No sooner had the dust churned up by the wheels of the road train settled, than Marlee and Franz were planning to go to Queensland in the plane to the Dundee Cattle Stud. A good year or so before, I had received a phone call from Frank Fraser. Mr Fraser is one of Queensland’s great cattlemen, but age was catching up with him and he had decided with regret he would have to sell his beloved stud. He had read my book and decided that the Dundee cattle should move to Bullo River and stay intact. I knew of the Dundee Stud and its exceptional line of cattle, in fact Mr Fraser’s previous stud was Burnside and some of the first breeding bulls Marlee and I purchased were Burnside bulls.
Mr Fraser might have been slowing down physically, but his business brain wasn’t suffering the same fate! He was a great wheeler-dealer and could sense my weakness. He knew there was a deal there if he just kept at it, and he did!
I knew I couldn’t afford the whole Dundee herd, as much as I would have liked to transfer it intact to Bullo. I casually asked what he was looking at for the whole herd and dropped the phone in fright, even though I thought I was thinking big. This was more than big money and I was relieved to hear that it included the land. He was another person who thought because you have a book published you are immediately worth millions. I told him it was out of my league and thanked him for calling.
But Mr Fraser had it in his head that his herd was going to Bullo and he quickly realised he had a keen ally in Marlee. After that he called regularly and between Mr Fraser, Marlee and Franz, I was worn down. Of course I wanted these beautiful cattle as much as Marlee and Franz did, but it seemed I was the only one thinking about how to get the money to pay for them. The enthusiasm of youth won through and so we took up the opportunity to get some marvellous blood lines into our herd.
So it was decided as soon as the opportunity presented itself, Marlee and Franz would fly to Queensland to buy a few of the Dundee line—not the whole herd, just a few. I kept repeating this to them parrot-fashion at every opportunity before their departure. Knowing full well that Marlee would get there, fall in love with every animal in sight and I would receive rapturous calls about the beautiful cattle, and couldn’t we just … But there was a lot of work to be done before they left.
After the movement of our first load of cattle, the mustering season had officially begun. There is a huge cost involved in employing staff, overhauling machines, checking and repairing fences, and in some situations, building roads. So once the mustering starts, we go flat out, every day, until the mustering is done. Other work on the station has to wait or is done at the beginning or end of the season.
This season started as they always do, with new people trying to fit into the way of life of the Outback, and trying to make themselves into a team.
Each year we work very hard to keep people safe from any dangerous encounters. But these inevitably seem to happen. This year it was not one of the budding stockmen who ended up nose to nose with a raging wild beast, but a sixteen-year-old girl!
Eleisha had arrived at Bullo in June, but not via the normal hiring channels. At a conference in Sydney I had been totally engrossed in signing the books being thrust at me from every angle, when the sea of women seemed to part to reveal a lone man. His eyes held sadness and a hint of desperation. I put the desperation down to the fact he was feeling uncomfortable and out of place. I meet a lot of men in this position. They are usually there because their wife for some reason can’t attend and so she sends hubby along to get her book signed. I assumed this man was on this type of mission.
But it turned out he was asking for help. He had a young daughter who loved the land and the family had recently sold their farm and moved closer to the city. She was not adapting well, and was becoming almost impossible to handle. A bright intelligent girl, her school grades were slipping, she was drifting into bad company and her family was at a loss to know what to do next.
I felt the desperation of this man, but I expressed my concern about our ability to handle such a problem. We had our hands full just running the property and training older, willing staff and keeping them out of danger. A rebellious teenager wasn’t something I’d take on lightly! But when he ended up on his knees, I knew I had to help if it was possible.
We had long discussions over the phone and Marlee talked to Eleisha and explained what life was like on Bullo. In very clear words we said if she stepped out of line, just once, or didn’t do as we asked, she would be on the next plane home.
Having firmly established the rules, we asked Eleisha to write us a letter saying why she wanted to come to Bullo and what she thought she would gain from the experience. After receiving her letter we took the plunge and said yes, she could come for the season.
The cattle were in the yards and were being drafted, so Marlee put Eleisha where she thought she would be safe—on top of a five-foot-tall bale of hay. The bale was round and slippery and it required a certain amount of dexterity to stay on it. All the animals had been drafted out of the yard except a strong mickey bull who didn’t want to go anywhere. He had his head in between the bale and the corner of the yard and was working on the theory that if he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him! Cattle are mustered into the yards for many reasons; for branding, cutting of mickey weaners (young bulls castrated to become steers), culling of the herd, and drafting of sale cattle. So this mickey bull didn’t know what was ahead of him—castrating—but was behaving as if he knew.
He was also taking his anger out on the steel rails, headbutting them repeatedly, in between pawing the ground and snorting loudly. When only one animal is left in a pen it becomes very hard to handle. They want nothing to do with you, are frightened and the last thing they have on their minds is cooperation!
