The New Man In My Life….

The New Man In My Life….

I was stuck in a continuous rut. Always making do with what ever was left at the bottom of the selection after everyone else had made their choice. I was left with the plodders, not so easy on the eye and some wh...o just purely loved a good ……..(rhymes with truck). The last time I had a decent one of my very own was when I was 19, he was good but my mother did pick him out for me. That was some time ago so now that dear old, shaggy fellow can’t keep up with any of my desires or expectations.

So I’ve made a change for the better and I’m in love with another man. He’s tall, dark and extremely handsome. His strong, powerful legs bear a fantastic body I just adore running my hands over every time he is near. He has all the breading and class any mother would be proud of. Unlike any other I’ve had in the past, this time I won’t be sharing him around for others to contaminate. I have found myself catering to his every whim before anyone else in my life. I adore that feeling. It has been so long since anyone has appreciated me unconditionally as well. I can’t wait for our next chance to be alone together as for now there is no one else.














Introducing my new horse Louie, I love him to bits!

The Commute to Work

Hearing the traffic updates on any morning radio station always makes me smile for is yet another reason I live where I do. Traffic, lights, car accidents and road closures are the least of our worries. Yet there are many other obstacles in our daily travels about using various mode of transport.



I am a ‘FLOPE’ as opposed to a FLOP! ie: I had a Former Life Of Paid Employment.

Now I’m just a Fun Loving Other Person. My teaching job required me to leave home at 7:20am each morning and return each evening when my work was done. I did it for 9 years. A 30 minute, 40km trip with only 2km of dirt. EASY! My husband never understood why I wasn’t ever, ever home by 3:30pm. (That’s another whole story there)

Wednesday and Friday’s were particularly stressful; I had to remember to look for the train as it usually crossed the road at about 8am. There was the wildlife to contend with. Roos, goannas, cattle, calves, plane turkeys, emus and occasionally a passing car. But it was nothing a 5 poster bull bar and side rails could not handle. Wedge tail eagles were another matter. They take an amazingly long time to react and move their massive stomaches off the ground and considering their favourite breakfast snack is dead roo that someone has previously hit, they are the real kings of the road. They are not all fluff and feathers when your windscreen collects them. Even if you are only doing 60km/ph. On the bitterly cold and frosty morn I scored mine the whole windscreen shattered, leaving glass shards over the entire front of the car. Always wear sunglasses whilst driving. After watching the poor, daisied creature shake its head and continue on its merry way, I was literally left to pick up the pieces. My son, who was 5 at the time thought it was sooo cool and wanted to know when we could do it again. Not being able to see a soul through the hole, I then drove 2km back to the nearest phone to find out if there was a replacement windscreen available in town. “No worries”, they said, “head on in.” So we did, at about 20km/ph with a child standing on the front seat, head out the window, guiding us the rest of the 30km. I was a tad late for work that morning.

The commute was not nearly as bad until my babies started arriving then the real fun began. I was up at 4am to express milk, packing lunches, nappy bags and school work. By the time I’d done the drive and the day care drop off I thought I’d run a marathon. On arrival at work I fought the young, single teachers for the first cup of boiling water from the kettle to get my caffeine kick. They would yawn, roll their eyes and mumble how exhausted they were getting themselves to work. More often than not I let them have it and tell them about my morning.

I only ever forgot to collect my children before heading home once. For the life of me I couldn’t work out why it was so quiet in the car. When I turned my head to look in the back seat I cottoned on pretty quick that I needed to chuck a u turn pretty smartly.

Doing jobs for the property as part of the trip was a pretty regular occurrence. I often had a wad of sticky notes of items to collect from my husband and various other neighbours who knew I was in town every day. Taking the ute in meant I had to pick up lick from the railway in my lunch break. I always managed to wear white the days greasy parts/tyres were ready to take home.

The smelliest trip was a mysterious package my husband asked me to post one day. I left it on the dash all one summer’s day to remind my self to swing by the post office on the way home. After I had collected the kids of course. By 4:30pm that box was so ripe I had to repackage the dung beetle samples in 3 lots of zip lock bags before I even considered venturing anywhere near Australia Post. Funnily enough, we were never asked by the DPI to supply samples again. That really suited me as it was one less job I had to do in town.

Most embarrassing trip was during our weaning muster. We were having the great debate over drenching or not. I brightly suggested getting a worm count done in town from dung samples. I rose extra early that morning to chase wild weaners around the yard so stools could be collected. In the car were 2 eskies, one with samples and one with breast milk for the baby. Of course the enviable happened and it wasn’t until I was driving to work after dropping off all my eskies that I realised what had happened. I had a somewhat bamboozled day care mum to sooth and a man who used to still laugh at me for many years after every time we met.

Slowest trip: old style summer diesel still in the car when early frosts hit. I would drive about 100m and then we would stall to a stop. I got 10km to town in just over an hour until I was rescued by a roo shooter who gave me a lift. The three of all pilled in the front on one bucket seat, but we all got there eventually!



Now I am merely a FLOP (Fun Loving Other Person) who no longer has paid employment. I still find plenty to do to fill in my day, don’t worry. Darling, drinking tea and eating scones on the veranda is so exhausting. Not to mention how busy I am with those trips to town for a facial, coffee with the girls and a spot of shopping.

