8 March 1934

EXPERIENCES IN THE NORTH-EAST COUNTRY 

Droughts, Rabbits, Grasshoppers, And Afghans

Life outback in the early days, when the men were away, and the women were left alone sometimes for weeks at a stretch, was full of loneliness and charged with danger. Below are some experiences that befel the writer.

When I was still a child, we lived in the north-east. It was a dreary place, and our only neighbor about two miles away. It was at a time when Indian hawkers with vans and basket bundle carriers were numerous. 

My parents were among those optimistic pioneers who thought that the north-east was suitable for wheat-growing. But some years the drought came, and some years the rabbits, and yet other years the grasshoppers. They would attack feed and wheat crops, and although they did not leave the country so bare looking as the rabbits and drought, they nevertheless wrought the same havoc. They left the hard stems which the grasshoppers had robbed of their nourishing properties, and stock would stand and starve rather than touch what was left. 

Some days father would be away on the run all day. Some times he would go away for days or weeks at a time, to a property some miles distant. You can judge that my mother was a strong, courageous woman, and ofttimes led a lonely life with her little children. 

One year, most of the stock had perished, and only a few near the homestead were being kept alive by being hand fed. It was a very hot day, and a ferocious-looking Afghan hawker (they all wore turbans then), with three horses in a van came to the homestead. 'Missus you want buy something? Plenty things cheap.' 

Mother was feeling rather unnerved. To humor him she bought a few things.  He then demanded some chaff. As the supply on hand was at a low ebb, and the commodity at famine prices, she very reluctantly said he could have a bag. She knew Afghans were liable to become very unpleasant if their desires were thwarted. 

She was dumbfounded when he presented a big bran bag with a piece nearly as big as itself sewn to the top. This he rammed full, in his expert way. But, although she was horrified at the loss of the chaff, she was delighted to see the last of the dark marauder. These men, speaking only broken English, were dangerous looking, cheeky, and terrifying, to lone white women. Usually they were from six to seven feet in height, and the basket-bundle carrying ones were even cheekier than the van drivers. They would become really threatening if one did not buy off them. One in particular had mother very scared, when the timely arrival of my father saved the situation, and he was sent about his business in quick time. 

The Afghans always seemed to know when the men were absent. Many a scheme had to be thought out to get rid of them. These hawkers are scarce nowadays, and, like all bullies, they were cowards at heart. They were particularly afraid of dogs. 

One morning I saw a fierce basket-carrying man with turban and whiskers coming up the lane. There were only my sister and I home, and I felt alarmed. We had a big cattle dog, quite harmless, and a big, but quiet greyhound, whose bark was worse than her bite. As the Afghan approached, I called the dogs, and got a good grip on their collars, ostensibly so that they wouldn't do any damage. While my sister told the man we wanted nothing, I pretended to hold the barking dogs back with difficulty, making them appear to be furious man-eaters, just as I intended they should. The hawker was obviously in terror. Keeping his eyes well on them, enquired, 'They bite?' I assured him their abilities were well above the average. Replacing his bundle he hurried away. Still casting furtive glances at my two beloved pets. —'Blue Spec,' Hallett.

Outback Entertainment

People on Eyre Peninsula have gone through hard times, but life was not as monotonous as folks might think. 

Not long ago, a shed belonging to one of the local farmers did duty as church, Sunday school and hall. Galvanised iron was used for roofing, and super bags for walls, and stage curtains were bags hanging on fencing wire. Kerosene and petrol cases acted as pews on Sunday, and as dress circle, stalls or gallery for concerts. A literary society also held a meeting every fortnight. 

Country folk think distance no object, and some drove ten miles to this centre of entertainment. Sometimes supper was provided, in lieu of dainties which could easily grace a shop window in the city, would be spread on the tables. Hot water for tea or coffee was boiled in kerosene tins over a big fire, the wood being brought from the nearby scrub. 

One night a social was being held for the Sunday school anniversary. Local talent were staging a big dialogue. A corpulent major was making a small presentation to the fair heroine. Opening a large hat box he brought forth a white rooster, which he called 'Mabel.' 'Mabel,' not liking the part allotted to her in the drama, and no doubt having visions of a chopping block and axe, proceeded to fill the building with nerve-shattering shrieks. 

A neighbor's dog, thinking his services might be needed, sprang from under someone's buggy, rushed across the stage, barking with all his might, and tried to get a hold on 'Mabel.' What with the rooster and the dog as chief actors, it took some time to gain order, get 'Mabel' back in the box, and the dog outside. People enjoyed the unrehearsed comedy as much as the play.— 'Wattle Blossom,' Port Germein.

Both Had Their Failings

In a country town, about twenty-five years ago. there lived a magistrate who stuttered badly. He was very sensitive about it. and was always on the look-out for humorous references to his failing. 

One morning, when sitting in court he had before him a man who had been 'run in' the night before for drunk and disorderly. The accused had pleaded guilty, and as the police proved no previous convictions, the magistrate was inclined to be lenient. 