Eleisha was poking him with a length of poly pipe, hoping to make him decide to turn around and go out of the corner. He swung his head at her in annoyance and she was surprised by the swiftness and the strength of the movement. The piece of poly went flying through the air, Eleisha reeled backwards in fright, her feet went out from under her and she slipped down the side of the hay bale, hitting the ground with a thud.
She now found herself in the corner of the yards, right in front of the young bull. Closed in by steel rails and a quarter of a tonne of hay, her only exit was blocked by the very mad mickey she had just been poking! Everyone in the yards stopped what they were doing and rushed to her aid. If they hadn’t seen her fall, her screams certainly alerted them to the problem. Marlee shouted instructions to the team as she rushed to Eleisha’s aid.
Being face to face with a wild bull, big or small, is a paralysing experience, no matter how long you have worked with wild cattle. So you can imagine how a sixteen-year-old girl who’d never been exposed to anything wilder than a tame milking cow would feel. The general consensus of the people within earshot was that Eleisha’s screams were so piercing, they scrambled the mickey’s brain.
The young bull was turning in confused circles intent on getting away from the noise. Wild-eyed, he shook his head, stamped his feet, and tried everything to dislodge the noise in his ears. The first thing he saw was Eleisha’s backside as she jumped, screaming, to her feet. He had found the source of the deafening noise! So he lowered his head and tried to fling her out of earshot. He was only a small bull and the result was that Eleisha ended up sitting on the mickey’s head, going up and down like a seesaw.
The screaming continued, so the mickey increased his efforts to rid himself of the offending noise and Eleisha’s seesaw ride increased. Orders were shouted for her to grab the top rail of the fence on her way up so she could then swing out of the yard. But the terror of actually sitting on the head of a wild bull meant she was really beyond listening to any advice let alone carrying it out. Besides, it was impossible for her to hear any instructions over her screaming. As soon as the mickey saw a way out, he took off at high speed with his ears wildly flapping, desperately attempting to stop the terrible noise.
It took a while to calm Eleisha, an
d when she realised it was over, she started laughing, crying and screaming all at once. And I am sure if the mickey heard this amazing combination of sound he would have increased his speed to make sure of his escape.
As serious and dangerous as the incident was, everyone couldn’t help laughing at the expression on the mickey’s face and his efforts to get away from the frightening noise and Eleisha. Everyone agreed Eleisha had saved herself, just by screaming. They were all quite confident if no-one had been there to help her the mickey would have still run away to save his ears.
It took quite a while for Eleisha to regain her composure, which was very understandable. All the colour had drained from her face, her complexion remained very pale for many hours to come. After a thorough examination Marlee declared Eleisha clear of any serious injury. There were some minor cuts and quite a few bruises surfaced in the next few days, but apart from these, strained vocal cords were her most serious problem. Luckily, the bull’s horns had just been tipped, which would also account for his bad temper and the frustration displayed when he repeatedly failed to hook Eleisha with the missing tips of his horns.
I feel the mickey bull experience along with helping save the life of a newborn foal were turning points in Eleisha’s young life. Most people never have one of these experiences, and Eleisha had both of them in a matter of a few months. Interspersed along the way with Marlee’s wise counsel whenever she went off track or had doubts about where she was heading.
Facing death has a very sobering effect on anyone and I know she must have been thinking, ‘What if I had died in there, what would I have regretted in this short life of mine?’
Eleisha was hardly over the meeting of the ways with her young bull when Marlee brought one of our favourite mares, Gold, home into the garden. She had just given birth that morning and Marlee felt she was a bit down in condition and decided she needed a few weeks of TLC. The foal seemed all right, just a little weak.
Everyone went to work in the yards and when Marlee returned at lunchtime the foal was lying on the ground fighting for its life. The change in a few hours had been dramatic. Eleisha offered to help Marlee with the tiny creature and Marlee showed her how to dribble a special mixture, which contained substances to quickly hydrate the foal, into its mouth.
Marlee and Sarah, our vet, who was now back at work, came to the opinion the foal had an infection in the umbilical cord. It was also completely dehydrated from collapsing on the ground in the sun. So the foal was carefully moved to a cool place and the rest of the day was devoted to getting as much liquid down its throat as possible. Marlee gave it a penicillin injection to bring the cord infection under control.
All afternoon the foal hovered close to death and Marlee could see another night without sleep, trying to save this life of only a few days.
Over the many years on the station, a sleepless night to save the life of an animal has not been an unusual event. We have walked out the night with horses suffering colic, sat with animals with new stitches to stop them tearing open their wounds. Talked the night through with dairy cows with difficult births and comforted favourite fillies with first foals. Eleisha offered to do the night shift and Marlee, feeling decidedly weary, after mustering and drafting for fourteen hours, accepted. Marlee told her if she needed any help, or was worried about something, to wake her immediately.