I teach my kids in a car port 20m from my kitchen so I really love the daily commute now. Sometimes I dance down the path. However, the trip from A to B often has a detour past the laundry, cattle yards, ute, fencing trailer or hay shed. It must be finished by 8am or there about as that is when our school teacher (me) hollers, “Get your butts in here!”

The trip home is also some what longer than usual as various obstacles of station life have to be tackled. Not that I’m whinging! And the commutes to work we have on the property? Yep, that’s another whole story too. I might even write about it one day.

Ribbons or Rope

Top 11 Uses of Pony Club Ribbons by the Douglas Family



Every time I do a bit of a toy/object pick up off the floor (not that often) there appears to be a family of ribbons breeding behind the couch as there always seem to be more than last time, despite our many uses of them. I always said I could write a book called “101 uses for pc ribbons” but now that I’ve tried I have only got to 10. Guess I need to think of another book idea hey? Anyway, I really doubt we have so many due to my children’s riding talent, just the sheer fact we have been members of pony club in this generation for 8 years now and we have a very generous club that loves to hand out well deserved ribbons to encourage great riding.

On winning a ribbon, some families carefully roll each prize; carefully enclose them into zip lock bags for safe travelling home and display in the pool room/bedroom on pretty coat hangers or bed quilt form; it never makes to the deserving neck of the nag in case it gets dirty. Sadly the Douglas family lacks all dignity in this respect and ours get tied to the horse/saddle/mother/ truck bull bar and shipped home in some form for the following uses.


1. Moth fodder – I continue to find long lost suitcases of the good old felt ribbons from the Mitchell Show and various camp drafts that have now all sadly seen better days. In those days winning one really did mean something from what I can gather but sadly, these ones, like their owners have been returned to mother earth.

2. Grass reins - Middle child was having incredible trouble wheeling her new pony around the show ring and after she almost collected an important NZ horse judge, the most lovely lady quickly made her a set of grass reins (sort of rope to stop horse from putting head down to nibble at green grass) out of some show ribbons!


3. Dog leads when 2 or more are tied together. Has also been made into make shift halter lead on several occasions when a few spare ones were needed and found in the truck after pony club events.


4. Dress up props- From belts to scarves to necklaces to being wound up legs for the Egyptian look…possibilities only as big as the child’s imagination.


5. Sibling/child restraints when playing ‘rescue the kidnapped’ etc and no this idea was not inspired after readying 50 shades. But if were that way inclined you could add your own use here.


6. Garden ties for staking tomatoes, trees and what ever else takes you fancy. Bright ones are also good for scaring away birds from vege seedlings for the first few days. You will also often find them tied around trees as decorations, particularly at Christmas.

7. Paddock markers for identifying locations. Great to tie to trees, fences etc to mark a spot. Last year used often after the flood, favourite one was to show husband where ‘lost’ quad bike was after it was washed out of the back of the ute on the other side of the river. He couldn’t find it…it was only 1.6km further down stream, from where the ute was parked, what was his problem??


8. Rope for tying to the hills hoist clothes line for kid spinning (yes we still have one of those and my kids still do this despite the dint I put in it as a child)


9. Hair ribbons for sports days- big and bright in team colours. Also make awesome pompoms that don’t rip and run like crape paper.


10. Mascot making for school sports days- we have a ‘green grub’ made from many green ribbons sewn onto calico that makes the annual trek to our sports muster.


11. Mummy’s mad dressmaking for fashions of the field at the pony club dog races…a classic!

Rural Woman Statement (2012)

Photos Taken by the Amazing Jennie Bucknell for the Woman on the Land exhibition 2012.

Hook your bra back up and get on with it.

I am eternally grateful for the feminist movement for getting us out of the house and into which ever career in life we wish to pursue at any given time in our lives. I feel today women are equally accepted in society weather they choose to pursue a career, raise a family or combine the two. I am a sustainable beef cattle grazier whose passion for the land can be fulfilled whilst I juggle the balls that all women do today between work, kids, house, community and heaven forbid a social life and hobbies. I would not be living and working where I do if I didn’t love it. I don’t regard myself as special but more so blessed to have so much room and ‘real’ country people in my life. No, I’m not afraid to break a nail or get my hands dirty but I also enjoy getting spruced up and going to the races. I am told often I scream like a girl! There are many tasks that I physically can’t do and that’s ok. In any business each member of the team has their strengths and weaknesses. You solve the problem as best you can or delegate someone else to do it if you can’t. I’m yet to meet anyone who is perfect and can do everything.

Fortunately, I was raised as a person rather than a ‘girl’ and have always worked along side many different people in the paddock since I was a child. The few times I’ve had to prove myself were easily done at the back end of the branding cradle. Letting everyone see you castrate a few bull calves soon sorts the ‘hen peckers’ out!

So with equality well and truly here to stay I believe we should be grateful to the bra burners of the past and simply just get on with the job at hand. As I read somewhere recently a country woman needs to:

Act like a girl.

Dress like a lady.

