It is 5am and a near-full moon is dropping to the western horizon; the land is dark and quiet. A generator rattles to life and artificial lights pierce the night. From horse floats and trucks emerge stockmen and women, snuggling into coats, collars raised against the settling frost.
The predawn light rolls in, revealing grasslands, scattered trees and penned steers. Steaming coffee is downed as horses are caught and saddled. More horses are released from a makeshift yard and they wander away slowly, pausing to pick at fresh grass. Dogs bark in anticipation.
