Territory Sunrise

By Gai Mailer

The diverse landscape and climate of the Australian outback is both challenging and rewarding. Families, neighbours and staff rely on each other due to the remoteness of each Northern Territory station. This book captures the story of two families that are faced with tragedy, romance,grief,crime and health issues. The beauty of the Northern Territory's sunrises,sunsets, birdlife and terrain are magnificent and must be appreciated. Therefore I hope my readers will join me in my description of the outback and what it means to be a third generation Territioran.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Nov 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669833048

Gai Mailer

I was born in 1953 in a small town in country NSW called Gilgandra. My family owned and sheep and wheat property west of Gilgandra. I was the sixth child of a family of seven. We moved off the family property when I was six years old. I went to school in Gilgandra until I was thirteen years old. My family moved to Sydney. I attended Asquith Girls High School. I left school at the end of Form Four. I meet my husband of fifty years when I was only sixteen. We went on to have four children and now eleven grandchildren. I completed my Enrolled Nurse Certificate in 1971 and then supported my husband through his commercial Pilots License. Once my husband had completed his studies, we moved several times over the years for him to gain experience on different aircraft and to increase his flying hours.. Over the years we have lived in NSW, Victoria, NT and finally settled in Queensland when my husband secured a position with a commercial airline. Whilst raising my family I attenden University and graduated in 1993 with a Bachelor of Nursing. I worked for many years as a Registered Nurse then in 2001 I completed my Diploma of Midwifery. In 1995 we restored our family home and built a large Bed & Breakfast, which was very successful and allowed us to buy extra real estate and improve our lifestyle. In 2005 we purchased a property as we both loved the idea of country life. We relocated and did many improvements to the property. However, my husband had a near fatal quad bike accident, and he had to retire from his flying career. He then worked our property full time and I worked as a midwife at the local hospital. We sold our property after fifteen years and returned to our former family home. I am semi-retired as I still work casually as a Registered Nurse/Midwife. I have always been an avid reader and felt I could become an author. It's now 2022 and I have finally decided bite the bullet and publish my first novel. I hope my readers enjoy my work and if they do I will continue to write.

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Copyright © 2022 by Gai Mailer.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Rev. date: 03/28/2023

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T he sound of birdlife woke me up at 5:00 a.m. as the sunrise appeared on the horizon, aligned with my bedroom window. The wetlands and the climate of the Northern Territory had great inhabitation for all sorts of birdlife. I was lucky enough to have a big waterhole not far from the house yard, and with the early morning and the water, I could hear the kookaburras, cockatoos, brolgas, and even magpie geese happily chirping and welcoming the sunrise.

Our property was part of the Northern Territory Outback. Our family had developed this station in the late 1800s. I am part of the fourth generation of O’Donnells. I am the third child of four. My name is Michelle O’Donnell, and my father is the third generation, and his name is Alfred Keith O’Donnell; my mother is Catherine Claire O’Donnell.

My great-great-grandfather purchased forty thousand acres from the NT Government for forty pounds. The land was bare – no fencing or clearing. The Lands Department took over three months to survey the block and draw up the appropriate deeds before the land could be purchased.

My great-great-grandfather was a drover and buffalo hunter. He made his pounds by mustering wild buffalo for the NT Government and seldom acted as a guide for the Lands Department. He knew the region extremely well and plotted to buy the forty thousand acres where he had studied the waterholes and available vegetation for feed over the previous five years and was able to purchase the land that best suited the best of the grazing country.

Our homestead, ‘Kilkenny’, named after the Scottish town of the family’s origin, consisted of a large rambling house with verandas on all sides. Many improvements had been made to accommodate the growing families. Renovations were ongoing as the home was timber and needed constant repair and maintenance. Today it had six bedrooms and three bathrooms in the main house. There was also an outside wash house, a shower, and a toilet for use by both family and staff to wash up before entering the main house.

The gardens were extensive and very tropical. Thanks to our mother, Catherine, we could pick pawpaw’s, mangoes, and bananas when in season. There was also an abundance of tropical plants that had flourished over the generations. Palm trees lined the driveway and gave plenty of shade as well as wind breaks during the wild territory storms.

I lay there for a while and slowly awoke, listening to and enjoying the morning.

Suddenly, the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. with a cock-a-doodle-do three times and then said, ‘Good morning.’

I loved this little clock as Mum had brought it for me to take away to boarding school when I was 13. My school chums in my dormitory had a love/hate relationship with my little clock, but everyone knew it was very reliable because someone had to press the top button to shut up the rooster.

