It started, as most things do, with a noise. Something large was eating the building. Not near the building. Not investigating the building. Eating it - the slow, rhythmic sound of something very big doing something it absolutely shouldn't.
I lay there running through the options. Possum? No. Too loud. Wombat? Possibly, but it sounded bigger. A deer, I decided, stuck somewhere and dragging its antlers along the wall. I reported this theory to Mark. Mark was unmoved. Mark, in fact, had already gone back to sleep.
So I did what any reasonable person does at 11pm when their husband is being unhelpful — I let one of our dogs, Banjo outside to investigate. Banjo, to his enormous credit, immediately lost his mind. This is the kind of decisive action I needed. He confirmed that something was very wrong out there.
I peeked out the front door and here were our two huge steers on the verandah, looking at me with the completely unearned confidence of animals who believe this is where they belonged. Having been raised as poddy calves, they wanted to come inside. It's pretty easy to get a farmer out of bed when you tell them that the cows are out!
It took to 11:40pm, for everyone to be back where they belonged, in their paddock or in bed. Banjo was extremely pleased with himself for performing actual cattle dog duties. In fact it may actually be his career highlight so far.
