The Legacy of Jack Grey
‘Country is where you feel at home. It’s a place where you’re loved and respected for being yourself and not for what you own or how you look. It’s a place where you’re needed and where you need to be to nourish your spirit.’ Jack Grey, 1968
Grey Shrike-thrush, Colluricincla harmonica. Photo CSIRO
He loved waking up here. It was that transition from the quiet melancholy of the night to all the promise that was the dawn and the first plaintive chirps of the Bearded Honeyeaters. It was a sound so simple, yet it had come to mean so much to him, particularly now that he had only his memories to lift his spirits. And then there is that book, the dog-eared leather-bound diary that belonged to his grandfather.
He remembered how shocked he was when he found out that the leather was wallaby skin, yet his grandfather loved nature and seemed to have an uncanny connection with all the wild animals that now lived safely in ‘The Country’ as the old man called this place.
Tristan climbed out of his swag and threw a handful of dry sticks and leaves onto the coals. The fire smoked then crackled, and the first flames danced in the shadows of the early morning. He was going to spend this day in the quiet and solitude of ‘The Country’ reading the old man’s diary. It had been left to him when his grandfather died on this day five years ago.
The old man must have known he was dying.
“Take me home, Tris, my spirit wants to dwell in The Country”.
He didn’t know he meant to come back here to die! The diary had been so precious to him. He carried it in his back pocket and jotted observations, made his scratchy sketches and referred to it often. His life’s work, he had called it.
A Grey Shrike-thrush was calling, a piping harmony and melody so pure and perfect. Of the hundred or more bird species that now lived or visited here, he loved this call the most. It lifted his mood and he knew that all was right with his world.
The diary felt soft and substantial in his hand. The old man said that it had been tanned in wattle bark.
“Those Swamp Wallabies were eating my trees; didn’t they know that all this work was for their benefit?”
Ajax, his Jack Russell terrier, was well-fed until the trees were big enough. Now the wallabies lived happily in this protected environment thanks to those trees.
The first entry was made over 40 years ago. His grandfather was 83 when he died, but right up to his death, his memories of the years living here were sharp and filled with emotion. In the first pages of his diary, he described a bare hill that formed part of his new farm.
‘From the top of the hill looking northeast, I can see the Brisbane Ranges on the distant horizon.’
What was the hill he is referring to?
The diary described a bare and windswept landscape with a few plantations of cypress and sugar gum trees in broken lines, marking out the boundaries of paddocks on distant farms. The hill was a graveyard of stags, old Manna Gums that had been ring-barked or ‘had died because of loneliness.’
This was the way his grandfather thought about trees and native vegetation.
‘Trees need companions like we do, except in their world it’s neighbouring plants and wildlife that are their community’.
This is how he described the ecology of ‘The Country.’ Ecology comes from the Greek word oikos meaning ‘house’ and means ‘the study of the home.’ My grandfather didn’t know about the science of ecology, though he applied its principles and observed it every day. This was his home and home to an incredible diversity of vegetation and wildlife.
As he read the description of the surrounding landscape, he suddenly realised that the bare hill with its Manna Gum stags was ‘The Country.’
'It couldn’t be!' The Country today is a natural woodland and in my memory, it has always been a woodland. A remnant 40 acre bit of bush that my family camped on when they visited his reclusive grandfather.
The old man had been a naturalist from his early childhood, growing up on a soldier settler farm south of the Flinders Ranges. He would tell stories about sleeping out in the local remnant bush near his home and recording the bird species. He also recorded the number of eggs in their nests and where the nests were built.
“See that Willy Wagtail”, he would say. “She likes to build her nest on a horizontal fork at least 4 feet from the ground. She needs fine grass and shreds of bark, which she weaves into a nest with spiders’ webs. Her jerky motion disturbs insects, which she catches in flight”.
He spoke about his observations with a joy and a passion that was infectious. Yet to most people he was just an eccentric old man.
He remembered how shocked he was when he found out that the leather was wallaby skin, yet his grandfather loved nature and seemed to have an uncanny connection with all the wild animals that now lived safely in ‘The Country’ as the old man called this place.