Think like a man (only so she can work out what the heck is going on in the paddock)

Work like a dog. (well, not be afraid to work hard anyway)

Because at the end of every hard day there’s a cold beer or a lovely glass of merlot if you prefer. Me? I drink both! Cheers!!

Perfect Polly meets Reckless Ruth (a day in the life of mother who teaches her children through distance education)

The Roll of C2C for the Douglas Family (opposed to the roll out!)






In Reflection of how C2C affected one distance ed family this year. There is a sprinkling of the truth in both Polly and Ruth who is the mother/home tutor of the family. She aspires to be a Polly but Ruth is far more her reality.



Perfect Polly’s Plan

5:30: rise; feed baby; morning yoga

6:30: awake children; serve nutritious breakfast of Burcher muesli (prepared yesterday); fresh organic juice; camomile tea

7:00: House keeping and schoolroom preparation. Children commence before school fitness and gross motor programme. It should be noted at this point during the holidays, Polly familiarised herself with all c2c curriculum ensuring every aspects were studied and comprehended as it arrived/or she could access it. She also ensured all technical components of the c2c were working and she upgraded/uploaded compatible software of her own equipment accordingly.

8:00 Official start of the day- children will be at their desks with pencils sharp/hand at the keyboard and already writing/typing without being told to. Baby routinely goes to sleep.

Daily writing (genre/topic picked from previous day and children write continuously for 20 minutes without stopping or speaking unless to ask a question. This gives you time to scan through maths tasks for the morning and check emails from the school.

8:15 Brain gym exercises and school maths programme- all cd’s/sticks/internet links have been previously tested and are running smoothly, activity sheets previously cut out and resources collected and ready.

Spend equal amounts of time with each student accordingly and play times table cd in background. This week we are using “tables with Tchaikovsky”

9:05 unscheduled visit of father/husband to see children’s progress and current work

9:30 morning tea (fruit platter previously prepared) Baby routinely awakens and joins family for pureed fruit. Preparation for next session may also be necessary.

10:00 C1 (child 1in year 2) commences on air lesson with web conferencing that was connected during morning tea break- internet is working, no students are dropping in or out during the lesson, phone line is clear, dog is not chewing any cords and Polly has not forgotten web cam is on whilst breast feeding baby in background. C1 is doing an ink straw blowing art lesson today so that has also been previously prepared and all clean up equipment is standing by at the ready in case of spillages. C1 starts English. Meanwhile C2 (child 2 in year 4) commences school English programme and is working on extra spelling, handwriting and poetry activities requested by him from the distance ed teacher.

10:30 C2 commences on air lesson (see note above). Today the class is cooking so equipment, utensils and ingredients have been transferred from the house to the school room during the break C1 starts English. Today she is writing a persuasive text as well as other set activities including spelling, handwriting and reading with comprehension activities.

11:00 Both children continue working independently on English tasks whilst Polly commences fine and gross motor activities with the baby. Assistance is given to children as needed- this is also an opportunity to catch up with school emails, business phone calls and light housekeeping.

12:00 Midday reflection for everyone, how are we travelling and are the goals we set for today being met? Baby feeding and lunch preparation whilst the children continue on English activities.

12:30 Family luncheon (cold meats and selections of salads) Baby settles in for afternoon sleep.

1:15 Ironing whilst children read current novels. This is followed by an in-depth discussion of inferred character development and setting significance of the text. On occasion, this session may run slightly over time if there is much to discuss.

1:30 Return to schoolroom for afternoon session Currently C1 is doing a unit on rules of education and society and C2 is learning how to be a good friend. These may see the children do anything from creating a digital photostory, mixed medium painting/collage, powerpoint presentation or play performance (with props, costumes and backdrops) which has to be recorded for the teacher.

3:00 Official finish to the school day. Afternoon tea (wholemeal banana bread). Baby also routinely awakens to join family for afternoon activities.

Activities may include:

Watercolour painting, craft from another country, nature walk to study local fauna and flora, athletics training in winter months, pony riding (dressage and troop drill instruction), a visit to town for stores/library etc. The baby is now incorporated into afternoon activities as seen fit.

5:30 children’s chores (chickens, dogs, watering of vegetable garden)

6:00 Dinner preparation, baby feeding (organic beef and carrots), story, bath and bed time.

6:45 Evening meal

7:15 Family games night- Monopoly

8:00pm Children go to bed

Polly’s private study and meditation; husband attends to officework

9:30 bubble bath; blogging days thoughts and reflections; bed







Reckless Ruth’s Reality

5:30: something will wake you: be it hungry baby, husband, ringing phone, child with wet bed, or if you’re lucky shrilling crow of a roster

Drag yourself out and brace yourself for the day. Tea to calm, coffee to kickstart; drink accordingly. Feed baby, pack lunches for workers, hang first load of washing out. Ensure each member of family has eaten by counting bowls in sink and do a quick stock take of who’s doing what. Eat some wheatbix and toast.

7:00: C2 has been taken out in paddock by husband to assist with windmill greasing. C1 has taken dog for a bike ride to avoid extra chores. Baby is teething, drug accordingly. It should be noted at this point that over the Christmas break, Ruth prepared herself for c2c by purchasing 2 laptops that no one in the house is yet smart enough to work.

