Under a hotter Sun; Susie;

"Susie"
One day I found a female Wallaby lying on the side of the road. I got out of the car to check her. She had been hit by a car and was dead. She had a tiny Joe, confused, crawling all over her trying to get into her pouch. I always had an old blanket in the car for such an occurrence.
I bundled the Joe into the blanket and took it home. It was a female, she was tiny but she already had a nice fur. We called her Susie. I made a pouch for her from an old jumper and bolstered it out with a woollen blanket so she would be comfortable and warm.

I went to the Wildlife Services in Grafton. They gave me a permit to raise Susie. A bottle with a special dummy and instructions how, when and what to feed her. All went very well.

She liked her food. I took her in her pouch everywhere with me, even in the car to go shopping. I knotted the pouch to a coat hanger so I could hang her up on any hook or handle nearby. In the house I usually hung her on a doorknob.

She liked her pouch yet at night she would snuggle up with one of the girls. She would curl herself at their feet under the doona . Mainly she ended up in Lilli’s bed because Lilli had a special gentle nature with animals.

At first we fed Susie with the bottle. We mixed milk with finely ground chicken pellets and a few drops of lemon juice. She did very well and grew quickly to a naughty toddler. In the living room I had one wall covered with bookshelves. She did not read the books she liked to nibble the spines!

She was not at all an absolute herbivore. While she grazed I observed her digging for beetles and worms, which she ate with gusto.

She loved small pieces of steak or frankfurters sausage when we had a barbecue.

Her weakness were almonds. As soon as I was around she nuzzled into my hands and pockets to look for the nuts.
She grew well and soon was a teenager. She grew tame in a way but not absolutely, there was a certain wildness in her. She started to leave us for days. I was worried and went all over the place looking and calling her. Suddenly she came hopping, nuzzling my pockets for almonds. If I did not have any she was angry and boxed me with her paws.
And than there was sadly a time when she did not respond anymore to my calling.
I like to think she rejoined her relatives and lived happily ever after.

Photo TS.

Copyright TS.

Under a hotter Sun; The Road;

Ali and Tommy good mates.

The Road
The road leading to our property is called a “dirt road”. It winds its way from the
Highway through the bush. Its surface is rutted at certain stretches corrugated. The car bumps and clatters noisily like every nut and bolt were loose threatening to fall out. After a few trips the driver is ready to take on any stock car race. The drivers who use this road are not considerate drivers. In the dry season they drive at the height of their speed. In their wake clouds of dust settling on both sides of the road on shrubs and trees, leaving these breathless, poor ghosts waiting for the next rain to be washed clean.
When we were working near the road we usually laid a small tree over the road. This action brought a lot of swearing from the driver, as he had to slow down, stop and remove the tree. This was the intention of our action so the fine red dust would not suffocate us. Before we took this drastic action we were the ones coughing and sneezing, emerging from a red cloud, fighting for a breath of clean air.

We also had another option, that was by the first sound of a motor to leave our tools and run away from the dust, sit down and wait until the dust had settled, but that was very impractical, because once we laid down our tools, sat down and got used to the rest, it was very hard to get motivated to go back to this sort of work. Regarding our work ethics Peter opted for the first.
In the wet season this road runs with water, has deep ditches on the sides, holes in the middle treacherously filled with water.
I landed ones in a ditch while I was righting the milk bucket which had fallen on its side, While doing this I went a little to the left and slithered into the deep ditch, the car was lying on its side. I had to go and get Peter with his tractor to pull the car out.
When the road is slippery wet, the drivers slow down. This was a respite for all,
especially for the animals, who have the habit to live on both sides of the road.
On my trips to the bus stop to bring the girls to their school bus I saw sometimes a wallaby hit by a car. The mate would linger around for a few days, sit nearby and then disappear into the bush. I made the habit of it to always check if it was a female and perhaps a Joe in her pouch. Mainly male wallabies, mostly curious youngsters were hit. The females were much more cautious.

Under a hotter Sun; Melina, a dairy cow;

Every morning after I brought the girls to the school bus I went to the dairy farm to get a bucket of milk. One day I got a bucket of milk that was different than the usual milk. It was thick and very yellow and left long strands when I was pouring it into a jug.

