ON THE WALLABY- 18th September 2006

"Once you have done a bit of droving you are not much good for anything else” – Mick Eldridge, 30 years a drover along the NSW and Queensland stock routes

"A DROVERS LIFE HAS PLEASURES THAT THE TOWNSFOLK NEVER KNOW"

And so wrote A.B. (Banjo) Paterson is his immortal poem “Clancy of the Overflow” and how true those words are.

I was reading casually whilst have the morning cappuccino, today’s Sydney Morning Herald and my eye was taken by an article headed “Tree changers jib at supporting the rural life” and the accompanying photo displayed a stockman leaning back on his chair, his leg hanging lackadaisically over the other knee and his hands in that all too familiar pose that stockman get when making a point.

Seeing it brought back memories to me of my time as a stock and station agent and auctioneer, traipsing up and down the NSW and southern Queensland saleyard circuit and finding drovers such as Mick “somewhere out there” on the stock routes with meandering sheep or mobs of cattle that belonged to one of my clients.

In a world today where avarice ,greed and commercialism are seemingly the prime motivators for far too many city folks, it strikes me that maybe if they spent some time with Mick and his ilk, slowly pushing the mob along at their allowed 8 miles a day, it would give them a severe reality check on what life is all about.

From starts at daybreak to hitting the swag after nightfall with it’s meal by the campfire, maybe a rum or two, and the gaze up towards the magnificent sky full of stars, yes, a man can settle down content with his lot.

That is, of course, until lightening spooks the mob, a cow decides to calve during the night or some dumb bloody motorist gets an attack of the ”smart arses” and blows his cars horn loudly as he goes past!

One of the smartest men I ever met was old Ned, a drover who Dad initially employed to move some cattle from up north to our property “Jungara” at Grenfell and who stayed on doing contract fencing for some time as it was developed.

Many were the nights when I walked up to where Ned had his wagon, complete with kerosene lantern, swag, campfire and billy and his radio. For a man who’s formal school education had finished at 9 years of age and from then on it was, as he somewhat proudly proclaimed, “study at the University of Life”, his general knowledge of the world and events was staggering.

Books were of little use as he couldn’t read but listen he could and did and many wonderful chats were had with him talking about the old droving days, stock routes, legendary figures in the pastoral game (he been a drover for many of the biggest) and, in short, life in general.

Thinking back tonight on those times, I am reminded of the great quote of Sterling Hayden’s in his book Wanderer where he says “we have but two choices, bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life”.

Ned and many others, myself included, think that the former is preferable. Whilst certainly not advocating that all moneys earned are blown, I am also very cognisant of the fact that countless thousands squirrel away their money, ready for “the day” when they retire and yet, in the process, have lost the life they were living.

If there had to be a theme song on this issue, Slim Dusty’s By a fire of Gidgee coal would be it and they are words that I, and many others brought up in the bush but now city domiciled, can readily identify with.

Just as I found an inner peace when cruising on Tringriz and HaCienda, so the Mick Eldridges of the world have done also, sailing alone on the “seas of grass”, when the western Plains and their stock routes come by another good season.

Mother Nature can be a tempestuous Boss when she wants to be but she can also be so magnificent when she is in a benign and benevolent mood.

Sadly, most Australian’s never get to experience that as they are too busy scurrying like ants from a nest that has been stirred by a stick when they should be taking the time to watch her and her bounty’s – and in the process get a life.

As my adopting mother Bettina always said – “there are no pockets in a shroud”!

Carpe diem

Tony

Tony Fountain

Professional Speaker, auctioneer and author

Sydney NSW Australia

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