The Day it Nearly All Ended
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It’s a tough life but the pay is usually better than a stockman’s wage and if you are suited to this type of work, far more exciting. There is no exact text book method for throwing wild cattle and a good man will take any micky (wild bull) in any situation and make a job of it.
When stockmen go out to clean up a paddock, they will generally attempt to muster the majority of cattle in one wide sweep. Any cattle they can’t get in the mob (herd) or any cattle that break from the mob would be thrown and tied. The stockmen would then go back with the coachers (quieter cattle that are easier to handle) and pick up all the tied down cattle.
When there are only scattered cattle left in a paddock, usually bulls or piker bullocks (old bullocks), the stockmen would go out specifically to throw and tie whatever they come across. Armed with 5 or 6 bull tying straps and some short length of twisted green hide rope or chain, this is the day they have been saving their best horse for. In some cases, if cattle were left tied down overnight, a lot of the older cattle, especially piker bullocks will quit and die so for that reason they are left standing while tied to a tree.
A young tree with a little play is best as it is easier on the ropes and the micky’s head while he still thinks he can pull it out of the ground. If there are a few men handy, one method to move the micky to the tree is to tie a length of rope around his head or horns (if the horns haven’t been cut off right at the head) and another rope to his hind leg. With a man on each rope and a man on the tail the micky is then let up off the ground. The micky will try to hook the man on the head rope and fight but the man can usually get good enough control over the micky to steer him over to a tree.
The man on the head rope then takes a wrap around the tree and the micky is manoeuvred towards it until his is close enough to be tied short. The micky is then thrown beside the tree so he can be secured by his head to the tree with a chain or rope. For this procedure, the hind leg rope is taken underneath to the opposite side and pulled while the man on the tail pulls in the other direction.
I feel that I must point out that there are many variations of styles in scrubber running as there are men doing it and limited only by their imagination. Most men when running cattle will work in pairs but there are occasions when they will find themselves on their own.
There are also those unnerving times when a micky will swap ends (stop and turn around when being chased) before a stockman has gotten off his horse and this is the moment to truth and the ultimate test for any scrubber runner.
It is hard to image why a presumable sane man would risk his life against a formidable foe in the scrub all alone where he experiences no accolades from an appreciative crowd.
First of all, from hard riding every day the stockman is as tough as any professional athlete.
When you are engulfed in the excitement of the moment and the men with you eat and sleep scrubber running, it just becomes something you mentally except as a normal part of life.
"You don’t need to be mad but it helps" applies to this occupation perfectly. Before I get into the story, I would like to explain the use of dogs on wild cattle. Some men stand by dogs as a must where others will say that they are more trouble than they are worth. Both styles have their good and bad points so let me explain their use a little. First, try to imagine the dogs I am talking about.
Always cross bred and will include a lot of bull terrier along with anything else that was hanging around the homestead at the time when the bitch came in season. Consequently, they were big mongrel bred dogs that liked to fight and invariable have no sheep herding skills what-so-ever.
A barking dog working cattle is definitely out for any good stockman. As soon as wild cattle hear a dog barking the cattle disappear into the scrub and also the dogs usually only bark because of frustration or an inability to do their job properly. When a stockman lets a tied down micky bull loose or a micky breaks out of the mob, a pack of hard-biting dogs are an ideal way of convincing the micky to go back into the mob of cattle for safety.
A small pack of dogs can stop and hold a micky and I have even seen one dog who could pull mickys down on his own. He would grab them by the back leg about one foot below the tail and hold on while they spun around in an effort to get him off. Eventually they would fall down and he would just lay there holding them until a stockman came along to tie the micky. He was a rare dog indeed and there were very few dogs that had his talent.
Another bad point with dogs is when you grab a scrubber by the tail, you want him to come around to try and hook you so you can throw him but if the dogs are hanging off his face, his mind will be taken off the bloke (like guy or man) on his tail and his only concern will be fighting the dogs which will make him hard to throw, but not impossible.
If you work with dogs or not, it usually depends on where you learnt to throw cattle and who you worked with when you were young. The dog in this particular story is called Caesar and he is an old bull terrier cross . . . of course. Most of his teeth were missing and he walked a little rickety from hanging on to the fighting end of bulls for too many years.
He was a good dog but because of his infirmities he had started to yap (bark) a little in frustration. This day Des decided to leave Caesar tied up back in the mustering camp with some of the other younger dogs. Des and five other men had a contract running cleanskins in the vicinity of Lake Salvador which is now part of the Carnavon National Park near Springsure, Queensland.