8:00 Official start of the day- children enter school room and commence whinging about writing. 8:15 Ruth needs to stop reading emails and checking facebook updates so she can start teaching school. Teach Maths. Baby decides to wake as it has disgusting dirty nappy.

9:05 husband sticks head in door and announces he is home for smoko- total disruption to all

9:18 early morning tea- I’ve heard there’s nothing wrong with SAOS for smoko…

10:00 Write off an hour of your day here…connecting to web conferencing, collecting materials needed, dealing with drop outs of internet or phone and then reconnecting. C1 on air lesson. Ink everywhere….. C2 knows if he keeps very quiet whilst crisis occurs, he won’t have to start his English for ages.

10:30 C2 on air, baby and dog in charge of cooking clean up on floor. C1 helps Ruth write persuasive text “The Impact of Climate Change on Our Beef Cattle Enterprise” for a grant application.

11:00 Time for some serious school work. Ruth reminisces about the good of days before c2c, technology and flexi-lessons. Baby rotates from jolly jumper, activity centre, floor time and given bikkies as required; ends up asleep on floor with dog.

12:00 Finally, some piece and quiet to do school. C2 remembers it’s mail day and escapes on the quad to collect it. Blue bag arrives from school with marked papers and stickers. Early lunch?

12:07 Lunch time…are there any leftovers? If not break into emergency stash of 2 minute noodles, frozen pies or toasted sandwiches.

12:45 sort washing onto ironing board and get kids to read to the baby.

1:15 Return to schoolroom to finish off what needs doing ASAP

1:45 finished…kids scatter in all directions

Afternoon activities: C1 and C2 have gone flood gate fixing with dad. (Bliss) Ruth mows lawn, pushing mower and pram alternately. Baking done for street stall, now where to hide it so the family don’t consume….. Goanna discovered in chook house and dealt with accordingly- still a crack shot.

5:30 Chores- Ruth does all as no one else has come home yet

6:00 arsenic or happy hour (pick your poison!)

7ish tea- not sausages and veges AGAIN

8:00 kids to bed (always on time for this one!)

8:30 attempt to read book but can never remember plot from previous night, collapse in coma like state to gain strength to repeat performance tomorrow.





End of year up date:

Polly stuck to her routine and is still educating her children perfectly. Her family, home and life run like clockwork. She has found this is only now possible by forgoing all forms of sleep, socialising and ‘me’ time. She is currently constructing a 200 page letter to Ed. Qld with recommendations for acceleration programmes for her children next year. Every now and then these funny people run into her softly padded room, tell her she is going to be just fine in gently soothing tones and give her a nasty jab that makes her feel like a floating cloud again.



Ruth didn’t get anywhere near Easter before the whole show fell apart. After 4ft of water went through the school room her life was somewhat put into better perspective. After being noted as Dan Murphy’s customer of the month 4 months consecutively, she is now the most active member of alcoholics anonymous. She is currently writing a short letter to Ed Queensland demanding the time she has wasted on c2c roll out ‘teething problems’ this year back or a generous compensation would also do. Ruth finally realised she could not do it all and has become one of ‘those people’ who have a Swedish Nanny for the baby whilst she gathers her head back together. She is also contemplating writing her own school curriculum entitled “the paddock programme” based on the philosophy that children will be immersed in all aspects of doing what ever she and dad do each day and hopefully by Christmas 2013 they will have their head around the BAS and mustering the holding paddock by themselves.

The Rat Dog (Aug 2012)

The Rat Dog


By Kylie Douglas



It was shortly after the Boy’s 5th birthday that the Woman decided the family desperately needed a pet dog. The Boy had seen such a succession of working dogs pass through his short life on the cattle property. He put the question to his mother in the most serious manner, “If I don’t work hard enough or come back when I’m called; will Dad take me for a walk down to the river and send me on holidays with the dingoes too?”

The Woman put her foot down and told the Man they were to get a pet and there were to be no more working dogs again until they had finished raising their family and she had time to train them her way; or as she referred to it ‘properly’. A precious Jack Russel puppy was ordered from the city. The Woman had heard they were good with kids and deadly on snakes- better the dog be bitten than the babies. The family received regular emails and photos of their chosen k9 after they had been asked many questions by his breeder and ‘matched’ with him. Eager with anticipation and excitement, the dog was named before he arrived. “Sniff” was chosen by the Boy because “that’s what dogs like to do”. The Man wanted and took no part of the process what so ever. However, he was quietly confident the whole pet dog saga would not last long. Neither he nor any of his mates knew of an old Jack Russel in the bush. Their endless thirst for adventure and action usually meant their lives were short.



Sniff was collected one afternoon after the Woman had finished work in town and was cuddled new born style by an overjoyed Boy down the street to purchase a collar with his own pocket money. He was a typical tricoloured puppy; tiny and timid.

On arrival to his new home, he squirmed and squealed in his young master’s arms when presented to his family. The Girl pulled his ears and he squeaked with shock. It was this moment on the Man called him ‘Rat Dog’ due to his size and sound effects.

