SONG OF THE CATTLE HUNTERS – Henry Kendall
While the morning light beams on the fern-matted streams,
And the water-pools flash in its glow,
Down the ridges we fly, with a loud ringing cry —
Down the ridges and gullies we go!
And the cattle we hunt — they are racing in front,
With a roar like the thunder of waves,
As the beat and the beat of our swift horses’ feet
Start the echoes away from their caves!
As the beat and the beat
Of our swift horses’ feet
Start the echoes away from their caves!
Like a wintry shore that the waters ride o’er,
All the lowlands are filling with sound;
For swiftly we gain where the herds on the plain,
Like a tempest, are tearing the ground!
And we’ll follow them hard to the rails of the yard,
O’er the gulches and mountain-tops grey,
Where the beat and the beat of our swift horses’ feet
Will die with the echoes away!
Where the beat and the beat
Of our swift horses’ feet
Will die with the echoes away!
While this poem depicts the exhilaration of cattle herding in the wilderness of Australia, the rhythm and internal rhymes that mimic the rhythm of the horses’ hooves conjure up for me vivid images of dust, the sound of bellowing cattle, as well as bringing the untamed countryside into clear relief. This poem seems to be celebrating the spirit of exploration and conquest such as few people experience today.
Regular readers are familiar with the Urban Herd I often feature in some of my posts. Once, we were held up for some time on a country road by a large herd of cattle being moved from one farm to another, driven by horse-borne cowboys, whose skill was a delight to watch on that narrow, tree-lined road. We listened to the stamping of cattle hooves on the dirt road, smelled the sweet scent of the cow pats, and listened to the lowing of the cattle as they were jostled along.
Even closer to home, a local farmer regularly herds his cattle from one grazing land, across a main road, to another with the assistance of one or two helpers – all on horse-back – as well as two well-trained dogs. These men are skilled and gentle; they work in an unhurried fashion and account for every animal in their care as they are nudged through the farm gates. All of this is so different from swiftly we gain where the herds on the plain, / Like a tempest, are tearing the ground! Such is the difference between the hunting for cattle in the poem and the gentler herding of the cattle, such as I have experienced it here.
I like the rhythm and the action in this poem; the descriptions of the landscape that blend with the heat of the chase; the exhilaration experienced by the cattle hunters; and the echoing end when the beat and the beat of our swift horses’ feet / Will die with the echoes away! This leaves us with the sound still echoing in our ears, even once the cattle have been rounded up and the chase is over.
Regular readers may recognise the Mud Cow – third from the right.
Something Over Tea 