Narrative 4- dogs and rabbits

“Did I tell you what Jock did this morning?”

Uncle Jim looked up from his book, readjusting his eyes, first to Auntie Carole, then towards Jock.

“What?”

“He caught a mouse. Quite a big one actually, and brought it into the kitchen to show me.”

I scanned the kitchen to see whether I could make out any remains of a mouse that had met with an untimely demise between the jaws of a playful sheepdog.

“Bout time he caught something.” Replied Uncle Jim, returning back to his paper.

“Yes, but when I said ‘good boy’ he thought he had done something wrong and let the thing go.”

I imagined the mouse, bloodied but alive, racing towards an open cupboard, or the door, having escaped certain death. He is probably holding caught back in the den as he retells his great escape to those around him.

“And as if by an act of God, the beast released me from it’s grip. I had not a moment to lose, and although terribly injured, I knew the only chance of escape was to race towards door number 6. I didn’t look back, but sensed the beasts presence still. Finally, I made it to safety, where Felix was the first to find me, close to death.”

I wondered whether mice give out bravery awards.

“Let the thing go?” Uncle Jim looked down at Jock, who was sleeping peacefully on his rug. “Stupid dog!”

“Maybe.” Auntie Carole went on, “ but he must have thought he was doing the wrong thing. When you go shooting tonight,  if he catches a rabbit, just don’t congratulate him. He’ll probably let it go.”

“Let a rabbit go?” Uncle Jim placed the paper down on the table. “What kind of a dog would let a rabbit go? There’s no way any dog would let go of a proper rabbit. No way.” Uncle Jim sat back and chuckled to himself. Auntie Carole got out of her chair, ruffling my hair as she made her way outside to collect the washing.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As soon as the dinner plates were clean, we all made our way out to the ute. I had a spring in my step as Uncle Jim had said I could run the spotty. It was my job to watch for any roos or rabbits and then train the spotty in their direction as Uncle Jim went for the shot. Standing at the back of the ute as the sun set, heading out towards the back dam, where Uncle Jim had seen a lot of evidence of kangaroos over the last week, I knew that the job ahead of me was an important one. It required a steady hand, even when the ute raced across the paddocks at break neck speed, bouncing along in pursuit of one of Australia’s national emblems. I was too young to suffer the fate of my older cousin, Kent, who one night was messing around too much with the spotty, so when he jumped out to open a gate, Dad drove off without him, leaving him holding the gate in darkness as the tail lights of the ute disappeared into the distance. Yet, making a mistake would certainly mean a dose of teasing from Kent.

So I held on tight, with Uncle Jim poised with the shotgun ready, Jock racing around the tray of the ute in a frenzy, and Kent driving.  It wan’t long before we saw our first roo. After a short chase, the roos dipped under a fence, turning ninety degrees, and made the safety of an outcrop of bush.

One escape.

Moving to the back dam paddock, we spotted three roos, standing proudly, wondering what all the noise was about. It took a matter of seconds for them to realize that the strange sounding light heading straight for them was bad news. They bolted, flying across the paddock at break neck speed. We were in hot pursuit and my arms ached as I tried to keep the spotty on them as we bounced along. Uncle Jim fired.

“Dam!”

He fired again.

“Bugger!”

The roos thought separating was the best strategy and darted off in different directions.

Our chance had passed.

The evening went on in a similar way. In total, we spotted about 17 roos.

Uncle Jim shot none.

We were heading back to the house empty handed. My arms were tired from keeping the spotty on target all night. I began to think about the kangaroo tail stew we wouldn’t be having tomorrow night.

If I was a bit down, Uncle Jim has depressed. He had had a bad night. Even clear shots had gone astray. The funny comments from Kent in the drivers seat about his eyesight had not helped to improve his mood!

“Let’s check O’Neil’s paddock.” Uncle Jim called out.

O’Neil’s paddock lay on the outskirts of rabbit warren. It was like a massive rabbit city. My brothers, cousins and I would spend hours out there, thinking up ways we could destroy the whole rabbit civilization. We had been banned from going there after we caught a rabbit and tied some firecrackers to him. The idea was that he would run down the closest hole and blow up the whole city. Unfortunately, when Kent released him, he decided that the safest place to be was underneath the ute. The seconds before the firecrackers went off seemed to go for ages as I imagined the walk home, trying to come up with an explanation as to why Uncle Jim’s ute had been blown up. Luckily for us, there was no damage, apart from the rabbit whose suicide mission, although heroic, was doomed to fail.

So we slowly made our way out to O’Neil’s. The night air was starting to gather a chill and I pulled my sleeves over my hands.

Kent parked between the start of the warren and an outcrop of bush which was perched on a slight rise. As we approached, about 5 rabbits had been caught in no mans land, between the safety of home and the relative safety of the outcrop. They stood silent and motionless. I trained the spotty on the two closest to the ute. As if they had whispered a countdown to each other, they both simultaneously made a hop for it towards the outcrop. Uncle Jim fired. He fired again. Still the two rabbits hopped along. Another shot.

“Dam!” Uncle Jim was having a very bad night.

“Kent, move up to the bush” Uncle Jim ordered. We made our way to about 15 metres from where the rabbits had found refuge.

“Come on Kent.” Uncle Jim jumped off the back of the ute, rifle in hand. “ Just keep the spotty on where you can hear us. Come on Jock.”

The three of them moved into the bush. All I could see where the trees and bush in front of me. I concentrated hard as I tried to keep the light on the sounds of leaves breaking underfoot. There was silence. The spot light shimmered through the dust. I strained to hear any movement.

“There she is. Get it boy!”

The crack of broken sticks and scurrying of paws pierced the air.

Silence.

“Good boy. You got im. Good boy Jock.”

I thought  I heard a scurrying of paws. Smaller ones.

“You STUPID DOG! YOU STUPID DOG!!”

From the bush I heard Kent’s unique laughter, as Jock came slowly back towards the ute, tail between his legs, head down.

Kent was still laughing when he appeared from inside the thick bush, followed a few steps behind by a now completely dejected Uncle Jim, who seemed to be mumbling to himself. Jock had by now jumped up next to me, and on seeing Uncle Jim, attempted to make himself curl up into the smallest ball he could. I gave him a reassuring pat.

“I can’t believe a dog would let go of a rabbit! You ever seen that before dad?” Kent asked. I had a suspicion that he had also heard his mum’s warning to Uncle Jim.

“That’s a night I reckon boys.” Uncle Jim responded, ignoring the question as he opened up the passenger door and sat in the cab. Kent turned the ignition and we were off, back to the homestead with nothing but a miserable dog and an even more miserable uncle.

As the cool night air raced across my face, I shone the spotty up towards the stars, seeing how far the beam of light would travel until it was swallowed by the universe. I was pretty certain Uncle Jim wasn’t going to leave me by a gate tonight, he was too upset to care. And even if he did, I had some bargaining power on my side. If Aunty Carole found out what just happened, he would never live it down.

My teeth began to chatter as a broad smile spread across my face.