Peter, when he was a lad had spent a lot of time at a dairy farm, so he knew instantly what was wrong with this milk. He said it was colostrum milk the calve feeds on when it is just born. This milk was not appetising and I did not use it. After that experience I said we should buy a dairy cow.
How nice it will be to milk our own cow and have fresh, frothy milk everyday. We asked our dairy farmer, Jean's, my gardener friend's husband, if he could sell us one of his dairy cows. He agreed and showed us a gorgeous looking dairy cow with lovely, brown eyes for seventy Dollars. She looked at us and said moo,

I thought what a good sign she agrees with us. The next day she was delivered. Jacky christened her Melina. She liked this name a lot and was keen to use one of the names since she had read an adventure story about Melina and Haska.
Melina was as stubborn as she was beautiful. She hated to be caught and we had to bribe her with the now famous blue bucket filled with corn. She also hated to be milked. She had not a clue what her duty was and did not like to be milked. She gave us only one meagre drop of milk. She did not like us one little bit. She kicked and pushed Peter until he said enough is enough my princess you are going to be tamed. Peter made a small wooden plank that was attached to a rope. It was not easy to fit it around the very reluctant neck of Melina. Now she can not run away we thought and with a lot of tender loving care she might consider us as her friends do her dairy cow job and let us milk her.
When Peter wanted to milk her, she was wild, threw around her weight and hit him with her "necklace" the wooden plank in his shins. With angry looks at him, she braced herself, started to scratch with her hooves and threw soil into the air. Peter had enough of her tantrums. He left her to calm down and the next day he took off her yoke and released her in the paddock with the Herefords.

She ran off looked back and poked her tongue out. With this ended our dream of frothing, fresh milk.
In winter she gave birth to a beautiful Frisian bull calf that she thoroughly spoiled with lots and lots of milk.
Unfortunately Melina had not a happy ending. When we had a drought,Melina was not in her best condition and fell between a drain. Peter wanted to lift her out but she had hurt herself and was not able to stand up anymore.
Peter had to put her out of her misery.

Under a hotter Sun; Insects and Snakes always attract attention;

Fiddle Beetle Eupoecila australasiea

While pottering around in the garden I observe all sorts of interesting beetles. The
Bombardier beetle is one of the funny ones. It produces an audible chemical explosion from his rear accompanied by a puff of smoke and acrid smell when he is disturbed or touched.
One of my Hibiscus shrubs sports jewel like bugs hanging to branches and leaves. This is the Harlequin bug it flaunts its iridescent colours of bright blue, green and red arranged in sophisticated patterns. It is very beautiful considered a pest as it sucks the sap from the Hibiscus plant, so be it.

The Fiddle beetle is a thoroughly benign and lovely bug. It has a strong green violin pattern on its wing covers. It feeds on nectar in the flowers of the Eucalyptus tree. Their larvae live in decaying wood and compost and oddly crawl on their backs.

It is Christmas in Australia when the beautiful, beige golden Anoplognathus porosus, the Christmas beetle emerges from its dark tomb where it lives as a white curl-grub until it flies off as a pretty Christmas ornament into houses attracted by the lights.

The Bombardierbeetle


Sometimes I spot Giant Stick insects. It is always just by chance when I see them they are so well camouflaged, blending in just as any other stick.

I was fascinated when I saw my first Goliath Stick insect. They are more than 2o cm long. Grass green with a flash of red on their wings. They are very impressive Insects. They feed on top of tall Eucalyptus trees so they are never seen only when they have been blown down during storms.
The heat should prompt us to take it easy. Retire through the hottest hours of the day and have a siesta like in hot Latin countries. Oh no not in this country it was settled by Englishmen. They have a song, “Mad dogs and Englishmen are out in the midday sun.” I might add to this, the Swiss are the same. Peter is out on his tractor, pushing ,pulling ,slashing.

In the heat of the day snakes abound on the property. The Red-bellied Black Snake especially. They are sunning their fat, shiny black bodies. Every time I encounter one, nearly treading on it, a little shock wave electrifies my body.
Lots of tall stories are told about snakes. One man was bragging how he would take a snake by its tail and swing it around his head.

We were cleaning up old wood and debris from a previous flood, which were deposited over the property. Peter started to remove a woodpile when he saw the tip of the tail of a Black one.