The Man had stood his ground about Rat Dog being allowed in the house. Sniff spent his first night away from his mother in the cold, dark laundry with only a pillow, blanket, fluffy toy, ticking alarm clock, night light, hot water bottle, bowl of milk and bucket of dog nuts for companionship. These were all thoughtfully provided by the Boy and Girl.

Rat Dog howled and cried so much that night that even the Woman thought a new born baby was far less fussy. She seriously contemplated taking him for a walk to the river in the wee hours of the morning. The Man heard no noise whatsoever, but still complained bitterly about the Woman disturbing him each time she got up to comfort the creature.

This nocturnal pattern occurred for a few days whilst Sniff settled into his new environment. He was quite exhausted each morning and slept soundly all day in a polly lick tub under a shady tree in the garden. Every afternoon when the Boy and Girl came home they would cuddle, cart and care for their new charge. Bonds were forming. The Man took no interest what so ever.

After his first week, Sniff’s breeder rang to check in his progress and find out how everyone was settling in. She become somewhat distressed to discover the pooch was left to his own devices during the day and had to sleep outside of the family home at night. When the Woman told her he ‘whinged’ at bit she became very agitated the told the Woman that this dog was not for her or the family and should be returned for a full refund. She wanted him back. The Man became interested in the conversation he overheard on the phone. He wanted to send him back. So with the owner begging for his return on the phone and the man cheering with support behind her, the Woman stuck to her guns, dug her stubborn toes further in and the Rat Dog stayed.





Unfortunately, Sniff’s arrival coincided with a most horrific mouse plague the west had seen in many years. Nothing was left uncontaminated. Traps were worn out in hours. Poison bait was bought by the bucket full and devoured by the vermin like lollies. Evidently, the worst case scenario happened. Dog ate poisoned mouse, dog got poisoned. Dog found very sick and sad under the house one morning. After fighting so strongly to keep the beloved pet the Woman flew into a panic and rang the vet to report his state and find out what action to take. Again the Man took much interest in the phone conversation. “I’ve got to take him in to town,” the Woman stated after she hung up the phone, “He needs several blood transfusions.”

This time the Man stood his ground and bore his bolshie bristles between the woman and the car. “This is beyond ridiculous! It’s either me or the Rat Dog. Make your choice,” he growled.

“Oh for goodness sake, get out of the way,” she replied as she strode to the car, “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Eight days later and two 240km round trips to town, Sniff returned home to one happy Woman, two delighted children and one brave Man who only winced and complained once when the vet bill arrived. It looked as though Rat Dog would live to see another day.



As Sniff grew out of his hesitant youth, his true personality began to shine as brightly as a summer sun’s morning rays. This dog had some spunk about him and the world needed to know. His favourite teen games included:

Let’s drag only the Man’s boots under the house and no one else’s.

How many times can I chase and run under a car, truck or bike and not get hit?

How many times can the Man aim the car, truck or bike directly at me and not connect or collect me?

How many guinea fowl will the Woman keep buying after I have hunted and killed each new consignment?

How long will it take the chooks to realise if they set foot into my house yard they are fair game?

Why has anyone not realised I like to eat eggs too, which is why I often help myself from the chook house.

How many times can I swim across the river before I realise just how exhausted I am and need saving?

Let’s see how much shouting and commotion I can create when I chase the horses, especially if the children are riding them at the time?

How many kilometres can I run behind a vehicle when they leave the house without me?



Sniff was forgiven for most of his faults as he became a real pet dog whom the family were growing to love. The Man displayed no open signs of affection but had not taken him walking down the river yet. The Man did try one bonding session when he took the Rat Dog for a bore run to a block of land some distance from the home property block. Apparently he would not come to the Man when called and would not let the Man touch let alone catch him for the return journey. The Man returned home after dark dog less. The Woman and children became some what annoyed and agitated. She had visions of Sniff duck tapped to a pine tree in the scrub ready for a dingo’s dinner. An early morning trip to the last reported sighting soon found Sniff quite safe and very smelly. Everyone was relieved, well nearly everyone.



As Sniff grew, he began to demonstrate serious symptoms of small dog syndrome. When any other dog turned up on his turf, be it collie, kelpie or piggin’ variety he would charge and attack at full pelt, regardless of the ending consequences and what ever amount of days the wound licking would take him. As far as he was concerned he was a mustering/working dog too. Real working dogs now came with their masters to help the family when musters were on. If the Woman went Sniff did too, keeping pace and stride all day despite his size. He was even a little bit handy by always coming back when called by his mistress and pushing up the tail when asked. He relished biting bulls when requested. The idea of standing in a gate way barking when cattle need to pass through never occurred to this dog. He was tolerated in the paddock by all, well nearly everyone. The contract musterers would sink under the brims of their sweaty hats if they were moving cattle on the main road and a car or two happened to drive past and beep at the Rat Dog in delight. The odd tourist always had their camera at the ready too.



Sniff’s working dogs days came to an abrupt end with a total ban by the whole family. One exciting Saturday he spooked about 500 weaners in the yards and made them rush.