Tristan climbed out of his swag and threw a handful of dry sticks and leaves onto the coals. The fire smoked then crackled, and the first flames danced in the shadows of the early morning. He was going to spend this day in the quiet and solitude of ‘The Country’ reading the old man’s diary. It had been left to him when his grandfather died on this day five years ago.
The old man must have known he was dying.
“Take me home, Tris, my spirit wants to dwell in The Country”.
He didn’t know he meant to come back here to die! The diary had been so precious to him. He carried it in his back pocket and jotted observations, made his scratchy sketches and referred to it often. His life’s work, he had called it.
A Grey Shrike-thrush was calling, a piping harmony and melody so pure and perfect. Of the hundred or more bird species that now lived or visited here, he loved this call the most. It lifted his mood and he knew that all was right with his world.
The diary felt soft and substantial in his hand. The old man said that it had been tanned in wattle bark.
“Those Swamp Wallabies were eating my trees; didn’t they know that all this work was for their benefit?”
Ajax, his Jack Russell terrier, was well-fed until the trees were big enough. Now the wallabies lived happily in this protected environment thanks to those trees.
The first entry was made over 40 years ago. His grandfather was 83 when he died, but right up to his death, his memories of the years living here were sharp and filled with emotion. In the first pages of his diary, he described a bare hill that formed part of his new farm.
‘From the top of the hill looking northeast, I can see the Brisbane Ranges on the distant horizon.’
What was the hill he is referring to?
The diary described a bare and windswept landscape with a few plantations of cypress and sugar gum trees in broken lines, marking out the boundaries of paddocks on distant farms. The hill was a graveyard of stags, old Manna Gums that had been ring-barked or ‘had died because of loneliness.’
This was the way his grandfather thought about trees and native vegetation.
‘Trees need companions like we do, except in their world it’s neighbouring plants and wildlife that are their community’.
This is how he described the ecology of ‘The Country.’ Ecology comes from the Greek word oikos meaning ‘house’ and means ‘the study of the home.’ My grandfather didn’t know about the science of ecology, though he applied its principles and observed it every day. This was his home and home to an incredible diversity of vegetation and wildlife.
As he read the description of the surrounding landscape, he suddenly realised that the bare hill with its Manna Gum stags was ‘The Country.’
'It couldn’t be!' The Country today is a natural woodland and in my memory, it has always been a woodland. A remnant 40 acre bit of bush that my family camped on when they visited his reclusive grandfather.
The old man had been a naturalist from his early childhood, growing up on a soldier settler farm south of the Flinders Ranges. He would tell stories about sleeping out in the local remnant bush near his home and recording the bird species. He also recorded the number of eggs in their nests and where the nests were built.
“See that Willy Wagtail”, he would say. “She likes to build her nest on a horizontal fork at least 4 feet from the ground. She needs fine grass and shreds of bark, which she weaves into a nest with spiders’ webs. Her jerky motion disturbs insects, which she catches in flight”.
He spoke about his observations with a joy and a passion that was infectious. Yet to most people he was just an eccentric old man.
Eastern Rosella, Platycercus eximius. Wikipedia
His first observations of ‘The Country’ identify five bird species. Corellas and Rosellas nesting in hollows in the old Manna Gum stags; Skylarks whistling in the surrounding paddocks and Brown Falcons hovering watching the ground with a keen eye for any movement. There was also a family of Blue Wrens nesting in an old Boxthorn bush half way down the hill on the north side.
This was in the late 1960s when the average farmer saw any remnant tree as firewood and an impediment to cropping. It seems that in this unlikely social environment his grandfather conceived the idea to turn the barren hill on his property into a home for the birds that he loved and had studied from his childhood.
This was in the late 1960s when the average farmer saw any remnant tree as firewood and an impediment to cropping. It seems that in this unlikely social environment his grandfather conceived the idea to turn the barren hill on his property into a home for the birds that he loved and had studied from his childhood.
Part 2 - Jack Grey, a passion for healing the land.
