Our sheep continued to produce acceptable amounts of wool but prices remained low so I disposed of most of our sheep by sale and gift to local landholders keeping only about 9. These could provide a meal or two in an emergency and would keep the grass down a little in the paddocks. I also used them to graze off everything inside the enclosures at the end of each season and into winter. They were by now organic requiring no drench to keep them free of parasites. Our pastures had been clean for a few seasons.
When shearing time came, the locals clubbed together using the same shearer, Danny, in the shearing shed owned by Davo. We all drove our flocks over to the shed either on foot or by trailer. We helped each other for all processes.
In this year the shearing date was moved forward by a week at the last minute. Neither she nor I could be there. I would be overseas, she in a prior engagement. As usual for our community, someone else would take over in the emergency and handle our few sheep. Basil and John would do the chores. Seven sheep had to be sheared from our place.
Our sheep were by now almost pets. They came when I called and followed me. Sometimes I would have no idea where they were on the property so I would call ‘come on’ though not like Lleyton Hewitt who would have made them hide, and they would appear over the horizon and run to me. This was flock memory because in previous years by I had occasionally fed them with oats which they were crazy about. The whole flock of up to 80 members had associated my voice with oats. By this means I had always managed without a dog. Occasionally they would even respond to her voice.
The evening before the shearing John, Jill and Jennifer came over to collect our sheep, put them in their trailer, and take them to the shed so they would be dry and ready to shear next morning. The sheep refused to be rounded up, they ran away. We’ll get them tomorrow said John.
Tomorrow came and Basil joined the rounding up team. The sheep weren’t any easier and bolted through any gaps the team left. Basil wasn’t very athletic, being slightly overweight and having a small problem with swollen ankles. This hadn’t limited him in his conquests of local and not so local ladies over recent years, but it wasn’t a help when chasing sheep. The sheep were getting more and more frisky with each attempt to get them into the yard. They were big sheep and very healthy. One in panic ran into a power pole and bowled itself over before rejoining the group. Ok let’s make this the last try John said.
The gaps between the humans were made smaller and the sheep were slowly moved up the rise towards the yard. One broke and ran straight for Basil, seeing him clearly only at the last minute. Sheep are quite good jumpers when pushed and very good when at full speed downhill. Picturing its youth, it optimistically tried to jump over Basil’s head but only made his chest; still, not a bad attempt. Basil went down like a sack of sand. His leg had snapped at the hip joint, his wrist had broken and he was badly winded. He couldn’t move. The victorious sheep disappeared back over the horizon. They were missing me.
Everybody except Basil thought ‘shit’ but didn’t say it. Bombala Hospital would send an ambulance but a helicopter from Sydney might be needed. The sheep gatherers would have to prepare a landing site. It might arrive in an hour. Just keep the patient covered and warm they said. Basil didn’t care about anything, he was out of it. There was only one flat area in the paddock away from trees and that was where I was in the process of building a cottage to house all the bird watchers who would make us very rich. The foundations had been prepared and it was waiting for me to attach the floor to the underfloor. The underfloor had to go; it might blow away when the helicopter landed. The three able bodied members of the team worked madly to prepare the site.
Our place is perched between the Snowy Mountains and the sea so it can be cold, hot, or often quite foggy when the two weather systems interact. The fog started to form. The helicopter arrived but was unable to land because the pilot couldn’t see the ground. It left again. Luckily the ambulance arrived soon after. Basil was loaded and driven the 450 km to Sydney.
Though clever people filled him with steel pins and he had treatment for many months, Basil became permanently faulty in his walking after this incident. His life was changed significantly for the worse. Luckily we had insured our property for a million dollars to cover us for accidents. That’s what we had thought. We were wrong; for some complex reason Basil couldn’t be a recipient. He lost out all round. We sold our remaining sheep for $300 and let the grass grow for the many kangaroos.
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