The Woman, children and Sniff went down to the yards to fill the hay feeders as they were not being tailed out in the paddock that day. One inquisitive Hereford gingerly stepped forward to investigate the feral fur ball and he responded with his biggest “Woof” he could muster. The beast took fright and flighted back into the mob. This reaction startled the first yard full, causing the whole mob to lunge at the back rails which thankfully held firm. This nervous energy flowed like a falling domino to the next yard of weaners behind it. In their haste, a hay feeder toppled over making a great booming noise as it fell. Shortly after all that could be heard was the deifying “CRACK” as the yards were smashed by the sheer force of some 1.25 t of beef. This was followed by a thundering of little hooves as they fled back towards the river to attempt to find their mothers. There was much shouting by the family as horses were hastily saddled to retrieve the mob. Sniff was confined to the saddle room for several hours to contemplate his actions. After the weaners had been wheeled and returned to the yards and tempers had somewhat cooled down, it was decided that those yards really did need replacing anyway. The Rat Dog’s popularity did dwindle for some time after that by the whole family but eventually he was forgiven by most members.



It was decided by the local pony club that the family were members of, to hold a fund raising Dog Races Day. Sniff was placed into intensive training by the children. When the big day arrived Sniff was ecstatic with excitement about being in town with so many smells and other dogs to conquer that running fast was the last thing on his mind. Things got a little serious after he won his heat and made it to the final race which was held late into the dark and wet night. A few rums had been consumed to help keep the chills at bay by many attending. The finalist dogs were auctioned off in Calcutta style leaving the Man no option but to buy the beloved Rat Dog back at a considerable price. Tensions between Woman and Man rose as nearly as high as the price did. Sniff did not disgrace himself by placing a solid third. His prize of a giant bag of ‘working dog nuts’ never came to any useful fruition as the pony club president’s horse had already devoured them when they were left unattended in the back of his ute the previous day. Some who saw Sniff strut his stuff that day have borrowed him for manly dog duties so it was a successful outing for him anyway.



Just as Sniff had began accepted his now one and only role of pet dog for the family there become more changes for him to readjust to. After one very long absence of first the Woman and children and then the Man as well they all returned clutching another small animal that was allowed inside the house. It had a rather fancy white basket that it was carted about in where ever the Woman went. There were no more morning walks, tummy rubs on the veranda or sneaking into the kitchen when the Man was not about. Many strange noises come from the house both day and night. There were even some days when no one remembered to feed him until he told them too. This was just not good enough as far as Sniff was concerned and he retaliated by taking all family members shoes, the odd piece of washing off the line and attacking the ever increasing amount of flowers that had been planted by the Woman. It was like they were preparing for something with all this activity, maybe the new animal has something to do with it? One sunny spring morning Sniff was tied up to the children’s swing and had to witness the endless torture of car after car arriving down the driveway that he could not chase and people in their “good clothes” he could not jump on. It was well and truly after dark when the last car departed and he was released to scrounge for his dinner which mysteriously was strewn all over the lawn in the form cold sausages, stale chips and beer bottle tops. Why all the fuss for the new thing in the house? It was utterly unacceptable.



In a last ditch attempt to regain his new larger family’s affection and attention, Sniff knew drastic measures were to be taken and so he put his plan into action the very next morning. The Woman and children appeared to be trying to do some form of school work in the home school room but their tiredness for the days previous antics slowed them considerably. Sniff entered the room rolled onto the middle of the floor and gave an Oscar Award winning performance of the most intense pain any animal has ever been in. His yowls took the Woman back to and beyond labour ward memories. With rolling eyes, convulsing muscles and drooling tongue, Sniff gained all the attention from the children he had lacked in the last few weeks. They howled and frothed at the mouth beside him, sure that these breaths were his last. “Ring the vet!” they pleaded, “There still might be something they can do”. Sniff went into a coma like state but continued to stay alive. He had all the classic symptoms of snake bite. Luckily for him the vet visited the nearest town on Monday afternoons so a deal was struck with the children. If he was still alive after lunch, he would be taken in. The man was out fencing all day so could not assist with the tough decision that had to be made. Lucky for Rat Dog. Sure enough, despite the children saying good bye several times, he hung on by a thread. As the family gently placed his weakened body into the car, Sniff began to rally his energy. By the time they arrived in town he jumped out the opened door and chased a cattle truck, then a cat up the main street. Even the Woman was not impressed with this behaviour. She was positive he was bunging it on. The vet assured the Woman that this can sometimes happen with snake bite and decided to take him back to the clinic just in case. Sure enough at 6pm that evening the vet rang to say he had all of the symptoms back again and had given him the most expensive (some refer to as the best) antivenin on the market that covered all snake poisons. 10 days later Sniff made a valiant return to the mostly overjoyed family. The pet was still alive! He was under strict orders not to have his heart rate or blood pressure raised for at least two weeks. The Man welded Rat Dog a specially designed cage of which he had visions the dog would never be realised from for the rest of his natural life. It might also help him stay alive in an affordable manner. This became his new home. Eventually he was realised for good behaviour on supervised runs. Sniff has been told by all family members that if he chooses to play with snakes again there will be no life line…the Man has said they can’t afford to sponsor anymore building extensions of the vet clinic.



