Hilton in the bush

One phone call to Goomeri and I had an option for work at a cattle station in Hughenden. Despite the warnings I hitched up North. Stationed myself at a truck stop and checked people out before approaching them for a ride. Luckily I just met nice people and got to Hughenden within a day. There I was picked up by the station manager with his teenage lady friend, whom seemed to have a bit of a habit. Anyway, they were hospitable and took me to the station. The manager appeared to have another living in friend, a pig that became his pet. I spent one night at the homestead and the next day I was driven to 12 mile.
After a brief introduction I was expected at the yards and there the real cattle work began. Lick runs, bore runs, windmill fixing, fencing, mustering, shifting, injecting, dehorning - the lot. Thank G I never had to castrate. The yard work was a bloody mess in every sense of the word.
The evenings were spent having a very necessary shower, dinner (cooked by the head stock man's wife) and reading or watching telly. This would be the one period I actually wrote in my diary regularly.
I only realized later why the men seemed to dance and jump towards the outdoor billy. It was the necessary means to get past a zillion cane toads. It seemed they were preparing to take over the land and everything on it at night.
The four stock men were nice and friendly. I remember bright Southern blue eyes and mystic dreamy black eyes, especially those of Potty - the sweetest jackeroo I came across in Australia. They all slept in the big shed. One night I spent on a bunk bed in the head stock man's guest room. It was impossible not to hear the couple. Apparently they watched telly in bed. At some time followed the sound of creaking springs and some grunting. Then a yell: 'Get of me RIGHT NOW you filthy bastard!' followed by the sound of a slap. He answered by starting a fight over de dog: 'But the fucking dog is allowed to sleep on the bed, you always...'
The next morning I opted for the old butcher shed. 2 x 3 m2, gauze all around, tin roof and a door. The station manager brought a double box spring over with fresh ironed linen and a warm blanket. There was an old shelve to put my gear on. The view at night was great: stars, stars and the odd wallaby grazing about. I called my little shed the Hilton hotel. And woke up to reality every morning at 4.30 h when the generator got started and we all headed for the ice cold showers in turns. The workmen's breakfast was a bit to heavy for my system, so after a while fruit and cereal where ordered in and I actually ate something in the morning. During sunrise we were already setting up at remote locations for further mustering and yard work. One morning, while driving up to the yards over a big flat, I saw the sunrise and the moon set at the same moment. Two huge orange circles at opposite sides of the horizon, a picture to remember.
The treat for a girl on adventure was of course the mustering. Very few times by car, more often the quad (better!) but best was flying. The station manager was a pilot and he took me for a thrilling ride into the air. It was amazing and great to oversee the station from air and good fun to muster the huge number of cattle feeling like a giant fly roaming about them.
It didn't take long before it became clear that the camp was only dry for the ringers. The head stock man had a liquid breakfast and kept a little supply under his seat in the ute. Every time he went for a piss he filled up the losses straightaway. As he held a key position shifting in the yard, the work got riskier as the day progressed. He missed, closed gates to early or to soon and didn't realize his contribution to the faults made. It got messier. Dip wasn't used after dehorning as it was found to expensive. Too many calves did not survive as their brains were exposed to the outside world. Once five bullocks out of eight whom were lined up in the ramp for injections and cutting the horn tips did not survive. They rammed into each other and were paralyzed instantly. There were so many 'casualties' I couldn't bear it, though of course I did not know what was normal or not. When a new stock man came along and left within a week, I took the offer for a ride to the NT and quit. As the pay was good and the expenses about zero A$, I actually saved up quite a little stash within six weeks time.