It started on Friday afternoon while the Boss was still at work and a bunch of Search and Rescue people turned up with the police and a boat, to rescue a feller who had set up camp on a high bank of the river back in the early winter — but the bank wasn’t high enough. He had to make a run for it.
When The Boss came home, the river was still inside the banks, albeit briskly filling some of those billabongs that hadn’t had a drink in thirty years. It must have been a signal because I found him picking a few things up off the shed floor, just in case.
Saturday morning we awoke to a lovely surprise, with water all around us and the local wildlife in a panic which is, of course, the way I like it. They were running out of options and room, which meant the west paddock had foxes, wallabies, hares and wombats dancing warily around each other — like a ballet choreographed for hunting dogs.
So the New Boy and I were able to amuse ourselves in pursuit while The Boss and the Missus appeared focused on the rising river — well, it was more like a fast-rising lake by now, with a river behind it to add unwelcome horse-power. it surrounded us gradually, on both sides of the house.
This meant that the wildlife had limited options, reducing further by the minute — a rare advantage for a dog. The Boss didn’t care about the three wily foxes, which he would normally take a bead on when they were that close but he had more to do and shooed the wombats back to the higher sandhills; the wallabies moved in the same direction.
Fortunately, he was distracted enough by the advancing waters to leave the hares and wood ducks to us and we had, despite the impending crisis faced by The Missus and The Boss, the perfect day for dogs. The Boss distracted, the game hemmed in, it was the best of times to be a dog.
There were hares criss-crossing the yard and tearing around the house, looking for somewhere to hide. Several of them found their way to the long grass on the highest part of the bank near the river but we found their scent and put them up.
The New Boy showed an impressive burst of speed and brought a good-sized hare to ground but The Boss must have heard the squeal because he came running. These days, he prefers watching hares to shooting them — he reckons the surge in fox numbers in the last 10 years has made life perilous for the hares because we don’t see many around any more.
New Boy had dispatched the hare and was trying to make a meal of it but The Boss swiftly assumed possession, as he does, and disappeared into the shed to salvage the backstraps and hind-quarters, which quickly landed in the freezer. If someone has a meal of hare around here, it has to be him.
He locked us up for the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday until the flood peaked — he said it wasn’t a fair fight for the hares given they had nowhere to run but he’s forgetting I’m a carnivore and slowing up a little, so a handicap seems very fair to me. I wasn’t even allowed to chase the teal, which I spotted paddling in and out of The Boss’s herb garden.
The consolation prize was a tasty young rabbit, which New Boy nabbed on Tuesday morning. Taking a cue from The Boss, I swiftly assumed possession of it — and fended the youngster off with some gifted body work while I had my fill. I might as well push him around while I can. Woof!
23°C