BULL ISLAND HOLIDAYS

Harry Schapel

Dad’s annual holidays from the Lands Titles Office were always taken in December so this was the time we packed up to go for our Bull Island holidays in the South-east of South Australia. The people who were involved in the first trip were Dad, Mum (the cook), Harry, Bill Butcher, Colin Bourne, and Doug Scroop. Our destination was Harvey Limbert’s Shearers Quarters just a few hundred yards North of the Bull Island Railway Station.

An exciting part of the holiday was the preparation that had to go into organising all the gear to take with us. We needed to take most of our eating supplies and of course an important thing was the ammo and rifles as this was mainly going to be a game shooting holiday. We took .22 bullets; there were Short, Long, Long Rifle, Long Rifle H.P. and Long H.P (Hollow Point). We needed some for rabbits, foxes, and some mice. Of course my Daisy Air Gun had to go too. This was very important to keep the mice under control in the Shearers Quarters as it turned out. Everything was packed in a very large trunk and 2 or 3 large cases. Of course Doug, Colin and Bill had their gear to take too. At last it was time to catch the train at Oaklands Station. With all our gear we found we needed to get it to the Station the night before in our wheel barrow and leave it inside the Station Office.

Early the following morning the train pulled in and all hands on deck, loading all our stuff into the Guards Van at the rear of the train. We were on our way. At the Adelaide Station we used a station cart to transfer everything to Platform 8 and reload it into the Guards Van, find an empty carriage which we called The Dog Box and held 6 people. We had a few minutes before we were to leave so it was a dash over to the fruit stall where the bloke in charge was calling out “Bananas, 20 a Bob”. I am glad we were Banana hungry. At 7.30 the guard waved his green flag and called “All Aboard”. With a jerk we were moving again, being pulled by a Mountain type engine which was needed to get over the Adelaide hills. At Tailem Bend we were able to get a cup of tea etc while the mountain type engine was replaced with an S Type Loco. This had a 5 ft driving wheel which pulled us until we got to Wolseley. For that era this engine was very fast. We were counting the mile posts and found we were doing 60 mph. Leaving Tailem Bend we passed Cooke Plain, Coomandook, KI Ki, and Coonalpyn. These towns were along the 90 Mile Desert, as it was known then, growing mainly small bush Banksia and low Red Mallee. At one point along this stretch we passed an Aboriginal camp with a small family living in a galvanised iron hut. There was much waving as we went by. At Wolseley we had to change trains to Narrow Gauge rail. This was a let-down from 60 mph to about 3o mph. Somewhere between there and Naracoorte the train pulled up while maintenance gangers made some repairs to the line. At this time Uncle Fred Thomas, the father of John, Robert and Beth, was the ganger in this area and was responsible for the maintenance. We once stayed at their place and I can remember having a ride on the motorized Casey. While repairs were being made, the train drivers got out and had a cup of tea or something. We had our dinner at Naracoorte while all our belongings were transferred to the Rail Car which we were to call Leaping Lena. The lines from here were anything but straight. I was able to sit with the driver, Clive Usher. ( I got to know him better years later when I was living at Kingston after the war. He owned a store a couple up from our Creed and Schapel store in the main street). Looking at the kinks in the tracks it was quite amazing how the wheels of the rail car kept on it. This gave a swaying sensation which led to the name Leaping Lena. We finally arrived at the Bull Island Station at 7 pm very, very glad to come to the end of a 12-hour trip. Harvey Limbert met us at the station and took us and all the stuff over to our ‘Luxury Accom’ at the Shearers Quarters. Let the real holiday begin!

Dad had the pleasure of putting the key in the door with 6 pairs of eyes wondering what we were going to see when the door opened. There was a huge long table running across the “kitchen” on a rough cement floor. To the right was a well-used enormous wood stove with a great variety of pots and pans hanging above it. A 5 Gallon water urn with a tap sat on the side of the stove for a constant supply of hot water. At one end near the door was the wood box which the jackaroo had kindly filled for us. At the other end was a large safe and a cooler sitting on top. There were 2 other rooms of sleeping quarters. Mostly double bunks with mattresses which were in quite good order. Sheets and blankets we brought with us and after unpacking all our gear we made ourselves at home.

Dad was duly elected Captain as he knew all the country around here. At one time, when he was young, Dad worked in the shearing shed at Bull Island throwing the fleeces on the table. Harvey Limbert once told me that Dad was one of the best in the shed. The Shearing shed was about 100 yards to the east of our ‘resort’, so one of our first stops was to check out the shed with Dad showing us where he had worked at the fleece table. There was the wool press, the machines and the outside yards etc. This was quite an experience for me, Colin and Bill as we were quite young at this time.