They were paid so much for every head caught, to be split up evenly amongst themselves. Each man was responsible for his own string of 10 horses and all work and expenses were shared evenly. Late one evening they were all riding back to the camp with about thirty head of cattle when Des as one of the younger stockmen was elected to go ahead to start cooking dinner.
Des carries the story on:
"I was getting near the camp when I ran across about twenty head of cattle a short way up the side of a hill. They had already seen me and started to trot off. I decided that the opportunity was too good to miss so I started out after them. I never pushed them hard to start with because being fresh they would have just split up and I wouldn’t have had a chance of getting too many.
I followed them for awhile to run them out a little and then I picked one and upped (raced after) him. The first one I threw was a micky bull and the next was about a six year old cow.
I was pretty close to the camp and on hearing the commotion all the dogs started howling on their chains. By this time the mob had split up pretty well so I was looking to tie the first beast I came across. The next one was a cow and I only bulged (chased her fast) her a short distance before I threw and tied her. I had just finished tying her back legs when for some reason I looked up. There, not standing forty feet away from me was a big and I mean big speary horned bull just staring down at me.
Scrub bulls always seem to hold their heads high and look down their faces at you with an evil look in their eyes and this one was no exception. He still had his horns so he obviously had never been thrown before this day. It took me a couple of seconds to realise what was going on as this is a situation that very rarely arises. Bulls don’t generally wait around to see what is happening.
I slowly stepped the short distance to my horse and as soon as I hit the saddle the bull had turned and bolted (ran off). I was riding Whistler, one of my best horses and in a short distance was right on the bull’s tail. The next minute the bull swapped ends and stood his ground defiantly. The bull was still pretty fresh and because he wanted to fight so soon I figured that he had been at least run (chased) before. If I wasn’t sure then about his previous experience, the next few seconds left me with no doubt what-so-ever.
I bailed off my horse and ran to the nearest tree as this was where I intended to fight him from. It was a forky tree, the kind I prefer when fighting bulls as it is wider than a normal tree and I could see through the middle. The bull came at the tree and so far I was still in control of the situation. My intention was to step around the tree as he came one side and grab him by the tail. I’d done this a thousand times before and I was still feeling pretty fit after tying the first three cleanskins. The bull went to go one side of the tree and I quickly moved to the other side. Whoosh, the bull was there almost before I was and he was bellowing and very determined.
Back to the other side I quickly moved but he appeared to know this game as well as I did.
His unusual speed and the realisation that the bull was thinking ahead of me hit me all at once. Not that I could do much about it at the time but all of a sudden I felt like the prey and he was the predator. He was getting his head low and snaking around the tree with those horns leading the way. Each time he came he was able to get me further and further away from the tree. He finally got me that far off the tree that I knew the next time he swapped sides he was coming all the way and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Just as the bull came around for the last time old Caesar came out of nowhere and grabbed the bull by the nose. The bull threw his head in the air but Caesar hung on for grim death with his last remaining teeth. I could hear him growling while the bull was bellowing even louder. The sudden attack of the dog was enough to take the bulls concentration off me and gave me a slim opportunity to get behind him and grab his tail. I was able to get his attention just enough to encourage him to charge at me and then I was able to pull him down. After the short violent battle I had the bull on the ground with his hind legs tied.
It took me a few minutes to digest what had just happened and then I called Caesar over who was laying under the shade of the tree trying to get his breath back. Caesar had a lot of blood around his mouth and a look of triumph on his face that he rightfully deserved.
I gave him the biggest hug and I think it shocked him at first as he had never been show that much attention before. He soon got used to it though. I could tell by the short length of chain hanging from Caesar’s collar that he had broken his chain in the excitement and had come looking for me.
To the displeasure of my horse, I lifted Caesar onto the pommel (front of saddle) of my saddle and carried him back to the camp like a returning hero because on that day he was my best mate for sure. By the time I got back the other stockmen had already arrived and had started the fire and dinner. On seeing me with the dog on the saddle they had a few forgettable remarks and asked me what I had been up to."
Old Caesar has long gone now but you can bet that he was the first dog to get the scraps from Des’ plate that night. Des still does a little contract scrubber running nowadays but mostly he runs his own somewhat quieter cattle on his own cattle station near Warwick, Queensland. Over the years he has contested in the pro rodeo circuit in Australia and America and in 1973 he won the Australian steer wrestling title. Strangely enough Des is better known for his steer wrestling prowess than his ability as a scrubber runner as most people don’t really appreciate the skill it takes to run wild cattle.