He could not resist that challenge remembering the guy’s story. He grabbed the tail end and pulled. Peter got the shock of his life when

the snake’s head emerged a few centimetres from his hand to check who was pulling her tail. This day there was no swinging of a snake and I think, from then on, he left them well alone; the snake had earned his respect.
We all come upon snakes from time to time. Generally they are shy creatures slithering away not looking for confrontations. Mostly we do not know when they are around the house, unless our Australian Terrier Ali frantically sniffs around and chases them off.

Along a sunny spot on the river Peter concreted a place complete with a small springboard for the girls were they can spend the hot summer days.

The whole riverbank was a tangle of scrub and trees. A paradise abundant with wildlife. Tiny birds like butterflies flitting around. Goannas and Lizards revelling, sunning their bodies.
Lilli sunning on a towel after a refreshing swim, did not know what prompted her suddenly to look up. There was a fat, long Black Snake right coming towards her practically wanting to slither over her. Frightened Lilli jumped up, the snake jumped at the same time exposing her bright red belly. Both scared of each other fled in a flash.
Pythons, simply called carpet snakes were permanent bed and breakfast guests. They lived in the rafters of our various sheds. We liked their silent company. Noiseless they slide their smooth, patterned bodies along to hold on to anything even the tractors steering wheel. It was possible to touch them when they were in the mood, if they were aggressive you left them best alone.

We were really afraid of the Clarence River Snake, the Eastern Brown Snake and the Coastal Taipan. They are very poisonous and dangerous snakes. So, they are very shy, they are also nervous and aggressive if cornered or harassed also unintentional.

I really like the green Tree Snakes. They are not venomous. I found them curled around the garden gate showing off their green and yellow colours. They are beautiful creatures slim and sleek with tiny heads. Sometimes they have small bumps and nicks in their skin probably from an accident and getting away with it. They also lived in the climbing plants, which were trained on wires along the veranda.

Somehow one got under the roof of our sun room probably to hunt for frogs. One morning there was this particular nasty smell and Peter exclaimed, “oh no!’ He had to open the roof and with a broomstick he fished out what were the remains of a green snake, Yuk!
In the middle of our property stands an ancient, gigantic Morton Bay Fig tree. Its grey roots exposed to form rooms of which animals take advantage to shelter from storms.
All sorts of animals and birds like the tiny fruit that grow on the tree in abundance.
The Lorikeets feast on the fermented figs and get drunk, laying on their backs their feet up in the air. When I first saw this spectacle I thought they were sick until I realised what had happened. Also the horses were fond of the fermented figs. When they were freely grazing, we always found them munching under this Fig tree ..after having eaten a quantity they behaved rather strangely.

Peter was having a rest, sitting down and leaning against its ancient roots when suddenly a very large Tree snake was sliding straight in his direction. He saw her when she was only about half a meter from him. All what the snake wanted was to go up her tree were she lived. Peter took one jump and was away. One really gets quite acrobatic in haste to escape.
When overseas Tourists came visiting, Peter would in detail tell them where it was possible in the wild to observe snakes. One option was to look for a bridge, which are always in plentiful supply. At noon on a hot summers day snakes like to congregate under bridges to soak up the warmth.

So if you see people in shorts with pale thighs and knees, with anticipated terror on their faces, bending over bridges, those are the tourists looking for fat, red-bellied Black ones!
I know of two people who have been bitten by snakes, well one person I know the other is sort of that somebody else knew this person and told me about it. We had a friend, a grazier, who would on his way around his property collect poisonous snakes to bring to a place to milk their venom to produce antidote. Once he found one and as it was to late to bring it to this place he shoved it in his toolbox.
The next morning he had forgotten about the snake. He took his jeep drove out to his property and had a breakdown without thinking he put his hand into his toolbox and got neatly bitten on his wrist. He was a tough man and he did not go to hospital to get antidote.

He was very, very sick it took him three month to get better. He got bitten a second time from a Black snake when he was walking barefoot through high grass just opposite the river from our property. He was very sick again but did not have any antidote either. I don’t know why he did not let himself help with the antidote that he helped to collect. Mike later on had a very bad fall from his horse and lost his kidneys. He had a kidney transplant and lived for an other 10 Years. He died before he was 60 years old. Very sad, we all liked him much. Peter told him once, that the bites of the poisonous snakes could have influenced the failure of his kidneys. He agreed. It was not further investigated.
The other man was a doctor who collected and played with snakes. He was alone in
his surgery where he was found dead bitten in a cheek. The rumour was he could not put a tourniquet around his neck.