And so to date the family’s pet dog is still alive and loved by most. He no longer works or takes boots. There have been no more great snake chases. Sniff tolerates the new family member now even when the Baby pulls his tail, bites his ears or shuts herself in his cage and eats his dog nuts. The Woman feels the purpose of the pet dog has been fulfilled and demonstrated by the family. This was cemented by the fact he had to be evacuated by the children with them during the floods despite the Man saying, “He’ll be right, he can swim can’t he?” There have been mumblings by the Girl that since the Boy got a dog, she wants a cat. No one really hears her properly when she mentions the subject though………..



Post Script Dec 2012.
Sadly, Sniff met his match with a snake in October.  The kids burried him deep in the sandpit with a mint plant growning on top.  The family has a new Jack Russle called "Toby"....a very different dog!  

Country From the Heart 2012

Short Story Competition Entry Statement


This story was written for entry in “Country Style” Magazine’s short story contest which had a word limit of 2000 words. It’s requirements were “Create a story that references, directly or obliquely, the idea of ‘cooking from the heart’.” It was sponsored by KitchenAid- hence the tacky names I used for the main characters, Kitch and Aidie. I feel my story suits the theme of the ‘River Of Life’ as it describes in great detail a day in the life of a rural family, from a mother’s perspective, and the current they have chosen to take with their lives by living where they are and doing what they do. Not to mention a bit of real life river in crossing the Maranoa to get to work!


Country From The Heart

By Kylie Douglas



It was the piercing shrill of the alarm rather than the rooster or baby that summoned Aidie from her sleep at 5am. Grudgingly she rose glancing at the cold, wrinkled mug of tea on her bedside table. As she debated whether to risk downing it as she dressed or relish herself in the luxury of a hot cup, Aidie gave thanks to her husband, Kitch. He had not disturbed her when he habitually placed it there much, much earlier when he rose. The line of light under the closed office door told her Kitch was busy. Probably engrossed in the day’s weather or stock market (all ordinaries and commodities or the four legged kind) which he valued all of equal importance. He was gathering his thoughts and strength for yet another day of the branding muster at ‘Overdraft Downs’.



Kitch was cleverly avoiding the commencement of action stations in the kitchen where Aidie began the mindless task of packing with military precision the big, battered blue esky that would feed the mustering troops for the day. She worked with haste, revelling in the solitude before any of the younger two ‘helpers’ arose and demanded attention. Thankfully the baby slept on as she packed tin pannikins for tea, coffee in a thermos flask, sugar, teaspoons, orange custard kisses, chocolate chip muffins, pink lady apples and sliced seedless watermelon. At least she was a reasonable cook even if she didn’t enjoy it. One of Aidie’s greatest embarrassments was achieving the home economics award in High School two years running. Later, Kitch would see to the water coolers. They would be packed with frozen bottles so everyone would enjoy a cold drink all day long. As she assembled cold roast beef with corn relish and salad sandwiches on wholemeal bread, Aidie reminisced in the contrast of how mustering lunches were packed during her childhood in the very same kitchen…….



Everyone made their own sandwich from a salty slab of corned beef slapped it between two slices of white bread with some of Gran’s choko pickles. There would be a slice of boiled brownie fruit cake wrapped in waxed paper as well. Often the cake ran out so a second sandwich of jam was made as a substitute. The food was then wrapped meticulously in newspaper with an old sock of tea leaves completing the package. It had taken her many years to perfect the folding technique around the bundle. There was always a stampede for the comic section of the paper to wrap your lunch in as it was the most desired to be read by all the ringers at dinner time. An orange was the real treat, sweet and juicy even though it was warm from the trip across the paddock in the saddle bag.

The old mustering days started much earlier, for everyone camped at the property instead of driving to work each day. Horses had to be ridden to muster paddocks for many miles as trucking them to starting points was unheard of. You left in the dark on horse back with your lunch squashed into your saddle bag on one side of the saddle; quart pot for boiling up a cuppa on the other. There was no room to carry water bottles. Water was drunk from the same sources as the livestock; be it dam, river or trough. It always tasted as fresh as a mountain spring as you were usually so parched your willingness to pour anything down to settle the dust in your throat was unstoppable. By lunch time, your legs and bottom were in grateful reprieve of the saddle as you had usually covered a lot of country searching for mobs of cattle in thick brigalow scrub and tall spiky pine trees. Often you followed mobs that where heading in to water as the temperature rose down well worn cattle pads. Lunch was usually at a picturesque spot under a large shady tree at a waterhole whilst holding the cattle. Quart pots were boiled to make tea if the cattle were behaving. The now soggy, squashed sandwich made before dawn was a tasty morsel and even better if toasted on the billy fire. Homemade toasting forks fashioned out of 10 gauge fencing wire were always found hanging in a tree at decent water points from previous musters. Toasted sandwiches, billy tea, cool shade and open air; sometimes a quick kip was on the menu as well…….



