They Say Things Happen In Threes

They say things happen in threes, I'd believe that today!

First up, Shane and Clancy went on the quad bike to get the steers in.  Seeing as we've just had a little bit of rain (75mm a couple of weeks ago) the buffalo fly (annoying little fly that bite the cattle and horses making them very uncomfortable) are biting bad and we thought we'd pour some drench on them to help get rid of the flies for a while.  Anyway these particular ones hadn't been back in the yards since we let them out after buying them and they did NOT want to cooperate.  Usually when they're not behaving, Shane will come and drop Clancy back off at the house or at the very least put him through the fence.  But I looked out the front door to see Clancy hiding behind a tree:

We were driving past a bit later and wanted to get a photo of him but being a boy he wouldn't pose properly! Anyway he was hiding behind this tree because this steer was standing about 10m away shaking his head at him

I somehow managed to leap over the houseyard fence and started running barefoot up the gravel road!  But the survival instincts of Clancy must have kicked in, he wasn't moving from behind that tree and was yelling at the top of his lungs for the steer to "get in the yards".  Once the steer (who hates dogs and most likely thought Clancy was a dog) turned tail and ran so did Clancy!  I was telling him he was a brave boy and he was saying "No I'm not, I was crying".  I would have cried too!

So that was the first "incident" the second was that when Shane came home on the bike we was all hunched over like he had broken a rib or something.  Then when looked at me he had blood coming out of his mouth. He'd hit something while going about 50km/hr through the long grass chasing the cattle and flipped the bike! So he has busted lips, bruised forehead, skin off his nose, shoulder and leg, and a bruised thigh and toe! Not to mention his clothes were ripped to shreds and his sunglasses have been lost somewhere!

After all that we put the steers through the yards to apply the pour on.  Ella-Beth has discovered the video function on the camera and is having a great deal of fun capturing everything on film.   This is how it goes:

The cattle are a little nervous at first, but they soon settle down.  After being treated for flies a few times, they soon start lining up at the gate to the cattle yards when the flies start annoying them! It's amazing how much they calm down after being treated, but then again we all get grumpy when we're getting bitten by some little insect.

All done looking happy

The Supervisors 

So they were let out, and shifted to a new paddock so the last one can have a spell and recoup.  Came home, had a nice cold drink and Shane decided he'd better go to hospital to get his sore leg and toe looked at.  Five minutes after he left, he rings to tell me there's a small, smouldering fire at the front gate.  I thought he said it was about the size of the car, could I please take some water up and put it out.  What in the world was I going to cart enough water in to put it out.  There's no way I could pull the big shuttle tank on to the back of my car.  So I had a brainwave.  Meet Firefighters Bessie and Clancy Boy, and Chief Fire Warden Buddy (where there's water, there's Buddy)

So I get up the road, looking for the fire, I can't see it anywhere, but can smell it.  Turns out Shane said it was only a quarter of the size of the car.

 So the water bottle would've been sufficient...

But anyway, all's well that ends well.  Turns out Shane only has bruising, the Xrays' didn't show any breaks which is a relief.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Rounding Up the Cattle

Rounding Up the Cattle

The phone rings, it’s Shane:

Shane: The steers (castrated male cattle) are fence crawling out of this paddock out here and getting onto the highway.  I’m going to get your Dad’s truck and take them down to Slogan to put on agistment.  Can you please get the steers from home and put them in the yards, I’ll be there soon to load them and take them too.

Me:  Ummmmmmm okay, I will try but I don’t like my chances.

Shane:  Nah, you’ll be right mate, just stick it to them.

Okay, I can do this,  Surprisingly I prefer a two wheeled motorbike to four wheeled one or a “qaud”.  But with kids it’s easier to carry them on a four wheeler.  I’m not very confident with cattle, and the cheeky little buggers know this and like to go hide in eroded creeks or scrub where I can’t get to them.  But anyway, I will try.

