Sentimental Night Time

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william williams

Sentimental Night Time

Post by william williams » Sun Apr 17, 2011 1:44 pm

Sentimental night time

The old curlew made his mournful cry somewhere out across the plains while the mournful howl of the dingo seemed to carry on forever out in the dark night air. That old dog of mine his hair stiffened, as he gave a deep throaty growl that said. “Don’t come to near the camp” as sparks gently rose into the sky as I stoked the fire to entice more warmth and light from it.
Two mates of mine lay curled up in their swags, one snoring loudly while the other quietly slept on as I sat there sitting on a log drinking a pannikin of tea thinking and untroubled while waiting for my turn that soon would come. I rose up and snuggle deeper into my bluey jacket and turn my collar up, while waiting for my mate as he slowly moved around the sleeping cattle watching in case they should stir. When he arrived, he would greet me at the campfire and grab a pannikin of brew, from now on the job is mine.
Slowly, I would ride around the cattle not noisily, but with gentle soothing sounds that they all know. There gazing out low in the night sky the familiar Min, Min lights now danced in soft colours of, Reds, yellows, blues, sort of like a rainbow, but a lot different, it is fascinating to see and beautiful.
I looked up into the night sky and there I saw millions of tiny shimmering glittering stars that adorned the sky.
The air, now crisp and still, was what some may call a drovers dream, but in fact a gentle breeze is what they do prefer. The old horse slowly moved around the mob as you watch the camped bullocks lazily chewing their cud.
The camp fire beckons to you with warmth and another mug of brew, your mate now curled up in his bedroll asleep.
Three more hours to go, then, someone else’s turn to slowly ride around the mob in the cold night air.
Soon you must leave the fire again to do another few slow circuits around the mob watching and listening.
You think about the girl you met at the dance several months ago before you took on the mob.
She was pretty in a homely sort of way some one you could easily spend your life with.
But cattle are your life at this very moment, work is something you cannot shirk, it is your responsibility.
You return back to the fire and stoke it up a bit, empty the Billy refill it and put it on to boil and gently rouse the next person to do his turn.
One slow lap around the mob to see that all is well, the dingo howls once again then back to camp you go.
Your mate is sitting by the fire a pannikin of tea he thrust out to you, a quiet word is said and he is off to do his turn.
You’ll roll a smoke, drink your tea and struggle into your swag, it is cold in there but you’ll soon warm up.
You think about that girl for a while then sleep will claim you.

Written by Bill Williams ©

Jasper Brush

Re: Sentimental Night Time

Post by Jasper Brush » Sun Apr 17, 2011 5:11 pm

G'day Bill

Well it is almost like I'm there by your side, Bill. I do not know if you can recite. This story would be a good tale to tell to an audience; it is very much-- prosaic.

Your opening few sentences: the sounds of the locality mingled with your thoughtful reasoning are well written.

The old curlew made his mournful cry somewhere out across the plains while the mournful howl of the dingo seemed to carry on forever out in the dark night air. That old dog of mine his hair stiffened, as he gave a deep throaty growl that said. “Don’t come to near the camp” as sparks gently rose into the sky as I stoked the fire to entice more warmth and light from it.

I haven't had much to do with cattle or sheep. Though, a friend of mine had a brother who was a drover and a few times we met his brother at various camp sites. It was different to your situation he was doving sheep and he would hobble his horses overnight. We slept out under the stars. I remember one night I was woken up with a lot of debris falling down from a tree onto my head. I looked up at what seemed to be two small round torches. I gave me a shock. The cupret was a possum.

A good tale, mate.

Regards,

John

David J Delaney

Re: Sentimental Night Time

Post by David J Delaney » Mon Apr 18, 2011 1:46 pm

Love the visuals Bill, a good campfire read this one.

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