JIM SMITH - Part 4 - MORE BUSH LESSONS ~ CHAPTER 4 ©

     Jim and I worked at the fence just about every day. The weather was getting hotter and hotter as the summer progressed.

"D'ya want some fried eggs for smoko, Yorky?"
"Yeh, but there's no electricity out here and it's far too dry to start a fire so how ya gonna make fried eggs?"
"Grab the shovel mate and wash it off with a little bit of water and then lay it out flat in the sun over there for a couple of hours."
     When lunchtime came, Jim took 4 eggs out of the tucker box and said to me, "Go git the shovel Yorky. It should be hot enough by now."

     The shovel had been laying out flat in the hot sun where I'd left it. I brought it over to where Jim was sat under a shady tree. He put some butter on the shovel and within seconds it started to melt. As soon as the butter had melted he said, "Put it back in the sun, mate and crack these 4 eggs into it."
     I got the shock of mi life when the cold egg yolks hit the hot butter and started to crackle. Within 5 minutes the eggs were as good as any fried eggs I'd seen anywhere, although I broke the yolks while trying to get them out of the Bush frying pan. That frying pan had the longest handle I'd ever seen and it didn't need to be washed up after.

     On another occasion, we were walking through the scrub looking for some more parrots nests. Jim spotted a used hole so he sent me up the tree. Surprisingly enough, it was not very high.
"It might be a Ring-Necks nest.", I said to Jim as I pulled miself up to the next branch.
     When I got level with the hole I called out to Jim,
"If it's a Ring-Neck it must have a sweet tooth!"
"Why?"
"Because I can smell honey in that hole!"
"Oh shit!", said Jim. "Get out of that tree Yorky. It's not a parrots nest. It's a beehive mate!!!"

     I only needed telling once! I slid down the tree as fast as I could go and ripped the leg of mi trousers in the process. I'd seen a few bees hovering around the tree when I went up but I didn't think anything of it. No sooner were my feet on the ground, the bees started to fly out of the hole. They were really pissed now as they chased after Jim and me, who, by this time, were tearing through the scrub like a couple of old gray roos with a pack of roo-dogs at their heels.
"Ow! They're on the back of my neck Jim."
"Just keep running Yorky! Don't wave ya arms around or you'll make 'em more cranky!"
"Yow!", I yelled again. "One just got me under the eye on mi cheek."
"Keep running Yorky! They're giving up now!"

     After a few hundred yards Jim stopped and turned around.
"They've given up mate..", he said between laughs.
"What are you laughing at Jim? They stung mi neck at least 4 times and once on the cheek, see."
     Jim apologized for laughing but the apology didn't stop his laughter as he said,
"A couple of them got me too Yorky. I can't help it mate. You sounded so funny when you said, 'the Ring-Neck must have a sweet tooth'. That's when I realized it was a beehive but it was too late then. They were already coming out of the hole. Give us a look at ya neck Yorky.", he said, still laughing away.
"It's not bloody funny!", I said, reverting back to my Yorkshire accent. This started him up laughing even louder.
"Stand still mate. You've got a couple of stings still sticking out of ya neck."

     He used his bush penknife and his thumbnail to remove the two remaining stings. Then he looked around for a leaf to rub the back of mi neck and cheek with. After, he rubbed the back of his arm where he'd gotten stung.
     The bee stings hurt for quite a while but as soon as the burning started to fade I could see the funny side of it myself.
"You're the Bushman, why don't we go back with the right gear and take the honeycombs out.", I said to Jim.
"Not on your life mate. I'm scared of bees and they always seem to pick up on my fear. I only went honey-gathering once. That was enough for me. It's easier to buy it at the store."

     At the end of a long, hot day and getting towards the end of the fencing contract, Jim said to me, "D'ya wanna go into town tomorrow with me Yorky?"
"Oh yea! That would be great Jim."
"Ya must have a good, few quid coming to ya now mate."
"I probably have Jim. We've been so busy I haven't had much time to think about money and even if I had, there's nowhere to spend it out here."
"Yeh mate, that's the beauty of the Bush. It doesn't cost as much money as living in town would. It would cost ya money every time ya stuck ya head out a' the front door, if ya lived at the Lake."
"What time are we off tomorrow Jim?"
"Oh, I thought we'd go in pretty early mate before it gets too hot. I said I'd take the missus and kids in with me this time' cause she hasn't been to town for a couple of months now."
"Doesn't she like town life?"
"Na mate. She's a good sort is my missus. It works well for both of us. Neither one of us like to hang around the towns much. Anyway, Bush life is nice and peaceful mate. Just the way I like it."
"Maybe I'll by miself a good rifle tomorrow."
"Yeh mate, I'll help ya pick one out at the Barbers shop. He's got a few good pea-rifles. We might try a bit a' rabbit shooting if ya like Yorky."
"Oh yeah Jim, that would be real beaut."
"Yeh, the rifle will come in real handy then. We'll git a better chance at 'em with 2 rifles mate."