So Clancy (5) and I don on the work clothes, fill the bike (such a big job, we’re getting a whole 8 head of cattle in!) and make sure we are covered in sunscreen because it’s so hot!  Off we go!

Off we go up to the cattle yards to set the gates right so that the cattle run in (hopefully).

Gates all set, off we go

Of course the cattle are in the furtherest corner in the paddocks from the yards, but after a few false starts I get them out of the corner and on the way to the yards, with help from Ajay the Kelpie and Buddy the WonderLab

And lo and behold, it was one of the easiest “mustering” sessions I’ve ever done.  They went in the yards no worries.  High fives between Clancy and I.

Work over, time to go home and it’s Clancy’s turn to “drive”.  Very humbling to put your safety in the pudgy hands of a five year old and a 400 horse power motorbike.

"My Story"

I wrote "My Story" just after the Suspension of the Live Export Trade in Australia.  At the time there was a lot of "farmer bashing" going on, saying that the farmers of the north didn't deserve a livelihood if we relied on Live Export, we deserved to go bankrupt, we were cruel and lots of very awful and un-true things.  Thankfully things are slowly settling down, and most people are realising that at the moment there is no other option for cattle producers in the north of Australia (although there are still some out there who disagree).

My Story.

About 14 years ago, my high school geography teacher planted a little seed of anger in my head about people’s preconceptions of the rural industry when he told our class that “graziers were the bane of this earth.”  That seed lay dormant for a while, until last year, it started to shoot when the Bligh Government labeled producers as “environmental vandals.”  Now it is positively blooming with the fall out of the Live Export Issue.

 I believe we are fighting for much more than to be able to market our cattle. We are fighting for the education of and acknowledgement and understanding from our city neighbours that we are not rich hill billies, stupid or backwards or cruel. That we do not rape and pillage the earth, that we love and cherish the land we work on and the livestock we produce.

We are fighting for respect because we too are hard working people and pay our taxes. That we do our best to provide our nation and the world first-class produce. Despite the "hardships" of isolation, distance, Mother Nature and above all constant criticism. And we do it with pride.

This is my story:

My dad left home when he was 14 to go ringing and droving.  He worked extremely hard, finally gaining his own property after years of working in the mines, and stock work on the side.  We have grown up with the stories of  mickies, rodeos, good dogs, freezing mornings and aboriginal stockmen just to name a few.  He is an extremely hard working man, so caring and compassionate to others, always ready to help anyone in need and always with a smile and a joke.  My brother is just like him.

My mum’s family managed “Banchory” between Clermont and Alpha for the best part of 40 years.  Mum worked as a nurse in the Clermont Hospital before marrying Dad and moving out to the station he was working on.  My mother is the salt of the earth, the rock of our family and I once heard her described as ruling with an iron fist in a velvet glove.  My sister’s the same, I hope I can be too.

In 1990 we moved to a station on the Burdekin Dam when I was 9.  It was full of cleanskins and run down fences, that’s when I learnt what it meant to be a rural Australian.  By 1993 we were in the grip of a severe drought.  The days became a blur of keeping crows from pecking poddie’s eyes out, hundreds of weaners needing to be fed hundreds of bales of hay, dry dams (including the house supply), mixing lick, dead and dying cattle.  There were whispers of men committing suicide from the feeling of sheer hopelessness.   My hands were so rough and calloused from lugging hay bales, I’m surprised I could lift them, I was so tiny.  I used to only do a couple of hours of school a day through a School of Distance Education. I did a lot at night too just to free up my days to be a part of things.  I remember my dad’s usually sparkly eyes being so dull with despair as we were carting water, and him saying to me “A man just feels so useless”. 

