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Some details of Family History By E. (Wendy) Hoare – 1972
Near Sherwood Forest, Nottingham, England, lived George Frederic Walker and his wife Elize. He was a well known architect, as were his three sons. The second son, Frederick George Walker – became my grandfather, and about whom this story is chiefly concerned, and henceforth shall be mentioned as Grandfather.
He was the restless one of the family and decided to give up his building career in England and try his luck in Australia. At the age of nineteen year, in 1861 he boarded the “Prince of Wales” and sailed for Australia. Landed in Melbourne but found the climate there was too much like England. He then went to New Zealand while staying at an hotel went for a walk in the garden, and seeing steam issuing from a flower bed, poked his cane into it – and the result decided him to leave there too!
After visiting other places, including the Canary Islands he sailed for England. Having a taste of free life here, and not caring for the regimented life in his parents’ home he became restless and decided to return to Australia and try the sub-tropical climate of Brisbane, Qld, so set off again the company of his Nottingham friend, Doctor Joseph Bancroft who settled in Brisbane. Grandfather remained a few years in Brisbane, then the Gympie gold rush lured him there. I heard him relate a story on one occasion of an experience while travelling, presumably on horseback, when they came upon a bullock driver with his team stuck in the mud of a shallow creek. At the same time the local person appeared and they all had a year. The person then said “ I think I’ll move on as these men may want to say something to the bullocks” The story is that grandfather just missed finding an important reef. (I remember seeing a beautiful collection of minerals and precious stones in a glass case at his home). After finding no easy fortune in gold he then decided to take up a selection of land n the Coomera Valley on the banks of the Coomera River, built a very find Colonial type home and named it “Sherwood” in memory of his home near Sherwood Forest, England.
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(Under the present ownership – Mr Nicolls has renamed it Coomera Downs and uses it as a grazing property – 1972.)
Somewhere about the time Grandfather came from England on the second occasion, approximately 1864-65, also from Nottingham came another family, John George Ely, his wife Christine Jolly Ely, her step-son George Ely, and with them Christine’s young sister aged seventeen, Mary Stuart Douglas Reed (who later became my grandmother.). Christine and Mary were Scottish girls and had lived in
Edinburgh, but nothing is known of their life or relatives except that my grandmother corresponded with a nephew James, until she died in 1919.
The Ely Family took up residence in what was then the residential part of Brisbane, Fortescue Street, Spring Hill and a fortnight after their arrival in 1865, their first daughter Elizabeth Esplain Ely was born and seven years later a son, Thomas Langford Ely. There were two other children, a girl and a boy who died in early childhood. Their father also died in 1877 aged forty two. Little is known of him beyond the fact that he was not a very good provider, addicted to alcohol, and Christine’s health suffered in
consequence. As there was no water laid on to the homes at that time it was necessary for Christine to go to the village pump some distance away – no easy task for a sick woman.
It is not known where my grandfather met his future wife, Mary Reed but it is possible they either knew one another in Nottingham, where the Ely’s lived – on the boat coming to Australia or at the home of Dr.
Bancroft where they all used to meet. They eventually married, went to live on the property at
Sherwood, where three sons were born to them, George Rowlandson, Samuel Frederick (my father) and Norman Douglas.
Grandfather planed a citrus orchard and later made orange and other wines to sell commercially as well as cased fruit. After the 1902 drought the trees began to fail and slowly died out.
In the year 1879 my grandparents received information that sister Christine had become very ill and suffering from tuberculosis, so Grandfather prepared to go to Brisbane, a distance of approximately fifty
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miles. He usually rode on horseback the whole way, but by this time the railway extended as far as Beenleigh, so he drove there, leaving the horse and print cart, and travelled on to Brisbane by train. On arrival he found Christine very ill indeed so planned the removal of household effect and packed what things he could and began the return journey to Sherwood. Elizabeth at this time was about fourteen years of age and her brother seven years younger. When they arrived at Beenleigh Christine has a serious haemorrhage which delayed the journey, a distance of some thirty miles over very primitive roads and many crossings of the river (one of them tidal), salt water crossing, now known as Coomera Weir. Then it was often necessary to remain there and wait the fall of the tide. They eventually arrived, Elizabeth explaining to me some years ago what a frightful ordeal it was. Six weeks after arrival at Sherwood Christine died. As the river was in high flood at the time the funeral was unable to take place and a grave was prepared high on a hill facing the East and she was laid to rest and headstone erected to her memory with the words, “To the memory of Christine Jolly Ely, aged 40 years, 1879 where it still remains…almost a hundred years later. (When Christine’s grand-daughter, Girlie L’Estrange visited the grave recently, the present owner, Mr Nicholls, assured her that while he is possession of the property the grave will remain as it is now. This gesture was much appreciated.
The tragic death of Christine left Elizabeth and Thomas, her two young children in the care of my Grandparents until they grew up and made a future for themselves.
