FROM hand stooking hay and blade shears, wagons and horse drawn ploughs to raised boards, electric presses and hand pieces, and computerised tractors with satellite navigation. Has there ever been a period of greater change in farming?
I have wanted to share some of the life stories of my father-in-law Robert Fry for a long time, but he has been reluctant. Finally, I have his permission to recount a few of them.
In my family, we often refer to him as ‘the encyclopedia,’ because his recall of events is quite remarkable. This is a little of our family history and more specifically Rob’s farming life.
Rob was born in September of 1927, into a farming family at Orford. He used to walk, with his three older sisters, two-and-a-half miles to the small Orford school.
Donny and Muriel were considerably younger – so they went to school in Orford in later years.
There were many times over the years that Rob would stay home to help his father on the farm. Children could leave school at 14 – and Rob couldn’t wait a day longer.
“I just wanted to be on the farm, couldn’t get back there quick enough.”
It was normal for the menfolk to camp at different parts of their property while they were working. Rob recalls riding after school, to where his father had set up camp (they were ploughing a paddock with a team of horses) in an old wagon with a tent over it. He would then spend the night.
“We would attach a big log to one of the horses and drag it into the fire and have our tea. In the morning the fire would still be going and we would toast some bread on the fire before I rode back to the house and onto school.”
Harvest was like a get together with the neighbours. The men joined forces to get the work done. There was Ned Smith, Alf Jacobson and Richie Hockley along with Rob’s father (James Jordan – better known as Jim or JJ) and himself.
“We would cut the crop with the binder between the horses. We would have to stook it and put it on the wagons – four horses on each wagon. Some of the stacks done there – if you could see those stacks – they were like monsters, they were so big. We started at 5 o’clock – Richie would walk down to join us, and we would have our wagon nearly done by the time Ned got started.
“Ned was always dragging the chain in the morning – he would work ‘til like 10 o’clock – and Dad wouldn’t be beaten – so we would finish work when Ned did. I would get home some nights so tired that I couldn’t sleep – I was just a kid. I became really close with those guys – Ned even gave me a wristlet watch, the Christmas after I left school,” Rob said.
“I did a lot of ploughing with the horses for the neighbours – it was like a bit of pocket money for me.
“When I left school, we had 22 bales of wool, by the time Donny (brother) and I bought Dad out – we had 185 bales. We shore 6200 sheep.
“We got our first tractor on 1st September 1948 – we were meant to get it on the 1st of September 1945, but it didn’t come until ’48 – I drove it home from Warrnambool.
“We couldn’t get the tractor – so we bought a Bedford truck in the June – took the first load of wool to Geelong in 1948 and we have carted it ever since. We could get 30 bales on the truck. Then we bought the Chev truck in ’53 and it took 36 bales – we finished up buying a trailer and it took 20 bales.
“We carted super (in bags) from Geelong – 143 ton – Donny would head off on Sunday afternoon and stay at Betty’s (a sister in Geelong) and drive back – then we would spread it with the tractors, then I would go to Geelong and back – back and forth we would go until it was done, and we used the same bags.
“The first cattle we had were Hereford cows from Gapes, just down the road. The first bull we had was a twin from Archie Paton at Ardonachie at Macarthur. At that time the Herefords were more sought after than the blacks (Angus), but now it’s sort of gone the other way – but still nothing looks better than a pen of good Herefords.
“When I left school Bill Mason was the first shearer that we had who had a shearing machine of his own. Then there was a crowd from Hamilton – Tatlock and Co – who were selling two stand shearing plants and you just sat it on the board – so we bought one of those.
“I worked on the wool table and Donny worked on the wool press. We had a Hardy – it had two handles on it and two boxes – they used to press outside – anyway, we got held up with the shearing because of rain and the shed was full of wool – so they had to pull the press to pieces to get it inside and put it back together, then press the wool up. Dad said: ‘Well that’s the last time it’s going outside.’. He even built on the shed to make sure the press never went outside again.”
“We went from there to a Ronaldson Tippett press – we had to cut a hole in floor for the wheel to go around and from there we got the electric wool presses.
“I honestly don’t think there would be anyone living today that would have seen any greater change in farming – from blade shearing and Ellis Charmers tractors with those damned plough seats!”
Life was so very different then.
Rob recounts droving sheep to Port Fairy and cattle to the sale in Koroit with his mate Tommy Crow – they were just kids. It was a 2-day trip, but whatever Tom did, Rob did too.
“The girls would milk a few cows – maybe 10 or so – and they would raise the calves to sell in Koroit. So, Tommy and I would drove them passed what is now Parkinson’s Dairy on Spencers Road, and this heifer was walking in the drain – the next thing it comes to a tree across it, so she jumped into the paddock and away she went! We were only a couple of school kids – trying to make up our mind as to what we should do, when Mick Phelan came along and asked us what was going on. We told him, and he said to put the cattle in the corner paddock (it was his paddock). So, we headed after her and brought her back, but it was now too late for the sale. So, we left them there, went back to Tommy’s place. Then back next morning, took them to Port Fairy and put them on the rail for Newmarket.
This is just a snippet of Rob’s life stories. There are so many instances where Rob didn’t get home when expected from his droving or other work.
I asked him: “How did you let your mother know?”
The answer was that he didn’t because he couldn’t.
Didn’t she worry?
“Probably,” Rob replied, “But I eventually turned up.”
If at any point you think that we have it hard nowadays, then a rethink may be in order.
