Summertime pigs

Sometimes an unplanned trip can turn out to be the best one, especially during the later parts of the dry season. It was hot as only the end of the dry season in the lower Cape York area can be. Temperatures were hovering over the 40C mark, more so where the hot winds roasted the bare plains. The station dams were drying out and surrounded by hungry Brahma cattle, bellowing pitifully and literally dying on their feet. They were poor and skinny with only Stocklick, a food and mineral supplement, to sustain them. It keeps them alive until welcome rains blanket the land and green the grasses.

My old mate Wayne and I had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to go pig hunting, even though commonsense dictated otherwise. Still, it was a dry heat as there were no signs of the wet in the shimmering sky that had turned almost white under the onslaught