Jack
The old Dodge was shuttering
Wobbling our cheeks
we were bouncing up and down in the seats
hitting our heads on the roof
and it wasn’t just the corrugated dirt road
Jack was a big man
Slouched into the drivers seat
The seat had given way under his weigh along time ago
his hand on the gear stick
gyrating in a circular motion
holding it in gear
Jack always started the car in top gear
stuttering off at a snail’s pace
Until the speed picked up
taking the view that top gear was the most economical gear
refusing to change down in the undulating countryside
he was stubborn as a mule
being 18
Terry and I
having just got our driver’s license
Laughingly
exchanging looks in mid air
we knew all about driving?
Jack shouldn’t we change gear??
Jack just keep going
A man of few words
Jack was my grandfather’s brother
Who lived in Tullamore as a Stock and Station Agent
Being the only Stock & Staition Agent
Everybody knew Jack
The Irish side of the family
Came out to Oz during the Potato Famine in 1845
Taking a bullock train up to Tullamore
Which is just west of Parkes
Where they stayed until the depression
When they moved to Sydney
Jack was the only one that stayed
Terry and I had come up to Tullamore
To do some Jackarooing on the Polar Station
Just like our uncles before us
The Polar’s were the Landed Gentry
Owning both merino and wheat farms in the area
My uncles worked as shearers and Jackaroos
For board and keep
The Irish were considered not much better than the first peoples
by the British
We were sleeping on the enclosed veranda at Jack’s place
With an open fire and combustion stove
Everything smelt of smoke
A life-long bachelor
Jack was not house proud
We just had to muck in
To escape
We went down to the pub on Saturday night
Like real men
The previous Saturday night
We had climbed the spectators stand at the local sports field
Catching pigeons that were roosting under the roof
Stuffing them into our shirts
As Terry had pigeon pie on his mind?
Much to Jack’s delight
So this Saturday night
We were looking around for something different in this one horse town
Buying a beer
We played pool
Starting to chat with the locals at the bar
Everybody knew who we were
The word has got around
Jack’s nephew’s
We were asked if we wanted to go to a dance?
We jumped at the opportunity
Not realising we were in the country
So the concept of distance was entirely different
The dance was 350 kilometres away!
About six of us
Jumped into the FJ Holden
Hurtling out into the falling night
There are only two speeds in the Country
Stop and go like hell!
The roads were dirt and badly corrugated
So it was no surprise to the locals
that we did the sump in on the car
on the way to the dance
bottoming out several times at speed
The driver
Doing a bush mechanic trick
Got us back on the road in no time
We sped through the night
In total black
The headlights
Veering off the road
Into the trees
As if lost
Every time we hit the bull dust pot holes
Spiralling clouds erupted
The trailing dust being somebody else’s problem
Windows down
It was still bloody hot
In the middle of the plain
The lights of the dance hall
Called through the night
Like dancing fire flies amid the trees
The dance was in a hall
With two outside bush toilets
A respectable distance away
With four tennis courts
The hall
Literally
in the middle of no where?
with cars parked randomly in the surrounding dust bowl
radiating out from the hall
the hall was a beacon for the surrounding community
they came from miles away
they had a tennis competition in the afternoon
then a barbeque
culminating in a dance
with the local Country and Western Band the headliner
there were about 300 people
jammed into a hot cauldron of festivity and chatter
Terry
Took lessons in ballroom dancing
he knew what he was doing
he wouldn’t dance with any young women
because they couldn’t dance to save their lives?
so he went for the older ladies and gave them a great whirl
enjoying it immensely
looking to the younger ones at the end of the evening?
as I said
he knew what he was doing!
In contrast
Having only learnt dancing at school
The younger women
Were just fine for me
The keg was on out the back
The men congregating like flies
With the odd foray into the adjoining dance hall
Cruising
The women sitting around the walls
In clusters
Joining the boys outside for a smoke
When the need arose
Or just to bath in the cooler night air
Being Country
The night ended early
And abruptly
There was a lot of driving to do
We bounced our way back to Tullamore
Arriving very early in the morning
Jack
Being a complete agnostic
Took us to church on Sunday morning
Early!
battling desperately to stay awake during the service
Our heads rolling then starting to attention
Shaking the pew with each loop of the head
Attracting some wrinkled sideways glances
Shacking ourselves at the end of the service
Sheepishly following the congregation
Spilling out onto the paddock surrounding the church
Shuffling into the blazing sun
The congregation split into gender clusters
The women organising the next dance and tennis competition
The men
Squatting on their heels
Picking
Then chewing pieces of grass
Wedging it in the corner of the mouth
Signalling they are about to speak
We were introduced to the Polar’s
Chatting about starting on Monday
Jack was to drop us out there
With another early start
Shuddering our way to the station the next morning
Jack filled us in on the Polar’s
They had been given a land grant when they came out to Oz
To make a go of it
They developed it into a wheat and sheep country
Doing very well
Now owning 5 different properties
Either sheep or wheat
Depending on the micro climate of the area
It was a family business
With 3 generations working on the properties
We were left standing
Jack disappearing in a cloud of dust
The Led Hand
Swaggered up to us
His face lost in the shadow of the hat
Being from the city
You are next to useless
So the first task is just to take and follow orders
First up
Into the pig pen we waded
Following the Led hand
The pigs were in a feeding frenzy
Not worrying about us
One of the hands
Carrying a rifle
Was ahead of us
turning quickly to the left
He shot a large pig through the head
The flock of pigs just flinched
As did I
Then just kept on eating
The perfect circular hole in the head
Fascinated me
Spouting a faltering column of blood into the air
Orders were barked
Our role being to drag the dead pig
Each taking a leg
To a post outside the pen
With a concrete bowl in the earth
They helped us
Tie the pig’s feet
Then lift it onto a hook upside down
It was too heavy for us
It was as tall as we were?
