you’d be away?’
‘A couple of days at the latest – just keep heading toward ‘Ray Station’, it’s on the Bulloo River but go around before you reach Quilpie. I’ll meet you at the boundary of ‘Ray Station’ in a couple of days.’
Harry felt better about leaving the stock route and getting away from Quilpie. His task was to see the sheep arrive at Wakes Lagoon in good order. If the men got pissed and didn’t work he wouldn’t be able to finish his job.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Mon Jul 17, 2017 11:09 pm

'The Drover' - Page 23:

When everyone was asleep he stole from his swag and crept across the ground to the open plain. Lights shone from the hotel windows and voices, he heard, sounded like fun.
To his surprise when he graced the bar of the hotel standing beside him was Malcolm.
‘What’re you doing here?’ Snowy asked.
‘Ya didn’t think I was going to miss out on an opportunity like this, did ya.’ His hand held a glass of cold beer about to be placed to his lips.
‘What about the Boss if he finds out.’
‘Are you going to tell him? We’ll be back before you know it. I’m only having a couple but the taste is too good. Hurry up or you’ll miss out.’
Both men drank glass after glass of beer until the barman shouted, ‘last drink gentlemen.’
‘We’d better have one for the road and get back to camp before we’re missed.’ Malcolm confided in Snowy.

Breakfast the next morning wasn’t cooked as well as previous mornings. The cook felt seedy.
‘What’s wrong with the breakfast Snowy? It tastes like crap.’ Harry shouted at Snowy and almost threw his plate at him.
‘I’m not feeling well this morning. Must be a bug.’ He replied.
‘Malcolm must have caught the same bug because he looks crook and seedy too.’
Harry knew what’d happened. He woke to see each one steal away from the camp the night before. He couldn’t do anything about it because Snowy was there as a volunteer cook and Malcolm was his father’s problem. His first lesson in droving was about to take place.
A stock route is two chains wide, the size of two cricket pitches placed length on length. Stock routes are designated for drovers to follow with their stock so they don’t need to go through a property. If they enter a property they need to go to the owner to seek their permission and have someone accompany them while they cross in case the drover takes a sheep by mistake. It was a common saying in the bush to invite your neighbour over for a meal to eat their own meat.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Sun Jul 16, 2017 11:17 pm

'The Drover' - Page 22:

‘I found an old saucepan down on the rubbish dump and cut a spoon shape from the base; welded it on the inside of the hind racing plate. I forged from an old mill rod, the same shape as the racing plate, raised one end and nothing on the opposite end, like a bevel. I made one for each shoe and nailed them to her hind hooves. This forced her hocks apart. It was like having a medicine shoe if you had a crook foot. Anyway it worked and she didn’t knock her hocks and she ran like the wind and won.’
‘I’ve never heard of doing that. It’s great to know. Would you go back to training race horses?’
‘Not now – you never know where your next quid is coming from. It’s too risky.’

Finally they reached the northern boundary of Dyvenor Downs property and continued their journey on the stock route to Toompine along the Bulloo River.
Across the open plains grew rich Mitchell grass, gidgee, box, mulga and gum trees. The musical sound of the kookaburras and galahs broke the monetary of the drove with the far off sound of the crow.
Toompine is a one horse town or better still a one hotel town with a menagerie of different animals such as donkeys; emus; wild camels and every other animal that survived Norah’s Ark.
The one good thing was the hotel. It was the only hotel in the wilderness of the west.
‘Ya reckon we could have a beer Harry?’ Snowy asked at the camp fire that night. ‘The hotel’s just over there?’
‘Sorry Snowy. No grog in the camp. I’m too young to drink and you’re too old to get drunk and wake up in the morning with a headache; we don’t get our cooking done.’ This was the first firm decision Harry made whilst Boss Drover.
They were camped about a quarter of a mile from the pub and being this close was too much for Snowy not to go and have a beer. He wasn’t an alcoholic but after hot days and cold nights he needed something to quench his thirst.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Sat Jul 15, 2017 10:59 pm

'The Drover' - Page 21:

‘Yeah, we thought in the top paddock near McIntyre Creek. It’s got plenty of feed and the creek’s running with plenty of water.’ Harry echoed.
‘How old are you Harry? Aren’t you a bit young to be droving?’ Charley wanted to know.
‘I turned 17 the other day and me Dad’s with me. He’s got half the mob and I’ve got the other half. We keep them separated and use the same camp at night.’ He told Charley. Harry thought it was none of his business. He was sticking his nose in where it’s wasn’t wanted.
‘I’ll get back to the mob. Nice meeting you Charley.’

