#Strongwomen. "I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful – for all of it." Kristin Armstrong
I have spent a lifetime at farm kitchen tables, and in every conversation the problem is someone else’s to fix. The council’s. Canberra’s. The person who never rang back. So we elect a politician every three years, and we wait.
Look at what that actually asks of them. I hand over my problem. My road, my rates, my paddock. So does my neighbour, and his neighbour, and every voter in the electorate. The politician ends up holding thirty thousand separate problems, most of them pulling against each other, and no honest hope of fixing them all. Politics becomes a queue of grievances, and campaigning becomes promising to move you up the queue. The politician can only promise, disappoint, and be replaced by a rival who promises louder. The loudest dog in the yard wins, every time. We built this machine, and then we blame the politician when it does what it was always going to do.
And while we queue, the big calls get made without us. Here’s how it works in my valley. A dairy farm comes up for sale. A Sydney buyer pays more than any farmer could ever earn back from milk, because he’s not buying a farm, he’s buying a view for six weekends a year. The farm next door is now worth city money too, so when that farmer retires, no young farming family can afford it either. Sale by sale, working farms become holiday homes that stand dark most of the year.
And it doesn’t stop at the farm gate. Every sale drags the price of an ordinary house up with it. Kiama is now the most expensive place to buy a home in regional New South Wales, dearer than Byron Bay. The nurse at the hospital can’t buy here. The teacher can’t. The kids who grew up here can’t. There is no affordable housing here, and no social housing. The school loses children, the shops lose staff, and the town that made the views worth buying slowly stops being a town. It becomes a postcode with scenery. Mosman with a blowhole.
Nobody chose this. There was no meeting about where it was all heading, no vote, no moment anyone could point at and object to. Each sale was legal and each seller had every right. But add it all up and my district has been rezoned by the market, one sale at a time, and nobody ever asked us what the best outcome would be for the farms, the buyers, the nurses the kids or the community. I watch it from my own front gate.
So here is the problem: we hand our say to a politician with thirty thousand problems in the queue, and the calls that change our districts get made elsewhere, by the market, the local council, the state government. What’s left for the rest of us is Facebook, one keyboard at a time. Each of us finds our tribe there, and the tribe does what tribes do: agrees with itself, louder every year. Plenty of conversations. Never one table.
And here is the goal: communities with the knowledge, confidence and skills to find the best outcome for everyone affected.
One rural community in north-east Victoria worked out how to get everyone to the same table, and it’s still going strong five elections later. In my next post I’ll tell you what they did. Then I want to work on the question that follows with you: how do we do it in every district in Australia?
On why “save our farmland” is the wrong fight for the right reason.
Wollongong Railway Station, 1900.
Take a good look at that old photo of the railway station. Timber and tin, a scatter of weatherboard cottages, and open paddock rolling away in every direction. Now go and stand where the photographer stood. There isn’t a vacant block for miles. Every one of those paddocks filled in, one approval at a time, and nobody felt the loss on the day it happened. That’s how it always goes. The green doesn’t vanish in a single bad decision. It goes in slices, each one too small to argue about, until one day you look up and the hills have a rash.
The same station, 1920. Twenty years on
And it didn’t stop in 1920. Local residents Lesley East and Annette Young and their now husbands still remember driving into Wollongong in the early 1960s to see Psycho at the Regent Theatre on Keira Street, then a grand Art Deco picture palace only a few years old. They parked in a paddock right near the cinema. A paddock, in the middle of town. Today Wollongong is a city of more than 200,000 people, the Regent has been a church since 2005, Crown Street is a pedestrian mall, and the idea of an open field to leave your car in near the main street sounds like a tall tale. But that’s the whole point. Every one of those paddocks was “just one block” once.
Nobody stood in it the day it was lost.
So I have a lot of sympathy for the worry behind Graham Pike’s comment on one of my Catch-Up posts. He was referring to a development application on Minnamurra Lane, Jamberoo, a house and a farm shed on a vacant block, the one Cr Lawton sensibly sent off for a second look and independent legal advice at the May Council meeting. Here’s part of what he said:
“We might not be using the vacant lands or the land in question for food production right now. but most of these lands have been used for farming within the past century or less and, most importantly, we’ll need them for food production again as the human population, even in our area, increases uncontrollably and unsustainably and the resulting suburbanisation sprawls across and fragments this same agricultural/food producing land. The zoning of the land as RU1 or RU2 is a human construct and immaterial. It is still land that we have used and will in future need to use, if any is left uncovered by concrete and asphalt, for food production.” Graham Pike, Jamberoo
I’ve turned that over for days, because there’s a lot in it I agree with. The slow creep of houses and sheds across those hills is real. I’ve watched it happen. And his bigger worry, that we keep paving over the very ground we’ll need to feed ourselves one day, is a serious one.
In a later note, Graham went further and put his finger on what he sees as the root of it all: too many people. Human overpopulation, driving an economy that chews through the natural world. It’s a heartfelt view and plenty of thoughtful people share it.
That’s too big for me to sort out. What I’d say is simpler: whatever any of us thinks about how many people there ought to be, they’re already here. They were born, they need a roof, and saying “there are too many of them” doesn’t put one over a single head. So my mind goes to the thing we can actually do something about, which isn’t the number of people, but where they’re going to live.
The thing is, all that green didn’t go in one big decision anyone could point to. It went in slices, a block here, a shed there, each one too small to worry over on the day. Nobody ever stood up and voted to lose it. It just happened while we weren’t looking.
