OUR STOCKMAN

[vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content_no_spaces” content_placement=”top” css=”.vc_custom_1536680360951{padding-top: 0px !important;padding-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”TRUE BLUE AUSSIE COWBOYS” font_container=”tag:h2|font_size:32px|text_align:center|line_height:36px” google_fonts=”font_family:Playfair%20Display%3Aregular%2Citalic%2C700%2C700italic%2C900%2C900italic|font_style:400%20regular%3A400%3Anormal” css=”.vc_custom_1536680275457{padding-top: 0px !important;padding-bottom: 0px !important;}”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” content_placement=”top” css=”.vc_custom_1536680192892{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]Cow manure-covered boots stomped the dry bar floor. They were worn by John Mainey. On his head was a black leather Akubra hat. His shoulders were as broad as a shed and his arms as thick as tree trunks and with wiry hair. His boots clomped across the floor as he strolled up to the bar. Puffs of dust rose with every step. The scent of wild country grass, sweat and cow dung wafted from his flannelette shirt. You would think he had just walked in from a rodeo.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24679″ img_size=”full” alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” css=”.vc_custom_1536680168544{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]He took his place on a stool and leaned with both elbows on the bar, hands braced under his chin.

“What’s been happening on the station, John?” enquired the bartender.

“Mate, it’s been a big week, a big week, but no dramas”, he said matter-of-factly. John had seen many “big weeks” but took them all in his stride. He was a man’s man and dealing with challenges and adversity was all part of life. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24680″ img_size=”full” alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” css=”.vc_custom_1536680146063{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]They had a yarn about his cattle droving adventures that week. His mates gathered around and hung on to his every word because John always has a good story to tell and tells it like it is. He’s a rugged man yet loves the land and loves working with cattle.

John spoke of how he looked down the valley in the early morning with his riding partner. Dew beaded on the grass. The fresh smell of dew-drenched countryside and the aroma of soil and cow droppings filled their lungs. The Sun’s rays would occasionally break through the clouds and mist and light up the valley. It was like the gates of Heaven. That’s why they call the valley entrance the Pearly Gates.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24681″ img_size=”980X470″ alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” css=”.vc_custom_1536680117845{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]John and Shon opened their swag, set up camp and sat down. Shon had a few goes lighting the fire which was reluctant to start due to the dampness from the overnight rain. But he’s done this many times before and got the fire going before long.

The cattle grazed contentedly in the pastures to a symphony of birds, frogs and crickets. As John downed a can of beer and munched on some dry, stale damper, he reflected on how good life was on the land.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24682″ img_size=”980X470″ alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” css=”.vc_custom_1536680090231{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]The peacefulness of that scene was shattered by a call from the bar door.

“Johnny boy!” boomed the larrikin at the bar door. It was Shon Crotty. The Man from Moira River, they called him.

“Here’s trouble!” rejoindered John.

“Whatever mate! You talking about sleeping with your cows again?”, teased Shon.

“Mate, they’re better company than you!”, he laughed.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24683″ img_size=”980X470″ alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” css=”.vc_custom_1536680059685{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]”Hey, I can sleep anywhere so long as it’s not leaking water!”, chuckled Shon. “Johnny, why don’t you tell them about how you chased those cattle in the swamp with your dog… you know the time I mean!”

Shon explained to John’s mates, “there were bloody snakes in the water, but that didn’t faze him because Johnny just flicked them away and kept chasing the cattle.”[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24684″ img_size=”980X470″ alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” css=”.vc_custom_1536680036395{padding-top: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 1px !important;}”][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]The following day, John worked in the yard making fences out of wood – not modern steel ones because he’s a traditionalist. They didn’t have such fancy ones back in the old days. He prefers to do it the old Aussie cattleman way. He also used to rope the cows and immobilise them by tying them to horses whenever he wanted to ear tag them. But he breaks with tradition now by using a steel crush to hold them in place while he vaccinates and brands them.

John and Shon later drove the herd of Brangus towards the paddock along the droving trail. They were big, beautiful black beasts – really solid and able to graze anywhere, hardier than the Angus. As they drove the cattle steadily along the trail, John mused, “How good is this, Shon?[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”24685″ img_size=”980X470″ alignment=”center”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″ offset=”vc_hidden-md vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][/vc_column][/vc_row]