When Elizabeth was in her late teens grandfather was in the habit of inviting young Englishmen to his home as he knew what it was like to be so far from home and relatives. Among them cam a young Irishman – with a French name – Robert Augustus Henry L’Estrange. They fell in love and when
Elizabeth was twenty one they decided to marry. Robert’s family in Dublin (his father, Edgar L’Estrange, a solicitor of the Court of Ireland) insisted they send the wedding dress, pearl trimmed, so
measurements had to be forwarded to be sure the frock fitted. Elizabeth was petite little thing with a 17 inch waist, but the family couldn’t believe anyone could be so small so added an inch or two,
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resulting in the frock being too large. The story is my Grandfather came up with the bright idea that a length of Turkish towelling be wound around the bride to take up the spare inches. This was done and her husband said ‘ he didn’t know whether he’d married Betsy or the roller towel’. As the ceremony had to be performed in Nerang the bridal party had to travel per horseback through the bush and changed into bridal arrange at one of the local hotels. The ceremony was performed at the Church of England, a little church beside the river and near the local state school (and was still standing a few years ago).
When the bridal party returned to the hotel the Manageress said” Why didn’t yer tell me yer were gittin married and I’d a made a puddin or somethin”.
Robert had built a home for Elizabeth about nine miles further up the Coomera river with a view out over the river flats and the walls of Tamborine Mtn. close beside them. At this time only a rough track existed through the timbered country and everything had to be transported by pack hours. They named their place ‘The Homestead” and her their two children were born, Frederick Robert, and Mary Elizabeth (our Girlie).
When Girlie was three weeks old, a message came for Elizabeth to go to her Aunt at Sherwood as she was expecting her third child and was very ill. The side saddle was put on the horse girly placed in front of her mother and off they went. As I’ve travelled this route many times in later years following the track through thick bush across large Stony crossings with swiftly rushing waters, I'm still amazed at her fortitude and even in my day it was usual to see dingoes watching you at a distance, and in those times the aboriginals were still roaming the hills.
As life there was not very profitable, Robert decided to return to Ireland with his wife and children where he and his brother William Mandeville Ellis L'Estrange had left some years before to come to Australia. William sometime later than Robert, also took up land at back Creek, near the homestead. He too, didn't find life in the Bush to his liking and later joined Mr Barton and Mr. White who had begun the the first electric light company in Brisbane, known as Brisbane Electric Supply Company, later this was
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changed to City Electric Light Company, and now known as Southern Electric Authority.
Approximately 1892 Robert, his wife Elizabeth, with Fred and girlie left Australia to visit Roberts family in Ireland where they remained, living at Kilternan Abbey for a number of years. They moved to
Bournemouth, England, then to California, United States eventually returning to Queensland about 1905 and lived in Wellington Rd, Red Hill, for a time until their home was built at Victoria St, red hill, and named Choc Rhu meaning Red Hill in Irish brogue where girl is still lives at the age of 80 years.
Robert entered service with the city electric light company, and his son Fred also served his apprenticeship there and remained until his retirement.
Elizabeth's brother Thomas Langford Ely when a young man left Sherwood to become a watchmaker and jeweller and later optician, and had his own business on the corner of Stanley St and Merton Rd, South Brisbane, and built a very nice home on the Bank of the Brisbane river beside Mowbray park where he lived until his death in 1957. He married Miss Matilda Hawgood. They had two children, Ruby, who married William Craig and had one son Hedley, who is now an engineer with his own business at Cooparoo. Samuel married Edith Ohlson, had one son Jack Langford- E Lee who is also a jeweller and lives in his grandfathers home at Mowbray park. He married Fay Jacob. They have three children.
To return to Sherwood.
In 1900 my grandfathers second son, Samuel, married Emily Rathbone, (my parents) of Mudgeeraba, originally from England. The ceremony was held in the same little Church of England in Nerang where Elizabeth and Robert L'Estrange were married.
My father had built a home on a property he had bought 2 miles further up the Coomera River, and my mother being English, name the home Hazelwood. They tried tobacco growing but with little success owing to mould in this subtropical climate, so they changed to cattle raising. In 1900 and two their first child was born, Elsie(me). 12 years later their second daughter, Beatrice Pearl was born, and 14 months later their third daughter, Ruby Mabel.
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They remained on the property at Hazelwood until my mother died in 1949, and my father two years later. The property was ultimately purchased by my cousin Stuart Walker, who owns the adjoining property.
My uncle George Rowlandson, known affectionately as Roll, married early in this century a Miss Margaret Gilpin, and had one son, Stuart George Walker.
Uncle Norman Douglas married Miss Elsie Yuan and had one daughter Gwenneth.
In 1900 when my father left Sherwood and began life on his own property, my grandfather and his two sons, Roll and Norman, formed a partnership and bought the two adjacent adjoining properties and began growing arrowroot at Sherwood. They built the largest mill in Southern Queensland at that time and commenced processing the Arrowroot for market. Uncle Roll's son Stewart entered the partnership after my grandfather died in 1919. The field work was done chiefly by Indians who lived in their own cottages on the property.
The business was carried on until the two uncles decided to retire in 1954, and both went to live at Burleigh Heads, where uncle Norman still lives.
Uncle Roll, a widower for many years, and approximately 80 years of age, married a dear little woman, miss Mehta Soegaard who kept a needlework shop in Southport, and who made his last years very happy. She too has since passed away.
My grandfather died in 1919, my grandmother six weeks later, and both are buried in the Upper Coomera cemetery, as are my parents.
Pioneering Tales
During my years at Hazelwood I listened to many interesting stories of the pioneering days.
