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Before I continue with the story....The Trip to Perth, I found other bits and pieces in another file...they're all over the place because when I was trying to put it all together I couldnt decide which bits to include and which bits not to.....This is why I lost interest and have never finished my little book.
Here's some more funny things that happened at the ranch before we moved to Batchelor.
I remember this one day we were walking out into the bush with our .22 calibre rifles, we always carried them with us when we went bush, just in case.
We always had to be wary of wild pigs, wild buffaloes and crocodiles at the billabongs so we always had to have some sort of protection, but as it turned out we never did have to shoot any animals for being attacked.
Anyway this one day I think we were walking back home after being out in the bush and for some reason I had the end of the barrel of my rifle tucked into my shoe and I was using it like a splint. It was stupid and I don’t remember why I did it but somehow I managed to pull the trigger and shot a small piece off my heel.
I had the fright of my life but no serious injury so a lesson well learnt. We were (of course) given the basic instructions on handling firearms. Never point it at anybody, always keep the safety latch on, and target practice was restricted to one spot at the ranch and we were not to do any out in the bush.
A .22 wouldn’t do enough damage to kill a buffalo unless you shot him straight between the eyes. Mr. Barnes always used 33 calibre rifles for them and even then, always had to “finish off” with a bullet through the head. He used these too on the wild pigs that he shot from time to time. They were really dangerous, some would get so angry they actually charged our four wheel drives and were very scary.
Our closest neighbor at the ranch was a property about five miles away and I can still remember the owner, Mr. Turner and his family.
They had a working farm and employed a few aborigines and I’ll never forget my very first encounter with this indigenous race. These were full-blood aborigines as opposed to the ones you see in the cities or towns who are mixed.
I remember being totally fascinated at how black they were. They were so black they almost had a bluish tinge to their skin. They were tall and had the thinnest legs but biggish bodies. They had the most beautiful set of white teeth which stood out with brightness against their black faces.
They were very shy but very friendly and I loved spending time with them. They taught us a few of their fishing techniques; one in particular was how to make a “gidgee”.
A gidgee is an aboriginal term for a makeshift spear used for catching prawns from the creek. Basically it was made up of a long thin bamboo pole with three long nails attached with wire to one end of the pole. The points of the nails were hammered flat to form sharp arrow-shaped spear heads.
At night the prawns in the creek bed were visible because of their luminous red eyes. The gidgees were used to spear them quite easily. (I of course did not participate in the spearing but did partake of the eating). They were delicious.
The aboriginal kids also introduced us to the taste of goannas. They are very large monitor lizards that live in and around the creeks and billabongs. They would catch one of these goannas and barbecue them in a pit of very hot coal and stones. When it was cooked you simply peel the skin away and the meat is almost pure white and tastes not unlike chicken.
Everything tastes like chicken, doesn’t it…but goanna really does… We also got to taste barbecued snake and of course as I’ve already mentioned, kangaroo meat. I never did get to taste crocodile meat but that’s okay.
There is something else I remembered of our adventures at the ranch which was quite an event for us. I can’t remember whether it was during the wet or dry season but apparently it happens every year.
Right in front of Miss De Vera’s barn/shed/house was a huge mango tree. They were not very nice mangoes either as I recall, they were sweet enough but very stringy. I think they were called turpentine mangoes for some reason. Maybe the juices were strong enough to strip paint?
Anyway, once a year when the mangoes ripen, it happens very quickly overnight, a whole colony of huge bats called flying foxes descend on this tree to eat the mangoes.
There were so many of them, thousands, and I remember they didn’t just stay on the tree, they were everywhere. They came into the sheds and hung up-side-down on the steel beams which held up the roof of the building. They were frighteningly noisy and very smelly and as much as I love animals, I remember being quite scared of them.
They would hang around for about a week or so and then just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone. How would you like to be sleeping in your cot at night and having all these creatures hanging above you or flying around in the middle of the night with nothing between you and them!!!!
Still, it was quite an awesome experience, especially when you got pooped on a fair bit. Mama was not a happy camper on those occasions I can tell you!!!
Next Chapter...Journey to Perth.
