Around the Rowan Tree, Day 51

On the very first day Lindsay inadvertently broke the farmer’s combine harvester and the farmer flew into a terrible rage

Lindsay carried on with his story. “The following day we were up early,” he said. “Ed had work he wanted us to do. I was out on the sunlit porch waiting for him, enjoying just looking and listening. “The birds were singing, the trees coming into their spring greenery; everything so fresh and clean and silent, the air so clear. Suddenly the screen door, that keeps the flies and mosquitoes at bay, swung open and out barged Ed.

“Without saying anything, he made for the hen run at the side of the house not far from the swollen Liard river. He was carrying a gun. I hadn’t noticed before but just beside the hen run, half hidden by trees, I saw a black bear.

“Ed lifted the gun to shoulder level, the gun went off. In the clear air the din was deafening and the next thing I knew the bear lay still on the ground.

“‘Got the beast at last,’ said Ed. ‘It’s sure been mooling about the hens recently, a danger to all of us when it starts hanging around like that. Here,’ he said, throwing me a rope he’d picked of the ground, ‘tie this round the bear’s neck and I’ll get the tractor and haul it away.’

Stunned

“‘Who me?’ I said stunned by his demand. ‘Yes, you.’ I didn’t want to disobey his first order, what would he think of me? But how could I be sure the bear was dead – perhaps it was only stunned and would get up and grab me the moment I got to it.

“In fear and trepidation I approached. I can tell you I booted it a few times to make sure it was dead before I went near its head. I gingerly put the noose round its neck. It didn’t move.

“But my first job in Canada left me shaking from head to foot. In spite of the shock, I couldn’t help thinking what a beautiful creature it was.

“Just the same, it wasn’t that sort of thing that brought me back and there’s plenty of work there.

“It was just everything: in the summer mosquitoes and other flies, big ones they call bulldogs and little ones they call no-see-ums, that bite the hell out of you; the long, freezing winter, but mostly I think the lack of company of my own age, people who are on the same wavelength as myself. Grant can handle it, seems to like it, but I don’t think I could.”

Lindsay went back to the oil rigs for the winter but by the spring he was not well again. The resin that he worked with, although he wore the regulation masks, went for his lungs and he had difficulty breathing.

He came home for a while to recuperate. “How about a job on the farm?” I said, There’s plenty of work at the moment and perhaps we could start up some other aspect of farming that would give you a more permanent job?”

Lindsay agreed and he did try. It was the time of year for cultivating the land. It meant long, strenuous and monotonous hours on a tractor, up and down, up and down the long drills, always watching, always concentrating carefully in order to do the job properly.

Lindsay was a perfectionist. “I can’t handle it,” he said one day. But I’m feeling fit again. Some of my pals are off to Australia. I’ll see if I can get a work permit for a year like Ronnie did. He liked it well enough. I’ll see what happens, might stay there.”

And he was gone. Like Ronnie before him, he had many adventures in Australia. Ironically, his first job was on a wheat farm in an even more remote place than Lindberg’s Landing, in South Western Australia. However, this job was short-lived.

Terrible rage

On the very first day Lindsay inadvertently broke the farmer’s combine harvester and the farmer flew into a terrible rage. It would need a new part costing 2,000 dollars which would have to come from a town 400 miles away.

Lindsay fled from the farmer’s wrath. He had been told that one bus passed on the highway on a Saturday, that was all. This was only Monday. Just the same Lindsay thought he would take a chance.

He waited by the side of the dusty road that melted into a heat haze many miles further on.

He stood a full day in 40° of heat before finally the third car he’d seen gave him a lift taking him the 500 miles back to Perth.

After that episode he did many jobs across Australia and ended up painting a stadium roof in Sydney. However, he came up with no job that would have allowed him to stay longer in Australia once his work permit ran out.

“What are you planning to do now?” I asked when he returned home. “Perhaps I’ll see If I can get into Dundee University,” Lindsay replied. “I’ve got the required qualifications. A friend of mine is a teacher and he quite likes it.” And so in the autumn Lindsay went to Dundee University.

He enjoyed the work, especially English. I was surprised how good he was at it. I hadn’t realised what talent lay hidden there, but after six months he gave it all up.

“I can’t handle it,” he said to me one day. “I just can’t handle sitting all day at books. I feel I just must have physical work to keep my nerves from jumping. Maybe I’ve been away too long from studying.”

That spring Grant and the shed boys were very busy. Desperate for help, they asked Lindsay if he would work for them for a while.

“Sure, I’ll give it a go.” Lindsay was a fast learner and loved the work. “Why not join us permanently?” Grant asked Lindsay one day.

“Okay then,” said Lindsay, “I will.” He’s been there ever since.

Good friends

If Lindsay seemed to grow up quickly, my youngest child, Kathleen appeared to grow up even quicker. Like Topsy, she just grew. We became, from an early age, good friends.

She was outgoing and easy to get on with, at least within the family. When younger, with girls of her own age, she would say one week: “She’s my best friend, always will be.” And the next week: “I hate her, I hate her. I’m never going to speak to her again as long as I live.”

But you knew they would be best friends again soon. She occasionally got angry about things and we would all say: “Calm down, Kathleen. Your red hair is getting in your eyes.”

She was the only member of the family to have auburn hair and blue eyes. When young she played mostly with her older brothers and, as far as they were concerned, had one great asset that girls didn’t usually have – she never told on them whatever they were doing.

Therefore she was allowed in their gang huts, hidden in the back yard or the orchard. She didn’t play at ‘house’ much. I had hoped to keep Kathleen in about a bit longer but no way.

More tomorrow.