“If you make your water more valuable than your land, look out!” – Bob MacFarland
Curious to see the effect of the so-called Big Dry on the people living in drought-hit areas I rented a car in Sydney and drove towards the heart of New South Wales. “You are on the right track, just keep driving” told the bartender at a small hotel I crashed at the first night. Earlier I had seen the floodgates of the Wyangala Dam towering over the dry lakebed, but now driving amongst lush farmlands made me skeptical. It took me another six hours of monotonous drive to see the colors fade from dark green to sand as irrigated farmlands changed to barren grazing lands and fields covered with failed crops.
Wyangala Dam is seen on the Lachlan River in New South Wales, Australia on October 22, 2008.
I park my car in front of an old wooden shack after slowly driving through the sheep station’s dusty driveway. Following the instructions posted at the entrance I look for the manager. The stocky, grey-bearded man wearing worn-out jeans and a faded long sleeve shirt silences the dogs and walks over to me. We connect surprisingly well and after my brief introduction he agrees to be my host in the coming days. As the fourth generation of the McFarlands in the region, Bob lives here with his wife, Errolly. His grandfather bought the land about a hundred years ago and as soon as they got married in the late sixties they moved back to Oxley Station and started to put the old homestead “back on deck”.
The house that has expanded considerably over one and a half century is in perfect shape compare to its age. Although Errolly’s little garden almost completely died when she stopped watering due to the restrictions the place looks like a little oasis in the middle of the semiarid country. Around the compound, besides the tree line along the almost dry Lachlan River, as far as the eye can see the sandy ground is covered by Saltbush, a native shrubbery Bob re-planted over the years. This seems to be the only plant that survived the decade-long drought providing vital nutrition to the flock of sheep roaming around the land. As most of the farmers in the region Bob is also forced to hand feed his animals, a painful and costly procedure he must follow to avoid their certain death.
The decade-long drought had drained him and his family dry. His brother had already given up and left. His son was forced to find another job when they could no longer make a living from their farm. As we crossed Bob’s land walking under dead trees bordering a parched creek he talked with surprising optimism about the future that seemed utterly grim to an outsider.
Bob McFarland walks through his property in Oxley Station near Hay, New South Wales, Australia on October 23, 2008.
Almost exactly three years later I drive the same roads in hopes of witnessing Bob’s fortune turn. The first indicator of better times is the healthy lake behind the dam that holds the water of the Lachlan River, the dried-out dusty riverbed near Oxley Station as I recall. The fallen cotton balls from open trucks on the roadside leading to Hay, the town nearest to Bob’s sheep farm, look like giant snowflakes. This surreal scene suggests that one of the most water-consuming segments of the local agriculture is as healthy as ever.
Wyangala Dam is seen on the Lachlan River in New South Wales, Australia on September 24, 2011.
Scattered all along the land little pink islands of Pigface, a creeping native succulent plant, diversify the otherwise monotonous landscape dominated by the lush Saltbush carpet. As I turn into Oxley Station, the car slides onto a driveway that is still wet from the recent showers. I park the car in front of Bob’s private museum, the building that was first built on his land in 1834. I catch Bob discussing the tasks for the land upkeep with two young men from Hay, who help him out from time to time when work exceeds his capabilities. It is hard not to notice how the general mood on the farm has changed with the land turning healthy again.
Lachlan, a young farmhand carries lambs through a paddock in Oxley Station, Australia on September 26, 2011.
As one of the water storage tanks is running low the ewes and their lambs should move. Lachy, who was named after the nearby river, spends the next day with his mate Steve riding bikes and mustering sheep from one paddock to another. I recall when I visited the sheep market three years ago the livestock auctioneers struggled to put the price of the sheep up to $30 AUD. Back then just before their animals would perish, as a last resort, farmers sold them on the local sheep market at cut rates. In most cases sheep were bought by farmers to graze the worthless remains of crops that never matured enough to be harvested due to lack of rain. They lost not only their sole income but also the breed’s lineage, the distinct genetic characteristics the animals developed over many generations while adapting to the harsh living conditions of the outback. To Bob’s delight everyday he is counting dozens of newborn lambs; nowadays a newborn sheep sells for almost $250 AUD.
A truck load of sheep arrive to the stockyard in Hay, Australia on October 24, 2008.
To my surprise Errolly has a message for me from another person I met in Hay’s sheep market years ago. Margaret, a local journalist and photographer, works for the town’s newspaper and had lived in the neighboring station for decades. We meet in the center of Hay in a small art gallery exhibiting meticulously crafted drawings by her husband. Before he retired and developed a passion for drawing African wildlife, Chris managed one of the largest sheep farms in the region. “In this sort of environment you’ve gotta expect droughts every so often” he says although he admits that no one was prepared for the 16-year-drought that followed.
As he talks about the difficult times during the drought, Chris recalls the early ’80s when meat and wool prices were rock bottom and farmers were not able to sell the livestock. To bring down the sheep numbers the government offered $1.60 AUD to farmers after each animal they slaughtered. “That’s what the land is about. You’ve gotta take the good with the bad” says Chris but it seems the hardship he and so many others faced did not leave them untouched.
A farmer attends a sheep market in Hay, Australia on October 24, 2008.
“The drought was a big enough pressure but the pressure came through the lack of understanding of what was happening which is what probably put people over the edge” says Errolly when we talk about the high suicide rates amongst the farming communities in the rural areas. Although the drought is over and things turned for the better she recalls what Bob’s grandfather used to tell them, “Australia is the land of extremes. Get used to it or get out”.
The night before I depart Bob suggests that I park the car outside of his property next to the asphalt road. It’s heavily raining and he is afraid that I will be stuck in the muddy driveway the next morning. Both Bob, Chris and many other farmers I met along the road are pretty skeptical about what scientists tells them about the changing climate. I myself am curious about what the next few years will bring for them. When I say goodbye I am certain about my return.
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last updated on december 10, 2011
