As I am bent over in a goat pen with an 11,000 volt cattle prod heading towards my rear end I wonder how I got here. Perhaps it was a mixture of my big mouth, ego and peer pressure mixed into one. To think I suggested this. One of the most random experiences of my time in Oz was spent on the Kroombit Cattle Ranch in Queensland. At the start we had the option of quad biking or goat herding. The latter sounded hilarious and I thought I could do quad biking any time. The tour bus was practically all female and I was the only male who opted for goat herding. So far, all the nice pretty horses had been given out; ‘Chocolate’ and ‘Bubbles’ wasn’t going to cut it for me. I wanted a man’s horse. I wanted a stallion. I got exactly what I asked for. Out trots ‘Big Red’. I was sold on the name alone but it was only when a girl pointed out the size of its ‘horsehood’ that I knew I was onto a winner. Now I would like to pretend that Big Red and I got on. I’d like to say that we chased down those goats and herded them like they have never been herded before. I’d like to say I was the real deal; a real outback ranger on my trusty steed. I think we both know I would be lying. Big Red and I came to an understanding. The understanding being that he would ignore me and eat grass while I just sat there and watched the goats run off in the wrong direction. It was a perfect harmony of sorts. Now you would think that would teach me a lesson. Oh no, this backpacker is not a smart one. The fun didn’t stop there. I won the clay pigeon shooting drive-by style. Fiddy Cent had better watch out, I don’t need nine shots. I also went head-to-head with not one, but two goats in the rodeo, I was on fire.
