Author Topic: Short Story : Chapter from book "Love From The Wild"  (Read 753 times)

Offline cruising granny

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Short Story : Chapter from book "Love From The Wild"
« on: February 20, 2010, 05:45:46 AM »
PADDOCK PALS

They were an odd couple, but inseparable.  They’d grown up together.  They’d shared the same paddock for most of their young lives.  They’d followed each other around the homestead yard.

They were to eventually cross the grid together to greener pastures.

She was Bonny, a young adolescent donkey, hand fed since she was a few days old after being abandoned by her feral mother.

He was Clyde to his “friends”, a hand raised, orphaned Brahman bull calf.

Now they were apart – not by plan, but perhaps by an act of nature taking its course.

Weighing in at about three hundred kilograms, he had a roving eye for the young heifers outside the compound, on the other side of the grid.

As a young calf, Bonny had endeared herself to the station staff, suckling their fingers, following her favourites, and taking morsels wherever she could get them.  She even helped herself to the scrap bucket, while it was still in the cookhouse.  Very sneaky.

Bonny frolicked with the Head Stockman’s blue heeler, and attempted to play ball with other dogs.  She seriously chased the chooks with ears down, when they dared to peck at “her” discarded scraps.  Aside from all these antics it was her ridiculous “gallop” which managed to bring laughter from any witnesses.

Then she changed.  Without warning she turned on those she had endeared, and would swing a hind leg in the direction of an unwary thigh.  Ouch!  The resulting bruises resembled an imprint of the hoof which inflicted them.

In the beginning Bonny was bigger than Clyde, but after the first year, that also changed.

Clyde was a very affectionate young bull, but it was difficult to not be intimidated by the snorting, hard-headed, hungry bull chasing the chook bucket full of layers pellets. I couldn’t blame him.  It looked like his own food and the bucket in which they were delivered.

No matter how affectionate he was, no one could be “bullied” into handing over the bucket until the chooks had been fed. 

After feeding the chooks, Bonny took advantage of Clyde’s chivalry and tenacity in gaining control of the empty bucket which had to be abandoned in the chook house until the two fury, chook shed interlopers lost interest.  Then the eggs could be collected.

Now they were apart.  They no longer grazed their way across the homestead compound together.

Bonny spent the days mooning around the yard nibbling on green grass – head down, ears down and tail down, and those ever-ready hoofs were prepared to kick up and take her mood out on anyone who was within striking distance.

She was pining for Clyde who obviously had more important things to do then to worry about a melancholy donkey.

Her constant braying stirred sympathy for the depressed, debutante donkey.
After two days of Bonny’s pathetic behaviour, one of the station hands headed out to a nearby bore where he found Clyde camping with his cow “girl friends”.

The young “playboy” was herded back to the homestead yard, and reunited with the doting donkey.

Her affection seemed almost maternal, and as big as he was, Clyde appeared to respond to her attention.

The mournful braying stopped, and she once again serenely frolicked around the homestead yard, occasionally lowering her dignified guard to harass an unsuspecting chook.

Clyde just ambled along, grazing by her side. 

From that day on, they went across the grid together to venture into the scrub beyond the homestead compound.
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