Leave-it-There's are everywhere

October 25, 2016

The high river flushes out an ugly pie of left-behinds.

So here's the thing: there are people who are just like the Golden Leave-it-There - and the Boss doesn't like them. He calls them rabbits, dills, drongoes and idiots.  Words he doesn't even use about me.

He reckons they are worse than the Golden Leave-it-There because they bring their stuff down to the river and leave it there, whereas the Golden Leave-it There gets his name because he'll chase after interesting stuff like ducks, rabbits and hares that the Boss might shoot now and then, but he doesn't bring them back.

Sometime he goes and hides with a rabbit and chomps away on it, which turns the Boss a bright shade of purple. But at least he doesn't bring a pile of junk and leave it lying around for the Boss to clean up.

The Boss can't work out why people come down to enjoy the river, do a spot of camping or fishing or have a picnic - then leave rubbish lying around. Like, is that what they want to find when they arrive? Other people's rubbish?

This here, he says, is the work of a younger class of dills. He's seen it a bit the last few years - young fellers poke along the river to find a long, steep, sandy part of the bank and dig it out to make a smooth slide, then line it with a long length of plastic sheeting. 

He says they put a pump down on the river with a hose coming up to the top and make their own water slide. He doesn't mind this so much, so long as they don't do too much damage to the bank - although they wouldn't want to be caught digging by the ranger.

Trouble is, after they've had their fun, they pull up all their plastic and decide they don't want to take it home. Too lazy to wash the sand off, maybe, so they could use it again. 

Instead of that they stash it somewhere along the bank amongst the wattle trees where no-one is likely to see it, except the occasional fisherman.

Then comes the high river, which picks up all this plastic and washes it down river until it gets caught by trees. When the river goes down, there it is - hanging above the water like some weird decoration.

We found it when we heard the Golden Leave-it-There barking at it the other day. I didn't see the point of barking at it myself; maybe the Golden instantly recognised the handiwork of other Leave-it-Theres. One dill admiring the work of another. Woof.

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