Many years ago I visited an elderly recluse living in the hilly forested area of south western Victoria in south east Australia. I had been told to look for Jack as he had worked on the winding dirt roads with draft horses and kept a lot of bits and pieces. I was looking for a wheel for an old cart that I wanted to restore.

Jack was able to help, then over a cup of billy tea he told me his life story - in particular, about the disappearance of his first love, Kate, when her father was forced to flee with the family because of his gambling debts. Jack spent a lifetime hoping to reconnect with his childhood sweetheart.

Jack's story moved me and so began the idea that his situation would form a part of a novel. This is what I'm working on. It's a story of two young men growing up in Australia between 1900 and 1936, one a poor boy and the other a rich lad. It's title is Restless.

Australia experienced a lot of unrest after world war one so there is a lot of rich history to be mined. Hopefully, I'll finish it soon.

What or Who caused the financial crises of the 1920's?

The following story came to me via a source whose details I cannot divulge. If you've ever wondered about the origins of the financial collapse of the 1920's, here is one theory. Hope you enjoy it.

 "That man is the cause of the present economic depression--at least he is the one who started it in America."

Mr. Laramee, the chief engineer of the American Steel Corporation pointed to one of the shop foremen, an old Bohemian peasant type. I know for a certainty that my chin dropped and for several seconds I looked alternately at Mr. Laramee and the foreman.

Beware the Aliens

Fox shit! How interesting is that? Why am I wandering around Mt Tarrangower and examining the faeces of Vulpes vulpes, the Red Fox? Well, it's all part of understanding the distribution of the Wheel Cactus, Opuntia robusta, a difficult to eradicate, introduced species threatening our bushland and farms.

Mid-winter and there is still fruit on the Wheel Cactus. This impressive foreigner with its obvious round grey-green wheels, its bright yellow flowers and then the dark red fruit, is now firmly established on the mountain and many properties close by. Classified as a noxious weed, the cactus is proving difficult to control and for the most part this is due to a lack of manpower coupled with some landholder inertia.

Autumn Abuzz

I always think that autumn should be a quiet time, a time when nature winds down from its frantic spring and summer activities and readies itself for the solitude of winter. But that doesn't seem to have happened this year. But then it didn't happen last year either.

The insect world is abuzz. European Wasps are about in plague proportions sending outdoor eateries into disarray and a new native Paper Wasp nest appeared suddenly under the neighbour's front porch eave this week, the wasps already busy raising a brood. Incidentally, the sting from this wasp, while painful, last only a short time. Immediate swabbing with vinegar is one suggestion to alleviate pain.

The Not So Common Koel 

During a conversation with a visitor from Canberra recently I mentioned our lone Common Koel. 

For those of you who don't know, the Common Koel is native to the wetter coastal areas of New South Wales. It is particularly common in Sydney where it can be observed close-up in garden and street trees. A male bird arrived in Maldon late last December and its strong distinctive call, starting at around 4.30 am has been noticed by many residents. 

If you are confronted by a shiny blue-black bird around the size of a magpie and with bright ruby-red eyes, you are looking at our avian visitor.

JACK

“Find Jack and he’ll have what you want,” said Andy Gorrie, stooped and peering through the open car window. 

William thanked him for the map and Olive for the tea, then eased the panel van gently forward, reminding himself of the trailer behind. 

As he drove through the gate, he glanced in the mirror to see Olive still standing and waving goodbye and Andy already back staring under the bonnet of one of his cattle trucks.

Andy had commented a month or so earlier, while loading stock from William’s farm in the pre-dawn light, “That wagon propping up the iron shed beside your stockyards is in really good condition and it wouldn’t take a lot to restore it and get it working again.”

“The offside back wheel can’t be rebuilt,” William replied. He too had thought about bringing the wagon back to life. “Sheet of roofing iron must have come off long before I bought the place. Half the felloes are rotted and so are the spokes–and the hub is not usable. The iron tyre is good but not much use without a wheel.”

There was silence but for an occasional far-off cow calling her offspring, now securely penned on Andy’s truck. 

A thin ribbon of light was starting to silhouette the tops of the Mountain ash on the distant ridge high above the farm, and further up the valley kookaburras called joyfully to the new day.

“Go and see Jack Jones.”

“Who and where is Jack Jones?” shouted William.