So maybe the better thing isn’t to fight every single house, but to decide on purpose where the houses should go, instead of letting them turn up one at a time until the hills are full again and we’re left wondering how.
And there’s a part of these “save our farmland” conversations that almost never gets said out loud. Farming is a business. For most farmers, the land isn’t only where they work. It’s the biggest thing they own, the nest egg meant to see them through old age after a lifetime of hard years and thin margins.
So when we say a paddock must stay green forever, I think we should stop and hear what we’re really asking. We’re asking that farmer, and only that farmer, to lock away the worth of their own land so the rest of us can enjoy the view on the drive past. A person in town can sell their house for whatever it’ll fetch. The farmer gets told their paddock is a community treasure and they ought to keep it green for a fraction of what it’s worth. I’m not sure that’s protecting farming. It feels more like asking one family to foot the bill for everyone else’s nice outlook.
I’ve stood on that side of the fence. I dairy farmed for decades, and I know what it is to look at a paddock and see both a lifetime’s work and the only retirement you’ve got. So I find myself asking the question that doesn’t get asked much: is that fair?
And it’s a slippery word, fair. Everyone in this thinks they’re on its side. The people in town feel it’s only fair the hills stay green, they get the view and lose nothing. The farmer feels it’s only fair they get to realise the worth of the land they’ve worked their whole life, the same as anyone else can with what they own. Both are sincere. Both are “fair.” They just can’t both have their way.
And it tends to be the farmer’s fairness that gets left out, because the farmer’s usually not in the room when the rest of us decide their paddock is too precious to touch.
So where does that leave me? Not where you might think. I’m not saying build everywhere. And I’m not saying the green hills don’t count, they’re a good part of why people love this place, and why the visitors come. The slow spread of sheds and houses across those ridgelines is real, and worth watching very closely.
But if we want our farmers to keep the hills green for the rest of us, the least we can do is be honest that we’re asking them to give something up, and decent enough to talk about who carries that cost rather than pretending it’s free.
Lock the gate on a farmer’s land and we haven’t saved farming. We’ve decided their retirement is a fair price for our view.
Good on Cr Lawton for asking for a proper look before anyone signs anything. That’s the kind of careful, eyes-open thinking this deserves, on this block and the next one. The conversation I’d like us to have isn’t “green or houses.” It’s “if we want the green, who pays for it, and is that fair on them?”
I don’t have a tidy answer. I’m not sure there is one. But I think we owe the farmers at least the courtesy of asking.
A note on the photos: I came across these two images on Facebook, where they were dated 1900 and 1920 and identified as Wollongong Railway Station. I haven’t been able to independently verify the dates or the photographer, so if anyone can confirm the details or knows the original source, I’d love to hear from you, please get in touch.
It’s the great cow controversy of 2024, and social media is on fire. This time, it’s not about dairy vs. oat milk or even beef vs. tofu. It’s about a tiny supplement called Bovaer, designed to reduce methane emissions from cattle, and the uproar is deafening.
On Facebook, it’s war. Some are decrying Bovaer as the latest corporate conspiracy, something Bill Gates would whip up in his private jet to poison our milk. Others see it as the saviour of the planet. But here’s what’s really happening: we’re missing the point entirely.
Let’s be honest. The problem isn’t cows. It’s us. The more people we have, the more food we need to produce. That means more cows, more methane, and, yes, more impact on the environment. But when a practical solution comes along to reduce that impact—something backed by a decade of research and field trials—we throw up our hands in shock. Why?
There’s a fundamental trust gap between the people making these solutions and the people consuming them. Scientists, bless their well-intentioned hearts, roll out their data and expect us to just get it. But most people don’t live in peer-reviewed journals. They live in real-world uncertainty, where the line between “helpful innovation” and “corporate takeover” feels razor-thin.
And social media isn’t helping. Instead of nuanced discussions, we’re fed bite-sized outrage. A single post about Bovaer can spiral into fearmongering faster than you can say “methane,” leaving consumers more sceptical than informed.
Take a moment to consider this: humans pop supplements every day with little to no evidence that they work. Collagen powders, detox teas, mystery vitamins—there’s a whole industry thriving on the “it can’t hurt, right?” mentality. But introduce a scientifically-proven supplement for cows, and suddenly we’re all chemical experts, clutching our organic milk bottles like lifelines.
The debate over Bovaer isn’t really about methane or cows. It’s about trust. Trust in the people who make our food. Trust in the researchers who develop solutions. And trust in each other to have real conversations instead of trading cheap shots online.
We can’t fix this problem by vilifying farmers who are trying to do the right thing, whether they’re grass-feeding their cows or testing methane-reducing additives. Nor can we solve it by blindly defending corporate-backed solutions without addressing consumer concerns.
Here’s the truth: no single fix is perfect. Grass-fed systems sequester carbon but still produce methane. Feedlot systems can use products like Bovaer but rely on grain, which has its own environmental cost. The real solution lies in recognising that everyone—farmers, scientists, and consumers—is on the same team. We all want sustainable food systems. We all want to protect the planet. We just need to stop fighting long enough to figure out how to get there.
So, next time you see a post about cows “killing the planet” or a product like Bovaer being the hero or villain of the story, pause. Ask questions. Demand transparency.
But don’t let fear or outrage guide the narrative. Because if we don’t tackle the root problem—how we produce and consume food—we’re just mooing in circles.
Will agriculture ever learn? How many own goals does it need to kick? Trust and Transparency is everything.
This is the story of my family on my father’s side since their arrival in Australia in 1841. It was written by my Aunty Ruth.
