ssh 15-09-2010#008 shared 08...wrong has gone wrong. perhaps i’m just not cut out for this life....

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TOMORROW: What’s really behind the run of bad luck? “W e’re just having a bit of bad luck,” my mother said as she tried to comfort my father. “No, Julia,” my father replied. “Having it rain dur- ing a picnic is ‘a bit of bad luck’. This is a tragedy. “Everything on this damn place needs constant re- pairing, rodents are getting into our crops, it hasn’t rained in months and now the cattle are mysteriously getting sick. “Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this life. “Perhaps all this mis- fortune is a sign that we should have stayed in the city.” I lay on my bed, straining to hear the muffled con- versation of my parents in the next room. Two hours earlier Justin, Leigh and I had returned from mustering and brand- ing the cattle with some bad news for my father. “At least 15 more head have fallen sick,” Justin said. “They were moving sluggishly in the herd, but didn’t notice it till we got a look at them up close.” My father buried his head in his hands, then looked up again. “Great, that’s just great,” he said scornfully, the blood visibly rising to his head. “I’m the owner of a cattle station full of sick cattle. "How am I supposed to sell cattle to the meatworks if I’m faced with some kind of epidemic? "What on earth is wrong with them?” “There are a lot of things that can make cattle sick,” Leigh said. “Bacteria, parasites, bad feed …”. “Bad feed!” my father interrupted, “I thought these cattle were grass fed?” “Well, they are. I was just listing some possibilities,” Leigh said. “So you don’t know? Is that what you’re saying?” my father asked, throwing his hands in the air in ex- asperation. “My god, I thought by coming to the Outback, life would be less stressful, but there’s more dramas here than I ever thought pos- sible.” He sat in his chair and composed himself. “Sorry, Leigh, I didn’t mean to get upset at you. It’s not your fault. Okay so what do we do now?” he said. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now,” Justin said. “Tomorrow, we’ll look at getting a vet to come and examine them. Sorry, mate.” I drifted off to sleep that night, saddened by the thought that we might be leaving the property. I had taken to country life with great enthusiasm; working with animals, learning the value of a hard day’s work, more space, less pollution - I didn’t want to go back to the city, at least not so soon. However my father was right to be anxious. If things didn’t turn around for us soon, this family’s career in the beef industry would be short lived. My concern must have crept into my subconscious because I dreamed that night that I drove a mob of cattle to some fresh, green pasture, but they were dropping dead before I could get them there. I woke with a jolt, feeling as if a cold hand had gripped my arm and woken me up. I got out of bed and slow- ly walked to the window. Outside the sun was about to rise, the dark of the night sky giving way to a shade of navy blue.Sud- denly my attention was drawn to a figure in the distance moving - seeming- ly floating - down the dirt track towards the stock- yard. It was the Old Man. I watched him for a moment. He extended his arm to- wards me and made a movement as if to invite me to go outside and join him. I remembered what my father had said and ran into my parents’ room, shaking my father awake. “Dad,” I whispered sharp- ly. “Dad, wake up!” My father mumbled something that I couldn’t understand and slowly opened his unfocused eyes and looked at me. “Dad, you have to come quick!” In seconds, my father’s state shifted from sleepy to alert, as he sensed the ur- gency in my voice. “What’s wrong? Is the house on fire?” he asked. “No – it’s the Old Man again,” I said. “He’s out the back, heading towards the stockyard.” “What old man? The one you saw by the fence ear- lier?” he asked. "Yes,” I said. “Well, then, I suppose we’d better go and check it out then,” he said. A steer that weighs 450kg when alive will make a car- cass weighing about 280 kg once the blood, head, feet, skin, offal and guts have been removed. The carcass will then be hung in a cold room for be- tween one and four weeks, during which time it loses some weight as water dries from the meat. When boned and cut by a butcher or packing house this carcass would then make about 200kg of beef. User: kristen.burrows Time: 09-14-2010 12:03 Product: SSH PubDate: 15-09-2010 Zone: All Edition: Main Page: SHARED_08 Color: C M Y K

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Page 1: SSH 15-09-2010#008 SHARED 08...wrong has gone wrong. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this life. “Perhaps all this mis-fortune is a sign that we should have stayed in the city.”

TOMORROW: What’s really behind the run of bad luck?