With the mob bedded down for the night in the brake Harry sat with the others around the camp fire. They’d progressed well for the first couple of days with little or no mishaps.
‘Davey, what’d you do before you worked here?’ Harry wanted to know.
‘Trained a horse, that’s what I did.’ Davey shared.
‘What type of horse?’ Harry asked inquisitively.
His knowledge of training horses was to make sure they were fed each day and worked hard.
‘Thoroughbred horse – race horse, you know those ones that run round a racetrack.’
‘How’d go – did you win any races?’
‘Yeah – I had a mare named Silver Wattle, a grey four year old that won a couple of races in Quilpie.’
‘What happened to your training?’
‘I run out of money.’
‘Didn’t your horse win races?’
‘Oh yeah – but the cost of racing is dear. When I first got the mare she wasn’t much good, but I knew she had potential. Her back hocks hit each time she got into a hard gallop.’
‘How did you fix it?’
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Fri Jul 14, 2017 11:11 pm

'The Drover' - Page 20:

‘What’re you going to do – come with us all of the way or head back to the homestead?’ Harry asked Snowy when he stopped for lunch.
‘I don’t know. There haven’t been too many dog tracks around the water holes so if you’ll have me, I’ll carry on doing what I’m doing – is that alright?’ He asked Harry.
‘Right by me, you’d better let the old man know? You know what he’s like when I make a decision and he doesn’t know about it.’
‘I’ll let him know. It’ll be good to see some country north of this place. I’ve been here a long time.’ Snowy finished.
In the distance Harry saw dust from a horse and rider. Wonder who he is? Harry thought when the horse and rider came closer.
Horse and rider stayed clear of the mob and came up to where Harry was at the camp.
‘Hi there, Charley Robinson’s the name – you must be Harry Williams, I’m boundary rider here on McIntyre, g’day Snowy – how ya going you ole bugger?’ The male rider called out.
He climbed down from his horse and shook hands with Harry and Snowy, ‘pleased to meet you and good to see you – you ole bugger. How’re the dogs treating ya?’ He said in his western drawl.
‘Ya going to have a bite to eat?’ Harry asked.
‘I wouldn’t mind – the missus made me lunch so I can share a cup of tea with ya, if that’s okay.’
‘Get it out of the billy on the fire – I’m not ya missus.’ Snowy scorned.
Charley was a thin man, in his early forties, his face worn by the sun and wind. It was his tenth year working on the property as boundary rider on the out-station McIntyre. He was a happy man with a loving family and content with his station in life.
‘So you’re camping the night Harry?’ Charley asked.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:14 pm

Thank you dub. Here is the page for today: 'The Drover' - Page 19:

‘Where did you think we were going?’ Harry asked.
‘Through Dyvenor – join the Bulloo River then onto Toompine to Quilpie and finish off through Adavale and to Wakes Lagoon. Does that suit you?’ Anger began to seep into his mind, his hands felt moist; his heart beat faster. He didn’t want to get angry because what was the point way out in the bush. Let the boy have his say – how can he learn if he doesn’t make a few mistakes.
‘Yeah – that’s about right.’ Harry wasn’t certain how his father worked out where to go. His knowledge was listening to others because he couldn’t read a map and only knew where the stock routes were by following the signs which he found difficult to understand and read.
‘If that’s all then we’d better get some sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow. Good night Harry.’