“Mum!” shouted Cooper to Aidie bringing her back to the present with a thud. “Can I have vegemite and not honey today? Where are my clean jeans? I need my frozen pop top bottles too!” Her daughter, Georgina also appeared although she was more dressed for riding than her brother. “My boots are missing again!” she whined, “You know where they are, don’t you? Are they on the other side of the river again?” Right on cue the baby, Dawson, awoke with his usual bellow to be fed and changed. Kitch had also arrived to eat and turned on the radio full blast to the country music hillbilly hour on the ABC. He passed an unchanged mess maker to Aidie as he put the kettle on to boil. As she latched the leather strap around the laden esky, Aidie saw her son spill an entire box of rice bubbles on the floor as he attempted to help by refilling a container. Well there’s a time saver, she smiled to herself as she toyed with the idea of pouring a bottle of milk on the floor with it and telling the family breakfast would be served on the lino this morning. Organised chaos reigned as the family sat down to a breakfast of cereal and toast. Nothing would phase Aidie today for she was going mustering too and she could not be happier about it.



At least her childhood mustering breakfasts were a fashion of the past, Aidie pondered as she stacked her dishwasher. Who had time to cook steak’n’ eggs or the stomach to eat them at 4am? Aidie mentally ticked off her morning to do list before she escaped out the door. The kitchen had toned down considerably in volume as the rest of the family had absconded to do other chores before the mustering ringers arrived for the day at 7. As she flew down to the cold room to grab vegetables to add to the dinner she was now preparing, she again smiled to herself about her difference in cooking cuisine to the current TV and reality trends. She was making a ‘mulligan’ for dinner with no recipe in mind, just what ever was close by and handy. Lamb shanks were perfect for any slow cooker meal and to think about how trendy they had become now when once they were considered dog tucker! Cuts of meat, how to cook them and where they were served certainly had come along way from the budget basic to the finest restaurant table in the last several years. To her all of the ‘new’ food ideas were ones she had grown up with. Low food miles had always been the go when living so far away from any decent fruit and vegetables. You had to try and grown your own as best you could. Impulsively substituting ingredients was the norm as you never had all of the items called for and popping to the shops or markets was impossible. As Aidie thought this she was sloshing soy sauce into the shanks to swap with Worcestershire sauce. Food continues to be so central so many aspects of culture. When someone dies, you give a casserole, there is always a Christmas feast and what would any celebration be without a cake? With the lid clunked and the switch clicked, the dish did not look that appetizing now but would be warmly welcomed when they wearily returned that evening. With perfect timing, the ringers arrived with the baby sitter for Dawson also on board.

Aidie headed for the loaded ute ready for the drive to the river. Sharing the back with 16 working dogs wasn’t ideal but it was not far to travel. The river crossing road had been demolished in the flood. All of the horses had been swum across on the first day of the muster and kept at the second set of yards further west of the station. Other branding equipment had been bravely driven over in the bucket of the tractor by Kitch. Boating across was another option, however, with such a strong current in the river most felt much more confident wading the waist deep water each day.

The procession of crossing began and since everyone was dressed in board shorts and thongs whilst carrying boots, socks, undies, jeans and the important lunch supplies between them it made a most amusing sight. Once across, the dogs shook themselves off and the humans scattered behind trees to dress. Boots laced, spurs buckled, hobbles belted and hats plonked they all again piled into another ute to continue the commute to work with the yards being the desired destination. As they drove, eyes were peeled looking for missed or unbranded cattle in the paddocks that were supposedly ‘clean’. On arrival at the yards the real work commenced; about 120 calves to brand that had been drafted off the night before. By this stage of the muster everyone had a position in the chain of events as the calf moved up the race. Aidie was responsible for holding the leg as the calf lay in the ‘cradle’. It was brilliant upper body workout. Kitch looked after the head, adding tags and ear marks as required. Georgina was a tag gun loader, a job she took most seriously, whilst Cooper was responsible for yarding the calves into the race. A smooth rhythm of branding was established and by mid morning the calves were gratefully back with their mothers bunting their udders for more milk. Smoko time!

Hearty appetites were noshed with hot coffee and the spread Aidie was whinging about packing up that morning and even she had to admit it was worth the effort. After the break the horses were yarded from their small paddock around the dam. Saddled, and with apples and water bottles packed in their saddle bags, they headed off to muster more cows and calves in “Bush” paddock to draft and brand tomorrow. Aidie revelled in the vast openness away from the house and all of its responsibility. She was simply delighted to see her family ride together on their own special mounts that had been sourced from far and wide for them. The reward of doing extra days of school work in their schoolroom last holidays was now being reaped by everyone in the clan. This was the purest example of why their family lived where they did and did what they did; for the sheer love of it. Yes, there were challenges of weather, cattle prices, isolation and distances to be covered to access services but mostly that was part of the challenge. Seasons in the last couple of years had been sensational, she thought as her horse meandered through girth high grass. Gradually, as Aidie gave thanks for this glorious moment in time, the mob of stout cows and burly calves was calmly put together by the team. They headed back to the yards with their bounty for a late lunch.



After the cattle had been yarded and horses hosed down, the esky was again unpacked and the food shared in the shade. It was eaten at a purposely made table and bench seats under the tree these days so there was no need to squat in the dirt. “Good grub today Aidie.” thanked Kitch to his wife. She smiled in response. Her cooking might not be exactly from the heart but the country certainly was.