Hilarious Catastrophy - stage 2

In stage 1 I told the story of Stumpy and how half the cowbails got wrecked. As stated in that story, most of the catastrophes, hilarious and otherwise, centered around my father and the farm. A lot of the could-have-been-catastrophes involved either my father or my children and sometimes both, as my sons were my father's shadows and faithful imitators - but more on that at a future time.

Back to the farm and the next in my catalogue of favourite memories!

When I was about 16 and home on school holidays, my father decided that our fences all needed to be checked and fixed where necessary as our neighbour's cattle were continually being found among ours. Horses saddled, Velvet for me and my brother's big bloodbay for my father, we set off with all the fencing requirements in saddlebags. All went well for a couple of hours with few minor repairs done and a hare roasted for lunch for us and the dogs then more fence inspection for the afternoon. It was a dull boring task, but I was in my element with the best of both worlds - time with my dad and out on my horse. After a fairly big repair job and with evening closing in, we set off again, this time heading towards home tired after the long day. The dogs, knowing we were headed home, had no interest in chasing the few hares that bolted off into the approaching darkness. As we crossed the last creek before heading to the home paddock, my father spotted the one thing he hated most of all - a goanna - and immediately called the dogs. The two farm dogs seemed to share my father's intense feelings about these reptiles and swung into the attack. With them between me and the goanna I considered myself fairly safe but my pony was quick off the mark anyway when necessary, so we just watched the fun.

Now, what a lot of people don't realise, and what my father totally overlooked, is that a goanna under attack will head for the nearest tree. This goanna was no exception but the snarling barking dogs were between him and the few scrubby saplings on the creek bank. Unfortunately the next closest thing that resembled a tree were the solid hairy legs of the big horse my father was riding. Well, beggars can't be choosers, so the goanna took the path of least resistance and made a rush to escape. Goanna claws are sharp and Blaze did not appreciate the attack on his nether regions and reacted accordingly. Consequently, my pony and I were treated to a rodeo act of epic proportions that could not possibly have been choreographed better. With my father in the saddle, the goanna firmly attached to his rump and the dogs going crazy round his feet, Blaze exploded into action. My brother always said that Blaze was too lazy to buck - he was dead wrong! Wow! that horse could buck. The goanna went flying but my father kept his seat and I learned a whole new respect for his riding ability that day.

Unfortunately I didn't see a lot of it because I was crying with laughter and having to control my own pony who got a bit carried away with the noise and excitement and put on a mini rodeo of his own. In hindsight I would have killed for a phone with camera!

My father was usually a very laid back person and it took a lot to ruffle his feathers unless one of his nearest and dearest was threatened, so his reaction didn't really surprise me. Once everything had settled down again, his only comment was "Well, Young'un, that was a bit of a todo. Don't think we need to tell your mother, do we? You know how she worries."

When we got home we cleaned up the scratches on Blaze, fed the dogs and sauntered into the kitchen as innocent as could be. I don't think my mother or brothers ever found out about the events of that day. Frankly, I couldn't wait till next time.