NATURE’S SYMPHONY

I’M IN THE side-by-side with my husband, Alex, and I’m grumbling.

The tyres are spinning and the engine is revving, but we’re not going anywhere. We’re bogged.

We get out of the unmoving vehicle and admire Alex’s handiwork: we watch as the merino ewes we’re mustering continue their journey from paddock to laneway. The dogs have stopped halfway between us and the ewes. Ears perked, they’re curious as to why they hear no further commands or the sound of our engine idling in low gear. The ewes, however, are oblivious to the muddy scenario behind them. They march towards the open gate that will take them onto the laneway and towards a new paddock that is ripe for the picking.

I stand there exasperated, in hope that a solution will appear before our eyes. I’m clearly in a state of denial. With no phone reception and roughly five kilometres of laneway ahead of us, I know the only option is to do this muster on foot. The ewes need to be moved and we also need to get home… somehow.

Alex quickly accepts his fate and strides onwards, advancing towards the ewes and whistling to the dogs to proceed with their assignment. I follow, accepting that my mile-long list of things I had planned for this day will have to wait.

I’m relieved that the weather is kind to us as we amble along the laneway.

I could easily remove myself from the long walk home by putting in my earphones and pressing play on one of my downloaded playlists. But there’s music being played for me already. It’s nature’s own symphony and it’s being livestreamed for my enjoyment. There’s a magpie singing a loud and melodious carolling call. I can picture him in one of the ironbark trees that take their graceful place in our paddocks. Frogs hidden from sight sing a chorus of creaks and croaks. The sound envelops us and distracts the youngest of our working dogs, Squid.

The heavy panting of our other two working dogs, Jiggy the short-haired border collie and Indie the kelpie, create a beat as they loyally trail behind Alex, whose breathing I can also hear. He sets a steady pace, and our steps are aligned. Together our boots make a one-two-one-two tune of their own. I can hear the low rumblings of an aeroplane, soaring above. It will most likely be the Sydney to Adelaide, our one connection to the city. Up ahead, the plodding steps of hooves on firm ground maintain a steady tempo.

Nature serenades me for a good half hour, until the glorious piece I was listening to changes in rhythm — a syncopation. The ewes have arrived at their paddock. We’re no longer pushing them from behind, but they’d prefer to get as far away from us as possible. That means crossing the creek that courses through their enclosure. It’s only a narrow trickle, but there is water in it.

My symphony shifts to a concerto, and it increases in tempo as, one by one, then two by two, the ewes cross over the creek, funnelling through the narrow passageway they’ve chosen before splaying out on the other side and finally relaxing. They toddle off, neither at a canter nor a walk. It’s a sort of happy rondo. They’re relieved to be off the laneway and away from their human and canine conductors.

As Alex and I continue our stroll home, I reflect on how much I have enjoyed this unexpected mid-morning walk. Nature’s symphony was cathartic; the to-do list, for a time, forgotten. Maybe I should go and get bogged more often.

Alexandra MacAlpine lives on Parkwood, a sheep and grazing property in the Central West of New South Wales. Follow Graziher on Instagram to see her ‘Thoughts on a Laneway’ reels.