Christmas walk

We went out for a walk just before Christmas, making the most of the last days of the cropped paddocks before harvest. One of the advantages to having crops close to the house is that we can enjoy long walks with the dogs around the perimeter of the paddocks, without worrying about disturbing sheep. Now that we've finished the harvest (as of 11pm last night, woo hoo!) there'll be sheep in all that stubble, and we'll be back to exercising the dogs in the house paddocks.

Canola swathes:



Sybil keeping an eye on Muddy, with Blue and Pinky behind:


Earlier in the season the dogs used to enjoy bounding like little roos through the oats, and I always wished I had the camera with me. But these days we're likely to encounter the real thing. So the other night we weren't surprised when a handful of roos appeared out of the crop ahead of us, and we managed to call all the dogs in close as the roos took off away down the fenceline.

Except one- as we gathered the dogs around the pram and asked them to stop and wait, I caught sight of a black something flashing away around the edge of the crop. Which dog? We scanned the dogs at our feet- surely everyone was here? But nope, that was definitely a dog, a blackish one, moving very fast after the roos, but then moving off diagonally, almost in a casting fashion, as though trying to head them off. It was so far away we could hardly see it, widening out as it ran, and then, it suddenly swung in and leapt straight over the new fence without pause, streaking across the wheatgrass. "Muddy!!" but nope, he's here by the pram. Black and white? Very fast! "Fly!", but there she was, leaning on R's leg. "Queani?" but she's back home in the bitches' box.

The dog was a tiny speck in the distance as it swung around behind the roos, turning them back towards us, when R finally whistled his generic recall and the dog stopped in a kickspray of dust and spun around, racing back towards us. It was Trim, wee Trim, and she cleared the fence again in a leisurely fashion and galloped back to us, tongue lolling and ears askew with delight, just as the spooked roos crashed past along the fenceline and into the neighbouring paddock.