My mother told me of the severe 1900 and two drought the year I was born and food so very scarce.
Many of the cattle starved and the few remaining were fed on river oak leaves casuarina's to keep them alive. She said my grandmother made a small pat of butter the size of a walnut and sent it to my mother
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to help provide nourishment for the baby. The Coomera river completely dried up killing the fish except those that survived in the small body holes under overhanging trees, among them the Ceretodus or lungfish so called because of air breathing which had been introduced into the Coomera river when my father was a boy. I remember him telling of the arrangement between doctor Bancroft and Mr. T O'Connor to have them collected from Burnett River, housed in tanks with some water and plenty of river weed and forwarded to the railway station where Gran father collected them. The fish when taken from the tanks were very sluggish and reluctant to move when put into the river just opposite the Sherwood home river crossing. A couple swam away at once, several others were gone next morning, and a couple had been attacked either by water rats or eels and only the heads remained. It was a number of years before the Ceratodus were cited again, but it has been noted that they have increased considerably over the years, and as they are a protected fish should remain in good numbers. Have been told by people who have eaten them that they are not very pleasant, being soft fleshed, tough and of a pale pink colour. I have often read of the Ceretodus being introduced into other streams, but have never seen mentioned the trouble doctor Bancroft and Mr O'Connor went to so long ago, wind transport was so very different from the present day. I believe trout were also introduced at the same time, but know nothing further of them. (See Queenslander newspaper dated 1900.)
At the turn of the century the weather was a problem with many serious floods, often lasting for weeks at a time, when food would run out and the menfolk would have to shoot a kangaroo to make kangaroo tail soup also sweet potatoes, both of which grew abundantly on the property.
Many times cattle were lost in the flood in as they tried to cross the home property and left it a little too late. On one occasion my father was away the cows were on the opposite side of the river from the house, and the river was rising at an alarming pace. Mother, a good swimmer, also a good horse woman and apparently without much fear or else didn't show it, court old spawn a trusty old by horse with blazed face and good stout legs, went to the deepest part of the river where the current was far slow
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flowing left me on the bank with instructions to stay there, and entered the water. I can well remember the awful sinking feeling as I saw the horses head just above the water and mother sitting very straight and still as they slowly swam to the other side. The cows were headed towards the river and as they plunged in a little higher up where the current was strong they were washed downstream and struggled ashore just where I was standing. Mother than my return swim without mishap found me in tears because I had touched a stinging nettle but too young to realise her risky swim to save those cows our only milk supply, which would have been lost for 12 months if she had not done it. It was quite the usual thing to see Pi melons, planted by Robert l'estrange at the homestead come, come floating along as they were washed from his farm on the flat near the river. Large trees too would Bob along as they passed over the shallows in the ugly brown water.
At hazelwood it was a very lonely life is the nearest neighbour was over a mile away and not within sight. The mountains, beechmont, tambourine another high spurs completely surrounded us, with at the river circling at the foot of the rise on which the house was built the usual colonial style with a long 75 foot verandah across the front of the house and around both sides. Another dwelling at the back comprised the kitchen and breakfast room and bathroom, and dividing this from the rest of the house was a closed in veranda where mother grew her beautiful collection of pot plants and ferns. The whole of the front of the house was surrounded by a flower garden facing the east. On the western side was a palm court with 50 piccabeen palm's, each one with a large staghorn and orchids growing on it. Gravel paths beneath led to the various entrances of the house. Stepping out of the back kitchen door you entered a paved section which comprised the floor of a very large Bush house with three wire gates, exits to the grounds outside on three sides. Coloured lights among the many baskets of hanging ferns made a delightful picture at night, especially if sprayed with water before hand. Mother was very proud of her Bush house and people from many parts of Queensland called to see it, and it was not unusual for a large crate to arrive with something very choice from north QLD, with fans orchids and coloured leaves
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among them. A double row of large mango trees beyond the Bush house made an excellent shelter from the fierce storms and westerly winds.
It may be of interest to read something of the history of the house. When the railway line was being laid as a continuation from being laid through to Coolangatta some Melbourne man whose name I never heard, built a large hotel near Coombabah on the Gavan way, now the sight of Hislop's riding stable to accommodate the railwaymen. When the line was completed the patronage fell to Neil consequently the hotel fell into disrepair, wondering swagman camped in it and finally the white ants attacked it. As good timber such as red and white cedar and silky oak were plentiful at this stage the hotel had some excellent timber in it. All heavy doors were of red cedar and the pine and hardware wood were excellent quality.
As my father was contemplating building he wrote to the owner in Melbourne and asked what he would take for the building as it stood. A very nice reply was received offering the place for 20 pounds. Father was so surprised and thinking there must be some mistake he wrote again. Back came another reply saying he could not bring down the price lower than 18 pounds. Father sent him a cheque for £25 and got busy. The lower ends of the lining boards had been chewed by white ants, necessitating cutting off a couple of feet which lowered the ceilings considerably more than those lofty ones of the 1900s and now quite fashionable. Grand father, role and Tom gladly helped make all the necessary furniture as grand father was an excellent cabinetmaker. He had also built a small sawmill at Sherwood where they could cut all the necessary timber. The younger men had a fretasw machine and added all the trimmings.