He addressed the man as follows:— 'As there— is— nothing ag— gainst y— you I will l—l— let y — you off w— with a cau — cau ? ' He had not completed the last words, which seemed to trouble him the most, when the accused burst out gratefully — 'Th— thank y— y— you. s— s— sir.' 

Meanwhile the magistrate had achieved the difficult word, and hearing the conclusion of the accused man's sentence, he became purple with rage. Such an insult was not to be borne, so he abandoned his intention of leniency, and said:— 'S— s— six m— mon— months without the option !' 

The prisoner fell back in the dock with astonishment. The magistrate rose from his seat with dignity and retired to his room. He was followed by the inspector, the clerk of the court, and others, who had great difficulty in convincing him that the man had a genuine impediment, even more pronounced than his own. Later the judgment was altered, and the accused released.

A Seascape Story

One Christmas vacation Berry Smith, now of Hansard, and I pitched our holiday tent behind the first Normanville Gorge, under a giant old gum close to the picturesque ruins of a pioneer's home in a gully through which Cornish's Creek carries its spate waters to the sea. 

Perfect peace. Hidden from the outside world with nothing to distract our daytime thoughts other than bleating of sheep, lowing of range cattle, or the sound of our rabbit guns; at night nothing more disturbing than the plaintive wail of the now almost extinct curlew, the overhead chatter of a family of ring tail opossums, the call of a fox to his vixen, or the eerie whistling of the winds through the ruins. 

Those were halcyon days, but there were serpents in our Eden. On the second day we killed a red-bellied black snake which slithered off the bank into the dry bed of the creek at our approach. As thick as your wrist about the middle, it taped 4 ft. 9 in. long, but properly stretched I reckon now it was easily 6 ft. 5 in. long. As we carried the still-squirming reptile back to camp for photographic purposes—not to replenish the larder— several young ones from four to five inches long, dropped from its middle, which a blow from a stick had almost severed. We promptly pinched off their heads, recalling the fact that while brown snakes lay eggs most other poisonous species are viviparous. 

From the heights of the Gorge we enjoyed a wonderful panorama of the Gulf of St. Vincent, with Yorke Peninsula and Kangaroo Island as part of the distant seascape. The long stretch of sandy beach extending like a silver ribbon from the Gorge Rocks past the Normanville jetty appealed to us, but the seething, spuming spray of the breakers dashing themselves with restless continuity on the massive rocks of the distant headland of Caracalinga beyond, positively intrigued us. 

So one day we went there to fish. We loitered, as holiday-makers will and it was near evening when we hid our bikes in the adjacent sandhills and threaded our way among the rocks to the furthest point and the deepest water. Waiting for bites from the gluttonous rock-cod, the elusive trevalli, or the casual schnapper, I beguiled the time by describing the precipitous cliff at our backs as a reputed haunt of the deadly death-adder, which in these parts was once fairly numerous and seldom found far from the coast. 

With all the enthusiasm of an embryonic naturalist I explained that this most dangerous of all the poisonous species in the Commonwealth was scientifically known as Acanthophis antarcticus; attained a length of only from two to three feet; loved hiding under scrub litter or loose soil; was most active at night, but generally was too sluggish to get out of one's road; and when trodden on struck with a backward half-circular drive of the head while the harmless scale-pointed tail made contact on the other side. A bite means certain death unless medical aid is almost immediately available and first-aid methods are employed instantaneously. If the venom gets properly into the blood stream there, is little hope,' I said. I shuddered afterwards to think I had been so realistic. 

The day had been hot, and it was delightful there in the cool of the evening. We were saying that often fish bite best at this period when a sudden skirl of angry waters and bubbling cauldrons of seething foam all round us reminded me that I had forgotten all about tides. 

Hastily we gathered in our lines, and, jumping from rock to rock, judging the ebb and flow, we were soon wet through with the thunderous spray. It was nearly dark now, and a strong wind from seaward was driving the full tide with relentless force, when we discovered our retreat had been cut off. 'There's no help for it now, Berry,' I said. 'We'll have to scale that cliff when the moon rises or stay here all night.' 

Drenched with the spray and teeth chattering with the cold, it was more than an hour before we essayed the difficult ascent — loose stones rattling down behind us to plonk into the sea, and a bush pulling out now and then by the roots causing us much trepidation. Gripping cold stones which gave way to the touch under the poor light of a cloud- obscured moon from a precarious foothold on an allegedly serpent-haunted cliff jutting over a turbulent sea filled with the dim black shapes of jagged rocks is not conducive to peace of mind, and it was with a sigh of relief we finally threw ourselves fiat on the top of the cliff. 

'That would have been an enjoyable climb,' said the imperturbable Berry, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, 'if you hadn't been so graphic with your impeccable snake stories.' I looked at him suspiciously, but answered never a word, so he never got a 'bite' until, tired and hungry, we at last got back to our camp. — 'Bluff Bill.'