Sunday…Day of rest

The day begins like most others; I blend my morning walk with some light mustering, moving a cow and calf and a heifer and her twins further down the road. They have been found hidden away in a far off paddock and need now to be rejoined with the herd.

Next it is time to bottle feed the orphaned calf, who has the strongest sucking action; she almost bowls you over. She is still shaky on her legs and in need of contact and touch and is determined in her quest for a comforting stroke.

We leave her resting in a patch of sun and set off in two utes to feed the autumn cows. Talk about being bowled over. They are frantic as we shovel out small mountains of cotton seed and then piles of hay. Even the little calves try to get in on the action though the mothers butt them out of the way.

The paddocks are alive with hundreds of roos and some have now ventured into my garden as the drought really bites hard. No useful rain for 16 months now.

We retreat inside to watch Landline having missed Songs of Praise. Seems to have some logic.