     The following morning we all got up early. Jim, his wife Shirl and the 3 small kids, all squashed into his old blue Holden ute. I sat in the back. We didn't take the old Bedford 'cause it was too dangerous with no brakes.
     The ride into town was a lot of fun as we tore along the dirt roads at 60. By the time we arrived, I was covered in red dust but I was so happy to have a day off and the thought of getting mi first rifle made everything pale in comparison.
     We all waited in the Ute while Jim went in to see Blackers. He was the Publican at the Australian Hotel. Jim knew him so he took a check there to cash it and we'd all have some money.
     When he came out, he asked me how much money I wanted.
"Oh just pay for the rifle and a few quid for some Drum and Monopoles and you can save the rest for me 'cause I don't have any bank account."
"Alright Yorky, long as that suits ya. I don't have a bank account miself mate. I don't like handing my hard-earned money over to the bank. Ya never know when they'll go broke and I can look after mi own money better than they can."

     Jim gave Shirley a fist-full of money to buy some supplies to take back with us.
"I'll meet ya back here Shirl. Yorky an' me are gonna have a look at a few rifle. Come on mate, let's go."

     We walked across the street to Ray Orrs Barber Shop. The sign read OPEN so we went straight in.
"G'day gentlemen.", said Ray Orr, who was sat in the barbers chair reading the local Lake Cargelligo paper (which was all of 4 pages wide.)
"G'day. How ya going?", said Jim.
"Real good. Ya got a new man I hear.", said Ray
"Sure have Ray. Best little worker around these parts."
"They tell me old Burt Booth has gotten himself a new Pommy out at his place." Said Ray.
"Good luck to him.", I said. "He can have it for all I care."
"Didn't ya like old Burt?", asked Ray.
"That's an understatement! Anyway, I've got a much better job now and I make a lot more money so I've come in to buy one of ya rifles."
"No problem mate. Which one are ya interested in then?"
"We'll have a look at all of 'em.", said Jim. "We'll be going spotlighting rabbits soon. She's getting too warm for fencing."
"Ya not wrong there mate.", said Ray.

We took a good half-hour looking through the rifles and finally settled on a 5-shot Anshultz.
"That's a real beaut rifle.", said Ray, as Jim looked down the sights. "Not too expensive either for a German-made rifle."
"How much is it Ray?". I asked.
"That one will set you back 9 pounds."
"I'll take it.", I said.
"Better git ya self some bullets for it as well Yorky, while you're at it.", said Jim.
"What type shall we get Jim?"
"Ya probably better off with hollow-points mate. They're a better bullet for what we're gonna use 'em for."
"They come 50 in a box.", said Ray. "How many boxes d'ya want?"
"Give Yorky 5 boxes and I'll take 10."
"Ya must be gonna make a few Bob are ya Jim?", said Ray.
"Well, I won't be shooting tin cans with 'em Ray, if that's what ya mean."

     After we paid for the rifle and bullets Jim said,
"You'd better give us a haircut while I'm here Ray. It's getting too long for summer. I can't stand it once it starts growing over mi ears."
"Me too.", I said to Ray. "Ya can give me a short crewcut 'cause nobodys gonna see me in the Bush."

     We walked out of the Barber shop lighter in the pocket and lighter on the head.
"Put the rifle up on the back window of the Ute, Yorky. I'll see ya in the Degos' shop."
     I put mi new rifle where Jim had suggested and for good measure I covered it up with an old blanket that I'd sat on as we drove into town.
     When I got over to the Greek Café, Jim was buying up all the Greeks' Monopole Midgets.
"Save some for me Jim 'cause I owe ya a few packets."
"That’s a'right mate.", said the Greek Café owner. "I've got some more in the back'a. What'sa ya name?", he said to me.
"Yorky. What's yours?"
"Jimmy Stephanopolus but most-a people call me Jimmy Xmas, Its-a my nickname."
"Good to meet ya Jimmy Xmas. When ya finished with Jim, ya can give me 10 boxes of Monopoles', 5 packets of Drum and papers and a cold milk shake each, for me and Jim."
"No problem-a mate.", he said, as he went out back of his shop for the extra Monopoles.
 