Our hens get sometimes bitten when they try to tackle small snakes. We found our cockerel that could barley walk and we thought he had been bitten. We found a nest full of small Blacksnakes under a bail of straw.

Under a hotter Sun; The making of the Garden;

The garden;

I have started to establish my Gardens. One for vegetables and one for ornamental plants.
P... has made a fence so the cattle can't come in and eat up the plants. The soil looks poor and is very hard to dig and it does not hold the water. The garden needs an awful lot of improvement with the soil. First I planted Australian native bushes with brilliant flowers. Melaleucas, called "Robin Redbreast". It has tiny bottlebrush flowers in a vivid orange. I planted lots of Callistemon, usually just called Bottlebrushes, in different reds, some are overlaid with gossamer gold. They come in lots of colours. Dark purple, pink, very long white brushes and even a very light yellow colours. The fantastic Banksia comes in different hues of yellow with slim and tall or fat and squat flower heads. Different leaves too, but always tough and hard to touch. I try to plant the ones from the region. I have tried some from West Australia but have never been completely successful at one stage or the other they have succumbed to the wrong conditions.

The garden takes on shape. We have planted Orange, Mandarin, Tangello and Lemon trees. They bear their fruits in winter when they are very welcome. The flowers are very sweetly scented and perfume the whole garden...it is the most agreeable scent a little bit like lilies of the valley..”Mister Dior” eat your heart out!
We have also planted Persimmon and Mango trees. A small orchard is emerging around the house.
I have dug a lot of pathways and Peter has filled them with pebbly concrete. I have marked out many beds. One after the other is going to be planted out. I get a lot of cuttings from everywhere especially from Jean Barnier, she loves gardening like I do.
Her mother loves gardening too and she has a beautiful garden. She also gave me lots of cuttings which I strike and most of them take quite easily. She gave me a rare and special cutting from a flower called commonly “Blue Ginger” its Latin name is Dichorisandra thyrisflora, quite a mouthful, no wonder we all use the “common names”! I have planted also some rosebushes. Summer is probably to hot for them to do really well. As long as I can cut some for the vases I am happy. I have planted many miniature roses they seem to do alright for the time being.
In front of our house we build a small pool to bolster the local frog community. When raining it is a truly beautiful feature its rim planted with bog loving plants, our croaking friends, who usually send their love calls in the middle of the night, cherish it. Dear people from Switzerland who spend some time with us were driven crazy by the noise; Karli went out armed with a broom and a flashlight to disperse the noisiest
lovers. He had not much luck in his endeavour as the frogs went into hiding as soon as the beam of light hit them. Resigned he went back in to his bed his ears plugged with cottonwool.
In midsummer it is a marathon to keep the pond filled with water. The water disappears through cracks in the clay soil as soon as it is filled. Until the next big thunderstorm I fill a dish with water so the frogs can have a little dip to cool their sensitive skin.
Big, brilliant green creatures with a dreamy expression take advantage of any cool and moist spot. They wander into bathrooms and occupy toilets, sit in pipes and gutters. From time to time they call each other with raucous croaking.
There are also very tiny frogs some only two to three centimetres. I find them huddled in lettuce leaves. Carefully I transport them back in to the garden.
I love to watch the dragonflies flitting above the pond. In the German language they have such a lovely name “Libelle” it sort of describes their ethereal beauty. Many take advantage of our small water feature. The plantings of Bamboo and Papyrus gives them shelter. They are the most elegant ballerinas clad in deep sky blue, emerald green, dark wine red and many other colours. Some have dark spots and patterns on their gossamer fine wings. They are verily the most gracious of insects.

