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- Колин Маккалоу
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- Стр. 164/535
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To
look
across
the
paddocks
required
slitted
eyes
and
a
hat
brim
drawn
far
down
on
the
forehead
;
the
grass
was
mirror-silver
,
and
little
spiral
whirlwinds
sped
busily
among
shimmering
blue
mirages
,
transferring
dead
leaves
and
fractured
grass
blades
from
one
restless
heap
to
another
.
Oh
,
but
it
was
dry
!
Even
the
trees
were
dry
,
the
bark
falling
from
them
in
stiff
,
crunchy
ribbons
.
No
danger
yet
of
the
sheep
starving
--
the
grass
would
last
another
year
at
least
,
maybe
more
--
but
no
one
liked
to
see
everything
so
dry
.
There
was
always
a
good
chance
the
rain
would
not
come
next
year
,
or
the
year
after
.
In
a
good
year
they
got
ten
to
fifteen
inches
,
in
a
bad
year
less
than
five
,
perhaps
close
to
none
at
all
.
In
spite
of
the
heat
and
the
flies
,
Meggie
loved
life
out
in
the
paddocks
,
walking
the
chestnut
mare
behind
a
bleating
mob
of
sheep
while
the
dogs
lay
flat
on
the
ground
,
tongues
lolling
,
deceptively
inattentive
.
Let
one
sheep
bolt
out
of
the
tightly
packed
cluster
and
the
nearest
dog
would
be
away
,
a
streak
of
vengeance
,
sharp
teeth
hungering
to
nip
into
a
hapless
heel
.
Meggie
rode
ahead
of
her
mob
,
a
welcome
relief
after
breathing
their
dust
for
several
miles
,
and
opened
the
paddock
gate
.
She
waited
patiently
while
the
dogs
,
reveling
in
this
chance
to
show
her
what
they
could
do
,
bit
and
goaded
the
sheep
through
.
It
was
harder
mustering
and
droving
cattle
,
for
they
kicked
or
charged
,
often
killing
an
unwary
dog
;
that
was
when
the
human
herdsman
had
to
be
ready
to
do
his
bit
,
use
his
whip
,
but
the
dogs
loved
the
spice
of
danger
working
cattle
.
However
,
to
drove
cattle
was
not
required
of
her
;
Paddy
attended
to
that
himself
.
But
the
dogs
never
ceased
to
fascinate
her
;
their
intelligence
was
phenomenal
.
Most
of
the
Drogheda
dogs
were
kelpies
,
coated
in
rich
brownish
tan
with
creamy
paws
,
chests
and
eyebrows
,
but
there
were
Queensland
blues
too
,
larger
,
with
blue-grey
coats
dappled
in
black
,
and
all
varieties
of
crossbreds
between
kelpie
and
blue
.
The
bitches
came
in
heat
,
were
scientifically
mated
,
increased
and
whelped
;
after
weaning
and
growing
,
their
pups
were
tried
out
in
the
paddocks
,
and
if
good
were
kept
or
sold
,
if
no
good
shot
.
Whistling
her
dogs
to
heel
,
Meggie
shut
the
gate
on
the
mob
and
turned
the
chestnut
mare
toward
home
.
Nearby
was
a
big
stand
of
trees
,
stringybark
and
iron-bark
and
black
box
,
an
occasional
wilga
on
its
outskirts
.
She
rode
into
its
shade
thankfully
,
and
having
now
the
leisure
to
look
around
,
let
her
eyes
roam
in
delight
.
The
gums
were
full
of
budgies
,
skawking
and
whistling
their
parodies
of
songbirds
;
finches
wheeled
from
branch
to
branch
;
two
sulphur-crested
cockatoos
sat
with
their
heads
to
one
side
watching
her
progress
with
twinkling
eyes
;
willy-wagtails
fossicked
in
the
dirt
for
ants
,
their
absurd
rumps
bobbing
;
crows
carked
eternally
and
mournfully
.
Theirs
was
the
most
obnoxious
noise
in
the
whole
bush
song
repertoire
,
so
devoid
of
joy
,
desolate
and
somehow
soul-chilling
,
speaking
of
rotting
flesh
,
of
carrion
and
blowflies
.
To
think
of
a
crow
singing
like
a
bellbird
was
impossible
;
cry
and
function
fitted
perfectly
.
Of
course
there
were
flies
everywhere
;
Meggie
wore
a
veil
over
her
hat
,
but
her
bare
arms
were
constantly
plagued
,
and
the
chestnut
mare
's
tail
never
stopped
swishing
,
its
flesh
never
stopped
shivering
and
creeping
for
a
second
.
It
amazed
Meggie
that
even
through
the
thickness
of
hide
and
hair
,
a
horse
could
feel
something
as
delicate
and
airy
as
a
fly
.
They
drank
sweat
,
which
was
why
they
tormented
horses
and
humans
so
,
but
humans
never
let
them
do
what
sheep
did
,
so
they
used
the
sheep
for
a
more
intimate
purpose
,
laying
their
eggs
around
the
rump
wool
,
or
wherever
the
wool
was
damp
and
dirty
.
The
air
was
full
of
the
noise
of
bees
,
and
alive
with
brilliant
quick
dragonflies
seeking
out
the
bore
drains
,
alive
with
exquisitely
colored
butterflies
and
day
moths
.
Her
horse
turned
over
a
piece
of
rotting
log
with
a
hoof
;
Meggie
stared
at
its
underside
,
her
skin
crawling
.
There
were
witchetty
grubs
,
fat
and
white
and
loathsome
,
wood
lice
and
slugs
,
huge
centipedes
and
spiders
.
From
burrows
rabbits
hopped
and
skittled
,
flashed
back
inside
with
white
powder
puffs
up
in
the
air
,
then
turned
to
peer
out
,
noses
twitching
.
Farther
on
an
echidna
broke
off
its
quest
after
ants
,
panicked
at
her
approach
.
Burrowing
so
fast
that
its
strong
clawed
feet
were
hidden
in
seconds
,
it
began
to
disappear
under
a
huge
log
.
Its
antics
as
it
dug
were
amusing
,
the
cruel
spines
lying
flat
all
over
its
body
to
streamline
its
entry
into
the
ground
,
earth
flying
in
heaps
.
She
came
out
of
the
timber
on
the
main
track
to
the
homestead
.
