‘Wouldn’t Be Dead for Quids’
Host: Lake Nash Station
Written by Paul Jones – Bore Runner, Lake Nash Station.
The light of day sneaks through the cracks and its 4:30am again. Time to pull on the boots and see what Cook’s got on. As usual, plenty of tucker – wonderful! Head over to the workshop to check the oil, water, tyres, fill water bottles, and fuel up. Check and load rifle for feral animal control. Make sure the A.B.C is on the wireless. Tick, tick, tick! Off I head on my daily round trip of approximately 350km and plenty of gates!
Not a bad skyline to wake up to every morning!
The Bore Run consists of roughly half windmills and half mono pumps. A windmill is a wind driven water pump, versus a Mono pump, which is driven by a rotor and stator. All water is pumped into Turkey Nests (which are like small dams) and then fed through to cattle troughs; big containers in which water is stored and the livestock drink out of. Turkey Nests are filled to a certain level which needs to be monitored ensuring no overflow, otherwise disaster strikes!
Right, onto the next bore as I look out for any fence damage to be fixed along the way.
Dams at this time of year are getting low. Fortunately, nature has been kind up here on the Barkly Tableland unlike most of Queensland. Cattle are in good shape, strong with little chance of bogging. Sometimes cattle get themselves bogged if there is enough water on the road which means the cattle can perish. Not a sight I like to see during my travels!
Sometimes I think the younger members of staff think the Bore Runner’s job is mundane and repetitive. I’ve got other thoughts on the matter . . . plus I’m past the age of falling off horses and motorbikes so I’m not complaining.
Paul ‘Jonesy’ Jones, our Lake Nash Bore Runner.
I take great delight in looking at the cattle grazing, watching baby calves frolic and cut capers, gazing at the Brolgas dancing and the Frill Neck lizards scurrying away or propping themselves up on fence posts. Sometimes it’s the simplest things in life that gives you the greatest pleasure. There’s a fair few of those simple pleasures up here in the Top End!
Inspecting fat and happy ultra-blacks grazing at No 4 Bore.
Well it’s 5pm and I’m back home. Kick off me boots, rehydrate over a couple of beers, enjoy another great feed, have a yarn with the team, wonderful! Wouldn’t be dead for quids!