Farm Tales - 2. FT Chapter 2 - George

On occasions, I like to grab my sketch book and pencils and go out for a walks somewhere on the farm to do some landscape sketching. One weekend when I was home from boarding school, with it being a very nice day and I had no chores to do, I grabbed my sketch book and pencils and headed out of the house, with no set destination in mind.

I ended up going into the paddock just up from the shearing shed, which our family know as the Whether and Bull paddock, where all a mob a sheep and some Beef bulls are kept. I was not concerned about the bulls at all, as they are fairly docile animals, even if they do weigh over a tonne or more.

I entered this paddock, because it has a great view of the side of the hill which is on our property, so once I found a good spot to sketch under a shady tree, I began to do the outlines of my first sketch, and it was only about fifteen minutes later, when our old pet Ram – George appeared.

Obviously wanting a good scratch behind his ears, which he has always enjoyed, as he stopped right in front of me, blocking my view of the hill, so I put the sketch pad down and gave him what he wanted, as he lowered his head to allow me to give him his ear scratches.

After about a minute, George turned and headed towards a nearby clump of trees, which we have plenty of on our farm, as my father and grandfather before him always kept plenty of trees in each paddock to allow plenty of shade for the stock for the hot summers that we experience.

George stopped about half way to the next clump, looked back at me, and waited until I stood up and started to walk towards him, as I wondered if he was showing me something, or maybe playing a game of "Follow the Leader".

When I was halfway from between the tree where I started and where George stood, he continued to walk, this time changing directions towards another clump of trees, where he waited in the shade until I had almost reached him, before once again setting off in another direction.

I laughed at this, as he was not usually this playful, as I continued to follow him for a few more minutes, as he continued to wait for me to nearly catch up before heading off in another direction. Once I had started to grow tired of this game, I headed back to the tree where I had left my sketch pad, and I sat down and continued to sketch.

When George reappeared a short while later, he stopped right in front of me, stare at me for a few moments, to say he was not impressed with me for leaving the game, before bending down and grabbing the pad with his teeth, he yanked at it, tearing the page that I was sketching, before walking off towards the middle of the paddock, not stopping or looking back at me, to say that he was not happy with me at all.

I just sat there, stunned, that George had ripped my sketch pad, just because I refused to play his silly game of follow the leader around the paddock, and realising that I would not be seeing him again, I packed up and headed back to the house.

At lunch time I told my parents of what had happened in the paddock with George, and at first they did not believe me, but on showing them the sketch pad, with clear teeth marks on it, they had to wonder…