As money was not very plentiful mother and dad decided against going away for a honeymoon, and after the ceremony in Nerang they rode through the bush mother on a side salad saddle, some 9 or 10 miles until they came inside of the house which they've reached on a track through high ferns. Father in his haste to leave for the wedding had forgotten to tidy up a bit and the first thing that greeted mother's eyes was a set of saucepans sitting in the middle of the floor which didn't help her morale after a long
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day and she said she just burst into tears. However, she soon recovered and had the place looking as it always did a perfect home.
Even when I was old enough to notice them, the koala bears and howling dingoes throughout the night used to terrify me. One never hears bears in captivity, but in the wild Bush their snoring and honking noises can be heard half a mile away. The bears seem to have disappeared but chiefly owing to bush fires which burned throughout the valleys every summer and not by the hand of men in that area. Bears don't possess much intelligent and intelligence and just sit and get roasted. The dingoes we're
particularly annoying as they would attack the cattle and kill a calf if the herd was too far away to protect it. It was amazing how the other cattle would come galloping as soon as they heard the bellowing calf sometimes too late.
Bushfires in isolated places are a nightmare as one can see them approaching as they ring the hills and finally come creeping along on the dead leaves an undergrowth. At times fanned by a strong West wind reach up into the trees doing much damage to the timber. Should cattle become cut off they Stampede and on one occasion this happened and father had to cut the wires of the fence and let them through into the home grazing padding which had previously fired as a break to protect the house an
outbuilding. During one particular dry season, even the fires break didn't prevent trouble in several of the outbuildings we burned, and the house saved only by the wonderful assistance of kindly neighbours who helped put the fire out. One poor fellow with a heavy growth had his moustache and eyebrows singed and his face rather badly scorched.
Storms too, added their quota fo anxiety, but only one very severe hailstorm in 1925 did a quantity of damage. The hailstones were largest hens eggs and jagged and punctured the iron roof of the house like a kolander, allowing water to stream into every room. In less than 20 minutes the linoleum on the floor was raised several inches as it floated on water. Almost all windows were broken but strangely enough the picture collection was not damaged as the frame seemed to hold them out from the wall long
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enough until the water subsided. The flower and vegetable gardens where a pathetic site just pulverised into the ground. Or horse and cow were killed and several fouls. Hail in the gully where the cow lay was over 5 feet deep, and was still there in small quantities just one week later. As I happened to be in the home alone at the time I still have a very vivid recollection off that afternoon. Apart from the high along the roof the fierce Gale blowing was terrifying. Being afraid to remind inside the house I stood on the veranda on the Lee side and could see horses being driven into the barbed wire fence by the force of the wind and naturally those in front were much cut about. The only novelty was to have firm butter packed in ice as this was before the days of refrigerators.
The previous few pages depict the seamy side of bush life. Believe me, it is not always so. The annual local shows, bush picnics where people for miles around came to join in the fun. Well organised barn dances and surprise parties in peoples homes. A house party at Sherwood remains faintly in my memory where the dining room was crowded with waltzing couples, among them the Misses Olive and Ida Johns who were frocked in the style of our Miss Gibbs tiny waists with cape affect around the shoulders and lavishly trimmed with gold bugle beads which scintillated in the soft lamplight in which I thought beautiful.
A special treat was to listen to grandfathers new purchase, and Edison gramophone with its large crimson and gold horn to amplify the cylinder records of the singers of that time miss Marie Narelle and others.
Another break in the monotony of things was the much discussed bound dance held in grandfathers huge barn which had quite a good dance floor an ample space as it was where all the farm produce was usually housed. I can remember my mother and aunt discussing what they would wear and it was decided to make cream Sicilian frocks trimmed with cream lace. Mother had not made up the material before and there was much trouble with its fraying qualities. However, the frocks were eventually finished high collars with pearls studded bones to keep them stiff, puff sleeves and floor length skirt and
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with pale pink fascinator's over their hair to keep it in place while travelling possibly on horseback I don't remember the transport. I do remember growing very sleepy and mother putting me to sleep in a corner, I believe my uncles military coat from the border wall with queries as to whether it would be safe it was. There was also great preparation for a very lavish supper afterwards this was known as the banquet and apparently was the subject of discussion for a long time afterwards as my young cousin remembers her parents discussing it years later.
My parents on occasion attended balls in the local hall, a particularly spacious building with an excellent crows ash floor which I understand Grandfather was responsible for having built. I always bribed to stay with my neighbours children for the night with a promise of fairy cakes carried home in my mother's handkerchief those little horrors with hundreds and thousands sprinkled over them and tasting of sawdust. Many years later I danced many a mile on that same floor but I didn't learn until quite lightly that Gran father was responsible for the architecture.
There is a great comradeship among most country families are always willing to share their good things.
Of pig is killed or a good catch a fish smoked all neighbours are given a share. One never buys vegetables someone always has spare cabbage, pumpkins, potatoes or beans, and if the generous donor doesn't deliver them, the local carrier does on his three times weekly visit to bring meat, bread, the male end to collect the cream from the various theories for the factory. At Christmas time the melons are ripe and everyone around shares his crop with those less fortunate. Father always kept a good vegetable garden and planted enough to feed an army. A fruit orchard also kept us in bananas, passion fruit, citrus and some stone fruit and pineapples. The fruit fly destroyed most of the stone fruit as this was long before the days of spraying. At one stage we were losing a lot of pineapples and mother blamed Bush rats for the large holes torn in the largest and ripers truitt. She prepared a bait carefully to catch the culprit in return to the house and at about 1/4 of an hour later one of our dogs took a fit at the back door and died she had been too font of pineapples. It created a rather rather a shock in the household.