Tristan recalled a conversation with his dad when the family was gathered to farewell his grandfather after the funeral. Tristan had been talking about his grandfather – the naturalist, and to his surprise his father piped in “he wasn’t always like that! “What do you mean” he recalled his abrupt response in defense of the man that he admired so much. “Well when he first settled near Shelford after the war, on his soldier settler allotment of 520 acres, he was a farmer first, a businessman second and any trees he planted were to make the farm more productive. He had to make a home for his bride and make a profit from the farm”. My father warming to his topic told a story that was as unfamiliar as it was fascinating.
Your grandfather grew up on a farm in arid South Australia. It was there that he saw the damage caused by over clearing of native vegetation. The soil was very sandy where he lived and so when the wind blew on the cleared land it scoured deep channels and buried fences. He knew that trees had to be part of his plan to develop a profitable farm, particularly after he had experienced his first winter months on the windy soldier settlement living in a small cold tin shed waiting for his weatherboard house to be built.
He decided to plant native trees simply because they recovered well from the summer bush fires of 1944. The cypress trees provided good shelter but they obviously didn’t recover from fire. There were plenty of dead cypress remaining from those 1944 fires for all to see. He often said that “the way you use the land has to take account of its capacity to recover. If you’re greedy and take more than the land can give and the natural balance is lost, then look out because it’ll come back to haunt you eventually!” To him native vegetation played an important part in maintaining this balance.
He started by direct seeding six rows of sugar gums on the western and northern boundaries of ‘Far Paddock’. When they were young and bushy they gave good shelter but later they thinned out and dropped lower branches letting the wind through near ground level. Your grandfather was a good observer and kept notes in his pocket notebook. He soon realised that he needed rows of bushy trees on the edges of his firewood plantations to provide low shelter for his sheep. He experimented with the local trees and added local gums, wattles and sheoaks to his seed mix. These mixed plantations looked more natural and attracted more birds and you know he loved his birds.
After 20 years on the farm all his 200m wide paddocks were fully sheltered by six rows of trees, and some of his corridor plantings were much wider and ran through his farm dams. The wild life was amazing, but more to the point his farm was more profitable than the neighbouring farms. His crop yields were higher because they were less affected by the drying winds, his sheep and lambs survived the cold spells and he suffered no erosion in the 1967 droughts. When the neighbours decided to sell, he bought adjoining properties one of which included ‘The Country’. By 1972 he owned over 2,000 acres and was considered by local standards to be a wealthy and successful farmer.
Now ‘The Country’ was just a bald hill with a few dead trees in 1968 when he bought it. So aside from the old stags it was as ‘as bare as a turtle’s shell ' and it was being eroded by the strong winds in the dry Summer months. You know he was paranoid about this sort of thing, so he fenced it off with a rabbit proof fence and sat down to think.
After 20 years on the farm all his 200m wide paddocks were fully sheltered by six rows of trees, and some of his corridor plantings were much wider and ran through his farm dams. The wild life was amazing, but more to the point his farm was more profitable than the neighbouring farms. His crop yields were higher because they were less affected by the drying winds, his sheep and lambs survived the cold spells and he suffered no erosion in the 1967 droughts. When the neighbours decided to sell, he bought adjoining properties one of which included ‘The Country’. By 1972 he owned over 2,000 acres and was considered by local standards to be a wealthy and successful farmer.
Now ‘The Country’ was just a bald hill with a few dead trees in 1968 when he bought it. So aside from the old stags it was as ‘as bare as a turtle’s shell ' and it was being eroded by the strong winds in the dry Summer months. You know he was paranoid about this sort of thing, so he fenced it off with a rabbit proof fence and sat down to think.
For a description of a Traditional Owner cool burn click on the above image
Part 3 - Jack Grey turning back the clock with a cool burn
“Of vegetable Creation, trees contribute the most to humans’ comfort and improvement’ and are among the grandest and most ornamental objects of natural scenery. What would the landscape be without them”? J.C. Loudon, 1838
Tristan had always known his grandfather in the setting of ‘The Country’, but he also knew that the cruelty of war against the Japanese in New Guinea had changed him and it was only when his grandfather reached middle age that he felt a tug back to the bush that he loved and understood. It was then that restoring the bush on this bare hill became a priority driven by a deep-seated need.