The pig was then gutted in a single cut
All the entrails
Falling into the concrete bowl
To be fed to the pigs later
Hot water was brought
The hot water was splashed onto the pig
With us scraping the bristles off with a knife
Once they had softened
Hosed down
The pig was taken to a nearby table
Next to the pen
And butchered
Then hung for the family’s meat supply
Literally letting it rot
It ages the meat better they say?
Scraping off the top slime layer when it is ready
Bloodied
We thought it was great!
But we were buggered
Stumbling into the car at the end of the day
We excitingly related to Jack
the exploits of the day
caving into our beds after a lack lustre dinner
Readying ourselves
for another dawn start
next day
I was thrown in at the deep end
I was put at the wheel of a 2 tonne, flat top truck
for the first time
to drive the team out to do some fencing
over the ploughed, stubbled wheat fields
Bouncing rhythmically into the dented roof
Like oscillating pin balls
As I crashed through the gears
The front seat being crammed packed
With the others standing on the back tray
Holding on for dear life
As we rolled over the waves of corrugations
disturbing a flock of emus
About dozen or so
Sitting next to me the top hand
Elbowed me and said
Let’s chase ‘im down
Changing down
Putting the foot to the floor
We picked up speed
heading towards the emus
Flying over the corrugations
The guys on the back
White knuckled
yelling profanities
and thumping the cab
while in the cab
we were laughing uproariously
Hanging onto the cab
Bracing ourselves into the roof
As I tried to out run the emus
The emus
Furtively looking around
In a wide-eyed panic
In long strides
Striking puffs of dust
Just out pacing the gyrating truck
As they dodged to ‘an fro
Weaving
in front of the truck
Careering over the field
Heading towards a fence
I panicked
Turning and breaking
The truck sliding to an abrasive halt
Listing
Then bouncing to rest
The emu’s didn’t panic
They just turned on a dime
running along the fence
Two guys
Rolled off the back of the truck
With the abrupt stop
Overtaken by a cloud of fine dust
Caking onto our sweat beaded bodies
Jumping up
the guys
bombarding the cabin with abuse
banging on the doors
As we couldn’t stop laughing
It was all in a bit of laugh
I am sure,
That the emu’s didn’t appreciate our sense of humour
Crunching into first we rolled on
Eventually arriving at the half-completed fence line
We unloaded
Then started digging the post holes
Stringing the wire
Responding like cattle dogs
To the bark of the Led hand
As the commands
Darted from the shadows of his hat
We were
Slowly dissolving
Caked in dust
Squinting into the sun
Looking up
At a cloud of dust
Barrelling towards us
the station ute racing ahead of the cloud
It was lunch
The kitchen staff prepared baked dinners for the jackeroos
Delivered in stainless steel tiffin carriers
Levered open
As we gathered round
Tucking into baked potatoes, three veg and roast lamb
A Baked Dinner?
With sauce!
We couldn’t believe it!
It was so bloody hot
But was dived in
Starving!
Laden with lunch
Heavy in the quietness of the shade
We reluctantly moved into fencing for the afternoon
With the sun just tipping the distant hills
The top hand
Straightened himself up
With a hand in the small of his back
Pack ‘em up
Came the order
Throwing everything onto boxes fixed on the back of the truck
The conversation flowed as we were looking to the end of the day beer
The Led hand jumping into the driver’s seat
Gesturing for us to get on the back
We will supplement the meat supply on the way back
If we came across any ‘roos
Hanging on
We yelled agreement
with the welcome wind in our face
We drove back over the field
This time in a knowing
Controlled way
Picking a speed that smoothed out the bumps
Moving into a merino field
The dust yielding to the grass fields
The truck
Started to slow
Over there
‘roos off to the left
We didn’t see anything?
Then the silhouettes of the ‘roos
Under the shade of the trees at the edge of the field
Captured our attention
Handing the rifles to us from the cab
Have a go!
The guys on the back gave Terry and I
Rudimentary instructions on how to shoot
I had never had a gun in my hand
EVER
The Led hand edged the truck
Slowly towards the ‘roos
Inching closer
Not to startle them
Curious
Sitting
then standing up
they were watching our every move
Ears twitching
Stopping in range
We both steadied the guns on the cab of the truck
Two shots resounded
The recoil thumping into my shoulder
The ‘roos scattered
As the larger one
the one I was aiming at!
hit the ground
jubilant
high fiving
The truck driving over to the downed roo
Jumping off the back of the truck
running over to the twitching roo
As I stood transfixed
Staring down
At this beautiful creature
which I had just destroyed
blood everywhere
a shattered head
the Led hand
ambled over
leaving the truck door open
stepped over to the roo
kicked it
Great shot!
Pats on the back
What a beauty?
Taking the roo by the tail
He swung it onto the back of the truck
With a resounding thud
We headed back
What had I done?
Buying the obligatory rounds at the pub later
the team
excitedly related the events of the day
laughing at the city slickers
Embellishing the emu and roo tales
As they were woven into a mythology
My mythology
I never used a gun again