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Episodes of various animals around the place may add variety to the story. Every one of them had a different personality some of them very trying indeed, particularly brindi who almost requires a chapter to herself as she was very colourful personality. An outsize in kangaroo dogs with Brindle colouring, exceptionally fast went out hunting and the greatest thief on earth completely devoid of maternal instinct, loyal and affectionate to us but ignored others completely, especially the canine breed. When she smiled at you with the most fearsome and savage looking teeth bordering upgrade cavity, and a pair of lovely brown eyes spoke volumes . Se mostly went about her own business and you wouldn't know where she was. When father went to Nerang, a distance of some 9 miles through fairly rough country she always followed at the horses heels, and when passing through the town if any are dogs approached she just flung them aside like thistledown and marched on.
She had a passion for removing things related to food, but her great speed never needed to go hungry there was always Australian marsupial just away in the forest. She was never seen to do the dark deeds but evidence in the form of large footprints we had red volcanic soil aways proved her undoing. Men working on the property always had difficulty in keeping things out of reach. Anything stationary was useless so they had to suspend a wooden safe from the roof on wire. Even then she managed to get a pickle bottle of tea, pull the cork and spill the lot. Loaves of bread were just chicken food. On one occasion a friend staying with us had a pot of face cream on her bedroom table. Later it was located away among the firms, but the screw top lid kept intact. She was musical too had a passion for the candles on the piano and removed them if you didn't get in first. We shall never know how she did it but one day mother left a Billy of milk in a pot of water on the stove to scald in this way it wouldn't boil over.
The Billy was removed from the pot carried right through the house, but when she jumped the little gate on the veranda to keep the dogs out, she must have bumped the bottom of the Billy spilling a small quantity of the scalded milk but managed to land the rest until she reached the backyard but had to tip it sideways as the top of the Billy was too small to get her head in, thus she had to spill some in the
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empty Billy told the tale. Actually it was a court pot used for carrying on horseback there are many more tales about brindi but the one I like to remember is the one when my father went out looking for cattle naturally Brandy had to go to but was hopeless as a cattle dog beaneath her dignity she implied with her very superior expression. She spotted a kangaroo and went at great speed the last father's saw of her in the distnace. Almost an hour later she had not returned Father had clmbed a frightfully rugged
mountainside on a spur leading down from it mount tambourine with huge boulders everywhere. He was standing spelling his horse after the steep client when from between the boulders brindi appeared with her long tongue hanging from the corner of her mouth and a dear little baby kangaroo so young it had no fur on it but length of long legs and tail dragging between her legs and with those great ivory teeth gently holding its body she went quietly walked up to father and put it gently at his feet.
Apparently she had killed its mother and her conscience ouldn't allow her to leave the baby to starve.She killed only when she was hungry. Father put the baby inside his shirt and took it home to mother who reared most often animals in her life falls, carbs, sheep, pigs, pubs, kittens and now a kangaroo. I cannot remember what food she received but was evidently nourishing as she Jennie continued to thrive to become the greatest meanace on earth. Old cups had to be put well back from the edge of the table or Jenny would stand up on her toes and put her nose into anything and eat it, especially called me. One day it had been raining, making the very red sore a real problem on such a day.
Jenny didn't bother to wipe feet or long thick tail and feeling sleepy she decided to have a nap on mother's bed hopped onto the white marsella quilt quilt and later head up on the pillow slip which had recently been starched and ironed and mother walked in. Fireworks. She was not allowed in the house but to keep her out was another story. She haunted mother as if unable to find her would pull down some item of clothing belonging to mother and lie on it. When full grown she was beautiful and the bane of every dogs life around the district. She always wore a red ribbon around her neck to be distinguished from the wild ones. Like most pets she had an untimely end. She wandered a couple of
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miles away into a paddock where there was a very heavy draught horse who objected to her being in his paddock and attacked her with head down. She couldn't believe anyone would hurt her in as he came close she sprang through the barbed wire fence to get away broke her back and had to be destroyed.
Brindie, after creating years of history and annoyance with her thieving lapses and other escapades to everyone surprise and particularly her own produced one solitairy pup deposited it in the end of a log gave it one withering look and abandoned it so being a weedy thing it had to be a destroyed. We just couldn't stand a replica of its mother when quite old Brindie, developed a lump and father said she had to be destroyed. Tears and more tears but she had to go.