     Jim helped Shirley load up the Ute with about a months supplies of the things she'd need. After that, we all got in the Ute and left Lake Cargelligo behind in a cloud of red dust as we made our way home out to the Bush again.

     The following day, we went back out to the fence line to clean up so Jim could go and see the cocky and get a check. The weather was now as hot as hell. The bush flies were in full force and the mosquitoes were eating me alive at times.

"Hey Yorky, what d'ya reckon if we try spotlighting for rabbits for a while until it cools down?"
"Why not mate. I can try mi new rifle out. That sounds great to me."
"OK mate, we'll start tonight. We should have this place cleaned up in a while and then we'll load up all the tools and take 'em home."
"Have ya got a spotlight Jim?"
"Yeh mate, I've got a beauty I bought last year. She's a real bright one. The rabbits really sit up in it as long as they're not gun shy."
"What d'ya mean 'gun shy'?"
"Well once a rabbit has been shot at a few times they know what to expect so as soon as the spot hits 'em they won't sit up and look at the light. They just sort a move around too much trying to git out a' the light."
"D'ya know where we can go?"
"Sure do mate. I've had a couple of cocky's asked me already if I want to spotlight on their property."
"What time do we go Jim?"
"I reckon we'll take off as soon as it's dark Yorky. There shouldn't be much moon tonight. The darker it is the more we'll git."

     That evening, Jim and me loaded up the Ute with the things we'd need for rabbiting.
"Put about 10 steel Waratahs' in the back of the Ute Yorky. We'll need 'em to hang the rabbits over soon as we've gutted and paired 'em up. Better wrap up warm too mate, cause she'll be a cold night once it gets past midnight."

     It was now quite dark when Jim and me hopped in his Ute and took off down the bush track and out to the dirt road.
"Where we going first mate?", I said, as Jim puffed away on a fresh Monopole.
"There's a cockys' place just up the road here. We'll stop at his house just to let him know we'll be on his property tonight, that way he won't think we're a couple of Yahbos from the city who've just drove into his paddock without permission. Those city blokes are a bloody nuisance, the bastards."
"Why's that?"
"They come out to see the bush with all their fancy gear and when they go spotlighting, the first pair of eyes they pick up they blast the shit out of 'em. Most times it's a sheep or a cockys' good steer that they end up shooting. I don't have to tell ya how the old cocky feels about that mate!"

     Before long, Jim turned off of Burgooney road onto a narrow bush track. Over the ramp we went and down the dirt track to the house paddock.
     The old Colonial style house looked quite sinister in the dim light of the new moon.
"Wait here Yorky. I'll run over and let him know who we are."
     I sat in the darkness and rolled a couple of fags while I waited for Jim. The cockys' dogs were barking like hell now at the thought of intruders on their territory.
     I saw Jim talking to the Cocky. Jim was waving his arms around, then the cocky in turn started to point in several directions, then Jim walked back over to the Ute, started her up again and off we went.
"The cocky reckons we'll git a few rabbits in his scrub paddocks Yorky, so that's where we'll try first mate. Soon as we get down this track a-ways, we'll hook up the spot, mate and you can ride in the back. OK Yorky, let's stop and hook up the spotlight mate."

