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Moving Day

David has mended the leaky poly pipe and the blue float, so now it is time to try and move the cows. Without the help of any dogs sadly.

We bump along the weedy track to the highest point on our place, Black Mountain, 500 meters above sea level. Above us the sky is blue and clear so the panorama below us is stunning…right across to the mauve Liverpool Ranges and past the bright green crops that belong to the neighbours.

Half the cattle are congregating around a dam, just standing on the banks surveying the scene. The other half are at the far end of the paddock at the centre, impatient to be moved to the next lot of feed.

So we drive through the jungle and make a path, then sit up a bit higher and watch. All we can hear is the tramp of feet and swishing of grass as the mob makes its way through, only ears and heads visible.

We circle back and try to persuade the rest to follow but it is now warm and the shade of the trees and the lure of the cool dam is too much and they are reluctant to shift.

So we let them be and head home, checking the pumps and tanks as we go.

Just another Sunday. An uneventful Sunday which is as we like it.