After years of searching, I have my copy of the Ealing-Australian motion picture, "The Overlanders." This 1946 film is a dramatization of a desperation movement in 1942 of approximately one million head of cattle from West Australia and Northern Territory thousands of miles east to Queensland. This movement was part of an Australian "scorched earth" defense against a feared Japanese invasion of the dominion.

Distancing from the plot, the drovers' saddles had no horn with which to secure a lariat. I noticed no lariats affixed to the cow horses. The drovers managed and directed cattle movement with cracking of their whips. Living in Montana and having O.D.'d on American westerns, I was surprised that the Australians controlled cattle herds with whip reports rather than whistling or singing plus non-threatening swinging of lariats.

There's a clip on YouTube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tq3GoVQmWh0

Thank you. That was a great find. So much that was done in WW2 just is not known by the public. Hell,today they say that some british kids know nothing of the blitz or believe it even happened.

Think as long as you're just herding cattle along, no need for a rope. Rope is if you have to catch and handle them for some reason. Check out the sport of cattle penning.

Grizz

Off topic somewhat but my boss and his partner run 170 pairs on 7300 acres heavily brushed mesquite pasturage in Archer county here in north Texas.

We do a round up to work the cattle twice a year, in September and then again in March or April.

Due to the size of the acreage and the brush cover, the major part of the round up is done with a helicopter.

The week to 10 days before the helicopter comes out my boss's partner and to a lesser extent my self go out daily and work at feeding the cattle we can gather by driving the roads in the pasture the farthest from the pens and honking the cattle up and leading them into a pasture closer to the pens.

When we believe we have got all or most of the cattle out of that pasture, we close the gates to keep the animals we have already moved from wandering back into that pasture.

The morning the helicopter comes out, normally I go to one of the gates going into the pasture where we had moved the cattle to, opening it and pulling in to that pasture a hundred yards or so and put out some feed and then waiting at that point while the copter flies the pasture we had moved the cattle out of, herding those animals we missed to the gate I am set up at.

After the pilot is sure he has moved everything he can find thru the gate where I am at, I drive farther into the pasture honking and at intervals stopping and putting out some feed. After I have got them a quarter of a mile or so into the pasture and away from the gate I cut back to the gate and close it and head for the corrals.

At the point where I stopped leading the cattle, it is close enough for them to hear the horn/siren on the boss's partners pickup and he starts leading them toward the traps/corral with the copter working the pasture behind hiom pushing cattle toward the herd.

On that day all the cattle that can be gathered are pulled into two "Traps" one that covers about 150 acres or so and a smaller trap of about 50 acres and held in those overnight.

The next morning a dozen to 16 cowboys bring their horses out and move the cattle from the traps into the corrals where the Mama's and calves are separated and any animals old enough and big enough to sell are loaded on trailers and either hauled to one of the area sale barns or taken to another set of corrals, loaded on a semi and hauled to the Oklahoma City sale.

All the young calves are branded/vaccinated/sprayed for flies/young bulls castrated then kicked back out with their Mama's.

Speaking of the calf castration reminds me. Down here in central Tx. when all the ranchers are doing a cutting at the same time they keep the nuts in ice chests + then we all meet up at the roping arena for a "fry".Now this is good eating;battered in corn meal w/ a bit of salt + pepper.Several years ago when my 2 sons were fairly young we went to a "fry".We were eating,drinking beer + having a good time when my youngest sidles up to me + whispers,"Dad,what are we eating!?" I told him Mountain Oysters.He breathed a sigh of relief + said,"Oh good,Jake told me they were bull nuts."

If I had any sense I wouldn't tell this one on myself. Don't inform Kensco, I don't want him to die laughing, or, at least, not at me.

Some years back, we were hunting whitewings in Mexico, not far S of the border in a very small village. We got there late, more on this story, another time, but it was all thanks to my now deceased good friend John Taylor.

At any rate, there was no food, unless you count eating at the y at the "hotel", so we strolled down the street to the bar/restaurant which was rolling. I think it was Friday night, but really am not sure.

Went in, sat down, and got beers and a menu. I was the only one in the group who spoke any real spanish, so I was in charge of ordering off menu for the 4 of us. My buddy John told me he spoke Spanish and I said really, he said, yes, I just learned to say "how have you been?". I'm thinking right, so I say, well tell me. Como frijoles? which for those whose Spanish is a bit rusty means, How are the beans?, more or less.

Back to the bar, most people ordered chicken fried steak, etc but I found this interesting looking dish whose name I don't recall "Machitos.....maybe" which was listed under goat. Since I love cooked goat, I thought, well, what the hell, so I ordered a plate. Waiter steps back, looks at me, and says, "Estas Seguro, senor?" Are you sure? which should have been enough warning but dumbass me said. De seguro. Of course. and he went back to kitchen and after bringing out some good looking steaks, fried or otherwise, he proudly presented me with a plate full of goat balls. They didn't taste any better than you would expect, but with the help of several Negra Modelos, or Tecates, I managed, while listening to the peels of laugher from my buddies. It was not the high point of the trip, which had many lows.

One guy was an incessant talker, and his stories were so full of BS that they made you gag. On the way back, I told John to turn here, at Houston Int. Airport. He said why, If I have to listen to him any more, I'm going to kill him. It's much cheaper to fly home. LET ME OUT!!! He wouldn't and the remaining hours from Houston were not good, but I didn't kill him, even tho he and John were well deserving of death by birdshot.

One time at Canadian Texas, there was a place that on Friday nights had "All You Could Eat Calf Fries".

Like the Texan in old Mexico with his friends in the restaurant says,"Hell I'll' order,I speak their lingo.Hey there senor eater,I'll have a dbl. order of torpedos + tarpulins + ondely the hell out of it;I'm about to estarwana plumb to death."