Tristan carefully turned the pages of the leather-bound volume. He could see neatly written notes detailing his grandfather’s observations of birds and frequent sketches in the margins of vegetation and nest locations. Every so often, his observations included an idea or hypothesis based on what he had observed both on his childhood and his adult expeditions. The leather-bound diary was apparently a carefully thought summary of ideas and observations made for ‘The Country’.
The first entry in his diary was made in January 1968 .
The diary recorded both his plans for each season of each year and regular observations of wildlife, particularly bird species. It was probably as a volunteer fire-fighter that he observed many burnt landscapes and the miraculous recovery that followed. This appears to have lead to his first experiment with fire at ‘The Country’ in the autumn of 1968. The property that he had purchased in 1968 had been heavily grazed and in many ways its recovery after fencing in the spring of that year mirrored the recovery of a burnt landscape. He observed a number of the tougher pasture grasses and the promising reappearance of what he knew to be native grasses and herbs.
What didn’t appear were the trees and shrubs that this bare hill really needed.
It was a fine Autumn day and his grandfather waited for a light breeze from the south and began lighting small spot fires a pace apart with a flaming branch as he had seen Queensland aborigines do in 1944. Because his boundaries were bare in preparation for direct seeding native trees in spring, he was confident that the fire would be well contained. The burn was slow and cool and took a few hours. The fire burnt cleanly, leaving small patches of unburnt grass stubble on the north face. On the south face the result was patchier because it was burning down the slope and into the breeze.
Tristan read randomly, stopping to look at drawings. The observations his grandfather made were of natural events, but the descriptions were so vivid to Tristan that he felt as if he was standing at his grandfather’s side on this very spot 40 years before listing to his familiar voice telling the story.
The drawings that caught his eye were two sketches drawn in the spring of two consecutive years, both providing a profile of the hillside from the same view point. The first drawn in 1968 showed a bare black hillside with five Manna Gum stags towering over the surrounding landscape, a bleak and lonely reminder of the woodland that once extended to Ballarat and beyond. The second showed these same stags now ringed by a thicket of young Manna Gum seedlings. It seemed to Tristan that the dead Manna Gums no longer looked quite so lonely, an observation that gave him a strange sense of comfort and relief. He also felt a strong feeling of pride as he realised that his grandfather’s experiment with fire was an outstanding success. The notes accompanying the drawings indicated that three wattle species had also germinated in a scattered pattern over much of the hillside.
Part 4. - The return of the Eastern Yellow Robin
Eastern Yellow Robin, Eopsaltria australis
From that first recording of the bare hill with the five dead Manna Gums, each year there were trees and shrubs added to the landscape and wetlands on the north and south lower slopes in 1970. It seemed that a high point for his grandfather was the appearance of the first Yellow Robin. Tristan could hear its single piping note in his head. A beautiful and inquisitive grey-green robin with bright yellow breast.
His grandfather recorded his first sighting just 9 years after his restoration works began. He also noted that in the margin there had been a significant local fire event in February of the same year that had burnt farms and bushland at Rokewood. Fortunately the farms in his district had been spared. This event might have driven the robin to the greener pastures of ‘The Country’ which was to become its permanent home.
Tristan read two entries in his grandfather's diary;
4.45pm 15th Nov. 1977
Today I saw a Yellow Robin sitting on the fence post on the South Eastern corner. It flew to a River Bottlebrush and picked off a Woolly-bear Caterpillar.
5.10pm 17th Nov. 1977
My friend the Yellow Robin was foraging in the leaf litter under a Manna Gum not far from the first sighting. I sat and watched him picking off the Mould Hoppers that jumped when disturbed.
His grandfather recorded his first sighting just 9 years after his restoration works began. He also noted that in the margin there had been a significant local fire event in February of the same year that had burnt farms and bushland at Rokewood. Fortunately the farms in his district had been spared. This event might have driven the robin to the greener pastures of ‘The Country’ which was to become its permanent home.