     He left the motor going and pulled the hood catch. The Utes' hood popped up a couple of inches.
"You can hook her up mate. It's pretty simple, just clip one of these crocodile clamps on the positive and this one on the negative. I've put red and black electrical tape on the 'em so ya can't git 'em mixed up."
"What happens when they get mixed up Jim?"
"Ya can blow the bulb mate. That's what I did miself one nights so now I've got tape on 'em."
     After I opened up the hood, I very carefully hooked up the spotlight and then hit the ON switch. A huge, strong, bright beam of white light shot out of he 12 volt spot. I smiled and very carefully closed he hood so as not to dislodge the clamps.
"Good on ya Yorky. You're not a bad pommy bastard after all mate. I must be one of the lucky ones. Climb in the back of the Ute mate and lean on the roof of the cab so the back light from the spot shines down on mi door."
"Why's that Jim?"
"If ya don't spot from the right angle mate, I won't be able to see the back sights on the .22."
"Hey Jim, grab mi rifle and test it out for me. Let's see how good she is."
"Alright, but maybe you should put the first scratch on it. I wouldn't like to think I'd scratched the stock up on ya mate.""
"No worries mate. A scratch is a scratch. If it's gonna git scratched, I'd sooner you put on on it first. That way I'll have something to whinge about, then you justifiably call me,'A whinging pommy bastard'."
     Jim had a good laugh and then said, "Alright mate, hang on tight and keep quiet now. Just shine the spot arounds slowly. As soon as you pick up a bunny, give a light tap on the roof."
     We now turned off the dirt track and made our way slowly across the cockys scrub paddock. After a few minutes of shining the spot around, I picked up a pair of bunnies eyes. I tapped lightly on the roof of the cab.
     Jim stuck my new .22 out of the window. He took quick aim and squeezed off the trigger. BANG!!. the bunny fell over in the light and never even kicked.
"Ya got him mate.", I said quietly.
"Give me the spot Yorky and go pick him up."
     When I picked up the rabbit, I saw that Jim had hit him in the head. When I got back to the Ute, I said, "Good shot mate, straight in the head."
"That's where I aimed for. This rifle of yours is a real piss-cutter mate.She's accurate as hell."
"That's what I wanted to hear.", I said, as I put the rabbit in the back and then climbed in myself.
"Ya see that stick in the back, the one with the bent end that looks like a hockey stick? Well, stick it in the corner where it's handy, 'cause if I miss a shot, you can run up along side the beam and whack him on the head with the stick."
     That's the way most people git a lot of rabbits. They fire a hollow-point right next to 'em so it makes them sit up. They're easier to whack in the head then.

     At one time, in Australia, rabbits were considered a plague. They destroyed a lot of crops and made burrows, all over the place. The cocky was not too happy when one of the wheels of his Plough or Combine sunk into a large burrow and bust one of of the axles. In the end there was such a plague of rabbits that the Government sanctioned the use of a poison that was specially developed to rid the land of rabbits. The name of the poison was called mixametosis. Were you ever to see the devastating effects of this poison, you'd understand why head-shooting a rabbit was the most humane thing to do.

     About an hour of shooting, we stopped and gutted out the rabbits and then paired them up size -wise by their back legs and hung them across the steel posts which were sitting crossways on the  back of the Ute.
     That particular evening, we shot 400 pair of rabbits. In the morning, when it started to warm up and the blow-flys came out, we covered the rabbits over with a large mosquito net and took off to the 'Chillers' which was situated in a scrub paddock just outside of Lake Cargelligo.
     In those days, we got 2-3 shillings a pair.  For 1964, that was a profitable evenings work.

     Sometimes, Jim liked to go trapping rabbits with steel-sprung leg traps. I was not as keen on this way of hunting as I didn't like to see the rabbits caught by their leg in the trap. One morning as were walking around Jims' trap-line, a fox had got himself caught by the back leg. When he saw us approaching him, he was obviously scared. He went back to trying to chew his leg off, as he had been doing before we interrupted him.
"What the hell is he doing?"
"He's chewing his back leg off so he can get out of the trap."
     I could't stand to see this sight.
"I'm going to let him out of the trap."
"Be careful.", warned Jim, as I walked up to the fox. When I was about 3 feet away from him, he lunged at my out-stretched hand and tried to bite it, which made me recoil in fright.
"He won't let me get him out of the trap Jim."
"I could have told ya that mate before ya tried. He'll take ya hand off, if ya get too close to him."
"How are we going to get him out then?"
"If I were you mate, I'd hit him on the head with the rabbit stick 'cause you'll never git him out any other way."
     I tried to get close to the fox again, to get him out of the trap but as soon as I got close to him he stopped chewing his leg and made another snarling lunge at me. This time I could see that Jim was right. My response to the situation was incorrect because it didn't stop the foxes suffering and pain. The only other option left open to me was to hit the fox on the head. This action put him out of his pain.
     I didn't feel too good with myself after killing the fox. After a while Jim said to me, "What's the matter mate, you don't look real good?"
"I felt the pain the fox was in and I also felt the pain of killing him too. It felt like I was the one who was caught in a trap."
"Yeah mate, I know just how ya feel, I've been put in that position a few times miself. It's a hard one, especially on the heart but you'll git over it mate or you'll never survive in the  Bush. No one promised ya an easy life or ya wouldn't be out in the bush in the first place. Come on Yorky, let's git these traps cleared and re-set again.

