Hah, you make it sound so easy!
Whenever I have to drag a beast in Scotland it always seems to consist of desperately dragging them out of a gully so steep it's practically a ravine, with their legs catching on every single tussock of heather, every rock and every patch of grass, with your feet slipping on the ice and snow, often knee deep in bogs. You do this for what seems like an eternity, plagued by mozzies, with every step forward being met with one back and your lungs escaping out your mouth.
You then get to the top of the hill and for one glorious moment the struggle is over, the vehicle is in sight and you see a nice little stream to follow on down.
Then it starts... An ominous slithering in the grass behind you, the rope goes slack and the beast slams head first into the back of your legs, tumbling you into the snow and dragging you down hill after it. Gone now is the catching on rocks, no more the bitter struggle to progress over the terrain. It's all you can do to kep upright and grasp the drag line, knowing deep in your heart that if you lose control even for a minute, the recalcitrant anmial will immediately veer back down into another dip and the ordeal starts all over. The trials of Sisyphus have nothing on dragging beasts out of the Scottish highlands I tell you!