Three children of William and Mary (née Simpson) Lindsay from Fintona in County Tyrone, Northern Ireland, came to Australia. George (1802-1866) arrived on the “Orestes” in 1841, accompanied by his wife Jane (née McCauley, 1790-1879) and five children. John, who had married Lillian Cochrane, arrived with eight children in 1852 on the “Kate,” but sadly without his wife, who died on the voyage. John settled in the Shellharbour area. There was also a sister who came to Australia later, but details about her are sketchy. It is with George that we are concerned.
William Lindsay & Mary Simpson who arrived in Sydney on 14.05.1841 on the Orestes.
Child
Date of Birth
Date of Death
Spouse
Sister
?
?
?
John Lindsay
1870
Lillian Cochrane
George Lindsay
1802
1866
Jane McAuley 1790 -1879
George and Jane were brought to Sydney by A.B. Smith and Co. as a farmhand and dairymaid, and the bounty cost for the family was seventy-three pounds. George bought a small store at Charcoal (later renamed Unanderra) in 1841, which had been established in the 1830s by a Mr. Beaver. He purchased a property south of the Berkeley Estate which he called ‘Lake View’ because of the fine view of Lake Illawarra. Here he started dairying and mixed farming. He is said to have sent the first keg of butter from the Illawarra to Sydney and also grew wheat and potatoes. His produce was taken to Wollongong in a dray pulled by a bullock using a horse collar turned upside down. This method of harnessing a bullock became the standard practice in the area. He was granted a parcel of land of 35 acres in 1843. George must have been a go-ahead type, for as well as being a successful farmer, we know that he also bought land at Cordeaux which was later sold to Peter Carr, – my great- great-grandfather on my grandmother (Ethel Lindsay-nee Carr) . He died at Lakeview in 1866. Much later, my grandfather rented Lakeview from the then owner, Ernie Lindsay, and here my father spent his early days.
Ethel Lindsay with daughter Ruth and son John Lindsay
George and Jane had five children: William, John, George, Anne, and Thomas. William (1829-1881, married Sarah Bryen) was an excellent sportsman and established the Farmers Inn at Charcoal and was a popular mine host for many years.
The five children of George Lindsay and Jane McAuley:
Child
Date of Birth
Date of Death
Spouse
William Lindsay
1829
1881
Sarah Bryen
John Lindsay
1832
1894
Jane Musgrave
George Lindsay
1834
1896
Eliza Little
Anne Lindsay
1838
Not specified
James Wilson
Thomas Francis Lindsay
1840
1889
Sarah Philips
John (1832-1894) became a successful dairy farmer. George (1834-1886, married Eliza Little) was an excellent rifleman and competed with the Australian team at Bisley and was later appointed Council Clerk for the Illawarra Shire, a position he held for 45 years. Anne (born 1838) married James Wilson of Victoria. Thomas (1840-1889, married Sarah Phillips) was a successful farmer, but it was John who is the important one in our line of descendants as he was my great, great, great grandfather.
Jane Musgrave
John Lindsay SR
John married Jane Musgrave (1828-1917) at Campbelltown in 1851. She was also an immigrant from County Tyrone. They prolifically produced nine children: Anne (1853-1903), George (1855-1946), John (1857-1930), William (1858-1859), Elizabeth (1861-1944), Sarah (1862-1948), Thomas (1864-1941), Charles (1868-1950), and Lavinia (1870-1907) between their marriage and 1870.
Anne, Elizabeth, Sarah and Lavinia Lindsay
The children of John Lindsay and Jane Musgrave
Child
Date of Birth
Date of Death
Anne
1853
1903
George
1855
1946
John
1857
1930
William
1858
1859
Elizabeth
1861
1944
Sarah
1862
1948
Thomas
1864
1941
Charles
1868
1950
Lavinia
1870
1907
George and John Lindsay (right)
Of these, only one, William, died in infancy aged one year, which speaks well for their lifestyle in those days of high infant mortality. Jane Musgrave was from Gortmore in County Tyrone and arrived in Australia on the “Victoria” in 1849. She already had three brothers in the colony: John, Thomas, and Charles, and her parents (Charles Musgrave and Ann Love) were deceased. Her occupation is listed in the shipping register as dairymaid, but it is well known that emigration agents in the old country listed occupations to which the immigration authorities were sympathetic to facilitate acceptance by the authorities, so this may not be correct. An interesting sidelight is that John Musgrave stated during the course of his 1861 insolvency hearing that he would have “asked his brother-in-law John Lindsay” to sign a promissory note “but John Lindsay had a lot of Doctors bills and was also building a house.”
John Lindsay was Illawarra’s outstanding farmer for many years. He started on his father’s grant but soon bought more land, first at Kembla Park where he built the family home, and then bought up adjoining properties of another 150 acres as well as 200 acres from the Berkeley Estate, one of the large original grants in the area. In 1876, he bought the western half of Mrs. Brooks’ 500-acre grant, “West Horsley,” and the remainder of the grant a few years later. Mrs. Brooks and Miss Weston had inherited the grant from Lieutenant William Weston, their brother, to whom the original grant had been given, and who had named it after his hometown West Horsley in Surrey. He also bought “Horsley,” part of a grant made in 1821 to John Horsley.
Horsley Homestead
This farm was to the west of West Horsley. His son George was placed on Horsley, and son John on the eastern half, which was West Horsley. The confusion between the names and their respective positions is a result of the methods of naming used by the original grantees. A very progressive farmer and the largest Ayrshire breeder in the area, he purchased a prize Ayrshire bull, The Earl of Beaconsfield (named from Benjamin Disraeli’s title) from Victoria. Many considered this a foolish extravagance, but it enabled him to breed Honeycomb, the champion NSW cow of its day, which was said to set the standard for all dairymen. He also bought the champion New Zealand bull, Cheviot.