     One morning Jim said to me, "We're out of mutton Yorky, d'ya feel like getting a roo for us mate?"
"If ya like. Where's the best place to go, where its not too far away?"
"You's probably find a few in the Bush, the other side of Burgooney Road. Mind ya look where ya goin' mate 'cause it can get pretty dense in there and I wouldn't want ya to git 'Bushed' or you'd never find ya way out mate."
"No worries Jim. I'll  just follow the fence line. That way I'm bound to find mi way out to the road again."
"That's the story mate. Make sure ya git a half-grown one. Don't shoot a big old buck 'cause they're as tough as old boots and my teeth aren't in real good shape these days and fill that small canteen up with some water before ya go. Ya never know, ya may need a drop if your out there for a while."
     After I'd filled the canteen, I slung it over mi shoulder and grabbed mi rifle and a box of hollow-points. Last of all, I grabbed mi new Akubra Squatters hat that I'd bought from Chamens, the last time we were in town. The dark brown Akubra had a wide brim which kept the hot sun off mi shoulders. I'd put the traditional Squatters crease in the top of it so it sat on mi head comfortably.
"See ya later Jim.", I said as I walked out of the yard with the rifle in mi left hand, hanging down at mi side.
"See ya later Yorky. Good luck mate."

     Once I got out to Burgooney Road I took mi bearings from the position of the Sun and made mi way off into the Bush. The trees and Bush were not too thick for the first couple of hundred yards but after that, the landscape changed to thick Bush which was now all around me. Every now and again, the Bush would give way to a natural clearing which was dotted with large rock formations.
     After about an hours walking in silence, I sat on a rock, in a clearing, for a bit of a spell. The Bush birds were hopping from bush to bush as they played and looked for small seeds to eat. A few feet away from me I saw the track of a snake which disappeared under a large rock. He was probably sleeping there, out of the hot sun.

     The air was crystal clear. Not a cloud in the sky. There were no such things as airplanes or helicopters flying around.  Every now and then, a wedge-tail eagle would call out to its'  mate as it hovered and glided on the warm air-currents. Wedge-tails are very beautiful and graceful to watch as they circle the skies looking for young rabbits or mice to take back to their nests. They nest high up in the branches of dead trees.  Their nests are quite large, as a full-grown wedge-tail could quite easily have a 6 foot wing span. Usually one of them will hunt while the other feeds the young with whatever was caught for the day.

     I walked for another half hour before I spotted a small mob of roos laying and sitting under the shade of a big eucalyptus tree. 'I had better keep down-wind of them', I thought, 'so they don't pick up my scent or I'll never git close enough to get off a clean shot at one of 'em. Usually, while most of the mob sleep in the shade a couple of sentries are left to guard the camp. The sentries usually walk around looking for bits and pieces of thing to eat, then they sit bolt upright, checking out the landscape and then put their heads down again. Very quietly, I moved slowly from tree to tree until I was in decent range of them.

     A .22 is not considered a big rifle, especially where roos are concerned but a good hunter can always bring one down with a well-aimed shot. I decided to try and make it to the next large box tree before attempting a shot. Very carefully, I moved ahead. Once I was leaning against the tree, I took a slight breather because now my heart was pumping away from the concentration of sneaking up on them. As soon as I felt steady enough, I very quickly turned around and leaned against the tree which made good support. There was already a bullet up the spout 'cause I'd pushed the bolt home when I first saw them. Very slowly, I eased off the safety catch so it didn't make a clicking sound. Then I raised the rifle to mi shoulder and leaned mi left shoulder more against the tree. Taking my last deep breath,  I sat the bead of the front site smack in the middle of the back V shape and took careful aim at a half-grown roo who had his head down in the bush grass, eating. I aimed the rifle about half an inch above his shoulder 'cause I was still a long distance away for a .22.

     The two sites of the rifle were now as steady as I could hold them. I started to squeeze the trigger. 'Careful Yorky', the inner hunter said to me. 'Don't pull it or it will pull the rifle off target.' 'Squeeze, squeeze, BANG!'  The roos were up and off as the sound of the rifle cracked the silence like a big stock-whip. A flock of grey and pink Gullahs flew into the air squawking out their warning signals.
     The mob of roos were now thumping out a retreat paradiddle as they headed off deeper into the scrub, all except for the half-grown one that was kicking it's last, under the tree. It was almost dead when I reached the spot, so I put a bullet between its ears, for good measure. The roo was a young gray male. he was not too big or too small. The first bullet had gone straight through his chest, right under his armpit. It was a fast, clean kill which was the only type of kill that was acceptable to me.