To the NE of home was the Drain Paddock, to the north was Dead Horse scrub (salt-water tea-tree), to the west was the first ridge, second ridge and the range paddock. To the south was the back paddock which was mainly all broom tea-tree scrub. At different times during the year various paddocks were burnt. After a burn new grass grows amongst the undergrowth for good tucker for the sheep, as well as for the kangaroos. The following morning at daybreak 3 of us headed for the back paddock to get Mum a kangaroo tail for our soup. Bill headed one way and Dad and I (as observer) off to one side. It did not seem long before there was a shot from Bill’s rifle. Then a yell came over to us. It was Bill’s first roo. We went rushing over to him and Dad said “Good on you!” The tail was then cut off and after skinning it went into the kitchen and was handed over to Mum, the Cook. We all enjoyed the kangaroo tail soup. After this, we were only interested in shooting the vermin, rabbits and foxes.

The first day we had shooting practice mainly for fun just outside. We lined up a number of jam tins, then lying down proceeded to knock as many over as we could. It was fun to see Colin lining up for a shot. He hadn’t fired from a rifle before so it took some time before he got himself settled into position to shoot and then “These darn flies, I can’t take aim properly”. This same thing happened a few times before he at last got a bullet away. I don’t think he hit anything apart from a fly, but it was all a lot of fun.

After dinner we all sat at the table making plans for the next day when Dad said “Harry, get your Daisy Air Gun”. There were a few mice gathered on the side of the stove eating some of our left over food. They didn’t seem at all concerned at our talking etc. so we had some fun trying to shoot them. This activity happened quite often, not always at mealtime but anytime we were sitting around the table. I can’t remember whether we hit any but it all added to the enjoyment.

Each morning one of us would go to the Jackaroo’s cottage to get our milk supply. Our bread came up from Naracoorte twice a week on the Lena if we needed it. Beautiful high top loaves were lovely.

In December the days were pretty hot so we didn’t venture too far away from home so most of the hunting activity for us was early morning and late afternoons. At various spots on the property there were small water holes fed from underground springs giving water for sheep and cattle. One of these water holes was a short distance from home so much of our time we were stripped to our undies splashing around and having lots of laughs. Yabbies were living in the sides of the springs so we were able to have a supply of these for those who liked them.

Over at the Railway Station was a large overhead water tank which supplied water to the steam engines that ran between Naracoorte and Kingston. I think the tank would have been about 10ft square and 6ft deep. This gave us another way to cool off after climbing up the steel ladder and sliding in. There was a small problem however. The first time I got in and swam to the other side I saw a large black beetle swimming towards me. There were many of them and I found that they can bite, so it was always a challenge to keep them at bay, but we had a lot of fun.

One early job was making some fox whistles. The ones you could buy were small and we had a bad habit of losing them, especially when we had just wounded a fox and in the excitement rushed off to try to finish it off and dropped the whistle in the grass. Dad told us to find some old jam tins while he borrowed a pair of tin snips from the shed. We cut the lids off and trimmed them to cut the sharp edges. The lids were then folded over in halves, a hole punched in the middle of each side and then the fun started putting the whistle in the mouth, smooth side first of course, and trying to make a sound like a rabbit squealing. It was all a matter of trial and error trying to get the holes matched up and judging the width of the opening. The more you made the easier it was and the results gave an excellent sound and louder than the bought ones. The fox whistle was always carried with you. You never knew when you were going to want it.

The next afternoon at 3pm the army of Dad, Doug, Bill, Harry and Colin joined up and headed for the first ridge some ¾ mile away. This was to be ‘fox-whistling’ day. There were plenty of rabbits around as we approached the ridge but we ignored them. This was a fox day and as we approached a tree lying down which looked to be just the ideal place to set ourselves up to try the whistle Dad said “No more noise now” as we found our positions. Doug and Colin sat up on top of the log as lookouts. Dad, Harry and Bill lay on the ground in front of the log facing the scrub side. Dad had borrowed Harvey Limbert’s shot gun which he told me had a ‘choked barrel’ and I believe had a further killing range and was ideal for foxes. I used Dad’s Browning Automatic, Bill his .22 rifle. Dad was the whistle blower. It was now about 4 o’clock and this is about the time the foxes are on the prowl around the rabbit warrens. It seemed no time when Colin yelled out about something coming up from the side. I don’t know how Doug fell off the log but there was quite a commotion and of course a bit of laughter but no fox. We hung around for a while blowing the whistle and although we could see a fox or two at a distance they wouldn’t come close enough to get a shot at them, so we headed back home along the ridge and it was easy to get some rabbits. There were patches of cutting grass which was 3 or 4 ft high out from the ridge and then fairly clear ground to the warrens on the ridge. Rabbits which were out feeding amongst the cutting grass would head back to their burrows. If you were somewhere near their route they would squat in the grass. You could get up quite close to them before they made any attempt to run. After aiming at a couple I got close to, and missing, I said to Dad a bit later “What am I doing wrong?” He said “Aim at the base of their body in the grass”. This I did in future and it was the best advice I had and I didn’t miss too many after that. We would never go home without a rabbit. Mum cooked some delicious rabbit stews.

