12 December 1935

"MOONLIGHTING" CATTLE IN PRICKLY PEAR COUNTRY

Strategy Succeeds Where Other Methods Fail

In a lifetime spent mainly in the 'back' country, I have taken on many tough jobs, but one of the most in-teresting was the mustering of a mob of bullocks that had gone 'bush' in prickly pear country. It was in the Maranoa district in south-west

Queensland, where the prickly pear existed in extensive dense patches. I was doing nothing at the time, and called at a station looking for a job. When I saw the station owner he was full of complaints regarding the in ability of his stockmen to recover a mob of his best bullocks that since the day of weaning had become scrubbers. The pear country was too thick for mounted men to work through, but it provided both food and water for the bullocks, as well as a protection against the musterers. The water in the leaves of the cactus plant gave the cattle a drink, and besides the food contained in the leaves themselves, there were several species of native grasses growing between the patches of pear. I learned, however, that at night time the pear chewers often ven

tured out on to the plain nearby in search of a change of diet. The upshot of the conversation was that I was offered ten shillings per head for every bullock I could deliver to the station yard, fifteen miles away. With nothing else in view, I accepted, taking out my plant and three men on a share and share alike basis. I had seen plenty of dense prickly pear scrub before, but none to equal that existing on the Maranoa. One glance was enough to show how futile it would be to attempt to muster the pear belt. If we were to get any of those bullocks they would have to be 'moonlighted.' No far from the prickly pear do main of the bullocks was a small pad dock securely fenced, so after weighing the possibilities. I decided that we would wait until the moon was favor able, and that any cattle we got as they were feeding out on the plain, would be taken to the small paddock for holding. Now, the actual number of bullocks presumed to be living in the pear was unknown, and

the ecstimates varied very decidedly. The owner, with his books as a guide, had said that there should be at least three hundred; the numbers given by the stockmen ranged from 50 to 500, with a blackfellow's estimate, "close up ten thousand.' All that I knew for certain was that there were some cattle there; a multitude of fresh tracks out on the plain furnished that evidence. Eventually, after a fortnight's wait, the desired good moon came, and with plans discussed in plenty previously, the four of us, mounted on fast horses, accustomed to night work on the road, took up our positions early in the night. A hill hid us from view of anything on the plain, and our anxious mo ments became thoughts of anticipation when, about 9 o'clock, a long string of cattle was seen winding its way across the plain. I knew that the job would be a hope less one, unless the bullocks went a good way out from the edge of the pear jungle, and, curbing the anxiety of the three men with me, I waited until the feeding cattle had got at least a mile away from their domain. A rough count revealed that about 60 head had come from out the pear, but the call of a beast further ahead told of other cattle having emerged elsewhere. The mob we saw was quite enough for one night, however, if we could manage to get even half of it. At what I considered an opportune moment I gave the word, and, quietly mounting and riding along in the

shadows thrown by trees growing amongst the pear, we gradually drew within striking distance without fright ening the cattle. The crashing of scrub to our right, however, told of cattle in the pear being disturbed, and before be sounds had died away a startled bellow from the mob feeding on the plain was the signal for us to get into action. The thud of galloping hoofs broke the stillness of the night as four horses bounded across the plain. The cattle, on being disturbed, be came panic-stricken and galloped to wards the cover they knew so well, but before the leaders of the mob had got within a quarter of a mile of the pear, we were alongside them, two of us ten ding to the lead, and the other two see ing to the tailers. Determined to reach the pear, the leaders gave no end of trouble, but the horses we rode knew their work, and eventually we had the mob bunched and headed away from the pear. Had those bullocks been in store condition I doubt whether we would have got them without the aid of 'coachers,' but they were literally mud fat, and after a run of a couple of miles. they began to fly signals of dis tress, and soon from a trot we had them down to a walk. Periodically some would try to break away, but giv ing them no peace and keeping them bunched together, we eventually had fifty-four bullocks safely in the little paddock shortly before midnight. For fear of losing what we had got the paddock was mustered at daylight,