There were dogs of all shapes and sizes and breeds came to hazlewood, most of them succumb to tick bite as there was no cure then this causing more tears. However, three outstanding ones in my time were brindi, the kangaroo hunter, jock the cattle dog although not a cattle dog breed just a bitzer, and last of the great pause importance in that snake infested area, bluey, a true cattle dog in breed but didn't know one end of a beast from another he specialised in snakes and evidently had been bitten and immunity created is all the hair on his muzzle became quite white when only a young dog. There is little to say about him as he, like brindi, went his own way kept much to himself, had an unpleasant
expression in his eye, was quite small even for a cattle dog, but if any snake appeared, is lightning movement gave no second chance for the snake and in seconds the reptile would be grabbed just behind the head and shaken into a few dozen small pieces. It was advisable to keep well clear to. His life was long but I don't know the details. Jock dear old Jock he, like Brindie deserves a page to himself but for a different reason. He didn't have any faults as if dog is mans best friend Jock would win the title with every medal know to canine history. All he couldn't do was speak. Even as a pup he didn't pinch slippers or swing on the sheets on the line as others do, and grew into the most faithful, obedient and clever Hines who ever lived is chief job was helping with the cattle. Could be sent anywhere at anytime to help round up the herd and if any stragglers stray behind and hid in the timber on the other side of
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the mountain and over the river, as they did quite often, mother had only to call him, point and say go and get them joke. He would look at her as much to say but I've just been over there she'd then repeat the command and off he'd go until he came to the river. Would look back and mother would point and repeat again go on. He played through the river up would go his tail and away. Presently you'd hear hooves thundering tails waving in the air as they came inside over the mountain with jock in hot pursuit.
After some 120 to 160 cows were milked including the truants, Chuck would move over to the feeding yard, go to the other paddock and round up the carbs to be fed and draught them into the feeding pens one to each compartment where a bucket full of milk would be placed under its nose. Jock would sit quietly watching and if any calf attempted to return for a second helping he'd receive a good sharp nip on the heels. Is mother found any missing she would repeat the order as if for the missing cows go and find them and it wouldn't be long before they'd appear in great haste with jock afew yards behind them.
If the horses refused to be caught as they sometimes did if feeling well fed, I only had to speak to jock and he would raise up to their head and make them stand well the bridle was put on. If he wasn't about I only had to call his name and the horse knew it paid to stand still. He served us faithfully and well all his life. When rheumatism attacked him in old age he became very slow and often refused to go far, and when the other dogs went for a game in the river which they seem to do quite often, he would sit on the bank and cry an when they came out he built them jealousy no doubt, because he couldn't enter into the fun as he used to. We began to worry about him but one day he went to the river for a drink and just laid down and died. More tears but it was really a relief.
Cats of course, had their place in the scheme of things, many coming and going which don't seem to have left a memory except 1 petite little tortoiseshell which naturally, being of that colour indicated her sex and named kit, chiefly because she always remained a kitten in appearance, even into old age. She too was an ardent admirer of my mother who seemed specially gifted with the care of animals, and all loved her. Kit always shadowed mother Anne waited patiently for her return, usually on the gatepost, if
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she went into the paddocks or when she came from the yards. All catches had to be shown for mothers of proval. 01 occasion she brought a large rat enlighted inside the entrance not far from the bathroom door and went in search of mother, meowing as she went. I came along, saw the rat and flung it into the yard. Kit immediately brought it back the rat and put it in the corner of the bath with the bathmat over it. Again I threw it out again she brought it back in and hid it beneath the bathroom door, so I called mother and asked her to please view the body which she did and told kid how very clever she was which quite satisfied her and took the rat away herself. Another episode was sometime later when she was decidedly pregnant. Mother missed her for several days and was beginning to think the dingoes had caught her when she appeared at the back door, completely exhausted, very wet and covered with grass seed sticking all over her fur, threw herself on the floor of the Bush house in library, while mother, noticing that the kittens had evidently arrived gave her milk and meat which she ate ravenously. She had another rest then began worrying mother to go with her by running to her, meowing and running across the yard. Mother knowing her tactics began to follow and eventually scrambled away up the
mountainside in much the same area where Brandy had deposited the young kangaroo rough, Stony and seed laden grass with a huge burned out log which stuck away out into the air out of the reach of
dingoes. Kit kept mother up to it by running along the log to show her where the kittens were, almost needing the agility of a blonde and to get there, Anne with difficult T mother reached in and place the kittens in her apron beginning the long walk home, easily a mile, stumbling across the rocks with kit in close attendance. She knew she was definitely not allowed to go into the main part of the house, nor deposit kittens there. There were sheds and outhouses where she could have gone but fleas possibly put her off as the dogs lived under some of them.
