Chapter 6

I called my mother again and asked whether Jacky was around. Not seen recently, but Meena had helped with the laundry last week. I told her to tell the hands that I’d be ‘round on Saturday. They’d spread the word. I finished Wilson’s book that night. I wasn’t certain what I’d go to next. Progress on Orlando would be slow.

Thursday I reread my report on ticks and handed it over for “destruction” (as we called it) – what was officially “internal distribution.” I also let admin know I’d be out on Friday, back on Monday morning.

I intended to head west on the Warrego, stopping in Chinchilla for lunch – at just about noon; get going after an hour; and wind up “home” by 16:30. With a bit of luck, it would be before 17:30.

I checked the tire-pressure and the vital bodily fluids and tanked up on my way.

Laura was waiting when I pulled up, he small case at her feet. She was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and smiling. She got in and gave me a nice kiss.

“Good morning!”

“Well, that a nice way to start a trip!”

“I’ve questions. But I’m sure you can answer them.”

“Give me twenty minutes to get out of the city. Once we’re past Riverview there’ll be little westbound traffic.”

“OK.”

“But you can talk, it’s just that I may not be much good at tough questions for a while.”

Actually, most of the traffic was eastbound and between Riverview and Ipswich the westbound traffic had waned considerably.

“Thank you,” I said. “I really detest city traffic.”

“Yet you do it all the time.”

“I’ve never had an accident. But that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of this ton of lethal metal. But now we’re into the Downs. And you said you had questions.”

“Yes. You keep referring to your family’s place as a ‘small station.’ What does that mean?”

“OK. A station is a ranch. In general, either sheep or cattle are raised. Some stations are very large. My dad’s is 35,000 acres. That’s about 140 square kilometres. It’s a flyspeck compared to the big spreads. About 1% of Quinyambie in South Australia and half of that compared to Anna Creek, which is the biggest in Australia. It’s nearly six million acres, bigger than Israel. So, ours is a small station.”

“I looked up the data for Italy. The average family farm is 7.2 hectares.”

“So .072 of a square kilometre. So our place is 40,000 times the size of a small family’s farm in Italy. My mum’s vegetable patch is close to 10 acres.”

“And your family raises cattle?”

“Close to 3000 head at this time of year. The standard formula is 20 acres for a cow-calf pair, but it varies. Beef cattle are slaughtered at about 18 months. My dad probably shipped 500 head some months ago. October-November is the lowpoint of the market in Queensland.”

“And you’ve sheep, too?”

“Only a few. Perhaps a half dozen. They’re for the pot. We’ve never kept a ram. The ewes get inseminated by the vet and eaten at six to eight months.”

“So young!”

“Where did your dinner come from? The problem with big cities is that people think their food comes neatly portioned and wrapped. All the fish and fowl and meat comes from live animals. In the bush and on a station you’re just a few steps closer. I can recall playing with a soft black-faced lamb and having chops and legs at dinner a week or two later.”

“It seems so callous.”

“Would you refuse to eat a caught fish? What about the salmon and the barramundi last weekend?”

“I’m sorry. I was badly brought up. I think of those cute animals in the children’s zoos and the fuzzy children’s books and forget that Kaa and Baloo as well as Shere Kahn would have been happy to swallow me.”

“They’d eat Bambi, too. With gusto.” I laughed. “It’s tough for me. I was brought up thinking that if it wasn’t poisonous it was food. The band served me goanna and roo as well as ants and grubs.”

“I’ve tried kangaroo tail, but never lizard. I’m willing to try stuff.”

We chatted in that vein for a while. Then I said: “We’re just at Crowley Vale. That means we’re about to come to Gatton, an important place to the Hollisters.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“Gatton’s the site of the Queensland Agricultural College, which my dad attended. It’s now a part of UQ, but it wasn’t 30 years ago. In fact, I think it became part of UQ just before I got there. Anyway, it’ll be off on our left. A few miles later, we’ll pass the town itself. Then we’ll be just over an hour from lunch.”

“What have you planned?”

“I thought we’d have a wondrous repast in Chinchilla.”

“Chinchilla?”

“Yes. Nothing to do with furry rodents. Another white man’s mis hearing of a native word. I’ve read it, but I can’t recall the details.”

“OK. Have you a favourite place?”

“No. Chinchilla is rife with fine eateries I’ve never dined in. I’ve whizzed past a KFC, a McDonald’s, a Domino’s, and seen signs for a Chinese and a Thai.”

“A wealth of delights!”

“Yes. But at the west end of town there’s an unpretentious-looking Sharpy’s which looks reasonable. There’s the Ag College!”

It passed, as did Gatton. I thought I’d do the guide thing, again. “You ought to know that though Chinchilla may seem small, it’s the melon capital of Australia.”

“The what?”

“Melon capital. Whether you eat watermelons, rockmelons or honeydews, the odds are they’re from here. Over 25% of the melons in Australia come from here. They even have a melon festival in February.”

“Why not?”

We drove on and did get to Chinchilla and spotted Sharpy’s. I had no trouble cutting over and parking. We had burgers and coffee and used the facilities and were back on the Warrego Highway in well under an hour.

“That wasn’t bad at all,” Laura said. “And the Ladies’ was quite clean.”

“Yes. This is a nice, pleasant part of Queensland. We’re going to chug on, we shouldn’t need fuel.”

“I’m going to doze.”

“That’s the problem, you feed a woman and she goes to sleep!”

“Very funny.”

“If I hit a wallaby or a perentie, I’ll wake you.”

Laura leaned against the left window and dozed off. I got up to about 110 until we neared Miles, when I slowed to around 80 as we got to the historic village and where the Warrego merges with the Leichhardt before it goes north to the Capricorn Highway. The road swerves and Laura stirred.