and after less trouble than we expected the bullocks were handed over at the station, the onus of holding them being then on the stockmen. Before the moon petered out we had made eleven more runs, none as successful as the first, but we had the satisfaction of handing over two hundred and twenty-four head, all bullocks, and at the time worth at least ten pounds per head Our little moonlighting stunt gave the owner a good deal of satisfaction; he proved such to be the case by adding a bonus, making the cheque up to two hundred pounds.— O.T. When The Floods Came Down Exceptionally heavy rains and re sultant floods had held up the camels laden with station supplies from Her gott Springs (S.A.), for a station in south-western Queensland, where I was waiting to take delivery of a mob of cattle. There was an acute short age of rations at the station, so much so that I had halved what I had in my camp and given it to the station cook. Knowing that a long time would elapse before the camels would be able to travel, it was decided to send to Betoota, about sixty miles away, for supplies; but further rains during the night and high flood waters prevented the attempt from being made. Being compelled to shift to higher ground, I made arrangements to camp at the station homestead, and on pooling our resources it was found we had suffic ient flour, tea, sugar and beef to last about 15 men for two days only. The flood waters prevented us from going out to get a 'killer,' so there was nothing for it but to eat what we had and hope for the waters to subside, thus making it possible to send pack horses to Betoota. Further rains, however, put this out of the question for some days, so we decided that we would make a boat, place pack bags and the swags of the three men due to go on the expedition for food supplies in the boat, and try to cross the flood waters, a distance of nearly a mile. The horses were to be swum over. Actually the only boat building materials on hand were some scores of cases that at one time had contained jam and other tinned stuff. The station manager took charge of the boat building activities, but did not make much of a success of the job. The completed boat was just an im mense case without a top or a bow. The manager's idea, was that, those in the 'tub' could use a stout, long rail and pole their way across. When everything was ready the boat was launched, and all went really well until the outback seamen came to a channel where the waters were run ning strongly. Then trouble began; the boat commenced to leak and spin around, and all efforts to pole it along were futile, mainly due to the depth of the water. Before the position be-came too desperate two of the men jumped overboard and, grabbing one side of the boat, kicked out and pushed it out of the channel, eventually steer ing it back to its place of launching. Fortunately the horses had not been put in, and it was rather an amused, if hungry, crowd that walked back to the homestead. That experience settled any more deep sea voyaging for tucker, and rice and rice only became our food for the next two days. Early on the third morning horses were brought up and, after ploughing through mud and water, we were lucky enough to come across a few head of cattle practically stranded on some high ground. The rest was easy as far as beef was con cerned, but itwas not until six days later that a party, sent three days previously, returned from Betoota, to relieve us of a beef and rice diet.— M.N.A. Have Horses A Homing Instinct? I am of the opinion that the hom ing instinct of horses. In some of them at least, is akin to that possessed by pigeons. In 1911 I was camped with my plant of horses about two miles from Birdsville being a compulsory prisoner owing to the flooded state of the Diamantina River. One morning the horse tailer returned to camp and reported that three horses were miss ing. He also stated that he had fol lowed their tracks, which were mak ing almost due north. The three horses were hobbled, and expecting to reach them in a couple of hours. I set

off on their tracks. At nightfall I gave up the hunt for the day, and, return ing to camp, started out the next morn-ing with a pack horse, intending to follow the missing animalls until I came up with them. After a day and a half's ride, however, I had to return; I had lost the tracks entirely in some stony country well off the river chan nels. The three horses in question carried the same brands, all having been bred on a station near Canmo weal, several hundred miles away to the north; and although I reckoned that they were making home, I was content to write them off as dead losses. I had not forgotten the horses, but had ceased to worry about them, and it was with rather pleased feelings that five months later I received word that a drover friend of mine had the three horses with him. When I did even tually get delivery of them, I heard how the horses, all with broken hobbles had been picked up within a hundred miles of where they had been bred. The wanderers had travelled at least six hundred miles, necessitating swim ming flooded channels and negotiat ing by some means or other several fences, The most remarkable feature probably was intuition coming to the horses after having been away from their birth place for so many yeans. I had bought the horses unbroken when three years old, and at the time of the occurrence mentioned above, they were rising ten.— 'Drover.'* Kookaburras Do Eat Snakes ' A writer in 'Real Stories' recently questioned the value of the kooka burra as a snake killer. Jack kills to eat, and a five-foot snake is a little beyond his storage capacity. The kookaburra swallows its prey whole, and I have seen one that had captured a snake that was too long to swallow in one act, waiting for the lower end to digest, and with the tail of the rep tile hanging from its beak. Some of the larger hawks could deal with a five-foot snake. They tear their prey to pieces when eating. Where the popular Laughing Jack does good work is among young snakes. The kookaburra remembers at times that it is a kingfisher, and dives boldly into waterholes after yabbies and frogs. I once came upon the evi dence of a peculair tragedy, in which the kingfisher habit had caused the death of a kookaburra. The bird in question had dived into a barrel set into the ground at a spring of water, to capture the frog, and, being unable to rise in the enclosed space, had been drowned. When I came along, the frog was sitting on the surface of the water near the body, and, as it dived, it seemed to give its late enemy a contemptuous kick.— L.G.C.

Real Life Stories of South Australia (1935, December 12). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 14. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92330022