Passing paddocks thick with chick peas, mung beans and wheat, staring into the setting sun which cast colours of orange, pink and purples across the horizon (yes I could see the HORIZON), I realised I was glad of a short break away from my suburb and my city.
Having grown up in Southern Western Queensland, I have seen a fair amount of drought. Visions of dust, dirt and death. Death of livestock, feed, trees both the introduced species, (which didn't put up much of a fight against what Mother can dish out in this country) and long standing aged and wise native trees. Death of spirit and the will to live.
This trip brought a different vision. One of water lying on the side of the road. One of lush green grass and suckers growing, of branches shooting, of new calves suckling their fat and happy mothers. One of life and one of breath and most importantly one of hope.
My boyfriend and I enjoyed all of Mum's country cooking over the weekend and the sound of birds and silence. We enjoyed playing golf on a quiet, (we had the course to ourselves - which is a sad, tell-tale sign of the lack of population in the bush but we enjoyed it) green country course with gum trees as the obstacles and a beautiful sky as our backdrop. Saturday night we sat out under the Southern Cross and had a barbeque with fresh, home-grown produce and a cold beer. Then my parents spoke. They spoke about some of the experiences they have endured and enjoyed in their life on the land.
Life on the land is not an easy one and not for the faint hearted and this is a gross understatement. There is so many contributing factors that must align to be able to produce food in Australia. Just the right amount of rain to enable planting, the right amount of sun, follow up rain, no frost, no great heat to burn off the fresh, fragile shooting crop, no pests or bugs or disease etc etc. Supply and demand as well. If you are skilled enough and lucky enough to have pulled the right reigns to have a crop come off - you kinda hope not every bastard in Australia has too!
My parents are in the cattle game. They have a face and eyes to stare into when times are tough. Without rain, nothing grows. When nothing grows, there is nothing for cattle to eat. When there is nothing for them to eat, they starve and die. So, outside feed must be bought and trucked in. Cattle feed can include hay, molasses with mixtures of vitamins and minerals and cotton seed. In the last drought loads and loads of these were trucked into my parents property. Starting at X amount and gradually ending in triple per load, as the demand for feed grew stronger and the supply depleted.
Not having expensive machinery, my Parents had to hand bucket 1 tonne of cotton seed into a trailor, 3 times a week and distribute it to the starving mouths, with screaming Westerly Winds picking up dust and spewing it into their faces. Tales were told of cattle having to be sent to feedlots and agistment properties to be kept alive over the hellish times of drought. Sometimes the agisted cattle were well looked after and sometimes they weren't checked or separated and naturally the bigger, stronger cows were fed and the weaker ones left to die.
Mum and Dad had Poddies (orphaned calves) from time-to-time which they would bottle feed. This helped keep their spirits up and helped get them out of bed every day. Mum would talk and talk about what mischief the calves had been up to on phone-calls home.
They kept going because they had to. Because, in their opinion, when you have worked on something your whole life, to have it crumble in your hands and leave you with nothing, is more more heart-breaking then facing the onslaught. Luckily, they had each other. Stressed and strained and overwrought with worry of the situation they would be in, if the relentlessness remained, they stood together and got through it.
There were positive stories too, of the kindness of a family in the district who had received more rain and had slightly more feed who took a few head to help out. Of Dad's neighbour and very good friend who has always been there to lend-a-hand. Most-of-all the positive stories were of rain when it eventually came. Especially in the last two years. Inches being tipped out of the precious rain gauge. Of the first shoots of buffle pushing through the dirt.
When it is green and cattle are fat, life is good on the land. It's quiet and idle. It's uncomplicated. Where your children and grandchildren are safe to run around and be free. Where important, family values are instilled and where the simple things in life like watching a beautiful setting sun over the horizon or a home grown barbeque under the stars with nothing but the sounds of laughter and perhaps crickets and frogs can be enjoyed.