Tristan read two entries in his grandfather's diary;
4.45pm 15th Nov. 1977
Today I saw a Yellow Robin sitting on the fence post on the South Eastern corner. It flew to a River Bottlebrush and picked off a Woolly-bear Caterpillar.
5.10pm 17th Nov. 1977
My friend the Yellow Robin was foraging in the leaf litter under a Manna Gum not far from the first sighting. I sat and watched him picking off the Mould Hoppers that jumped when disturbed.
His grandfather soon realised that the Yellow Robin was actually a pair. That same month he recorded the cup shaped nest made from strips of bark and cobwebs in the fork of Prickly Wattle 6 feet from ground level. It contained 3 apple-green eggs. That summer the Yellow Robins successfully raised 2 chicks to maturity – his grandfather was overjoyed.
His plan to restore the bald hill was simple. He would direct seed all his trees from the seed that he had collected from local reserves. He would work up a new site in winter and early spring when the soil was moist and there was no danger of any wind erosion. He always scarified on the contour only a few inches deep. Just deep enough to deplete the weed seed bank and to catch any runoff from the hill during heavy rain events.
His plan to restore the bald hill was simple. He would direct seed all his trees from the seed that he had collected from local reserves. He would work up a new site in winter and early spring when the soil was moist and there was no danger of any wind erosion. He always scarified on the contour only a few inches deep. Just deep enough to deplete the weed seed bank and to catch any runoff from the hill during heavy rain events.
He would then hand sow his shandy of seed mixed with sawdust in August, like the biblical farmer spreading grain on his fields. To seed the whole boundary he used 3kg of mixed seed made up of a dozen species consisting of gums, wattles, she-oaks, tea tree and Hop Bush. He would then drive a small mob of sheep over the seed bed to ensure the seeds were pressed into the soil and well covered.He knew the value of bushy shrubs and the need for medium sized trees like the Black Wattle. He would sit and watch the Grey Fantails darting from the canopy of these tall wattles, briefly hover as it captured a flying insect and then dart back to the protection of the tree again.
Willie Wagtail with a fledgling, Rhipidura leucophrys. Photo Robert Elliott
12.30pm 25th July 1979
Discovered a beautiful Grey Fantail’s nest shaped like an expensive wine glass at 5 feet in a slender horizontal fork of a Black Wattle
1.15pm 28th December 1979
A pair of Grey Fantails raised three young. From chicks to leaving the nest it only took 14 weeks. They make a beautiful family
The day the Mallee came to Melbourne. February 8th 1983 a huge dust storm covered the CBD. Photo HWT library
Tristan could remember his Dad telling him about the summer of 1982-83, a drought year in southern Victoria and a summer that Victorians will always remember. February 8th 1983 was ‘the day the Mallee came to Melbourne’ and an estimated 140 million kg of topsoil was carried away in a frightening dust storm that threw Melbourne into total darkness in the middle of the day.
"Your grandfather didn’t lose any topsoil that day because his farm was so well protected. He now had significant vegetation on the hill that was ‘The Country’ and that gave added protection to the farm. He wasn’t too concerned that his crops had failed and the dams were nearly dry, but he was really deeply disappointed that his direct seeding at ‘The Country’ hadn’t come up.
"I guess this really shows how his priorities had shifted and how he felt that a year without planting trees was a year lost or wasted. The remarkable thing was, my father recalled, the seeds that didn’t come up in spring, germinated in the wet March of the following year. In fact 1983 was quite a wet year after a very dry start so the trees grew like blazes to over a metre tall by the following autumn. Your grandfather was ecstatic".
"Your grandfather didn’t lose any topsoil that day because his farm was so well protected. He now had significant vegetation on the hill that was ‘The Country’ and that gave added protection to the farm. He wasn’t too concerned that his crops had failed and the dams were nearly dry, but he was really deeply disappointed that his direct seeding at ‘The Country’ hadn’t come up.