Honeycomb Champion Cow of the World
HoneyComb, What She Is, and What She Can Do
This article, ( Sept 1897) authored by “St. Magnus,” highlights the renowned dairy herd from Kembla Park, Unanderra, established by the late Mr. John Lindsay. Known for his exceptional judgment of dairy cattle, Mr. Lindsay assembled one of the finest herds in Australia and potentially the world. His cows consistently excelled as prizewinners and milk producers at agricultural shows both on the South Coast and in Sydney, attesting to his expertise.
Mr. Lindsay’s sons have continued his legacy, effectively maintaining and enhancing the quality of the herd. Data from Mr. T. W. Lindsay reveals the herd’s impressive average annual milk yield, even during challenging seasons. In the favourable season of 1894, an average of 80 cows at Kembla Park produced 827 gallons of milk per cow annually..
In 1876, the price of butter fell to 6d a pound, so with his brother-in-law James Wilson and Thomas Wilson, he brought a cheese factory from Victoria and established it in Brown’s old flour mill at Brownsville. Dairymen supplied milk at 3½d per gallon, but when the price of butter rose a few months later, they ceased to supply, and the venture foundered. This machinery was then moved to West Horsley, where butter and cheese continued to be made with success, as many prizes were won for both cheese and butter.
He became involved in public affairs, becoming a JP, and when Central Illawarra was proclaimed a municipality in 1859, he was chosen as one of the nine aldermen at the first election. He was also one of the main proponents of a public school at Unanderra and was a signatory to the application to the education department for such a school. He also was present to help with the enrolments on the first day. When the Mullet Creek bridge was opened in 1861, he was there to represent the council.
Bridge over Mullet Creek, Dapto, New South Wales, ca. 1880s [picture] / Charles KerryHis funeral in 1889 was reported to be the largest seen in the Illawarra. When Kembla Park buildings were demolished in 1969, a bottle was found containing several items: an 1881 threepenny piece with a hole in it, a copy of the Wollongong Argus dated Sept 1, 1886, a letter “This letter was placed under this stone on the 2nd day of September 1886. This dairy was built for Mr. John Lindsay JP by Mr. William Newson for one hundred and ninety pounds. He was the largest Ayrshire breeder in the colonies and was the largest prize taker for both cattle and butter,” and a list of children. Also, a double sheet on the back of which was written: “Latest events; Sydney Agriculture Show; Quarter Sessions: The first wild flower show ever held in Dapto: The first Ball at Unanderra.”
Lindsay family photo: Back Row: Charles, Margaret Campbell, Helena Miller, George, Lavinia, Charles, Muriel, Mary Dunster, John Lindsay. Middle Row: Eustace Evans, Millie (in front of Roy), Roy, Sarah Evans, Jane Musgrave, Hessel, Lizzie, Arthur, Walter. Front Row: Lindsay Evans, Harold, Isobel, Hilton, Grace, Doris, Hilda, Eric, Estelle, Ella, Tom
Of his family, only four married: George, John, Sarah, and Charles, but Charles’s marriage was childless. This John (born 1857) is my great grandfather, and he married Mary Dunster at All Saints Church of England Macquarie River on 25 March 1885. Mary’s grandparents Joseph (1788-1861) and Mary (née Randall) arrived in Sydney on the “Lady Nugent” on November 27, 1838, from Stone Oxney, Kent, England, and took up residence in Shellharbour. Their fourth child, Joseph (1826-1877), who was one of the original councillors of the Shellharbour Shire, married Jane Elizabeth Stratford, and the second child of this marriage, Mary, was born on April 19, 1858.
John and Mary lived at West Horsley and ran a successful dairy farm. There were 10 children of this marriage: Jane Eva Muriel (“Jan”: 1887-1961), Charles John (“John”: 1888-1964), Joseph Roy (“Roy”: 1890-1929), Walter Dunster (1893-1967), Eric Stratford (“Gug”: 1894-1970), Harold Thornbury (1895-1959), Mary Estelle (“Estelle” 1897-1962) Olive Doris(“Dos”:1899-1980) Hilda (1900-1963) Thomas Hilton (“Hilton”:1902-1964).
John and Mary (nee Dunster) Lindsay
Of these 10 children only three married. John married Eileen McPhee a childless marriage, Hilton married Edith Martin and had one child and my grandfather, Walter, married Ethel Carr and had 4 children. It is interesting to speculate why in the last 2 generations of 19 children only 7 married and of these 7 marriages only 5 produced children. Was there a shortage of suitable partners ? We know there was the shortage of fit men after the carnage of the WW1. We know from anecdotes that there were plenty of social engagements with dances, picnics and tennis parties.
Eric Lindsay (Gug) enjoying himself with Nettie Evans and with Estelle Lindsay (on the left )
All the sons became farmers. The eldest son, Charles John, was placed on a property on Flagstaff Hill and Roy on Berkeley Crescent. When Roy died of appendicitis John took over Berkeley which had a bigger home and remained there till the property was resumed for housing in the migrant boom of the years following the second world war. Harold and Hilton farmed West Horsley .
Lindsay Sisters at West Horsley
Estelle and Doris lived there with Harold and Hilton built a separate house on the farm. Hilda trained as a nurse and attained the rank of Matron.
Hilda Lindsay
Eric Lindsay
Jan lived in Sydney and worked in secretarial positions. Eric (“Gug”) and Walter farmed first at Lake View which was rented and then at Karara where they built the family home .John (Walter’s father) placed each of his sons on a property but we do not know how much he contributed to the cost of the properties.