Scrubber runners have received little notoriety, even in the cattle industry but like most silent achievers, what pushed them the most come from the inside and not the outside.
Click on photos below for larger views.
When stockmen go out to clean up a paddock, they will generally attempt to muster the majority of cattle in one wide sweep. Any cattle they can’t get in the mob (herd) or any cattle that break from the mob would be thrown and tied. The stockmen would then go back with the coachers (quieter cattle that are easier to handle) and pick up all the tied down cattle.
When there are only scattered cattle left in a paddock, usually bulls or piker bullocks (old bullocks), the stockmen would go out specifically to throw and tie whatever they come across. Armed with 5 or 6 bull tying straps and some short length of twisted green hide rope or chain, this is the day they have been saving their best horse for. In some cases, if cattle were left tied down overnight, a lot of the older cattle, especially piker bullocks will quit and die so for that reason they are left standing while tied to a tree.
A young tree with a little play is best as it is easier on the ropes and the micky’s head while he still thinks he can pull it out of the ground. If there are a few men handy, one method to move the micky to the tree is to tie a length of rope around his head or horns (if the horns haven’t been cut off right at the head) and another rope to his hind leg. With a man on each rope and a man on the tail the micky is then let up off the ground. The micky will try to hook the man on the head rope and fight but the man can usually get good enough control over the micky to steer him over to a tree.
The man on the head rope then takes a wrap around the tree and the micky is manoeuvred towards it until his is close enough to be tied short. The micky is then thrown beside the tree so he can be secured by his head to the tree with a chain or rope. For this procedure, the hind leg rope is taken underneath to the opposite side and pulled while the man on the tail pulls in the other direction.
I feel that I must point out that there are many variations of styles in scrubber running as there are men doing it and limited only by their imagination. Most men when running cattle will work in pairs but there are occasions when they will find themselves on their own.
There are also those unnerving times when a micky will swap ends (stop and turn around when being chased) before a stockman has gotten off his horse and this is the moment to truth and the ultimate test for any scrubber runner.
It is hard to image why a presumable sane man would risk his life against a formidable foe in the scrub all alone where he experiences no accolades from an appreciative crowd.
First of all, from hard riding every day the stockman is as tough as any professional athlete.
When you are engulfed in the excitement of the moment and the men with you eat and sleep scrubber running, it just becomes something you mentally except as a normal part of life.
"You don’t need to be mad but it helps" applies to this occupation perfectly. Before I get into the story, I would like to explain the use of dogs on wild cattle. Some men stand by dogs as a must where others will say that they are more trouble than they are worth. Both styles have their good and bad points so let me explain their use a little. First, try to imagine the dogs I am talking about.
Always cross bred and will include a lot of bull terrier along with anything else that was hanging around the homestead at the time when the bitch came in season. Consequently, they were big mongrel bred dogs that liked to fight and invariable have no sheep herding skills what-so-ever.
A barking dog working cattle is definitely out for any good stockman. As soon as wild cattle hear a dog barking the cattle disappear into the scrub and also the dogs usually only bark because of frustration or an inability to do their job properly. When a stockman lets a tied down micky bull loose or a micky breaks out of the mob, a pack of hard-biting dogs are an ideal way of convincing the micky to go back into the mob of cattle for safety.
A small pack of dogs can stop and hold a micky and I have even seen one dog who could pull mickys down on his own. He would grab them by the back leg about one foot below the tail and hold on while they spun around in an effort to get him off. Eventually they would fall down and he would just lay there holding them until a stockman came along to tie the micky. He was a rare dog indeed and there were very few dogs that had his talent.
Another bad point with dogs is when you grab a scrubber by the tail, you want him to come around to try and hook you so you can throw him but if the dogs are hanging off his face, his mind will be taken off the bloke (like guy or man) on his tail and his only concern will be fighting the dogs which will make him hard to throw, but not impossible.
If you work with dogs or not, it usually depends on where you learnt to throw cattle and who you worked with when you were young. The dog in this particular story is called Caesar and he is an old bull terrier cross . . . of course. Most of his teeth were missing and he walked a little rickety from hanging on to the fighting end of bulls for too many years.
He was a good dog but because of his infirmities he had started to yap (bark) a little in frustration. This day Des decided to leave Caesar tied up back in the mustering camp with some of the other younger dogs. Des and five other men had a contract running cleanskins in the vicinity of Lake Salvador which is now part of the Carnavon National Park near Springsure, Queensland.
