Friday, 9 March 2012

Full moon and wild dogs

We live along a mountain range that basically goes from Mt Cootha in Brisbane, right up to the Blackall Ranges in the Sunshine Coast and, word is, the wild dogs travel through this area, about 250 dogs in packs of 10 - 20.

My "boyfriends" (according to MOTH) who are brothers aged 89 and 93 have lived on Clear Mountain their whole lives, have a lot of incredibly accurate stories. They still have wild dogs on their place every year (they breed Herefords, aka food source) and those who "help out" regularly around the place shoot the buggers. Their place is less than 1km from our place.

Last week the local fortnightly paper on Friday there was a story warning about a pack of wild dogs in the area.

Last night around 2.40am I heard a noise near the house that I thought was a feral cat. "Great, cat fight", was my first thought. TC (Tough C**t aka Tabby Cat for the kiddies) leapt from the bed and I thought I'd wait for the scrap before donning my superhero cape and rescuing the day (VERY early day). Nothing happened... the Dogues continued to snore louder than MOTH (he was next to me, they were outside on the deck), the donkeys were nowhere to be heard, the chooker moles were tucked away safe in the palace and Moet, of course, was spread across the end of the best as only a princes pussy could be.

Next minute (just before I fell back into a deep sleep) BANG! Dogues were running down the side of the house before they had woken up. Next minute, out the front of the house where the cars are parked near the big gabion wall of C, hell is breaking out. Out I run... (MOTH does not hear a sound - apparently - and continued through it all). Baillie and Roman are going off like pork chops. And there it is, a big fawn brindle wild dog, up on the cleared land, behind the house... not spooked by the torch, my screaming, or the dogs going off. It just stood there. Near my feet was a well mangled marrow bone, far more consumed than my hounds could ever devour. I set them off after it, they responded with zest - the it looked like a couple of trucks chasing a sports car... anyway... Off into the bush they went following the wild dog (of whom they seemed familiar), then I remembered the article in the Village Pump - that's what they do to lure domestics (check) dogs into the bush to the back to kill them. "Bailllieeeeee, Rooomaaaannnnnnn COME!" and OMG - for once in their lives - they did. Very happy with their accomplishment, albeit symbolic. Anyway, they peeed and pooed on everything nearby to confirm their turf and were happy to come back to bed, gate closed behind them. Until... about 2 hours later (shitheads) they started up barking again. I had heard the donkeys snorting and stomping in their stockyard below our bedroom, leading up to this but they can fend for themselves so disregarded it. The wild dog was obviously still around. By 5am I'd had enough of the whining and barking (MOTH was still asleep) and just let them out... sleep depravation is a nasty thing and I have to say, I've had a shit of a week so far.

Woke up at 6am, dogues snoring (again), no wild dogs in site, my dogs have marked (nuggets included) the greater perimeter of the house area and BUGGER, it was time to go to work.

Made it through the day, and tonite the dogues are grounded tonite!

Local word is the packs of wild dogs spend about 10 - 14 days in one spot them move up and down the mountain ranges. So, these guys are only a few more days here (hopefull).

I love a full moon...