ABPA — The Australian Bush Poets Association Inc.

Remembering Blue

© Irene Dalgety Timpone

Winner, 2024 Betty Olle Award, Kyabram Victoria.

Remembered scenes come back to me like slides upon a screen,
reminding me of all that I have loved, and lost, and seen.
Tonight, with teary eyes, I view, from times now long gone by,
three silhouetted figures set against a sunset sky.
A slender girl sits tall astride a well-bred Quarter Horse,
and trailing both, alert and proud, her cattle dog – of course.
A hard day’s work behind them, they deserved a sound night’s rest,
as well as satisfaction with the work they each did best…

They made a splendid working team, my sister Nan and Blue:
Chiquita Lass, the cutting horse, was proud to join them, too.
For sixteen years, they worked with cattle, striving for Nan’s goals –
to raise top-breeds of cattle, also well-trained cutting foals.
This team of three had mustered herds so many times before.
Between them, they had boundless knowledge, offered skills galore.
They each knew all the lanes and paddocks, every hill and dale,
and when it came to routing stragglers, Blue would never fail.

Blue barely needed guidance – could have mustered on her own.
If not for gates and crossings, she’d have managed all alone;
but Blue was at her happiest when working with the ‘team’,
the three of them, together, with no straining at the seam.
Nan never left the saddle: horse and rider worked as one
when handling gates or tailing cattle, all work to be done;
and Blue was always there, a shifting shadow at their feet,
her movements sure, her courage sound, her love of life complete.

Like most Blue Heelers I have known, Blue had a sense of pride,
an innate knowledge of self-worth that could not be denied.
Adaptable, determined, super-dog of all her kind,
on issues like integrity, she left most folk behind.
Blue saw each day as ‘time to work’. She rarely took a rest
from jumping ‘blue-dog hurdles’, passing every ‘blue-dog’ test.
She saw her life as daily duty, work that must be done –
saw tasks-she-did-not-like as obligations not to shun…

As regular as clockwork, all the cattle would be dipped,
with never too much trouble – only, one day, dear Blue slipped.
While mustering a Brahman herd, about a hundred strong,
unbearable conditions caused the champ to get things wrong.
Dry heat attacked in searing waves, the wind was scorching, too.
The cattle reached the highway crossing: Blue knew what to do.
She held the beasts in calm command, while Nan controlled the gate,
then pushed them forward skilfully – the perfect drover’s mate.

With gates now closed behind the herd, Nan cantered up the hill
to open up the dip-yard while Blue held the cattle still.
Nan stayed beside that final gate to guide the cattle through,
expecting that her trusty hound would do her duty, too.
Nan gave the whistled signal Blue had learned when just a pup,
a sign to stir the cattle and then slowly bring them up;
but not a single movement showed the dog was with the herd.
Nan called; but nothing happened. Blue ignored each single word.

“Just bring them up, Blue! Where are you? Come on! We’re almost done!”
The cattle stamped uneasily beneath the roasting sun.
When due to ease them to the dip, Blue’s timing was all out.
Nan gave a loud, shrill whistle, then another hearty shout.
They’d reached the crucial moments in this routine exercise
when need for deft manoeuvres cancelled any compromise.
Frustration and confusion quickly turned to chilling fear,
Nan cried in desperation, “How could you just disappear?”

With sudden inspiration, Nan then wheeled her horse about
and galloped to the highest point from where she could look out
across the sprawling property, across the reservoir,
in hope of sighting Blue, at last. She couldn’t have gone far.
Chiquita Lass surged quickly up a rough and stony rise
and then, in shock and disbelief, Nan saw, before her eyes,
a face, all grey, and two black ears, drifting to and fro –
beneath the water, legs that moved as fast as they could go.

Nan felt a surge of anger. She had thought Blue might have died;
but anger turned to laughter when she saw the funny side.
“You cheeky girl! No time to swim! Your work is still not done.
When you have brought the cattle up, we’ll come back here – for fun.”
Then Blue took off, at sizzling pace, to do her very best:
she set the front lines moving then she winged and tailed the rest.
In minutes, all was back on track, the herd held close and fast,
enclosed within the dip-yard – then Nan closed that gate, at last.

Blue soon resumed her laps: the horse and rider cooled and drank;
and finally, they left the dam to rest upon the bank.
Blue snuggled up beside her ‘Mum’, head hung as if in shame.
“Hey, lift your chin. You’re still the best! Oh, Blue, you’re not to blame.”
Nan’s eyes gazed steadily in Blue’s. “Don’t let this get you down.
Just look at me. I’m smiling. I can’t see a need to frown.
We had to do too much today, in record-breaking heat;
but we came through, the team of three, there’s nothing gets us beat.”

My sister Nan and much-loved Blue, shared happiness and tears.
They worked together, played together, more than eighteen years.
One fateful day, last Summer, Blue went peacefully to sleep.
We knew there would be no return – her slumber was too deep.
This was to be expected – signs had shown in Blue’s dim gaze:
we sadly watched and waited with her through those final days.
Nan chose, for Blue’s eternal rest, her favourite ‘watch-dog’ place.
Each day, the golden hush of evening gleams a warm embrace.

Six months have passed since Blue was here to greet each dawning day,
and George has joined the working team; but still gets in the way
while struggling to be useful. Nan just shakes her head and sighs:
“He’ll never be another Blue; but, truth be said, he tries…”
Tonight, I view, with teary eyes, from times now long gone by,
three silhouetted figures set against a sunset sky.
A slender woman sits astride Chiquita Lass, her horse,
and trailing both, Nan’s best dog, Blue, a cattle dog – of course.


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