Mateship
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