Since most of our activities were early mornings and late afternoons we were pleased to do relaxing things in the middle of the day like reading or water sport as mentioned earlier. We spent most of our sporting days between home and the second ridge. This meant quite a lot of walking and as Dad was over 21 he let us go our own ways. The terrain between home and first ridge consisted mainly of cutting grass and flat country. Between there and second ridge the country was quite different, being thick broom tea-tree and cutting grass with odd open patches without much grass until you got towards the ridge where it was more grassed. There was much Pink Gum on this ridge and the ground covered in rabbit warrens. (In later years I had some of my beehives on this ridge where the bees were able to fly the gums on the range).

It was about this time that Doug felt he had been there long enough so decided to catch the next available train home. We had an idea that there was a girl friend at home he was missing.

We wanted to explore the Dead Horse Scrub which was a good mile or so from home. This covered at least 20 or so acres of thick salt-water tea-tree and I often wondered why it was just left in this state, as on three sides of this area it was relatively open country with cutting grass and broom bush. On the other side of the scrub was the large Avenue Range Drain which is dry in the summer. Before entering the scrub we separated with about 50 yards between us. Dad instructed us to whistle every now and then so we knew where we all were. The only way to get through was to try to follow some sort of track made by sheep or kangaroos. We had all looked forward to the adventure of exploring the scrub. We were relieved to get to the other side and glad to have done it.

Well the two weeks had passed too quickly but we had plenty of good memories to take home. We boarded the Lena at the Station about 7 am and the trip home was uneventful but enjoyable. We were home at 8pm and no place like home. However I soon started thinking about next year when there would only be Dad and me going to Bull Island.

The preparation for our next holiday was much the same except this time Dad and I took our bikes and a dozen or so rabbit traps. Also I had my new Remington single shot rifle given to me by my Uncle “Cobe” (Edgar Schapel) as reward for passing the QC. The wooden trunk was much heavier with the rabbit traps in it.

When Leaping Lena pulled up at the Station it felt as if we had not been away. That night we had a meal with Nora and Harvey Limbert before they took us to our new home, which was more comfortable than it was last year with pressure lighting and better washing facilities.

The first afternoon there we took the traps over to the second ridge and set them. I was Dad’s pupil and found I had a lot to learn about setting traps in loose sandy soil. It was necessary to use a piece of paper over the trap plate. Also where to set them. Dad always looked for what he called ‘pop holes’ which was an exit to the side of the burrow. Even after all these years I can still see how the rabbits would come out head and front feet first, have a look around and then emerge. We always caught some at these ‘pop holes’. Just set the trap where the front feet land. That was the practice for the rest of the time to check the traps night and morning. We changed our places to set the traps every couple of days. There was always the problem of foxes of course, so practically every day we just had legs in some of the traps. On our way home we would always use the fox whistle and occasionally we were successful. On one occasion we found an enormous feral cat in one of the traps. I have never seen an animal so ferocious and we knew if it had got out it would have attacked us, so we put an end to it very quickly. On the second day I was looking forward to using my new rifle and as I had never shot a kangaroo I thought it was about time I tried. So in the afternoon we made our way over to the back paddock to see what we could find. We were just about to give up when Dad said “There’s one by that broom bush over there”. I turned my head to the side and I was looking at this kangaroo about 50 yards away and took aim at the middle of its chest and it seemed an age before I was able to pull the trigger. To my surprise the roo dropped to the ground so I started running up to it and as I just about reached it, it started trying to get up. The first thing that came into my mind was to hit it over the head with the butt of the rifle, but Dad yelled out “Stop!” and rushed over and finished the roo off. I thus learned that as soon as you hit something you immediately re-load. Dad got to work and soon had the skin off. In the shearing shed at one end was a large wooden door which was ideal to peg the skin onto. Eventually the skin was tanned and it was used in Dad and Mum’s bedroom for many, many years.

Over the next couple of weeks there were the rabbit skins to fit on the wire bows that Dad and I had made, and down the side of home there were a growing number of bows lined up. When we took them back to town we were able to sell the skins for so much a pound.