I feel our horses to need something said in their favour although at times they didn't deserve praise, but to me they were as important as the dogs in each one of them loved deeply, especially my own 3. The first, when I was ten years of age and had just walked home from school a two mile hike, when I saw in
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an enclosure a small Bay pony, with the very unromantic name of Jesse, given to her by the previous owner. Years later I felt it suited her admirably as she had some very unloveable quantum qualities, among them extreme laziness and wouldn't budge beyond a crawl unless the whip was administered very firmly and often and if too hard she would just pick route to try and bluff you. Another curly twist in her nature was to endeavour to literally scrape you off against a tree which she succeeded in doing on one occasion as I was hurrying to clay garaba to go into the scrub in search of all kids with my aunt and uncle Bert radkins. I cannot remember whether I put a saddle on or not but remember belting along at jesse's paste very very reluctant and the next thing I knew was to feel a small sapling hooking me behind the knee Ann went sailing into the end of an old log which fortunately was mostly charcoal and although had dozens of scratches and bruises was not hurt. Jesse got such a fright she ran about 20 yards away installed trembling so violently I almost felt sorry for her as she knew quite well what she had done. I gave her some solid administration of stick and she felt so guilty she even forgot to pick route. Another cunning little trip, when saddling her, was to blow herself out like a frog and thus leave lots of room between herself and the girth resulting in the saddle slipping before you had gone far. Also the bridle had to fit tightly or she would spit and bit out and you'd find yourself rudderless not that it mattered as she was much too lazy to run away. She had been with us only a few weeks went to our surprise she produced the foal the tiniest little black morsel weighing only a few pounds. I used to count the months until he would grow I named him Rex and I'd have a decent horse to ride. Alas he never grew could step over his back without any trouble he would have been a popular draw in a circus as the smallest one there. One day for a joke I rode him to school and the boys all yelled out be careful the dingoes don't get you. I felt very hurt and never took him again he was so tiny it was almost as easy to walk. He too like his mother was lazy. I think every small child in the district learn to ride on him. Before acquiring Jesse my mother used to put a leading rain onto a bridle and lead another old faithful marechal possibly named after grandfathers pipe I would be perched up on the saddle where I felt very important with my own
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horse after a couple of years of riding behind my mother, sitting on a towel. We travelled many miles through the Bush often going to margera bar to visit mothers parents, and to go to the nerang show was a red letter day indeed.
Jesse I had to be contended with until my 21st birthday when I was given a cheque with which to buy the horse of my choice. Not long before I had been going riding when a man passed me leading the most beautiful racehorse with the most fragile body I had ever seen, a clean lensing who trolled the earth as if stepping on velvet jet black in colour. I really fell in love with him as my dream horse and made it my business to learn more about him. Had one he had one of race or two and owing to his delicate stature the man had named him for racing purposes, the rat. I was horrified but he was so well known it wasn't possible to change his name. Within a couple of months one of the young men of the district to adjust returned from the 1914 to 1918 war wanted to cut a dash among the young girls and bought the rat. As the lad lived quite close to us and offered visited I saw the horse frequently the fastest Walker with the gentlest mouth and just walked away from other horses as if propelled. The motor cars came into use.
The young man, not satisfied with the horse just had to buy a car and asked if I'd like to buy the rat would I, question. He immediately became my O happy day. Not only intelligent but extremely gentle and the faster you sent him the better he liked it, and the only horse I know who didn't mind if you asked him to return the by the way you had just come if you had forgotten anything. Most horses shake their heads and refused to hurry and really object. The rat would certainly shake his head and I'm sure said something in his own language, and off it go would have been interesting to know what he'd say.
There are many episodes in memes memories I treasure it would take pages to enumerate them all.
Hidili love chocolates and when we visited the local store I used to buy a few to eat on the way home.
He would wait until we're on the way, then put his nose gently on my foot as a reminder. I'd lean down and pop one in the side of his mouth this would go on until we had eaten the lot. Would give him a nudge in the ribs and that was the signal no more and he wouldn't bother again. one day as we were
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crossing some small stones in the riverbed before entering the water, he suddenly stopped, stood quite still and put his nose on my foot. As there were no chocolates I knew something must be wrong. He limped badly a couple of steps, stood again repeating the toe touching signal so I dismounted when he immediately lifted his foot up for me to see, and there tightly wedged between the two back points of his shoe was a river stone. All I had with me was my silver topped riding crop for show is no one never needed to use it and if you did he was most upset. I looked about firstick to dislodge the stone but none was strong enough. Then I looked for a long theme stone in a heavier one and haven't the offending one out quite some job. He stood quietly throughout with his hoof between my knees and when it came out he put his head around and touched me on the shoulder with his nose. His intelligence and gentleness brought a month to my throat I mounted again and off we went he had one height ferries and flatly refused to enter. It stand at the edge and shake his head furiously, even hitting him with the crop was useless he just swing around and refused to step onto that horrible moving thing. The first occasion was was crossing the nerang river at Carrara on my way to Southport just near where the first ski gardens was situated. After several attempts by the ferryman also he still refused, so I dismounted and went on myself when he immediately followed and stood so close to you almost stepped on my foot and trembled with fear. In future I just dismounted and he immediately followed. Another height was mustering cattle just load them in instead of hurting them, hit stride straight through the mob
completely ignoring them as if to say it was beneath his dignity to be asked to be a common stock horse.
The only time I found him at all difficult to manage was nearing arace course when he became so excited and dance sideways in an endeavour to enter the paddick, even if the course had been
disbanded long before what a memory. The most faithful companion I'd ever had and when I decided to leave the country it was one of the saddest things to do to say goodbye to him I called to him he threw it up his head and whinnied as if he knew. I never saw him again.
There was a rather rigid rule at hazelwood that each member should have his own horse, saddle and
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bridle and not to be used by anyone else. Father was very strict about this, and mother and I always took his stories about his horses with a little disbelief as we were sure he didn't want us to use them.