Muriel Lindsay
Roy Charles and Walter Lindsay
Unfortunately little is known of Mary Dunster who was known for being a “nice lady” and was loved by all and my grandfather Walter, whose second name, Dunster, was the family name, and he was named for Mary’s favourite brother.
Sadly her obituary tells us little and I’m struck by a recurring theme: the erasure of women’s identities. Reading the obituary of my great-grandmother in the Kiama Independent from June 10, 1925, it’s evident that women were often not given the dignity of being named in their own right. MRS. JOHN LINDSAY – not even her first name is mentioned. Instead, she is an extension of her husband’s identity. This was a woman who lived a full life, moving from Tullimbar to Shellharbour, raising a family, and being an ‘ideal wife and mother’. Yet, her personal identity is overshadowed by her husband’s name.
MRS. JOHN LINDSAY. Wednesday June 10 1925 Kiama Independent
The death took place at her residence “West Horsley,” Dapto, on Sunday night, of Mrs. John Lindsay. ‘The deceased lady had been in her usual health until Wednesday evening last when she was suddenly overcome by alarming symptoms of what appeared to be peritonitis. Dr. Kerr, of Wollongong was called in immediately and
on consultation with his brother, decided to have the opinion of a specialist. Consequently Dr. Poats of Sydney arrived with a special nurse and an operation was performed, but although the operation was in itself successful, Mrs. Lindsay’s strength was not equal to the great shock incurred and she gradually sunk until death took place in the presence of her loved ones on Sunday night.
Mrs. Lindsay was born at Tullimbar and came to Shellharbour with her parents, the late Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Dunster, when quite a tiny child. She spent her girlhood at the old home at “The Hill” until her marriage with Mr. John Lindsay ,about 40 years ago, since then she has resided continuously at “West Horsley.” An ideal wife and mother she will be sadly missed by her loving husband and family of six sons and four daughters. Of Mrs. Lindsay’s brothers and sisters Mrs. J. E. Miller (Shellharbour), Mrs. Musgrave (Dunoon), Mr. Joseph Dunster (Billinudgel), and Mr. Walter Dunster (Dapto) still survive. One sister, the late Mrs. John James and two brothers the late W. C. Dunster and Robert Dunster, of Shellharbour, pre-deceased her. The funeral took place at Brownsville Church of England cemetery yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon.
Today’s post is the story of my grandmother Ethel Lindsay (née Carr) 1896-1994, told through the eyes of my aunt Ruth Rae (née Lindsay).
Ethel Lindsay as a young girl
Ethel Lindsay in 1978
The third daughter of Lawrence and Jane Carr, Ethel was born at Cordeaux . She was their third child and three sons were to follow in later years.
Lawrence and Jane Carr
My mother’s early years were not often mentioned. There were so many relatives at the time that the names that featured in conversations floated in and out over the heads of children. Many relatives, even distant ones, had honorary titles of Aunt and Uncle and very little of family affairs was discussed “in front of the children”. Even in later years the reticence held and glimpses of earlier times are fragmented and often incomplete.
Ethel Lindsay with her sisters Mary and Alice Carr in 1978
I suspect that Mum was the brightest intellect of the family. She was only afforded schooling to the end of primary years though, through the generosity of her mother’s sister, Sarah, the two eldest girls were sent for three years to St Mary’s College in Wollongong. Mary(May) became a governess and Alice(Bob) trained as a nurse. Mum had to stay as home help for her parents and younger siblings. The only way we know of her prowess as a horsewoman is because of a snapshot of her on a horse and a half-remembered anecdote about winning some prizes that afforded the means to buy material and cottons for sewing.
Ethel Lindsay as a young woman on horseback
There are only two school anecdotes. One is of being allowed out of school to watch the first car in the district go by. It was preceded by a man waving a red flag. The other concerns an incident with her school teacher, Mr Rose. In the stand at the tennis court Mum discovered Mr Rose’ tennis clothes and, putting on the trousers, she jumped up on the table and did an impromptu dance. What she didn’t realise was that the teacher had observed her. The next day the class was to write an original essay. Mum began hers with an old ditty: “You asked me for something original But I hardly know how to begin For there’s nothing original in me Excepting original sin” . When the essays were handed back the next day Mr Rees had appended his own observation:” I know there’s a deal of original sin And a jolly good lot of it reaches A long way up and a good way round When you wear Mr Rose’ white breeches“. I think this shows nearly as much about the teacher as it does about Mum.
.After she left school, life settled down to housework, outings, sewing (often by kerosene light at night) and other crafts. Mum dabbled a little in painting though we have no examples. She played the cello and there must have been singing and music around the piano for Mary played that instrument while Alice played the violin. She was also said to be an excellent horsewoman. I never heard stories of her life at Cordeaux, nor, after the family moved to Unanderra, how she met Dad ( Walter Dunster Lindsay). They had to wait a long seven years before marriage was possible, she because of family commitments and he because he had to save enough money to pay his share of the property he shared with his brother, Eric, and some of the sum needed to build a house. They were married on April 28 1928 at St Phillips Sydney by Bishop Irvine, coadjutor Bishop of Sydney
Walter and Ethel Lindsay on their wedding day
Ethel and Walter Lindsay
The first four years were spent in a farmhouse on a property, Lakeview owned by Ernie Lindsay. This house was an old home with wide verandahs, no electricity and open fireplaces. I remember the latter because, in the summer time, possums would come down the chimney of the lounge at night and were fed with hunks of bread. There was a mulberry tree near the back gate and I’ve no idea why I remember that so well. A hammock hung on the side verandah and that I do remember clearly because I stood up in it to show off and falling off, I broke my arm for the first time. I was born on February 24 1929 and sixteen months later my brother, John, made his appearance. Mum had developed a kidney complaint after I was born and was sick for some time so I was bottle fed. John had the benefit of mother’s milk and was a plump and easy baby. She is seen here at Lakeview with Ruth and John in the squatters chair she gave her husband for their first wedding anniversary.