I had arrived back home to our station six months ago after graduating in 2010. I went to boarding school in Darwin, and I was very happy to be home as I wanted to stay on the station and work alongside the family. I was never happier than when I was out working the station. My father wanted me to go to university to do economics, teaching, or medicine; I, however, just wanted to be a station worker and maybe one day have my own station. I had set out to prove to my dad that I was very capable and employable as a station hand.

‘Mick!’ my dad called down the hall. ‘The teapot is full and ready to pour.’

My dad called me Mick for short as Michelle was too big of a mouthful, he told Mum when I was a baby. So everyone called me Mick, and I only got ‘Michelle’ if I was in trouble.

‘Coming, Dad,’ I said.

We had planned to ride along the north fence to check for damage and any evidence of rustling. Also, we needed to check the herd in the same paddock. A visit from the stock squad last week informed us that a large number of cattle had been stolen from one of our neighbour’s properties.

Our land was vast, so when mustering, we needed a helicopter and motorbikes as well as horses and dogs. The cattle needed to be mustered and checked every three months. We needed to yard them, treat them for intestinal parasites, check their hides, and brand them and also castrate the new bulls. The cows and heifers were kept for breeding, but constant attention was required for all stock to meet the Australian standards for the export of meat from the port of Darwin.

I made my way to the kitchen and poured a cup of tea and said, ‘Good morning, Dad,’ whilst stifling a yawn.

Dad smiled and said, ‘Morning. I’ve been up an hour, refuelled the land cruiser, and packed tents, swags, and water cans. The food, bedding, and your gear are your job.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Where’s Mum?’

‘My Cath is a bit sickly this morning, so she is having a lie-in with a cup of tea,’ Dad explained.

‘Oh, I hope she is OK,’ I replied.

Dad said, ‘Yes, she should be. Just a little too much sun yesterday out in the garden, I think.’

I had organised most of our food the day before, so I just needed to put perishables into the car fridge and Esky. Then I would check on Mum and make sure she was OK before leaving for a few days.

I walked down the hall towards Mum and Dad’s bedroom and heard Stephen talking to Mum. Stephen is my younger brother and number four, the last child. He was currently home from boarding school for the midterm break. Stephen was an adorable clown of a brother and loved nothing more than to entertain people with his tall stories. I was pleased he would be around the house whilst we were working as he would make sure Mum was well looked after.

Once our farewells were over, Dad and I were on the road by 7:00 a.m. The territory sky was opening up with a beautiful golden glow that was always breath-taking. Oh, how I love this country! I thought.

July was the dry season, and there was little humidity, a nice time to be out in the paddocks working. The car was loaded and the horse trailer attached, with Dad’s horse Ned inside. I was going to ride Beauty to the front fence to check for damage. It was five kilometres to our front gate, where we would then turn north towards the Gulf of Carpentaria.

The fence was in good condition, and we didn’t need to stop for any repairs. Dad met me at the main gate, and we loaded Beauty into the horse trailer with Ned and then turned north. We owned a small helicopter, needed for mustering. My eldest brother, Colin, would be flying out from Darwin midmorning to help us with the mustering. This would give Dad and me time to drive to cattle yards and set up camp and the equipment required to work our cattle. The heat of the day was heading towards thirty degrees, but with no humidity, it was very pleasant.

We travelled another twenty kilometres along the fence line. The red dust was abundant, along with the truss of grass and lots of little gullies to drive through. It was slow going and a tedious journey. The Landcruiser was a rough ride but a necessary vehicle for this type of terrain.

We finally arrived at our cattle yards and small watering hole. We found a small herd of cattle drinking and mulling about. Our cattle were mostly Brahman; some were crossbreeds, tropical composites of Santa Gertrudis and Droughtmasters. These breeds were hearty, tough, and resilient, which was what was needed to survive and thrive in the territory’s vast terrain and tropical climate.

Dad said, ‘Let’s pull up and set up. We can have a rest and some lunch. It’s too hot to do cattle work yet. I’ll radio Colin and get his ETA first.’

Whilst Dad was radioing Colin, I started to unload the horses, tethered them, and watered them in the shade. Colin came back on radio and said he was still three hours away as he had been caught up in Darwin. Colin worked for the NT Government as a stock inspector of cattle and was responsible for their well-being before they would be shipped internationally. It was a demanding job that ensured all cattle leaving the port of Darwin abided by Australian standards.

Colin arrived just before 3:00 p.m. and landed noisily, with dust flying everywhere. The cattle near the waterhole became restless and gathered into a circle for self-protection. Colin was 28 years of age, six feet tall, and, although not handsome, more rugged. He was a real country man with blonde hair and clear blue eyes and one of the happiest people you would ever met.