I was surprised that we saw very few snakes. On one occasion on our way to the traps at the drain paddock we were on the bikes when a tiger snake moved across in front of us and into a cutting grass bush. We had a look to see if we could see it but couldn’t. Dad started hitting the bush with a piece of wood, saying “It will probably come out so be prepared with the gun”. It did rush out so there was a barrage of bullets. It was an unlucky snake as a bullet found it’s mark.

During the rest of the holiday we spent quite a bit of time with Harvey. He invited us to go to Cape Jaffa to get a feed of crayfish and we jumped at the chance, even though we had no idea where Cape Jaffa was. One morning he called over in his Chrysler Royal car and away we went. It was a thrill to ride in such a flash car. I can’t remember much about the trip or exactly where we were but the thing which is so clear in my mind is walking over a rocky ledge to a drop off into deep water. Harvey had what they called a ‘pigeon chest’. When he dropped down and submerged I was amazed at his lung capacity and when he came up he was holding a couple of nice crayfish by their feelers. He made two or three trips down and we came away with several in the bag.

On another day he took us in his flash car all over his property seeing the sheep and cattle. I mentioned earlier about the water holes on the property. One day Harvey thought it was a good idea if we could help him clean 3 or 4 of these holes. We took a few buckets on the truck for bailing. It was quite fun tossing the water out and getting wet. It didn’t take very long to completely empty the holes and it was good to see all the fresh spring water coming in. On the way back there were a few emus in a paddock so he had a race with them for fun.

When Dad was young and living at Avenue Range he found a cave which he told us was a couple of miles out beyond the Drain Paddock. I think it may have been Harvey who asked Dad if he thought he could find it again. Dad thought it was worth a try, so the expedition took off in a vehicle to get to the general location. I was amazed that after wandering around for a while Dad was able to find this small hole in the ground after all that time. To enter the cave meant sliding down into the hole, at the bottom of which was a small entry to the side. The channel was only large enough for crawling with a piece of string in one hand and a torch in the other. I went along as far as I could but it was no fun. However it was a very pleasant day and Dad was pleased he was able to find it and no doubt it brought back memories to him.

Along the banks of the drain were just a mass of rabbit warrens. This was where we headed on our bikes quite often to the drain paddock to get a good supply of rabbits The rabbits in this area at this time were almost in plague proportions. It was a wonder how all these rabbits could fit into the burrows. Dad and I positioned ourselves about 100 yards apart in front of the warrens. It was only minutes before heads began popping up from the burrows. The thing that I always noticed when a rabbit came out was it’s eyes which seemed to be the most prominent part of the head. So it was the eye we aimed at as often as we could. If you missed, there were plenty of others offering. Quite often if a rabbit was not killed instantly near the burrow they seemed to be able to kick down the burrow. At the end of an hour or so we would walk onto the warren and collect the kill. We always finished up with about 30. I felt that it was not very sporting but it was good to know we were thinning them out for Harvey and we were pleased to have the skins to sell back in Adelaide. Now it was time to start skinning them. Dad had made a couple of haversacks from sugar bags with a linen strap attached to carry the skins home in.

We were nearing the end of our holiday when we were over near Dead Horse Scrub and I couldn’t resist the temptation to go through one more time. I am very glad that I did as two things occurred which I will always remember vividly.

I hadn’t gone very far along an animal pad when I heard a sound in front. I looked up and not 10ft. in front was an old man kangaroo half hidden in the foliage. I don’t know who got the bigger fright but I aimed the rifle at the largest part I could see. My shot didn’t seem to have hurt him and there was a crash as he took off and it was some time before I lost the sound of him as he escaped through the scrub. I must have been almost through the scrub and I stepped out into a small clear area about 20yds square. Just near the other side were mother and father fox and two young cubs playing. It was a lovely sight. I didn’t think to use the gun but for some reason I grabbed the fox whistle and started to blow it. How silly? They were gone in a flash back into the scrub. When I met Dad he wanted to know what I had to shoot at in the scrub so I told him of my little adventure.

Time had almost run out - our holiday was almost over. We had to pack up all the skins with everything else into the wood trunk. Some skins were dried and others still on the wire bows. Somehow we got them all in and it was mighty heavy. I suppose this could have been the reason that the trunk was damaged when it arrived in Adelaide. Dad reported the damage straight away and the railway officials told him to get it back to them as soon as possible and their carpenters would repair it. When it was done I think the trunk was stronger than it had ever been.

Looking back on these holidays I feel that I was a very lucky boy to have had a Dad who taught me so much that helped me along the way for the rest of my life. From him I learned to enjoy and appreciate the outdoors and country life.