Ethel Lindsay with daughter Ruth and son John Lindsay
The property at Karara had a small old grey house on it and Dad and Gug (Eric) would camp there but , in 1933, Dad had the house built at “Karara” and we moved down there. It seems Mum designed the house. It cost 1200 pounds to build and was quite sumptuous for the times. There was electricity, but no hot water and it was many years before mains water reached the area .The windows had lead lighting in the panes of the lounge and front bedroom and most of the woodwork was Oregon. Mum kept it spotless with the help of a maid. I remember four of them and they all stayed for quite some time, pleasant local girls. When things got difficult for the men Mum would help with the milking though she hated it. She certainly hated it enough to make sure that I never learned the art. Mum’s cooking skills were well known and she was asked to judge at local shows. She won many prizes for her embroidery and was asked to judge that also as far afield as Robertson and Kiama. I remember a beautiful christening frock that she sent to the Royal Easter Show. It won the top embroidery prize and the judges were so impressed that they asked for a championship ribbon from the cattle ring and sent that back with the frock. Later she gave the frock to the Red Cross to be raffled. The raffle made about 40 pounds which was quite a sum in those days.
Visitors were treated with tremendous hospitality and always went away with gifts of flowers, cream, fruit or any goodies that were at hand. Conversely I haven’t much memory of goods flowing the other way. Mum had a love of flowers and gardens that was lifelong and culminated in ‘Karara’ winning the Herald Open Garden Competition three times.
She stopped entering after that because, she said, she had three trophies by then, one for each of her children. I should add that Gug was responsible for keeping the lawns immaculate for these displays, Dad was an impeccable weeder and Mum was the genius behind design and growth.
Those early years at Karara were Depression years. Being on a farm meant no food hardships but money was tight and every penny was counted twice. Mum was 32 when I was born which was far above the average age for first births. It may well have been my parents fierce abhorrence of debt which made them wary of having more family for some time. Mum had been brought up Catholic though her mother was Protestant and Dad was (a not particularly devout) CofE. I think avoiding having children was probably hard for them. David (left) arrived 7/7/37 and Phillip (right) was born 2 years later. They were both healthy little boys. I don’t think Mum ever got over the tragic death of Phillip at 19 months. He was a merry little fellow and very lively so that when the baker forgot to put the ring back on the gate it was not surprising that he should have run out on to the back road and been run over by the farm utility. That was a vehicle with an unusually high dashboard and Keith, who worked for us, was a short man. He too was devastated. Mum had a nervous breakdown and was in hospital for a while. We were never able to mention the baby again.
Phillip Lindsay
Mum had been used to a world of relatives but, as Dad was one of ten and the first to marry, I think Mum sometimes felt she’d married the lot of them. After all, Gug lived with us and it must have seemed at times as though she had two husbands to care for, one to love and the other to look after. Gug had at least four ladies lined up nearly to the proposal stage but always jibbed at the engagement ring .
Eric Lindsay (Gug)
Mum and Dad loved each other dearly and I never knew them to quarrel. (After Dad died Mum resented the fact that he was taken and Gug still alive and it was sad to see her being so difficult with him). Two of Dad’s sisters were only a walk across the paddocks. Nothing happened that wasn’t chewed over by the whole family. As against that the family always rallied around when sickness or tragedy struck. There are compensations and I loved all my aunts. None of the five ever had children (except Auntie May whose daughter was stillborn). When Mum was sick there were aunts to look after us. Soey Dunster (Dad’s cousin) minded me when I was a baby and Mum had nephritis; Auntie Hilda got leave from hospital and nursed John and me at West Horsely when we had influenza very badly.
Lindsay Sisters at West Horsley
Hilda Lindsay
Eric and Doris Lindsay and Soey Dunster
There always seemed to be people dropping in and the old wood stove turned out scones and cakes at a great rate. My brothers and I are always grateful to Mum for insisting that we received the education she was unable to have. I doubt if it would have greatly worried Dad but he listened carefully to all Mum’s arguments and she always won the day.
I was brought up with Ethel Turner’s and the Anne books but Mum was quite nostalgic about the “Elsie” books. Years later I bought one in a second-hand shop and found it so priggish and narrow minded as were the few other early books from my parents’ childhood that I could understand why so much of their lives seemed staid and conformist. While we were young Mum and Dad only had two holidays, both at ‘The Cecil’, a guest house in Katoomba.
The Cecil Guest House in Katoomba is getting a new lease of life See it here
A trip to Sydney was a major event and the furthest my parents were to travel together was to visit me Grafton after I married. After Dad died Gug treated Mum to a round the world Herald Garden Tour special. This was marred at the end by Gug’s sudden death as he was leaving a football match. It was while she was preparing for the trip and needed a passport that Mum discovered that she hadn’t been christened Ethel Hope as she’d always believed but Ethel Sarah. She also discovered that her birthday was on September 26th not 28th. (Alice was to discover in the same way that she had been celebrating and noting her birthday some ten days later than her birth certificate claimed. Perhaps Laurence had been celebrating on the way to the registry!).