Summer can unleash torrents of rain and fierce, horrendous storms. Lightening, eerie non-stop illuminates and fissures the sky. Thunder explodes, torn from the deepest abyss. It is a frightening experience. On a hot afternoon, a storm was brewing. Dark clouds chased each other expanded swiftly and piled up a grey-black menace to threaten people and animals alike. The cattle retreated into the bush to get some shelter there. Thunder and lightening cracked the heavy dark blue and black chaos without end and created supernatural pictures.
Lilli and I were alone at home looking out of the kitchen window towards the front paddock. Thunder and lightening attacked the heavens furiously, when suddenly a horrendous thunderclap made us jump and the next moment lightening struck a tree not twenty metres from us. It was a show we will never forget. Lightening zigzagging into the tree and setting the tree alight, green frogs were catapulted into the air and fell down dead. The tree was partly hollow and dried out. Frogs that made it their home didn’t expect such a terrible expulsion. Then the rain was released in a tremendous, solid sheet of water. It pounded and crushed earth and plants and I thought they would never recover from such an onslaught.

In midsummer the vegetable garden grandly named “Le Potager” planted in spring with a lot of enthusiasm looks limp and uninspiring. Most of it we ate, some we had to share with the creatures that harvest but don’t sow. The King Parrots, marvellous birds, wearing everyday their Sunday best in green and bright red, love tomatoes as much as we do.
The sun triumphant sends out its fieriness to wither the rest of plants. Lettuces quickly grow to towers producing trillions of seeds spreading them on fluffy wings all over the garden. In autumn they will emerge as tiny plants which I can then just transplant, how ingenious.
Then comes a time when it is just absolutely to hot to work in the garden. The
vegetables don't like it either. Most things have succumbed to the heat, lost their vigor like myself. Cucumbers and Melons have withered from mildew and if this heat goes on I will wither too. So, I am waiting for kinder days in autumn.

Under a hotter sun; A new year!

A new year !
The girls have started school. Jacky and Lilli in Tyndale and Marie-Louise at Maclean High school. Norma said I could came with her to the assembly where the Headmaster of the school held a speech. I only understood the odd word Australian English was so hard to understand. My ear had not yet adapted to the sounds and vowels to the Australian language.

I was wondering how Marie-Louise would get along. All day long I was thinking of my girls in those strange schools, surrounded by strange people and also a strange language to learn. My heart was heavy when I went to pick them up at half past three from the school bus which stops at Hazel's milk bar. All three seemed to be happy and have taken their first school day in their stride.
Marie-Louise was taken under the wings of a few senior students from Year 11 and 12. They looked out for her and asked all sorts of questions about Switzerland, which she answered as best as she could. Also the Librarian asked her if she wanted to become a library monitor. It pleased Marie-Louise, she loves books. Her day went all in all quite well. The English teacher is prepared to give Marie-Louise extra lessons to catch up with her class.
Jacky and Lilli have also made their experiences. The teacher was talking about ants but they didn't know what he was talking about. So he send a child out with them to show them the ants. I think they will learn the language quickly because nobody speaks their language. They have to take their lunch with them as they are not coming home over lunch it wouldn't be practical as Maclean is about 23 km from Hazel's place and then there are an other 6 km to our place.

The bus leaves at eight AM and returns at half past three PM. It is a long day. I wonder how the five and six year old children cope with such a long day. When the children are at school I am mostly alone at home. Peter is always somewhere working on the property, and it is BIG. In Australia a farmer plants crops and he owns a farm. A grazier has beef cattle or sheep and his farm is a grazing property, these are the subtleties in different countries.
We have Hereford Beef cattle, so we are "Graziers"! Letters which are sent from Stock and Station agents are very old fashioned addressed only to P. S...., Esquire....I don't exist! It is not done to slight me, it is just the way things are done in a world of men. P.. too has this attitude. He had a new sign made for our house it just said: P. S....This old fashioned attitude "it niggles a bit"!

More clean up.
Peter was going to do more cleanup work along the river bank. To plant some corn and pumpkins for the pigs he intended to buy. It was hazardous work with all the leftovers from a previous flood hiding under the cover of man high weeds.

He suggested I should walk in front of the tractor to find out if some big tree was in the way of the tractors wheels. I put on my boots and sunhat and was ready for this task. Diligently I was trudging in front of the tractor. At first quite happy to fulfil this task, as there were all sorts of things happening in those weeds. Bugs and butterflies flitting past me, a tiny mouse or something similar scuttling away from my boots.
It was a big, big, big field. It seemed to me the rows were getting longer and longer until to the end of this particular field. It was not really easy walking, I had to be careful not to fall in a hole made by the water and the field was very uneven! When a big stump or an other hindrance was in the way, we had to push it away, it was really hard work. I was getting hot and hotter and sweaty. It felt like my face was on fire. I was not used to work like this. I was promising myself that this was the first and the last time to be the scout. I rather learn how to drive the tractor. I was tired, hot and had just enough. My stamina was on zero.
My pioneer days along the river bank were not successful!