Possum, a nondescript taffy with no redeeming features really, was the first one. Mother occasionally rode him but I was never allowed on him. One day I sneaked out onto the road, riding him ******** just to say I'd been on him. All was going quietly when suddenly a whirly whirly appeared right under his nose, picking up a bunch of dry leaves and hurling them around. He got such a shock he dropped about 6 inches leaving me in midair fortunately I came down again in the same place without mishap. Decided it was an omen so I didn't do it again. Claim was the next next heck father required, a small hack with a little to enhance him's looks go Mel C black with a nasty eye in a distinctly ugly disposition and would bark at the drop of a pin. One day father had to do a job a mile or so from home and collected some tools along handled shovel, a hoe, pick and on the handle of which he threaded an old black bilican for making his tea. Quite a collection to put on his shoulder and settle. Cannot remember why I was going to but do remember riding beside him and notice the kropper strap had come out of its keeper and was hanging down. Always tidy minded I reached over and began to put the strap through its ring when claim gave a mighty plunge forward, heels in the air, dislodging all the tools from father shoulder with a terrible clatter fortunately not father, who said nothing for the moment or two Ben said I wonder what made him do that. I could have enlightened him but I felt it better to be discreet and wore a faraway look. I felt there must have been some truth in the stories of clem's habits a nasty talk. There were others that deserve mentioned but space doesn't allow. What I should like to record while on the subject of horses was mother's presence of mind and skill on another occasion when a swarm of bees, on a very hot day, when they were unusually touchy temperament, attacked old mirror Sean my old faithful and stun him severely under the neck. The whole neck began to swell and threaten to choke him. Mother went to the barn and got a quantity of linseed possibly stored for fowl feed heated it in a large pot, made a poultice by spreading it thickly on a sugar bag, placed it around the horses neck, and
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continue to change it as it cooled full stop by doubt if any today would....hey gleaned their knowledge.
A final word about our horses. After a life of toil and wonderful service my father gave them a paddock to themselves for two years where they roamed at will and enjoyed their extended holiday. When showing signs of old age and ill health they were quickly destroid to avoid suffering.
The cattle property although they are they were producers of our livelihood I never cared for and looked upon them with this days evidently not a true country woman. At times I'd be sent to the far paddocks to look for stock and on arrival home would announce that no cattle were to be seen mother would quietly say did you look knowing full well I much preferred to look for wild flowers, scenes to sketch or just ride along daydreaming a complete failure at farm life.
The early years went from five years onward were quiet very quiet indeed. The only break from the solitary life would be when mother put me on old mersham and go to Sherwood for the day of is it ideally loved and which has left many pleasant memories as it was very interesting and if a light followed home but more of Sherwood in another story.
Cannot leave hazelwood without a tribute to our dear friend the artist Mr Edward bode who lived in a small truly pioneer cottage Mayberry some 5 miles further up the river not far from the homestead where he took life easy as he was umata to asthma. He was a self taught watercolour artist of
considerable ability not popular in present days as his work was full of accurate detail. He hailed from the constable county, Suffolk, England, and whose work he was at the end of whose work he was a great admirer. Before leaving England he did one oil painting, which didn't come up to his expectations so he put it at the bottom of his trunk, brought it to Australia and did a watercolour from it. Being one of his early works it was not to be compared with his later paintings, of which my father bough many, especially those he called his masterpieces, and are in our familys’ possession at the present day. His favourite work” Canungra Crossing” and several others are in my sister’s home at Southport. I also possess a copy he did of the J.M.W. Turner’s favourite painting, “The Fighting Temeraire” being towed
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down the Thames to be destroyed. This is a superb piece of painting and really shoes what he was capable of doing – a great pity it is a copy and considered valueless for that reason. Mr Bode had the most cheerful and sunny disposition and his visits were eagerly awaited, especially by me as art in all its forms is and always has been an important part of my life, and his encouragement began what has been to me a great interest and comfort throughout my life. He was the true artist, always wore a beard, cared little for stylish clothes although always tidy; had little money as he had to exist whollly by the sales of his paintings- not a very lucrative income in those days among a farming community.
I would eagerly watch for him coming along on his old grey hors, Theophalus, and his dog, Scofalott, following and with a large cornsack across the saddle with a picture on both sides. He always stayed a day or so and one evening after dinner I asked if he’d do me a painting but his reply was, “I’d love to do one for you but let us wait until morning as I cannot see the true colours by lamplight. No. I just couldn’t wait until morning. At six years of age morning is very distant! However, he got out his paints and commenced by describing the scene in mind – a waterscape, with a few rocks her, a small sail boat there, buildings in the distance… and we must have a Turner sunset… I have that little gem hanging in my bedroom still.
Some years later he decided to move to Canungra, where the people of that district subscribed and had built two small cottages – one to live in and one for a studio. He was most grateful and ever so proud of them. On leaving Maybury he left his old easel standing in a corner of the cottage where it remained for ages with his one and only oil painting still in its wooden stretcher, and still resting on it. By this time my father had purchased the property and occasionally I’d peep in when out for a ride on The Rat, to see if the painting was still there but never thought of taking it. One day my father and I were rounding up cattle as there was a bush fire approaching. We rushed in and grabbed the picture and took it back to Hazelwood. It is still in my possession for sentiment rather than value…. With a small hole and lots of crazing all over it as well as the dust of years as it sat in that empty cottage. We saved it just in time as
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The residents of Canungra again showed their affection and respect as they had a suitable memorial erected on his grave in the Canungra cemetery.