When Gug died it became impossible for Mum to live alone at Karara and she moved to a strata title unit in Wollongong.
Ethel Lindsay centre with her children Ruth John and David at her unit in New Dapto Rd
Karara was sold to a man who, as a youth, had looked at the place from afar and always longed to own it. He looked after the house very well but knew nothing about gardening and so the garden fell on hard times.
In Wollongong Mum had friends from her days as a member of the Garden Club. She joined the Red Cross and was put in charge of the hiring of medical equipment. But the time came when she needed family care. As I at the time was looking after May and Bob in Grafton nursing homes David settled Mum just up the street from his own place in a very neat cottage complex with a small yard back and front. He and Rosalind looked after her untiringly and lovingly. I tried to visit her as often as possible and wrote regularly every Sunday, receiving letters in return written in handwriting I’d have been proud to call my own. After she died and David retired he sold his home and moved there himself. She was nearly 98 when she died and was very much her own person until a few months before her death.
Ethel Lindsay with great grandson Nick Strong at her grandson Michael Lindsay’s wedding circa 1989
Today’s post shares the life story of my grandfather Walter Dunster Lindsay (1893-1967) through the eyes of my aunt Ruth Rae (née Lindsay).
The third son and fourth child of Mary and John Lindsay, Walter was born into a dairy farming family well known in Dapto and throughout the Illawarra of that time.
He didn’t speak much of his family or his childhood though we were told he played a good game of tennis and of football in early youth until, at the age of 16, he contracted Rheumatic fever which ended such games for a long while. He told me once that while he was very ill it was his eldest sister, Muriel, who looked after him most, his mother being preoccupied with all the younger siblings.
Muriel Lindsay
It was during convalescence that his one tale was of the birdcage he built in the warmth of the big family kitchen. When it was finished to his liking he found it was too big to get out of the door. But we never heard what did happen to it.
He was a gentle man, slow to anger and rather shy. This shyness may well have been because he was born with a harelip and cleft palate, neither mended with today’s skills. He probably took more interest in his children than he showed but he seemed to have all the conservatism and indifference to his young family that he claimed his forebears displayed so abundantly. He left his wife, Ethel, to dispense both tenderness and discipline. Only once did he show anger and act upon it. That was when he was obliged to return to the dairy late one evening and did some damage to his shins when he tripped over his son John’s bike which had been carelessly left on the ground just outside the gate from the house. John, despite his protests, was the recipient of a sound hiding according to the traditions of justice of the day. It was only later that it became clear that it was a workman who had borrowed the bike, and not John, and had thrown it on the ground at the gate when he had finished with it. None of the children ever received any form of punishment from their father from that day on.
He did his work slowly, thoroughly and methodically, illustrated by his technique for washing up. He took responsibility for this within the dairy for half a century and, after retirement, continued it into the kitchen. First everything was rinsed, then washed immaculately, then rinsed again. It took all evening for he suspected that detergents had hidden implications for health. When he weeded a garden the result was just perfect and raked evenly to a fine tilth.
His conservatism extended to all things mechanical and, when a shortage of labour during the war forced Lindsay Bros to buy a milking machine, it was taken on with extreme suspicion and reluctance. For most of the war years the cows were milked by machine in the morning because it was the only way to get the job done and by hand in the afternoon when an extra person was available. Even with the machine his distrust was such that he always sat down and verified that the machine had done its work properly by doing a short finishing milking , or stripping as it was called. The cows gradually got used to this and saved up some of their milk for the hand milking so that some of them gave as much milk the second time around as they had initially given to the machine. Consequently milking 80 to 100 cows took and eternity and an inordinate amount of manpower- 6-7 hours a day plus another 2-3 hours for washing and cleaning the dairy equipment. There was not a lot of time for other farm work or recreation and he indulged in very little of either. This remained the case until the Karara herd was dispersed in 1958.
A treasure I inherited from my grandfather
It was many years before he could afford a car (Eric owned one and that was the family car) but he was very pleased with the one he bought and he drove it skilfully and well.
Eric Lindsay
He had a good relationship with Eric and they had nicknames for each other. Dad was ‘Andy’ when Gug was ‘Horace’ while, in other gender mood, Gug was ‘Katie’ and Dad ‘Lena’. I don’t know who thought up the names, but Doss and Estelle were referred to as ‘The Tabbies’ and Estelle was ‘Longo’. John was referred to as ‘The Boss”. Of them all Dad felt closest to Roy, who Mum always said should never have been a farmer. He had a lovely tenor voice, loved books and music. He planted a groves of trees on the farm and attempted innovations like breeding special types of poultry. The few times his name came up I noticed tears in Dad’s eyes. Roy died, aged 36 of a ruptured appendix. He apparently was in great pain on a Friday but refused to disturb the doctor’s weekend so waited till Monday morning when the condition was too advanced for treatment.
Walter and Eric began to value add ( to use a modern expression) to their dairy farming activity by becoming vendors of milk. Eric was the entrepreneur (to use another modern expression) and Walter the anchor man.
