Chapter 6: Nockatunga Waterhole

We had some tea and a few quandong. The dried nut tasted like a rather tart apricot. We were too far west for bunya or macadamia. Joshua told me that they had had little rain, but that the waterhole seemed happy. I told him of my trip, especially the part from Cameron Corner to Epsilon Station, to Innamincka and my disappointment, and to here.

A woman offered a bark dish of witchetty grubs and I took one. I expressed surprise at finding them, but Joshua said the women were good at finding red gums along the river course, even when the courses appeared dry.

As it grew towards late afternoon, I asked about walking a way with some hunters to observe the grey kangaroos emerging. (Grey kangaroos are largely crepuscular, active around dawn and dusk.) He called and two blooded men came over.

“Philip and Cook. Gordy.” We nodded to each other. “Gordy will hunt meat. You will show him where and help him bring it back.”

“If not today, tomorrow.”

“Mebbe find perentie, mebbe kangaroo.”

“I’ll get my pistol. I didn’t think I’d be hunting.”

“No problem.”

[The National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act 1975 mandates Aboriginal people are not subject to general conservation restrictions so long as they engage in hunting only for food, ceremonial or religious purposes (in all cases must be non-commercial).]

I should mention that I bought my pistol, a Browning Hi-Power 9 mm, in 1985 or 86, the first time I went on a “real” field trip. Three times I’ve actually fired it – once to frighten (‘discourage’) a dingo far north of Perth, and twice to kill a mulga, the longest venomous snake in Australia. [In 1996, shortly after a mass shooting in which 35 people died and 23 were wounded, the conservative Australian government introduced a series of stringent new gun laws. I keep my handgun clean and safe, I have an ‘H’ license.] When I fetched my Browning, I made sure to insert a full magazine (13 rounds). I didn’t expect to use more than one or two shots. It was twilight, so I also took my torch (flashlight).

Cook nodded to me. “We go upstream, cross to other side of hole. Too many people here.” I nodded my understanding.

“Walk softly,” added Philip.

We did that. After 15 minutes, we came to a line of gums. “Water here after rain,” I was informed. Philip pointed. There was a perentie on a bough. It was about a metre long.

“Too small,” I remarked. They both nodded.

Dusk was falling. Behind us I could see the beginning of a fire at the camp. Cook grasped my arm and pointed. Ahead of us I could see the silhouettes of two heads against the blue. I took my pistol, braced myself, and aimed for the larger head. Bang! There was a rustling noise.

“You hit him, not kill him,” Philip said.

“Mebbe die soon,” Cook added.

We walked over. I could see some blood. Philip bent down and looked at the ground.

“You hit ‘im bit low. Mebbe neck. He not movin’ quick. We walk left.”

We did. Philip stopped again and held up a hand. We heard noises, including hissing, grunting and coughing. “Him dying. Wait.”

We did. There was another cough.

“You got flashlight?” I handed it to Philip. “Turn on, please.” I did so, blinking in the light.

Philip showed us a grey male about two metres away.

“Shoot in head, Gordy.” It rang out. But an injured kangaroo can easily kill with one blow from a rear foot.

“Good. Cook strong, he carry barbecue to camp.”

And he did so, though we paused several times.

The band was very happy. The ‘roo was skinned in no time, the carcass was jointed and the two hind legs and the tail put on the fire.

Joshua was pleased. “Me worry after first shot, no worry after second. We eat much meat this week.”

“My pleasure. You let me stay, I help.”

We feasted that night. Several men played didgeridoos of different sizes. Two men played clapsticks. And one played a gum-leaf ... actually, a pair of gum-leaves. Unlike a European campfire, there was no alcohol, no one got drunk. And I’m certain we were all asleep well before midnight.

In the morning, I saw that the rest of the carcass had been cooking on the hot ashes. I made myself a billy of tea with several women of various ages watching a European “doing” for himself. Later, I would make brownie.

But first I read further in Sturt.

As we crossed the plains we again observed numerous cattle tracks, and regularly beaten paths leading from the brushes to the river, to the very point indeed where we encamped. The natives had previously informed us, as far back as the place where we shot the first bullock, that we should fall in with other cattle hereabouts; we did not however see any of them during the day. Our tents were pitched on the narrow neck of land leading to an enclosure into which we had turned our animals. It was so narrow indeed that nothing could pass either in or out of it without being observed by the guard, so that neither could our cattle escape or the wild ones join them. It was clear, however, that we had cut off the latter from their favourite pasture, for at night they were bellowing all round us, and frequently approached close up to our fires. We had no difficulty in distinguishing the lowing of the heifers from that of the bullocks; of which last there appeared to be a large proportion in the herd.

Wild cattle between the Murray and the Darling. Barely a half century after the First Fleet. And, of course, some had been brought in the Sirius, as there were no native bovines.

The beef cattle industry in Australia is as old as settlement itself, as cattle were first bought to Australia in the First fleet in 1788. A bull, four cows and a bull calf of the Indian Zebu were bought at Cape Town, South Africa. These cattle were not intended to be eaten but to be used for transporting goods and breeding. But, after a few months convicts who had been assigned to watch the cattle, let both the bulls and three of the cows wander off from the humble facilities and pastures. And in 1795, convicts saw these cattle again in the Nepean River area about 60 km from Sydney. There were now 61 of them grazing in lush pasture.