Barbecue With Bulls

It was quite a day, even given what a
cold commencement at 7:20 am can
engender, the trees were easy to saw
and load. Money and Podge attended,
working dogs to the last tick although
they expended little sweat in role-play.
By 12:30 with rising heat most of the
dead wood was relocated; piled neat
in a fire place ready for conflagration.

The fire was a great success if I may
be the one to say so, a burgeoning
breeze bathed the scene and flames
quickly gained hold. Some good wood
I observed - she suggested with less
trepidation now it was underway safely
that a barbecue was a possibility - but
maybe later in the day. Jokes about a
Rural Fire Service investigation paled.

Amazingly we had already decided on
sausages for tea, grilled I guess with
potatoes baked in their jackets and a
tropical fruit salad, but its Queensland
where the best meals are by firelight
and there the comparison ends. So we
had a beer in hand while the potatoes
baked and the sausages grilled on the
garden rake over still-glowing coals. 

Then the cattle came. Six bulls, Bos
indicus (Brahman crosses) who grazed
the paddock, attended to add dignity
to the gathering. 'Gidday', Money, a
Boxer said while Podge, Jack Russell,
had to express his fear that the gate
crasher bastards didn't bring any beer
with 'em and therefore shouldn't be
welcome; but they stayed anyway.

And thus the evening ended. The bulls
played congenial hosts around a BBQ
fire-place in the field with an aplomb
way in excess of party animals they
had contagious capacity to be. And it
did leave me wondering as th' Sheilah
'n me walked back to the house. They
were great company weren't they, I
observed - and she heartily agreed.
© 18 August 2010, I. D. Carswell