He wandered into our camp and explained, ‘Hope you have a cuppa and something nice to eat, Mick. I didn’t get a chance to grab any food before leaving.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ve made your favourite sandwiches, curried egg and lettuce, and Mum has sent some carrot cake for dessert.’

‘Thanks, sis. You’re the best.’

Dad added, ‘Yes, she is her mother’s daughter,’ chuckling to himself.

After we finished our lunch, Dad and Colin discussed where we needed to start the muster. There were cattle yards at each of the four corners of our property, which allowed us to muster from each herd from their corner paddocks. There was road access to each of the yards to enable the cattle trucks/road trains to collect cattle for transport. The cattle were first transported to feed lots at Noonamah. After spending time fattening up, they were allocated to be transported to a ship in the port of Darwin.

After our refreshments, we gathered together. Colin started up the helicopter; Dad drove the Landcruiser with the necessary supplies for cattle work. I hoisted myself into the saddle after the helicopter was airborne as Beauty was a little nervous of the helicopter blades and dust flown about on take-off. I whistled to Katie to follow, and she was wagging her tail, always ready for adventure.

We started moving the small herd away from the watering hole towards the cattle yards. Our cattle were fairly wild, and they weren’t manhandled often, so they tended to stay together. They also made a lot of mooing noises, trying to call their calves and other herd members. The noise of a moving herd also brought other cattle out of the bushes to join the throng. The helicopter was then used to herd them together. Whilst on horseback, I was managing the stragglers and encouraging them to join the herd.

It took us two hours of mustering to reach the yards. Colin was now back on the ground, and with a team effort and help from Katie, we had the cattle penned, fed, and watered within the hour. It was nearing 6:00 p.m. by the time we finished. All three of us set up the tents and our swags. Colin and Dad gathered firewood and set up a bushfire with our camp chairs.

In the meantime, I set up our portable BBQ and started cooking a steak-and-veggie dinner. Afterwards, we sat by the campfire, having a cup of billy tea, and I had prepared a damper in the bush oven to have as dessert. I was just about to serve the damper for all of us when we heard a road train coming down the road towards the yards.

Dad commented, ‘I wonder who this is. I know I didn’t order a road train as we aren’t ready yet. It’s also a bit late to be picking up cattle.’

The road train came to a stop just near the cattle race. Two men jumped down from the cabin and approached our camp, waving and saying, ‘Hello there!’ as they neared.

Dad, Colin, and I all said, ‘Howdy!’ at the same time.

Dad asked, ‘What are you two fellows doing out here at this time of night?’

They introduced themselves.

The older one, Doug, stated, ‘Hi, I’m Doug, and this is my offsider, Brendan. We left Darwin late and thought we could camp out here tonight as we have a load to pick up in the morning at the next station.’

‘It’s been a long day,’ Brendan said wearily. ‘We just want to set up our swags and sleep.’

Dad said, ‘That’s not a problem. Can we offer you both a cuppa before retiring?’

Doug said, ‘No, thanks. We managed to grab a bite to eat and coffee on our way out of Darwin. Can we do a rain check on the cuppa in the morning? We are bushed.’

Dad said, ‘No worries. We are about to hit the sack too as we have had a big day as well. Good night then. We will see you in the morning.’

They waved as they strolled by to their rig.

I watched the retreating backs and said to Dad, ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that they turned up the same day we mustered our cattle into the yards? It’s lucky we are camping out tonight and hadn’t flown back home in the chopper for the night.’

Dad shrugged and murmured, ‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe they are up to no good.’

Colin agreed. ‘We had been warned about cattle being stolen only last week,’ he explained.

Listening to Colin and Dad, I glanced at the retreating backs of Doug and Brendan and said to Dad, ‘I don’t like the look of either of them, especially the younger one, Brendan. He couldn’t make eye contact.’

Dad laughed. ‘That’s probably because he is about your age and shy around girls. Not many girls have a face like yours, with gorgeous green eyes, copper golden locks like yours.’

Colin agreed and said, ‘Yes, Mick. You are growing into a stunning-looking broad as you get older.’

I blushed and said, ‘Don’t be blind, big brother.’ I was secretly pleased at the compliment.

We settled into our swags and said good night. It only took a few minutes to drop off to sleep whilst listening to the herd settling down for the night and the owls hooting.