They always say the darkest hour is before dawn.  Between Christmas and New Year in ’93 we had a couple of inches of rain and our hopes were raised.  Everything turned green, but not from the grass.  We had a plague of caterpillars that ate all the leaves off the trees.  Then the heat wave struck.  We were in town the in the first day of crippling heat.  We came home to find dead chooks and one of our bitches had killed all but one of her pups trying to keep them cool.  Dad did a lick and water run the next day, he took for ever to come home, we started to worry.  Throughout the morning birds such as kookaburras and tawny frogmouths found their way into the house, seeking out the cool of the cement floor, so exhausted from the heat they let us pick them up to wet them.  Dad finally came home, every time he pulled up, birds flew under the car for the shade as there were no leaves left on the trees.  He told us how he tried to wet the dirt down to give them some relief.  It’s men like this that activists have labeled barbaric.

Throughout this time my mum, was just like every other rural woman.  Stoic, supportive, extremely hard working and never showed her tears, although surely there were many when nobody was looking.  I have no doubt that it was her, like every other rural woman, that held things together.  It’s women like this that activists have said don’t deserve Australia’s support

After New Year it was time to go to Boarding School, I knew I was lucky to go and I really don’t know where the money came from.  I also didn’t want to go, who would have the time to keep the crows off the poddies?  As Mum and Dad dropped me off, the heavens finally opened up.  My parents more or less dropped me and ran, like so many other parents.   I had mixed feelings that day, elation that the drought had broken, sadness because I wouldn’t see “my” place coming back to life. I went home for a weekend a few weeks later and the change was amazing.  As I lay in my bed that night, I could hear an eerie noise.  It became louder and louder and all I could think of was a story an Indigenous dorm mate told me about Kadatchi Man.  As I lay in my bed in the dark listening to the shrieks getting louder, I couldn’t bear it anymore and ran to my parents’ room.  At 13 years old, I had forgotten what the sound of frogs rejoicing in the running creek sounded like.  It’s children like this who activists have said don’t deserve a future.

I’m grown up now, with two small children of my own.  My husband has worked so hard and we’ve sacrificed so much, this year we were finally living the dream.  We have our own company, totally reliant on the cattle industry, doing what he’s always wanted to do, and he’s damn good at it.  Now he’s losing hope and talking about going to the mines.  It’s people like us activists have said don’t deserve a livelihood.

So that’s my story, there are so many  others out there, many much more heart breaking than this and if the ban on live export continues, there will be thousands more.  They will be stories of despair, heartbreak, death, bankruptcy and loss. They will be stories of people who have been forsaken by their nation.

Just like us, everyone in the cattle industry has invested so much blood sweat, and tears into what they do.  We have worked at it for generations, through flood, fire, drought and cyclones.  Through accidents, death and illness when your only medical help is a Flying Doctors Medical Chest and their doctor on the other end of the radio or phone if you were lucky enough to have one.  Past generations have kept their head down, and tried to stay out of trouble.  They went about their immense work load quietly. 

Well not any more!  It’s time that rural Australia stands up and be heard!  And be heard we will.  We are sick and tired of being pushed around and we will not go down without a fight. Because we are fighting for our past and we are fighting for our future.  We are so damn proud of who we are, and you can never, NEVER, take our pride.

This is what it looked like after the caterpillars came through and ate all of the foliage off the trees.  We sold the place 5 years and many good seasons later and most of the trees never grew back.

YUCK!

Soooo, the kids go and let the chooks out of the pen yesterday afternoon and came flying back to tell me gleefully that one was dead. Yuck, and of course Shane wasn't going to be home until after dark so I had to deal with it. YUCK. So, I went down to the pen on the 4 wheeler with and old cloth nappy (thanks to the cotton farmers who grew the cotton to keep my babies bums covered and now the nappies make the best rags out) to dispose of the corpse. It was stiff. YUCK. So I wrap the nappy around the chooks leg and pick it up and eewww gross, it legs went crackcrackcrickcrackcrrriiiiiicccckkkkkkkk. YUCK!!!!! gah yuck. Put it on the back of the bike and went up the paddock and hoiked the bloody thing into the long grass. Only bought the bloody thing on Friday so that was a waste of $25!