Mateship

Dingo



Picininny dawn was forcing its way through the scrub surrounding the waterhole below the rocky ledge where I had set up camp the night before. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and reached down to turn the smouldering log to rekindle the fire, I heard old Blue give a very low growl. I looked across at him. He had his ears laid back and was looking down at the waterhole.

The light early-morning breeze was blowing in my face as I turned to see what had stirred old Blue. Two Dingos were picking their way down the far bank, side by side, towards the water. The smaller of the two dogs seemed to be guiding the other. I had no objection to them sharing the water with me, so, from our advantage point, Blue and I sat and watched.

The larger of the two Dingos could smell the water and started out on to a large outcrop which ended in a drop of ten feet or more to the water. The smaller dog blocked him and turned him back off the ledge, down to a spot where both could drink quite comfortably. I could not make out what was going on.

I hade a twelve power Pecar ‘scope on the .243 that I always had with me and which was resting against my pack, so I very carefully removed the covers from the rifle and extremely slowly brought it to bear on the two Dingos. As they both turned away from the water I could see the larger dog’s eyes. They were milky-white. He was blind.

I watched as the smaller dog guided his mate back up the bank and off through the scrub until the sun diffused their images as it flashed into the ‘scope. I have never seen anything to match that before or since.



Submitted by John Chandler

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