Compliments, busy-ness and bottoms

My son is such a little man. He is growing up so darned fast it makes my head spin. Wasn't it yesterday that I nervously watched him off on his first muster when he couldn't keep up with the mob? And the day before that when he was promoted from Rob Roy the Great (Shetland) to Lovely Lacey? And the day before that, I watched him FINALLY take his first steps sometime after his first birthday (and his early hurdles)?
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And now? Now he is a little man who rides a ripstick with the best of them, who eats like a HORSE (despite never appearing to put on any weight) and wears the title of musterer extraordinaire with beaming pride.

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I remember when I first started mustering on my own - I also remember the first day my Dad (Pagi) proudly told Mum I was 'as good as a man'. I very nearly busted. (I was about 11 years old and it was long before I had heard of women's lib - to this day I totally understand that he meant that my gender was not an issue while I was on a horse: I was as good as a man. And regardless of political correctness, his compliments just don't come any better than that.)

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I think of this as I watch my smiling, skinny seven-year-old son who now easily hoists himself onto that old chestnut mare and boots her into action.

Of course he sometimes completely forgets to arrange the reins/steering gear before he climbs aboard. Luckily Dad is around to sort out this minor dilemma for him. (Note how patiently Lacey is waiting - I think she may actually be catching a nap. She's old. She's allowed.)

Undeterred by his initial steering issues, Dash contemplates tactics as he prepares to move the cows and calves from the yards.

And into action...

(if anyone can see a human bottom in this photo, could they please point it out for me? I swear this kid inhales calories like there is no tomorrow, but where they go, no-one knows!)

"Walk up, walk up!"

He walks Lacey forward, sitting up straight as a rod, moving those cows and calves through the dust and back towards their home paddocks... I suspect there could have been some whistling going on at this point...

"Walk up girls!"

(I am never sure if the cows mind being called 'girls' - I am here to tell you, some of them are not exactly spring chickens, so I fancy they are quite flattered.)

And now is when Dash really gets active.

And Lacey wonders what the heck she has done to deserve a kid with ants in his pants.

Dashing off to one side...

Then darting back across the mob to keep those slower cows moving, moving, moooo-ving.

(Sorry. Cow pun. Couldn't help it.)

Across...

And back...

And again... and again.

Either this kid is hyperactive, or, as Mr Incredible says with pride:

"He's just tidying them up - like a good dog."

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Compliments around here - you've really just got to know how to take them!