This was a bad day for me. This was not grazier work, this was full on plain hard farm work.
The first corn was going to be harvested. This field was already planted by the previous owner. Our neighbour had a harvester machine. It looked like it came from a time bygone. It looked like "Tinguely's machine"! I wondered if he (Tinguely) saw this one before he built his!
The harvester started its work. It lost as much corn back into the field as landed in the bags. Next Year the corn will grow by itself if the mice, rats and birds haven't eaten it already.
The pumpkin crop seemed to do alright. Big Pumpkins round and fat, nestling between the leaves. Soon ready to be harvested. Then came the rain and the flood and goodbye Pumpkins. If they didn't drown they were happily swimming in the swirling water towards the sea. The corn was drowned too. Some could be saved. We have only once planted pumpkins and corn on the riverbank. The Australian farmers, living there since generations are much more fatalistic. They say, sometimes you win and sometimes you loose.

Under a hotter Sun; Slap on a hat;

Slap on a hat;

Sunhats are a fashionable summer essential. We had lots of them, wore them and lost them. It is a condemned item like umbrellas; doomed to be left on counters in stores on chairs in cafes were they are snatched as soon as you turn away. There was a lot of interchanging hats taking place in the Northern Rivers area.
Peter had funny bowl shaped hats with a broad soft rim made of blue or white terry towelling. The white ones took on soon an unidentifiable colour. They had to be washed often and got in the process softer and softer. He liked his hat best this way. The hat was used to dry his sweaty brow, to swat at flies that are persistent in crawling up your nose and all over your face. Walk down the paddock and the blasted flies follow in a cloud settling piggyback on you.
He also owned a beautiful, Spanish felt hat. The sales assistant at McKelly’s, carefully swiping the rim with his elbow, said:" Yes sir this hat will keep the sun away!" And this it did just fine. The rain was not mentioned because the rain wouldn’t justify its expensive price tag. Peter wore this hat when he went into town, the sale yard or shopping. It looked good on him, as he is a tall man.Wearing this hat he was fully accepted into the clan of graziers.
At first he owned a high felt hat a la Americana, cowboy style, it had this aura of the far Wild West. He got a lot of comments when he wore it. As hats are such an essential item here everybody wears them it is natural that a hat that cries out to be seen collects a lot of interest. In the end it was lost, stolen, not directly from his head but behind his back at the October fest in Grafton. Somebody must have wanted this hat badly enough to snatch it. Well, no wonder, it was an item much talked about. He lost it and found it never again.
The girls and I were addicted to sunhats. In any store we were torn towards the hatstand.
Not even the untidy heaps on shelves kept us away. We followed the trend, dipping into the depths, rummaging trying on discarding and start the game anew until the sales lady with murder in her eyes asked us if we intended to buy. The girls mainly bought caps, red, blue, yellow, Hang ten and Gotcha! I went for the creations that were coveted for a while. Then they were used for mundane things like work in the garden and at the same time as bowls to hold tomatoes in lieu of something better at the moment. This treatment left them a bit undone so it was not a big tragedy when they got lost.
The exquisite, white or soft yellow hats, their rims decorated with flying ribbons and blowsy old roses. The ones destined to be worn for afternoon tea in the vicars garden.
They were as impractical as they were beautiful. Endless times I chased after them in not a lady like manner. The lightest breeze found them an easy target. With time I too had to settle for bowl shaped, funny cotton hats and yes they had also more than one purpose. All I was allowed now were mere yearning glances towards the creations.
Marie-Louise and Lilli could wear any hat, cap or an old stocking on their head and they looked stunning. Not so Jacky and I. We needed the creations. Jacky bought in Tenerife a huge, really huge huge Mexican hat. It fell over her ears; generously it nearly covered all of her. It was not thoroughly successful there were certain problems with stability and balance. In the end it blew away too and was never seen again.
　
　
Copyright T.S.

Photo T.S.