"I guess this really shows how his priorities had shifted and how he felt that a year without planting trees was a year lost or wasted. The remarkable thing was, my father recalled, the seeds that didn’t come up in spring, germinated in the wet March of the following year. In fact 1983 was quite a wet year after a very dry start so the trees grew like blazes to over a metre tall by the following autumn. Your grandfather was ecstatic".
Part 5. - Jack Grey moves to 'The Country'
Grandmother died in 1986, the year before you were born. I think that her death and the fact that I had been more or less running the farm for the past 12 years, released him from his responsibilities as a farmer. He now had no reason to stay on to help run the farm. So with my help he built a one room weatherboard shack on the north side of ‘The Country’ overlooking his native grassland and the beautiful wetland that had been maturing since 1970. Here he had all his reference books, an old IXL 72 wood stove to give him hot water and to keep the kettle boiling, a water tank that collected water off the tin roof and a veranda to sit and ponder on the hot summer evenings.
His only concession to modern technology was a small chainsaw which he used to collect firewood. Any trees that came down he would leave on the ground as habitat for lizards, marsupial mice and birds like the Bronzwing Pigeon. He would cut up smaller branches for the wood stove. He hated chopping wood and knew from his days as a volunteer fire fighter that it was the small branches and dead leaves that were a fire risk, not the logs on the ground
His only concession to modern technology was a small chainsaw which he used to collect firewood. Any trees that came down he would leave on the ground as habitat for lizards, marsupial mice and birds like the Bronzwing Pigeon. He would cut up smaller branches for the wood stove. He hated chopping wood and knew from his days as a volunteer fire fighter that it was the small branches and dead leaves that were a fire risk, not the logs on the ground
Common Bronzewing Pigeon, Phaps chalcoptera
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Bluetongue Lizard,
Tiliqua scincoides scincoides
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Yellow Footed Antechinus, Antechinus flavipes
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Bird orchid, Chiloglottis valida. Photo Deb Oliver
7.30pm 23rd September1969
What a joy to discover Bird Orchids flowering on the lower North slope. I can assume that the ‘Country’ has never been fertilised or seen the furrows of a plough.
6.30am 16th August 1970
Dams going in today. Marked out over an acre of grassland for the Wood Ducks and the finches on the South side of the Northern dam. An amazing recovery after years of heavy grazing.
Vegetation layering in 'The Country' provides a beautiful natural environment for wildlife and people. To read more about how to create vegetation structural layering click on this image
Tristan remembered his grandfather as a wiry old man with bright eyes and an accepting smile that put him at ease. He spent his summer holidays and days when his asthma kept him home from school sitting on that veranda listening to wonderful stories about his family, the birds and animals that lived at ‘The Country’. When he was talking about a particular bird he would mimic its call and often one would come in to investigate its new rival. By the time Tristan was ten he had somehow learnt the names and habits of all the birds that lived there.
By 2002 there were 82 species that were recorded on his regular bird count list. This list also recorded whether all the woodland birds, wetland birds, and raptors were annual visitors or permanent residents. What really excited Tristan about ‘The Country’ was that it was so beautiful to take walks through. Each variety of tree or shrub was planted in patches or clumps of the same species so that a patch of shrubs would give way to a patch of canopy trees and then to a patch of understorey. Grandfather explained that after his initial direct seeded mixed plantings he began to mimic what he saw in the natural bushland where he collected his seed. He began sowing large patches of single species that were suited to the aspect and drainage of each site. He made sure that adjoining patches were of different heights to produce layers in the vegetation.
By 2002 there were 82 species that were recorded on his regular bird count list. This list also recorded whether all the woodland birds, wetland birds, and raptors were annual visitors or permanent residents. What really excited Tristan about ‘The Country’ was that it was so beautiful to take walks through. Each variety of tree or shrub was planted in patches or clumps of the same species so that a patch of shrubs would give way to a patch of canopy trees and then to a patch of understorey. Grandfather explained that after his initial direct seeded mixed plantings he began to mimic what he saw in the natural bushland where he collected his seed. He began sowing large patches of single species that were suited to the aspect and drainage of each site. He made sure that adjoining patches were of different heights to produce layers in the vegetation.
