FERAL

[Maureen K Clifford]

FERAL … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBarkPoet


He had a set of wicked horns – that topped his battered face
the sweep of them was wide and curved – he fought with no disgrace
and saw off the defeated with a bellow loud and long.
He pawed the earth with cloven hoof, still defiant and strong.

The young stud sad defeated – lived to fight another day
his strength had been o’erridden by the tactics put in play
by the old bull who’d been round a while and knew a trick or two
to protect his herd, of usurpers he took quite a dim view.

But sad to say he had no chance when mustering time came.
He ran through scrub and gidgee with the helicopters aim
right upon him – driving him relentlessly into the clear
where the bull catchers were waiting – with their evil grasping gear.

One hit him in the left side hard enough to knock him down
where he tumbled in a cloud of dust skidding along the ground.
Dazed and tired to exhaustion – lolling tongue swollen by thirst
he had not the strength to get up and his heart beat fit to burst.

Two ringers then jumped on him – tied his legs with leather hide
sawed his horns off and then roped him to a pulley. To a slide
they dragged his massive body to the waiting cattle truck
now his fate was sad decided – One scrub bull – right out of luck.

His life would soon be over – torture and sadness the game
he was beaten and downtrodden, his cunning they overcame.
He was trucked along with others to the meatworks in the town
and no doubt his final moments were not worthy of his crown.

Just one more captured for slaughter, just one for the killing floor.
Just a beast without a name who no one cared for – none there saw
in his eyes the fear and terror and none cared about his pain
he was one, just one of many that were part of our food chain.

[Ron]

Well written Maureen, though very sad.
I do feel like a bit of a hypocrite when I see peaceful cattle and sheep grazing and then enjoy a steak etc. but as a friend once said they wouldn't be there in the paddock if we we didn't.
However if it is to be done, it should be done without the cruelty and suffering that your poem brings to light.
A thought provoking poem Maureen, thank you.
Cheers
Ron.

[alongtimegone]

Hi Maureen that's one heck of a poem. And so sad.
Wazza

[Catherine Lee]

Ah, so sad, Maureen - but yes, very thought-provoking and not a subject to be swept under carpets. Animal cruelty - causing unnecessary distress and pain - is despicable in my book.

[Maureen K Clifford]

As an ex grazier myself - obviously not a good one - I absolutely hated sending our woollies off the market and having to destock so drastically over a 10 year drought did my head in something terrible - but I will say that we always treated our animals with respect and kindness and even though they were ultimately part of the food chain they were always looked after to the very best of our abilities and we never stinted on their tucker and became quite innovative with the feed mixes we sourced for them to keep them fed, when there was not a skerrick of feed left on the ground. Our home made lick blocks made in an old cement mixer and our sheep porridge which we fed out ever 2nd day went down a treat with them even though it was a pain in the bum to make. and hot and dirty to cart and feed out as well but we did and did if for 6 years no less, all done by hand using a hammer mill, big rounds of fresh cut sugar cane tops from Nambour, carrots from Kalbar by the truckload, corn by the tonne from Killarney and our Molasses' allocation from the mill at Condong. We didn't have a spare $ to buy the commercially prepared products so made our own following a strict recipe from a friend of ours who was an industrial chemist - so we had the right quantities of salt, urea and other additives that they required. I could never come at cooking or eating any of our own though.