“We’re justhaving abit of badluck,” my

mother said as she tried tocomfort my father.“No, Julia,” my fatherreplied. “Having it rain dur-ing a picnic is ‘a bit of badluck’. This is a tragedy.“Everything on this damnplace needs constant re-pairing, rodents are gettinginto our crops, it hasn’trained in months and nowthe cattle are mysteriouslygetting sick.“Everything that could gowrong has gone wrong.Perhaps I’m just not cut outfor this life.“Perhaps all this mis-fortune is a sign that weshould have stayed in thecity.”

I lay on my bed, strainingto hear the muffled con-versation of my parents inthe next room.Two hours earlier Justin,Leigh and I had returnedfrom mustering and brand-ing the cattle with somebad news for my father.“At least 15 more headhave fallen sick,” Justinsaid. “They were movingsluggishly in the herd, butdidn’t notice it till we got alook at them up close.”My father buried his headin his hands, then lookedup again.“Great, that’s just great,”he said scornfully, the bloodvisibly rising to his head.“I’m the owner of a cattlestation full of sick cattle."How am I supposed tosell cattle to the meatworks

if I’m faced with some kindof epidemic?"What on earth is wrongwith them?”“There are a lot of thingsthat can make cattle sick,”Leigh said.“Bacteria, parasites, badfeed …”. “Bad feed!” myfather interrupted, “Ithought these cattle weregrass fed?”“Well, they are. I was justlisting some possibilities,”Leigh said.“So you don’t know? Isthat what you’re saying?”my father asked, throwinghis hands in the air in ex-asperation.“My god, I thought bycoming to the Outback, lifewould be less stressful, butthere’s more dramas herethan I ever thought pos-

sible.”He sat in his chairand composed himself.“Sorry, Leigh, I didn’tmean to get upset at you.It’s not your fault. Okay sowhat do we do now?” hesaid.“Well, there’s nothing wecan do now,” Justin said.“Tomorrow, we’ll look atgetting a vet to come andexamine them. Sorry,mate.”I drifted off to sleep thatnight, saddened by thethought that we might beleaving the property.I had taken to country lifewith great enthusiasm;working with animals,learning the value of a hardday’s work, more space,less pollution - I didn’t wantto go back to the city, atleast not so soon.However my father wasright to be anxious. If thingsdidn’t turn around for ussoon, this family’s career in

the beef industry would beshort lived.My concern must havecrept into my subconsciousbecause I dreamed thatnight that I drove a mob ofcattle to some fresh, greenpasture, but they weredropping dead before Icould get them there.I woke with a jolt, feelingas if a cold hand hadgripped my arm and wokenme up. I got out of bed and

slow-ly walked tothe window.Outside the sun was

about to rise, the dark ofthe night sky giving way toa shade of navy blue.Sud-denly my attention wasdrawn to a figure in thedistance moving - seeming-ly floating - down the dirttrack towards the stock-yard. It was the Old Man. Iwatched him for a moment.He extended his arm to-

wards me and made amovement as if to invite meto go outside and join him.I remembered what my

father had said and ran intomy parents’ room, shakingmy father awake.“Dad,” I whispered sharp-

ly. “Dad, wake up!”My father mumbled

something that I couldn’tunderstand and slowlyopened his unfocused eyesand looked at me.“Dad, you have to come

quick!”In seconds, my father’s

state shifted from sleepy toalert, as he sensed the ur-gency in my voice.“What’s wrong? Is the

house on fire?” he asked.“No – it’s the Old Man

again,” I said. “He’s out theback, heading towards thestockyard.”“What old man? The one

you saw by the fence ear-lier?” he asked."Yes,” I said. “Well, then,

I suppose we’d better goand check it out then,” hesaid.

A steer that weighs 450kg when alive will make a car-cass weighing about 280 kg once the blood, head, feet,skin, offal and guts have been removed.The carcass will then be hung in a cold room for be-

tween one and four weeks, during which time it losessome weight as water dries from the meat.When boned and cut by a butcher or packing house

this carcass would then make about 200kg of beef.

User: kristen.burrows Time: 09-14-2010 12:03 Product: SSH PubDate: 15-09-2010 Zone: All Edition: Main Page: SHARED_08 Color: CMYK