They were paid so much for every head caught, to be split up evenly amongst themselves. Each man was responsible for his own string of 10 horses and all work and expenses were shared evenly. Late one evening they were all riding back to the camp with about thirty head of cattle when Des as one of the younger stockmen was elected to go ahead to start cooking dinner.
Des carries the story on:
"I was getting near the camp when I ran across about twenty head of cattle a short way up the side of a hill. They had already seen me and started to trot off. I decided that the opportunity was too good to miss so I started out after them. I never pushed them hard to start with because being fresh they would have just split up and I wouldn’t have had a chance of getting too many.
I followed them for awhile to run them out a little and then I picked one and upped (raced after) him. The first one I threw was a micky bull and the next was about a six year old cow.
I was pretty close to the camp and on hearing the commotion all the dogs started howling on their chains. By this time the mob had split up pretty well so I was looking to tie the first beast I came across. The next one was a cow and I only bulged (chased her fast) her a short distance before I threw and tied her. I had just finished tying her back legs when for some reason I looked up. There, not standing forty feet away from me was a big and I mean big speary horned bull just staring down at me.
Scrub bulls always seem to hold their heads high and look down their faces at you with an evil look in their eyes and this one was no exception. He still had his horns so he obviously had never been thrown before this day. It took me a couple of seconds to realise what was going on as this is a situation that very rarely arises. Bulls don’t generally wait around to see what is happening.
I slowly stepped the short distance to my horse and as soon as I hit the saddle the bull had turned and bolted (ran off). I was riding Whistler, one of my best horses and in a short distance was right on the bull’s tail. The next minute the bull swapped ends and stood his ground defiantly. The bull was still pretty fresh and because he wanted to fight so soon I figured that he had been at least run (chased) before. If I wasn’t sure then about his previous experience, the next few seconds left me with no doubt what-so-ever.
I bailed off my horse and ran to the nearest tree as this was where I intended to fight him from. It was a forky tree, the kind I prefer when fighting bulls as it is wider than a normal tree and I could see through the middle. The bull came at the tree and so far I was still in control of the situation. My intention was to step around the tree as he came one side and grab him by the tail. I’d done this a thousand times before and I was still feeling pretty fit after tying the first three cleanskins. The bull went to go one side of the tree and I quickly moved to the other side. Whoosh, the bull was there almost before I was and he was bellowing and very determined.
Back to the other side I quickly moved but he appeared to know this game as well as I did.
His unusual speed and the realisation that the bull was thinking ahead of me hit me all at once. Not that I could do much about it at the time but all of a sudden I felt like the prey and he was the predator. He was getting his head low and snaking around the tree with those horns leading the way. Each time he came he was able to get me further and further away from the tree. He finally got me that far off the tree that I knew the next time he swapped sides he was coming all the way and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Just as the bull came around for the last time old Caesar came out of nowhere and grabbed the bull by the nose. The bull threw his head in the air but Caesar hung on for grim death with his last remaining teeth. I could hear him growling while the bull was bellowing even louder. The sudden attack of the dog was enough to take the bulls concentration off me and gave me a slim opportunity to get behind him and grab his tail. I was able to get his attention just enough to encourage him to charge at me and then I was able to pull him down. After the short violent battle I had the bull on the ground with his hind legs tied.
It took me a few minutes to digest what had just happened and then I called Caesar over who was laying under the shade of the tree trying to get his breath back. Caesar had a lot of blood around his mouth and a look of triumph on his face that he rightfully deserved.
I gave him the biggest hug and I think it shocked him at first as he had never been show that much attention before. He soon got used to it though. I could tell by the short length of chain hanging from Caesar’s collar that he had broken his chain in the excitement and had come looking for me.
To the displeasure of my horse, I lifted Caesar onto the pommel (front of saddle) of my saddle and carried him back to the camp like a returning hero because on that day he was my best mate for sure. By the time I got back the other stockmen had already arrived and had started the fire and dinner. On seeing me with the dog on the saddle they had a few forgettable remarks and asked me what I had been up to."
Old Caesar has long gone now but you can bet that he was the first dog to get the scraps from Des’ plate that night. Des still does a little contract scrubber running nowadays but mostly he runs his own somewhat quieter cattle on his own cattle station near Warwick, Queensland. Over the years he has contested in the pro rodeo circuit in Australia and America and in 1973 he won the Australian steer wrestling title. Strangely enough Des is better known for his steer wrestling prowess than his ability as a scrubber runner as most people don’t really appreciate the skill it takes to run wild cattle.
Scrubber runners have received little notoriety, even in the cattle industry but like most silent achievers, what pushed them the most come from the inside and not the outside.
Click on photos below for larger views.