Before daylight broke the next morning Harry had taken down the brake and let the sheep go in the direction of McIntyre paddock. He’d finished his breakfast which Snowy cooked, chops and gravy with a hot pannikin of black tea filled his stomach.
Whistling his dogs Davey joined him, ‘where’re we off to today Boss?’ Davey asked.
‘We’ll try and reach McIntyre and camp the night at the top paddock.’ He answered. He felt good when Davey called him ‘Boss’.
‘We’ll get on with it then. I’ll go out on the wing.’
‘Okay, I’ll keep behind. See ya around smoko time.’
The sheep spread across the Mitchell grass plains. Slowly they filled their stomachs with the rich protein of the grass which grew like lucerne growing on the Darling Downs. Harry had never seen lucerne growing on the Downs because he’d never travelled further east than St George, but he promised himself one day, he would go further than St George to see what everyone talked about.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Wed Jul 12, 2017 11:30 pm

Thank you so much mzawf. We loved the Mystery Tour to North Queensland stayed at Cobbold gorge. More Information >>>Cobbold gorge Absolutely wonderful place to visit and stay. Now to the page for today. Before I do thank you all for your support.
'The Drover' - Page 18:

Chapter 3

‘What was your day like Harry?’ His father asked him after they settled around the camp fire.
‘Yeah, okay – didn’t have too much trouble.’ He replied not wanting to give much away. It was kind of him to ask.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll go through McIntyre paddock; and follow the bore drain to the end. We’ll camp on the boundary near McIntyre Creek. There should be plenty of good feed and water. Charley Robinson, he’s the boundary rider should be there about.’
Charley Robinson was employed by the property for running the out-station McIntyre. He lived with his wife and his children in a boundary rider’s hut. The hut, the size of a large shed with only a couple of bedrooms; kitchen and outside toilet and laundry.
His job, to ride the boundary fence and mend any broken wire caused by kangaroos or emus; and to clear the bore drain, to allow the water to flow, so sheep didn’t die of thirst. Yearly, he helped with the muster of sheep for shearing, lamb marking and mulesing.
Mulesing was necessary because sheep would get fly-blown or fly-strike during the hot summer months. When the sheep was a lamb, about two months old, being castrated and earmarked, the operator used a pair of hand shears to cut the skin of the lamb, from each back hock; slice the skin down through to the buttock. The operator applied a powder to the open wound to help it heal.
By removing this skin, wool didn’t grow and therefore piss and dung wouldn’t stick to the wool to attract the fly. It was developed in 1927 to reduce fly-strike on the animal.
‘Wait a minute, aren’t I the Boss Drover with my mob. Shouldn’t I be making the decisions on where we’re going?’ Harry made a statement to his father.
‘Yeah…well you’re still a bit wet behind the ears, son, before you go making these decisions. Anyway where did you think you bloody well would go then?’ His father wasn’t used to being told about droving. He’d been droving most of his life and knew the craft inside out and back to front.
‘I had an idea, that’s all.’ Harry replied solemnly. He was taking the bit between his teeth to speak back to his father this way.
‘Were you going to tell me before we headed off tomorrow?’
‘Yeah – just before we left, at breakfast.’
‘Okay then as long as we are both going in the same direction – that’s all.’

Mystery Tour

Post by mzawf » Wed Jul 12, 2017 5:07 pm

Hi Pat :duke
:thanks for your continued support and all the contribution made :clap greatly appreciated! :thunbsup Great to have you back, from the Mystery Tour :glasses betting you've had a lovely time :heart Post :shock: Post :-D stating you were away until the 11th, (Going on a ) it piques the interest :scratc "Tell us a Little :shutit or tell us all" :getsmiley
Pat Ritter Books clocking up 61,361 hits to date.'Ellie and Me' T5-Travels' is soon to join the mzawf index (Mary is keen to have her own forum) :applause :notworthy :notworthy Cobber since 2011 we haven't had the pleasure of welcoming 'on board' anybody new :yes 'Ellie and Me' T5-Travels' started her blog last November has clocked 15,000. Soon to be off travelling again in her campervan, touring the English countryside with her doggie friend Ellie. (pen paper and camera on hand).
:aok TO PURCHASE THE DROVER by Pat Ritter Click on >>>SmashWords Image 4,339,913 veiws :mz:Health & Happiness

Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Tue Jul 11, 2017 11:14 pm

'The Drover' - Page 17:

‘Ah, don’t worry, I could get used to this lifestyle for awhile.’
Harry looked behind to see his father and Malcolm moving their mob. They’d travel about half-a-mile apart and at night time bed the sheep down and made one camp.
‘We’ll follow the bore drain to the six mile paddock and have a rest.’ Harry told Davey.
Harry loved the bush with its pristine gum trees that almost reached the sky; and the different variety of birds nesting in its trunk and branches. Eagles were a danger, particular around lambing season. An eagle would swoop down and grab in its giant claws a newly born lamb, take it high into the sky and back to its nest. He’d reckoned eagles had to eat as well as all of the other animals on earth.
‘What’s the lake over there Davey?’ Harry asked.
‘Dyvenor Lakes – it’s huge.’
‘Boy – is it ever, you can see water forever.’
‘Yeah – I heard the Boss tell us it’s about ten miles wide by twenty miles long.’
‘You catch any fish?’
‘Couple of the aboriginals get swan eggs from the nests – they’re good eaten, real rich.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.’
The sheep reached the beginning of six mile paddock, ‘this’ll do for awhile Davey,’
Harry dismounted from his horse. Removed the saddle and saddle cloth, he fastened a pair of dinner-camp-hobbles onto the front legs, removed the bridle and allowed the horse to roam for feed.
He built a small fire to heat water in the quart pot to make tea. He’d kept half a dozen johnny cakes from breakfast to have for morning tea.
‘Is this all you do all day?’ Davey remarked when he put his saddle in the shade under a tree.
‘Not all the time – we do work, but it’s going to be hot today, you would have seen the ring around the moon last night.’ Harry replied.
‘No - I can’t say I took any notice of the moon – what’s it mean?’
‘When there’s a ring around the moon, it indicates the next day is going to be hot. Have a look tonight.’
‘How come you know so much about these things – you’re only 17, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve been doing this since I was 13, in the time I’ve learn a little bit about the weather and droving.’
‘So I see.’
Both men finished their tea and after a rest of an hour or so continued their journey to the end of the day.
At the top of the six mile paddock Snowy had the camp ready and a fire blazing. A tarpaulin covered the wagonette held up by a couple of ridge poles to form a tent shape.
‘How’s it going Snowy?’ Harry asked while unsaddling his horse.
‘Great young Harry – I got here a little early and put on a leg of mutton to cook in the camp oven. The damper will be ready in a shake of a lamb’s tail.’
‘Dad should be along shortly – I’ll check the dogs.’
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Tue Jul 11, 2017 3:54 am

'The Drover' - Page 16:

Wide open spaces were Harry’s property going from place to place and never settling. At this time of his life he was happy with where his life was taking him.
Snowy opened the gate from the homestead paddock onto the open plains and headed toward the six mile paddock. His knowledge of Dyvenor Downs surpassed any other person on the property, including the manager. He knew each nook and cranny on the property and over the past ten years had wandered over every gibber stone on the place in search of dingoes.
The mob slowed to a crawl, grazing along the Mitchell grass plain; spreading wide to snip each sweet seed. Harry drew his horse alongside of Davey’s horse, ‘how’s it going so far?’ Harry asked.
‘Great, I’m pleased I got this job with you because I didn’t want to repair windmills with the mechanic. It’s a dangerous job pulling pumps and changing blades.’
‘How long have you worked here?’ He was trying to make small talk because when the sheep were grazing there wasn’t much else to do but to keep an eye on any which broke from the mob.
‘A couple of years; I’m not whinging, it’s a good place to work and the Boss is one of the best you’d get. I just don’t like heights and when I get on the platform of the windmill its scary stuff, especially if there’s a breeze. I’m frightened to fall off.’
‘Don’t worry, we won’t be climbing windmills out here – you’re safe.’ Harry reassured Davey.
‘That’s good. Is this all we do all day?’
‘No, we stop for smoko and afterwards for lunch; and in the afternoon put up a brake to hold the sheep for the night. Are you bored already?’
‘No….no, it’s slow going, that’s all.’
‘For the next six weeks it’ll be like this until we reach Wakes Lagoon, you’d better get used to it.’
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Tue Jul 04, 2017 9:48 pm

'The Drover' - Page 15:

‘Harry, you take Davey and I’ll take Malcolm. Snowy, would you drive the wagonette until you leave us.’
‘Yeah, that’ll be right,’ Snowy echoed as he jumped up on the driver’s seat, ‘where do you want me to make camp?’
‘At the six mile bore drain north of the homestead.
‘See you there.’ Snowy shouted, flicking the reins at the horses to move them off camp.
‘Harry, when we draft the wethers off, you take your mob and move them off with Davey. We’ll keep behind and in a couple of days when we’re off Dyvenor we follow the Bulloo River through to Quilpie and onto Wakes Lagoon.’
‘Right you are Dad, come on Davey let’s get these sheep drafted.’
Over the next couple of hours the men worked like a well oiled machine drafting off the wethers, Harry’s father counting as the sheep raced through the race and out into the open plain. 6000 were counted, ‘they’re yours Harry, take em away.’
Harry whistled his dogs and each listened to the different sounds and commands from their master and did exactly as each was directed to do. A couple of dogs raced to the eastern side whilst another two dogs ran wide to stop any sheep from breaking from the mob. Soon the sheep were moving away from the shearing shed into the homestead paddock.
Sheep are strange creatures. They follow a leader, much like humans. Once they’re shown in what direction to go, they follow one another.
The homestead stood large and grand with a veranda surrounding the outside of the building. The large veranda covered in gauze to keep the flies at bay and to make the house cool in summer.
Harry dreamed only of droving, at times he thought momentarily about owning his own property, but to be kept tied in one place seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, would fence him in.

Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Mon Jul 03, 2017 9:55 pm

'The Drover' - Page 14:

Before daylight made its early morning dawning for the day Harry had the billy boiled and ‘johnny cakes’ cooked.
‘Alright you two – up and about, breakfast’s ready.’ He called to the others.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes Snowy lifted his head, ‘it’s not even daylight yet, don’t you fellas sleep in.’
‘Not today old friend, we’ve got sheep to move. Breakfast is ready.’
Around the camp fire the three shared hot tea and ‘johnny cakes’.
‘They’re bloody good – what are they called again?’ Snowy wanted to know.
‘Johnny cakes – haven’t you had them before?’ Harry’s father said.
‘No, they’re good – is there any more?’ Snowy mumbled through a full mouth.
‘Have as many as you want but we’ve got to get going, the men from the station should be here any minute.’ Harry said.
Harry finished his breakfast and was clearing the camp when the manager arrived with two men.
‘Good-morning fellas, this is Davey Munroe and Malcolm Hunter – they’ll help you.’ All men shook hands to become acquainted.
‘Let’s get this show on the road.’ Harry commanded.
Dyvenor Downs had recently completed their yearly shearing and twelve thousand freshly shorn wethers were leaving the station to be taken to Wakes Lagoon a distance of 240 miles north, the journey to take six weeks.
‘When you arrive at Wakes Lagoon tell the manager to phone me and I’ll send a truck to bring the men back.’ He told Harry’s father.
‘Right you are – we’ll be on our way otherwise it’ll be too hot in the middle of the day to drive them.’ Harry’s father replied.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Sun Jul 02, 2017 9:57 pm

'The Drover' - Page 13:

Harry was intrigued with Snowy; he’d never met a person like him before and wanted to know more about trapping dingoes, ‘is that the only way you trap dingoes?’
‘Ah, no, I use steel traps some of the time – it depends on the time of the year when the bitches are on heat.’ Snowy shared.
‘What’d mean – time of the year?’
‘When a station bitch is on heat I collect its urine in a glass jar. Dingoes leave tracks mainly leading from water hole to water hole. Near the water hole I set a number of steel traps around the tracks.’
‘How do you do it?’ He could talk to Snowy all night – he was an interesting person.
‘Well, young Harry, I dig a hole to place the trap into. Then set the trap by putting my foot onto the spring and open the jaws. After the trap is set I cover the trap and the hole with leaves and branches to conceal it. Before I leave the trap, I sprinkle the urine around, to make it smell like a bitch is on heat.’
‘Do you catch many?’
‘Oh, yeah, wouldn’t you go after a bitch if it’s on heat – the power of sex, it’s the ruin nature of many a man.’ Snowy laughed.
‘Alright, you two better get some sleep.’ Harry’s father yelled from his swag.
‘Night Snowy,’ Harry called to his new friend. His mind filled with visions of dingo traps. His theory of learning from older men was paying dividends because if he’d stayed at school he would never have learnt how to trap a dingo. Life was his university of learning, meeting people like Snowy, listening to their stories, understanding their way of life.
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