Eleisha rolled out her swag and took up her position next to the foal. All night she talked to the tiny creature, encouraging it to fight for its life. Having been in the same position many times I know she must have told the foal all her dreams, her fears and her secrets as she gazed at the endless heaven of stars. I know this magic of Outback nights well, as it has woven its spell over me so many times. Words fail to capture the floating feeling that courses through your body and mind when at the end of a long night those beautiful eyes open and look up into your eyes and say ‘Thank you’.
The look on Eleisha’s face the next morning as she proudly kneeled next to the very wobbly foal, and Marlee said she had saved that beautiful horse’s life, was something to behold.
By the end of the season Eleisha had decided to become a vet. She went back home and returned to school at the beginning of the next year.
Snakes were bad this season. When cleaning the house and staff quarters—which are unoccupied for six months—we occasionally come across king brown snakes. This year the first one sighted was near the homestead. The two girls sharing the house duties and cooking were lugging yet another load of washing out to the clothesline. Gail, our New Zealander, spotted a snake in the still-uncompleted—fifteen years to date—squash court.
They called Marlee who rushed for the shotgun and told them to keep an eye on the snake.
Marlee came running back with the gun and was horrified to find one girl in serious battle with a seven-foot king brown. This snake had just come up a flight of steel steps at an alarming speed and Myra was trying to block its escape by poking it with a mop! This is not the best thing to do to a cornered killing machine—but Marlee had said to keep it in the squash court and that was what she intended doing.
Marlee watched astonished as the snake didn’t bother to attack, but was only intent on avoiding the mop and escaping to the safety of the long grass under the clothesline. The grass had been mown recently and this was the only cover for a fair distance. Now the snake was on home ground it would be a different story if it was approached with a mop, so Marlee warned Myra not to pursue it.
There was a great discussion between the two girls about how they were going to get the snake out of the grass. The thought of carrying out a load of washing to the clothesline and having a king brown jump out of the grass at you was not a pleasant thought. Especially if you had just whacked it several times over the head with a mop!
The girls looked to Marlee for the answer. She told them to sit silently and watch. The minutes passed and the girls watched in amazement as eventually a large head slowly appeared above the long grass and looked around to see if the coast was clear. They then watched in even greater amazement as Marlee took aim and the snake’s head exploded before their eyes. A convulsing, headless body thrashed its way out of the long grass and came to a halt on the short grass not far from their feet.
The girls let out a long-held breath and headed for the less-exciting chores of dishes and dusting. They were both sure they would never hang out washing again without remembering the washing day with a difference at Bullo.
We never kill snakes out in the bush: it is their territory and we respect that. But the homestead is our territory and we have to discourage poisonous snakes. So there are only a few acres which are off limits and they have the rest of the half a million acres to roam free.
I really believe that over the years the snakes have come to respect this rule. When we first arrived there were snakes everywhere and it was not unusual to shoot ten or more a season. If you look carefully around the homestead you can see evidence of shotgun-pellet damage on the walls, on the tree trunks that used to hold up the roof, on various doors and, in some cases, on the furniture. These days we can go the whole season without sighting a king brown. A couple of pythons usually wander through the house, but that’s about it. And although your heart skips a beat when you switch on the light and see something slithering across the floor, as soon as you see the lovely iridescent flashes of colour your heart goes back to normal and you wait for it to be on its way.
So the season was on its way with the first sighting of a king brown. Marlee was confident she had the beginnings of a good team with these two girls and she was right. They had spunk. Not too many people would stand up to a king brown with a mop. We also had three very good stockmen which was fortunate because we needed good people if we were to get through the work we had so courageously planned during the wet season.
The first major setback of the season was our troublesome cubing machine. Franz, with the help of Bill Wilson, a mechanic from Darwin, was determined to unravel the problems o
f the machine. He had done a lot of reading over the wet season and was convinced the hydraulics were at fault. Much of the wiring was not according to the manual—there had been a lot of makeshift repairs done to the machine before we received it.
The mechanic we sent to New South Wales to look at the machine for us before we bought it said it had just come out of the field from working when he inspected it. What arrived at Bullo was definitely not a working machine. When Franz took it apart for cleaning and inspection he found barbwire inside the barrel, where the pellets are formed. So the mechanic had either spent his time in the pub, or the machine he inspected was not the machine we received. Either way we had been taken to the cleaners. We thought that paying for a mechanic to travel south to inspect the machine should have protected us. We were wrong. But we learnt another good lesson. If you want something done do it yourself and stay with the machine until it is on your property.
After four thousand dollars worth of parts it was looking hopeful that the machine might work. The repairs were completed on the hydraulic system, and we were ready for the first big test. Marlee was very excited when she presented me with the first cubes. So was I, just quietly. I thought it would always be a dream we never achieved, but there in my hand were compressed biscuits of feed. This amazing process happened while the machine was chugging along the rows of cut hay. It scooped up the hay at one end and spat out biscuits at the other.
At 8.30 that night one of the staff remarked how red the sky was behind the staff quarters. This immediately galvanised Franz and Marlee into action because that was the opposite direction to where the sun set—in the direction of the hay field and our now operating cuber!
The Strength of Our Dreams Page 12