4.15pm August 20th 2002
Horsfield’s Bronze and the Pallid Cuckoos have returned from the north and their loud calls can be heard in most of ‘The Country. Tree Martins arrived today
Horsfield’s Bronze and the Pallid Cuckoos have returned from the north and their loud calls can be heard in most of ‘The Country. Tree Martins arrived today
10.30am September 2002
Rufous Whistler’s manic call broke the mornings silence. The first call for the year. The Dusky Wood swallows should arrive soon.
The Flame Robins seem to have left for the Otways.
Rufous Whistler’s manic call broke the mornings silence. The first call for the year. The Dusky Wood swallows should arrive soon.
The Flame Robins seem to have left for the Otways.
He explained that he had observed how each species of bird and mammal used and needed various layers. The Superb Blue Wrens feed on insects on the ground layer and nest in the shrubs. The Spotted Pardalote prefers scale insects that it finds in the canopy of eucalypts and strangely it nests at the end of a tunnel burrowed into an earth bank. The Sugar glider feeds in the canopy of eucalypts on nectar and sap, it licks gum from the bruised trunks of the understorey acacias and nests in hollows in the tall Manna Gum stags. Each of these species depends on layering in the bush to survive.
His direct seeding worked well on larger areas where it was appropriate to lightly scarify with his old David Brown diesel tractor. He had turned the wheel hubs around to widen the wheel base to give it more stability on the steep slopes. When it was no longer possible to access the steeper rocky outcrops toward the top of the hill with a tractor, he began sewing native seeds into his small vegetable patch.
He would sow seeds directly into a raised bed in spring and wait for it to germinate. Then every two weeks he would slice through the base of the soil mound with a sharp spade to cut the developing roots about six inches below the soil surface. These trees were ready to lift bare-rooted the following winter. He used this technique to grow Sweet Bursaria and Tree Violet, two species that he had observed growing on stony hilltops. They must have been ancient trees because on their gnarled and twisted trunks grew a variety of lichens. He used the same sharp spade to crack the soil for planting his bare rooted natives.
He would sow seeds directly into a raised bed in spring and wait for it to germinate. Then every two weeks he would slice through the base of the soil mound with a sharp spade to cut the developing roots about six inches below the soil surface. These trees were ready to lift bare-rooted the following winter. He used this technique to grow Sweet Bursaria and Tree Violet, two species that he had observed growing on stony hilltops. They must have been ancient trees because on their gnarled and twisted trunks grew a variety of lichens. He used the same sharp spade to crack the soil for planting his bare rooted natives.
Sweet Bursaria, Bursaria spinosa
To read about the beautiful Sweet Bursaria click this image
3.30pm 13th January 1977
Sweet Bursarias flowering. Wanderer butterflies and ladybird beetles about.
5 Bluetongue lizards basking on the rocks were too lazy to move when I walked past.
Long-billed Corellas, Cacatua tenuirostris
10.30am 12 February 1977
Flocks of Corellas noisily flying east. Mud Dauber wasps, their low drone near the edge of the northern dam. An eerie silence in the air and a faint smell of smoke.
Though his grandfather hadn’t done any serious planting at ‘The Country’ since 1983, nature was now doing it for him.
It took only three years before the tea trees flowered and set seed and most of the eucalypts and acacias were flowering and seeding by the sixth year. The seed that fell into open areas beyond the tree canopies germinated unassisted, so by 1983, 15 years after his first planting ‘The Country’ was already starting to function like natural woodland. His annual bird count for 1983 showed 47 species.
Tristan shivered and coughed then reached for his familiar warm coat and his inhaler. He cast about for a log to throw onto the fire. To his surprise the ashes of his fire were almost cold. He had been immersed in his grandfather’s diary for a full day and he was starving.
He pulled out the limp sandwiches that his mother had packed for him the night before. He would have his tea and do some spotlighting at dusk before it got too cold for him.
