Muck Work and Those Sneaky Friesians
Working at a beef farm is definitely some messy business. Mucking around takes on a whole new meaning when prying your gumboots loose from a sludgy suction mixture of mud/poo potency day to day. All concentration focuses on one agenda -- not falling as you take a dangerous misstep slide across the cattle yard. It is absolutely impossible not to get muddy. If it isn't flicking up in your face while driving a quad bike (four wheeler) across large lush green paddocks, then it will definitely be smeared across your body from overzealous work dogs panting heavily by your side. For all my Los Angeles dog lovers out there, you may gasp in disapproval at the work dog living conditions. Emphasize "work." Life is either in a kennel or out herding up cattle with daily bathes taken by rolling and dunking themselves in mud puddles. They do not come inside, they do not wear clothing, they do not get buckled up in a car and they do not get soft beds or a warm fire to keep dry. Their commands are "get out of it" "get behind" and "way back." "Speak" "shake" or "rollover" are darn right ridiculous requests with maybe a "sit" slightly obeyed while they give you a questioning look of "can I go work now?" But no one can say they aren't happy. Absolute ecstasy is found in their trained purpose with no interest ever shown in fetch or cutesy games, although love and affection are still constantly appreciated. And they are needed! For little did I know that cattle are some sneaky little buggers. I'm told Jersey are the worst, but it is those darn bullheaded Friesians that make life obnoxious. Sneaking under electric fences (or downright just taking the shock to join other Hereford cattle -- as if they blend in, see image), climbing up onto the walkway made for humans just to get into another yard, attempting to turn around in the drenching race only to get stuck or end up backwards facing the other confused and more obedient cattle -- anything to make life complicated. Those dirty sneaky Friesians! Lucky for me, all of this is easily forgotten when sitting in a jacuzzi by myself at the end of the day, watching the sun set gloriously over 850 acres of vast green blanketed hills, smelling the sweet honey pot smell of silage floating over a crisp southerly and laughing at the falsetto squeaks of cattle cries as they settle down for the night. Muck work. Not all bad, not bad at all.