Daybreak came far too quickly. After a quick breakfast of cereal, fruit, and toast cooked over the campfire, we prepared for the day’s cattle work. Dad and I organised our equipment near the cattle race. This included chemicals for drenching, a branding iron, and plyers to nuke the young bull calves. We also needed to put National Livestock Identification System (NLIS) tags on each head of cattle. These tags ensured that individual animals could be traced from property of birth to slaughter. This met the biosecurity, food safety, product integrity, and market assessment requirements. Colin gathered more wood near the race and lit a fire to heat the branding iron required for branding our cattle.

Doug and Brendan had wandered over earlier and had a cuppa with us before heading off in the cattle train. They seemed friendly enough, but I still had my reservations about what they were up to out here.

As we watched them leave, Dad looked over at me and grumbled, ‘Maybe you are right, Mick. There could be something odd about those two.’ Dad noted down their names and the registration of the road train and stated that he would have a word with the stock squad when he had the chance.

My responsibility was recording each day by listing the number of cattle against the NILS tag we applied to each one, the gender of each head, drenching treatment, estimated age, and condition. This ensured that we knew how many head of cattle we owned against the amount of feed. We often had to transport cattle to our feed lots to maintain their condition if there was insufficient feed in the paddocks. We also recorded any cattle or stock lost. Loss was usually from feral animals, crocodiles, snake bites, and some young heifers dying from obstructed labour. There were a number of cattle skeletons around the property that died from unknown causes. Records needed to be exact for taxation purposes.

Cattle rustling was also made too easy by the shear areas of each station; some stations, e.g. Victoria River Downs, had an area of 8,900 square kilometres. Our station was small compared with some, but it was our family, two jackaroos, and one jillaroo; we had limited staff to keep a constant watch, along with attending the daily needs of running a station.

We always started our working days early because of the heat. We managed to put fifty head of cattle through the yard by 11:00 a.m. Our routine was then to wait out the heat of the middle of the day, have lunch and rest, and then start work at about 3:00 p.m. This routine worked well in the dry season as we had six months without rain. However, it was a totally different routine in the wet season as we had to work around the rain, cyclone season, and wetlands.

It took us three days to finish working our herd. We spoke to Mum via two-way radio each night. She said she was feeling better, and young Stephen was waiting on her and entertaining her at the same time. Dad had also managed to speak to Sgt Scott Lance from the stock squad. Scott noted Doug’s and Brendan’s names and the road train registration and stated that he would investigate further.

Scott said, ‘There hasn’t been any more cattle reported missing over the last week, but I think it’s a well-planned inside job. It seems to me that they know when the cattle have been yarded, and only a few days later, the same herd is stolen from that same yard.’

Dad explained, ‘Well, makes sense as the cattle usually take a few days to move away from the yards as we handfeed them whilst we are working them through the yards. They know the waterhole is nearby. It would take too long to yard them and put them on a truck in the middle of the night.’

‘We are aware of that,’ said Scott, ‘and if you let me know what day you are leaving the yards, I’ll send out two officers to camp, uncover and hopefully catch them in the act.’

Dad said, ‘I’ll ring you as soon as I’m leaving the yards. Thanks, Scott,’ and he rang off.

We left the next day, and Dad let Scott know that we had left the yards. Scott said he had organised two officers from the squad to camp out, and they would be heading out that afternoon. Dad thanked him and rang off.

Dad mumbled, ‘It will be interesting to see whether they are cheeky enough to come back out after we had met them.’

Colin and I both nodded and murmured, ‘Yes, it sure will be interesting.’

It’s nice to be home, I thought as I showered and freshened up. I went to find Mum, saying hi as I found her in the kitchen.

‘Hi,’ she said, and she gave me a cuddle. ‘It’s nice to have you home again.’ She explained, ‘I’m cooking spaghetti Bolognese, everyone’s favourite.’

I said, ‘I thought I could smell that, and I can also smell garlic bread coming from the oven. Yummy! There’s nothing like my mum’s cooking.’

Mum smiled and said, ‘I’ve also made mango cheesecake for dessert.’

‘Wow!’ I said. ‘I can’t wait. I’m starving and sick of my own camp cooking.’

Mum said, ‘By the way, Greg Peterson has come home from Sydney to help his mum, and the talk is he is going to stay on and run the station now that his dad has passed away.’

‘So sad about Jed Peterson dying like he did – and such a shock!’

Mum said, ‘You just don’t know what’s going to happen next, and it’s a valuable lesson that we must never turn our backs on the cattle.’

Jed, who also worked for the stock squad, had been trampled by a big Bramham bull only three months ago. He had been airlifted to the Darwin Hospital, but his internal injuries were fatal. His death had rocked the whole top end station community, and his funeral had been one of the biggest that Darwin Anglican Church had seen for many years. I had been at school and had not attended the funeral but had sent a