The Sugar Gliders would be emerging from their hollows in the ancient Manna Gum stags soon and the Barking Owls would be on the hunt. This was his sort of night life, watching nature’s nocturnal drama unfold as he carefully followed his grandfather’s well worn walking track through the ghostly trunks of the Yellow Gums, beyond the ‘whispering’ Drooping She-oaks and deep into the heart of ‘The Country’.
THE END
To read a short Dreamtime story of 'How the River Red Gum came to be' click here
"The Magpies gathered some long sticks and fighting hard they lifted the sky up."
The Magpie: A dreamtime story told in the Wadawurrung language and translated and re-told by Uncle David Tournier
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Maeewan nyanbo meerree
Woorrwoorr kommerreen-ik dja wangala woordeegarrong-goolee-a yanmeelpala moorrkal
Parwon-getyaweel ngotaborreeyn ba karrangateeyngayoopanyoon-goopma-ik
ba koora meernook woorr-woorr benganak yan bakoopma
Benganak gayoopanyoon-goopma-ik nyeerreem talk-getyaweel ba beetyarra.
Baleet benganak waeema-ik woorr-woorr kombaba.
Benganak goopmala-ik talk-getyaweel Nganyakee ba deerdabeel laa-getyaweel
Benganak beetyarra-ik waeema woorr-woorr werreeyt-ik
Woorr-woorr tyoorrkoorrma werupmering wenering-ik yerram nganboo kardineyoo
Benganak lola booyt nya yerram ba comugeen yoodorra meerree thorn
Benganak werraa yeng-yeeng
Benganak yeeng-ik yelatneboorang moorrkal werraa-ik ba ngaalbooma-ik woorr-woorr
Matnyoo yerram Parwan wayaperree kardineyoo benggoeethanang yerra yeng-yeng.
Translated into English and retold by Uncle David Tournier
Long time before today…
The sky covered the earth making everyone crawl around in the dark.
The Magpies, being proud and industrious, gathered and worked to raise the
sky so everyone could move about freely.
They gathered some long sticks and fighting hard they lifted the sky up.
They placed the long sticks on small and big rocks,
they fought to lift the sky even higher.
The sky split open, showing the beauty of the first sunrise.
They were so overjoyed to see the light and feel the warmth of the sun’s heat,
they burst into song.
As they sang, the blanket of darkness broke and drifted away like clouds.
To this day the Magpies greet the sunrise with their joyful song.
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Maeewan nyanbo meerree
Woorrwoorr kommerreen-ik dja wangala woordeegarrong-goolee-a yanmeelpala moorrkal
Parwon-getyaweel ngotaborreeyn ba karrangateeyngayoopanyoon-goopma-ik
ba koora meernook woorr-woorr benganak yan bakoopma
Benganak gayoopanyoon-goopma-ik nyeerreem talk-getyaweel ba beetyarra.
Baleet benganak waeema-ik woorr-woorr kombaba.
Benganak goopmala-ik talk-getyaweel Nganyakee ba deerdabeel laa-getyaweel
Benganak beetyarra-ik waeema woorr-woorr werreeyt-ik
Woorr-woorr tyoorrkoorrma werupmering wenering-ik yerram nganboo kardineyoo
Benganak lola booyt nya yerram ba comugeen yoodorra meerree thorn
Benganak werraa yeng-yeeng
Benganak yeeng-ik yelatneboorang moorrkal werraa-ik ba ngaalbooma-ik woorr-woorr
Matnyoo yerram Parwan wayaperree kardineyoo benggoeethanang yerra yeng-yeng.
Translated into English and retold by Uncle David Tournier
Long time before today…
The sky covered the earth making everyone crawl around in the dark.
The Magpies, being proud and industrious, gathered and worked to raise the
sky so everyone could move about freely.
They gathered some long sticks and fighting hard they lifted the sky up.
They placed the long sticks on small and big rocks,
they fought to lift the sky even higher.
The sky split open, showing the beauty of the first sunrise.
They were so overjoyed to see the light and feel the warmth of the sun’s heat,
they burst into song.
As they sang, the blanket of darkness broke and drifted away like clouds.
To this day the Magpies greet the sunrise with their joyful song.
