EVERY DONKEY HAS ITS DAY

[Maureen K Clifford]

EVERY DONKEY HAS ITS DAY Maureen Clifford © 07/11

He was running alpacas to keep his sheep safe, from wild dogs that prowled round in the night.
Several stately old gentlemen, who kicked and hissed, also chased off his dogs as their right.
But dingoes are cunning and never give in they keep trying again and again.
They’ll continue to circle and worry and chase, till a weak link appears in the chain.
Now donkeys are stubborn or so it is said and they do what they want more or less.
And donkeys it seems are not warrigals friends or friends of the fox I confess.
A donkey was purchased to run with the flock for the farmer thought that she just might
be better at scaring off those hungry dingoes – her bray alone should cause them fright.

And it came to pass on a dark moonless night that the dingo pack thought they might call
for they knew that the flock was down there in the paddock, and alpacas guarded them all.
They were unaware that a new guardian angel was also there watching the flock
and she’d caught their scent on the evening breeze and this brown girl was ready to rock.
The dingoes crept stealthily, silently, soundlessly. Shadows slinking through the night,
in a pincer movement around the small flock with big dogs on the left flank and right.
The plan was to head the flock into the gully which was a natural funnel shape
and though the alpacas might just make a stand – they knew the sheep would not escape.

All was going to plan or so the dingoes thought, and the flock was now panicked and moving.
Alpacas tried vainly to ward of the foe, and a difficult task it was proving.
A harsh sickening cry echoed round gully walls, it assailed ears that could not defend.
The virago of darkness, a four footed warrior upon the wild dogs did descend.
She chased after dingoes, she kicked and she squealed and her aim it was true and was fast
and from out of the depths of her muscular throat came a noise, a loud discordant blast.
She reached with teeth snapping and grabbed by the nape, the dingoes thick hairy brown ruff,
and she shook it with anger and tossed it aside just to prove to them donkeys are tough.

Again and again she attacked the dingoes, the alpacas at last had her measure,
for they also assisted in the battle fought and the sheep were the white gold - the treasure.
The dingoes by now were severely alarmed and retreat seemed to be the best ploy.
Some were bleeding, some bitten, some broken and lame – each one of them her whipping boy.
The valley eventually became quiet, and a sliver of moon shyly peeped
from behind a cloud puff, noted all there was well, just a donkey, alpacas and sheep
quietly grazing below on the succulent grass that grew lush, thick and green near the creek.
The moon bid farewell, and called up Brother Sun – asked the kookaburra now to speak.

Well the kookaburra he just sat there and laughed as the sun rose higher in the sky.
For that was the job of the kookaburra - he told the world the sun was nigh,
but this morning he also had a tale to tell, of a war fought most bravely and won
by one small brown donkey with alpaca mates. He told how the dogs had come undone.
He reminded the donkey the new day was starting and said that the sheep should go back
to the homestead where they would find the farmer waiting. They all headed out on the track.
The donkey she led the quite stately procession – alpacas they bought up the rear.
On the hill, under cover dingoes slyly watched. Licked their wounds and felt tremors of fear.

The farmer soon noticed much to his delight that stock losses were greatly depleted
His lamb count was up, and no carcasses found, seemed the dingo problem was defeated.
He knew that the donkey was what turned the tide and with his neighbours shared his solution.
An extra bonus was his grandkids could ride her – the minus was the noise pollution.
The dingoes weren’t happy; they now had to hunt the wild pig, the wild duck and the roo.
These did not stand placidly waiting for them to come kill them as sheep often do.
They now had to hunt like a wild dingo should. Food was not waiting there every day.
To remind any wild dogs still lurking about – donkey brays ‘stay away, stay away’.

[Neville Briggs]

That's quite a story Maureen. Donkeys are strong animals I wouldn't want to be in their firing line.

[Maureen K Clifford]

It's also a true story Neville - and the donkeys are every bit as good as camels and goats for cleaning out rough country herbage