     I waited for a few minutes until the adrenaline had subsided from the run across the scub from my hiding tree. As soon as the body had calmed down to its natural, un-excited state, I re-loaded the rifle and pushed the safety catch firmly forward into the on position and then leaned the rifle against the tree. Although the roo was not full-grown, he was by no means light. I grabbed the bulk of his thick, sinewy tail and slung him across mi shoulders. As soon as the roo was comfortably positioned, I grabbed mi rifle and started back the way I'd come.

     Back-tracking was always the hardest because now I was a good few pounds heavier. Over the last 3 months I spent with Jim, I'd got a good Bush education. I was able to find mi way back out to Burgooney Road, no problem at all. Halfway back, I stopped for a rest as it was now really hot. I took a small sip of water and rolled misen a Drum. Although the body had acquired the habit of smoking, I didn't smoke a lot, not because I didn't want to, mind you, but it is always more difficult to smoke in an environment that has clean air. Smoking in the city was much easier because of all the lead pollution and other contaminations.

     I was glad to see Burgooney dirt road 'cause the roo was now getting fairly heavy and sweat was streaming down from under the brim of mi Squatters hat.
     When I got back to the house yard, Jim was busily building a new avery that looked like it was going to be 5 times the size of his old one.

"Yorky mate,", he said as I got close to him. "Ya got a real beaut there. He's the perfect size for eating. Fetch him over in the shade and we'll clean him up. The missus will make up some roo tail soup and we'll git enough steaks off of him for a couple of weeks mate. We'll make a bushman out of ya yet Yorky, ya pommey bastard!"

     It was about 3 weeks later when Jim said to me , one morning, after we'd got home from spotlighting.
"Well Yorky, it's too hot to fence and there's not enough money in the rabbits now so I've got no more work for ya mate. I'm gonna have to find a job for miself now."
"Oh shit.", I said with a sad feeling in mi heart. "What are ya gonna do for work Jim?"
"I'll probably git a job driving a header for the wheat season.  A couple of wheat cockys that I drove for last year have asked me to come back again. I'l either do that or I'll git a job driving a wheat truck to the silos in Lake Cargelligo."
"What am I gonna do? I don't really know anyone, only you and old Burt. I'm certainly not going backwards Jim."
     Jim had a bit of a laugh at this and then said, "Don't worry mate, I've got a job lined up for ya already for 10 quid a week."
"What doing?"
"Oh, this is a bludge mate. You'll git to ride around on a header all day in the wheat paddocks."
"Doing what?"
"About every hour, you'll jump off and grease a big, automatic header for the driver while he's emptying the bin into one of the semi's. After that, ya git back on and ride around for another hour. Ya can't git better than that mate."
"Who will I be working for Jim?"
"The cockys' name is Dick Skipworth. he's got a big place out on the main Lake Cargelligo-West Wyalong Road. He's a pretty decent bloke and he's got a couple of sons; Colin and Kevin. They're real-hard doers mate. You'll like 'em."
"Isn't that where Peter Smith works?
"Yeah mate, Peter's on Fred Harzeys place, just down the road a-ways. You'll probably get to see him. He usually drives the wheat semi for old Fred."
"When do I start?"
"I'll take ya over to their place tomorrow morning mate. Give ya time to pack up ya gear. I'll pay ya up all the money I've been saving for ya Yorky. It's no good hanging around here, ya not making any money sitting on your arse."

     I was still feeling a bit apprehensive at leaving Jims' place. Once again I was off into the unknown. That evening, as I lay in the darkened bedroom, I was thinking of all the things I'd learned from Jim about the Bush.  I heard the voice of silence whisper to me, 'Don't worry Yorky, everything will be alright for you. It's necessary for you to move on. Don't forget, whatever pleases you holds you back mate.'

     The next morning, Shirley made me some breakfast and gave me a couple of items of clothes she'd very graciously washed out for me." Thanks for all the meals and washing you've done for me Shirley."
"That's alright Yorky. I'm glad to have been of some help to you. Don't forget to stop in, if you're ever passing by. You're always welcome here Yorky."

     I loaded my cases and my rifle into Jims' Ute and waved goodbye to his small kids, as Jim and I drove out of the dirt yard, down the Bush track and out onto Burgooney Road. We drove in silence that hot sunny morning. I was contemplating what the new cocky and his sons would be like. Jim was probably wondering who he was going to decide to work for.