Bruce is a retired stud bull – no longer undertaking his usual duties on the farm due to his size. So, he’s being kept on as a pet and I’d say he looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying the relaxed lifestyle of his retirement.
This big boy belongs to my nephew Chris and his partner Dean They run a dairy farm at Yarram. Earlier this week, I manage to snap a photo of Bruce, as he grazes peacefully in the paddock.
Where is Yarram?
Yarram is a small rural town in South Gippsland, Victoria. Australia. It is nestled on the outskirts of the Tarra-Bulga National Park, not far from the 90 Mile Beach. It’s a peaceful part of the country, with lush green farming land, lots of historic buildings in the surrounding quaint country towns, and there seems to be plenty of community spirit.
My favourite farm things …
One of my favourite things about staying here is waking up to the soundscape of the farm, birdsong in the trees, the cluck of the chickens, the crow of the rooster and the low contented moo of the cows. Inside the farmhouse, I can hear the coffee machine sputtering to life, ready to brew the first coffees of the day.
Jack the Dog
Then comes Jack the dog, a young New Zealand Huntaway. He bounds in to greet me each morning, leaping onto my bed.
‘No kisses, Jack’, I shriek. But he keeps licking my face anyway.
He doesn’t stay long because his working day starts early.
Jack’s job description
‘Jack’s job is to bring the cows to the shed twice a day, and then he takes them to their new paddock after milking. We use a Huntaway because they push the cows using eye contact. Traditional cattle dogs like Blue Heelers bite at the cattle’s legs and bark to get them to move. Jack doesn’t bite or bark. Much calmer for the cows,’ says Chris.
‘Jack, c’mon,’ Dean shouts. With a wagging tail, leaping and bounding excitedly, he runs off like lightening. The first milking shift starts around 6 am. Then it happens all over again around 4 pm.
Digger the Doberman
After Jack heads off with Chris and Dean, the house isn’t quiet for long. I hear the familiar footsteps on the floor tiles heading towards my bedroom. That’s when I get a visit from Digger, a beautiful old Doberman. He doesn’t jump up, or lick -there’s nothing puppyish about him anymore. He’s more of an old gentleman now – just happy to look over in my direction, my head still on the pillow, before heading out to his daybed in the loungeroom.
The milking seems to take at least a couple of hours, so I drag myself out of my comfy bed and go for a walk.
A country walk
It’s a crisp, dewy morning. Everything is green – lush paddocks rolling out in every direction. Chris says it rains fairly often now, as we head into autumn. The sun is partially hiding behind the clouds, creating shadows that stretch across the paddocks. There’s already the promise of a warm day.
A totally different world
I continue walking up the road to the next property a couple of kilometres away. It feels like a totally different world from the chaos beyond this peaceful countryside, where Trump seems to be tearing everything apart. Funny – I always had a feeling something like this might happen, where the whole world is affected. Something about that evil, orange look of his, and the rat-like eyes.
But no-
I don’t want to think about that anymore.
Not here.
Not when I’m in such a beautiful, peaceful part of the world.
As I wander past Bruce on my way back to the house, I notice he is grazing a bit closer to the fence line. I want to give him a pat and a scratch on the head but think twice about disturbing him.
I wish everyone could experience this – even if just for a day.
