The tale of a city kid’s morning moving a mob whilst on a farmstay with country pals at ‘Kwongan’
in south west Western Australia.

Michael Cybulski

Up at 6:00, today we’re ‘helping’ Richard move a ‘small’ mob of 200 sheep, from one paddock to another the other side of the track.

The ‘crew’ gathers in the kitchen for several coffees before heading out at 7:00, the paddock 4-5 kms away.

But first, how do we drive the darned things??!

There’s no clutch on these quad bikes – you lift the gear pedal with the toe of your left foot, somehow counter-intuitive, each lift advancing one gear, pressing the pedal down changing down a gear. Separate front wheel brakes on left and right handlebars, back brake under right foot. You can even reverse them, but I would need a whole lesson to master that!

After a few jerks and hops, soon we’re off – Richard (with my sister Deb for company in the ute) leads, followed by Steve on motorbike, his partner Chris and I on quad bikes.

Two minutes later my eyes and throat gritty from the billowing dust as I ride in the slipstream of vehicles ahead, I soon learn to hang back 100-150 metres until the road changes direction, and the wind blows the dust off to the side sooner.

And, talk about cold! Add a 35-40 kph breeze to the 12 degrees ambient temperature and it feels like only 2 or 3 degrees with the wind chill, it’s freezing!

We arrive soon enough, turn in to the paddock after Richard opens the gate, and off we go flying across the grass and wheat stubble.

There’s no sign of sheep after a couple of minutes’ driving, but soon enough Chris waves her hand, flagging the mob 400 metres ahead, and soon we’re in pursuit. I’m off to the right.

Chris’ hat blows off in the breeze, and that leaves yours truly wondering quite what to do next.

Onwards!

The sheep run helter-skelter for several hundred metres and then, darn it, the mob splits in two as it approaches a dam right at the end of the paddock.

Chris soon catches up – she’s a demon on the quad – and she and Steve hold back, as my group run round the back and up over the dam wall, round the far side. And … Yup, you got it – they come face to face with the rest of the mob.

And off they go, back the way they came!

And so the process repeats – the bike, two quads, Richard and Deb way to the rear in the ute (and, as we heard later, amused at the crew’s antics) in steady pursuit, me off to the right, the other side of the paddock this time, about 30 metres behind the stragglers. One is obviously a bit lame, getting slower and slower.

The mob trot steadily towards the gate, but, as the leaders pass through, they don’t cross into the next paddock … Too much to hope for! Nope, they turn sharp right, and hare off down the track towards who knows where.

All but one, that is.

Apparently every mob has one, a totally contrary animal determined to do its own thing.

This one looks back to the right, realises there’s a bigger gap between me and Steve, than between Steve and Chris, spins on a sixpence, and, in the blink of an eye, breaks away through the gap, sprinting for the dam at the far end of the paddock!

What to do?

Meanwhile, quick as a flash, Chris weighs it up, concerned the mob could meet a car speeding in the opposite direction. She’s through the gate in hot pursuit, guns the quad bike, steadily overhauling the mob until she’s 30 metres ahead, spins in front of the leaders, shouts and waves her hands, and …. Yup, back they go!

Meanwhile, Richard, bringing up the rear, has gone to another gate close to where the flock had run from, dragging the fencing gate right across the road which, happily, is directly across from the entrance to the paddock next to the one the flock should have run into.

He opens that gate, the mob obliges this time by running helter-skelter through the gate.

Bet you can’t guess what’s happened then…?!

Meanwhile, where am I?

I’ve driven a big loop across the first paddock, eventually getting ahead of my recalcitrant sheep, running it back towards the gate where it escaped the mob.

I’m on my own, worried my sheep is going to break away again as it approaches ‘that’ gate.

On the way back it twice tried to push through, then jump over the fence but, after a while, calm as you like, trots out of the paddock, not following the mob’s route, but going where it should have gone the first time, sprinting to the tree line on the far side.

So far so good, but there’s still a problem…

Off to the right is the mob the rest of the crew finally got under control and ushered through the gate, but, would you believe, they’re not in my sheep’s paddock at all – they’re in the one next door!

I scratch my head as to what to do next, deciding I’ll just await developments.

Five minutes later the rest of the crew join me, very pleased with themselves. Chris asks, ‘Where’s your sheep?’

I point to it, 300-400 metres away, ‘… in the paddock, over there’.

‘But our mob is over there, next door…!

Yup… 

Richard’s executive decision – ‘Let’s head back to Kwongan for breakfast’.

And off we go.

I suspect Richard would have done rather better on his own, but how much fun it must have been watching the city folk have a go.

In fairness, though, Chris is far from a ‘city slicker’, and is an accomplished horse rider, too.

The run home is exhilarating! Glancing at the speedo half-way down a long straight stretch, I’ve hit 57-58 kph …

I look again. Ooops!

Only a couple of seconds and I’ve started drifting to the left in the brisk breeze right to left across the road, almost into the treacherous gravel and sand at the side.

I don’t know much, but instinctively realise a sudden steering correction would be fraught with risk, so just a very slight tweak to the right, and gradually I’m back on track, not upside down in the fence.

A few minutes later we’re back at ‘Kwongan’, in time for a hearty breakfast with the family, Julian and Tris as well (Tris cooking up the best egg and bacon fry up I’ve had in ages).

Yummo!!

Postscript

Richard and Chantal, Chris and Steve, Ros and I, the six of us having met while traveling in Karijini National Park while the rest of Australia was locked down with COVID, and have become the finest of friends, enjoying a wonderful 20-hour catch up as Ros Deb and I head back to NSW. You’ve gotta love life, dontcha?

The wrap – Richard sms’s later in the day confirming the recalcitrant sheep is back with the mob. Doubtless he achieved that without further challenge. Laconic, I love it!

Michael Cybulski is the founder and CEO of New Authors Collective (NAC), NAC Literary Agency, NAC Rights Agency – Committed to helping deserving authors fulfil their dream.