Bill Seath delivering milk for Lindsay Bros, Dapto in 1940.Photo supplied by Caine Seath from Dapto History in Photos
To upgrade the herd Eric went to New Zealand and bought a prize bull. It became an extremely successful business and WD &ES Lindsay, later to be called Lindsay Bros, was , at its height . retailing more milk in the Wollongong-Port Kembla district than any other firm including the Dairy Farmers Cooperative Milk Company. Some 8 or 9 farmers in the district sold their milk to the firm and this was cooled, stored and distributed through some 3 domestic milk runs and a wholesale network that included almost every milk bar and general store from Dapto in the south to Austinmer and Coaldale in the north. Eric would go to bed early and set off in the wee small hours with a laden truck to start the days distribution. Particularly in the hot months he would leave the milk in the cool room till the last possible time necessitating the early rising. After the war draconian and unfair government regulations were imposed that forced all other farmers to sell their milk only to a government agent which was the rival Dairy Farmers Milk Cooperative. With the loss of their major source of supply, Lindsay Bros were forced to sell their domestic business and retain only the wholesale business in the city of Wollongong itself. Their milk was subjected to regular and intrusive testing, while that of the rival company was not, but were always found to be well above the prescribed norms. Eric bought the farm, “Kembla Park” and a subsidiary dairy was set up to augment the supply of milk. Lindsay Bros also bought a small farm at Albion Park to run dry and young stock But the retail business was only a shadow of its former size. The company could not afford or warrant upgrading its machinery to enable processing and pasteurization which were beginning to be an important part of the industry and the business and herd were sold in 1958. The Dairy Farmers bought the plant which they scrapped to forestall potential competitors but the herd, which had become well known for its productivity in the State herd testing scheme, attracted excellent prices for the time. Walter was 65 at this time and Eric 64 so retirement was timely option.
Sale of Karara Herd John Lindsay
Sale of Karara Herd J
Sale of Karara Herd John Lindsay
The sale of the Karara herd attracted buyers from across Australia
Dad and Mum ( Ethel Lindsay nee Carr )fell in love 7 years before they were married, the first of his family to do so. They had to wait for several reasons: her responsibilities to her parents (her two sisters had moved away and were working) and the need to have a home when the farm was established.
Ethel and Walter Lindsay
Walter and Ethel Lindsay on their wedding day
Walter and Ethel on their wedding day – photo on the right
Karara only had on it a weatherboard old house with no facilities whatever and a cloying smell of dust and age. There was also the matter of religion – he, Protestant and she, Catholic. The exact details of the arrangement that allowed this to happen were never divulged but Mum was presumably excommunicated from the Catholic Church because she never attended mass again. They were married in St Phillips in Sydney and went home to a rented house called “Lakeview’ at Unanderra- a house with no electricity and home to a host of possums. Gug joined them and lived with them for the rest of their lives. Dad spoke of the Catholic Church only with bitterness but he always avoided mentioning the subject of their marriage.
Fortunately, the acrimony did not extend beyond the church and the Carr and Lindsay families had an extremely good relationship. For example , Gug and Auntie May were particularly fond of each other, platonically of course, and the Christmas table at Karara always had all available members of both families around it.
Ethel Lindsay with her sisters Mary and Alice Carr
After the business was sold the garden became a pleasant hobby.
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He had always had a love of nature and knew all the birds around the farm. He watched them nesting and was so determined that they would not be disturbed that he told nobody about it. I often regret not having been allowed to share his knowledge. Mum would always consult him before hanging out the washing, and I can’t remember that his forecasts were ever wrong. I understand that he had only one year of secondary schooling, but he must have absorbed a tremendous amount of knowledge later as he read the Herald from cover to cover.
One very cold winter when Dad and Mum were house-sitting in Cowra for John and Robyn, I sent them an electric blanket. This was a sheer delight to him – there was only one control and he would set it to keep very warm, while Mum, who couldn’t spoil his enjoyment. slept with both feet outside the sheets. When small battery radios came in he considered it pure heaven to lie in a warm bed, head in the cool air, listening to news from far places. Then I would be called in to prepare a very large, cold milkshake which he drank with gusto before turning out the light.
He had been plagued for years with a so called ‘gastric ulcer’ and frequently complained of severe indigestion. In his late sixties this symptom was belatedly diagnosed as a severe hiatus hernia with oesophageal reflux. The strictures in his throat prevented him swallowing and he was admitted to hospital in Sydney for an operation. Five days post-operatively he was sent home, sitting up in an ambulance. He was a long time recovering. By this time his cardiac system was showing signs of damage and he died in Wollongong Hospital in April, 1967. Thus passed a good man who had never knowingly hurt a living thing. His last thought as he died was for Mum whom he adored and she was to live on for over twenty more years without him.
Phillip, Walter and Ethel Lindsay are buried at St Lukes Church Brownsville
Table – John Lindsay and Mary Dunster and children
Name
Born
Died
Status
John Lindsay
1857
1930
Married: Mary Dunster
Muriel
1887
1961
Unmarried
Charles
1888
1964
Married: Eileen McPhee
Joseph Roy
1890
1929
Unmarried
Walter Dunster
1893
1967
Married: Ethel Carr
Eric Stratford
1894
1970
Unmarried
Estelle
1897
1962
Unmarried
Harold Thornbury
1895
1959
Unmarried
Hilda
1900
1963
Unmarried
Doris
1899
1980
Unmarried
Hilton
1902
1964
Married: Edith Martin
OBITUARY. MR. JOHN LINDSAY.
Mr. John Lindsay, a member of one of the pioneer families of the Illawarra, died suddenly at his home, West Horsley, Dapto, on Sunday evening, aged 73 years. He had only returned home on Friday after a holiday trip in the Western districts, and appeared in the best of health. The late Mr. Lindsay was born near Unanderra, and was a son of the late Mr. John Lindsay, of Kembla Park, who was a noted breeder of Ayrshire cattle. The late Mr. Lindsay was also a noted cattle breeder, and met with many successes at agricultural exhibitions. For many years he was a member of the committee of the Dapto A. & H. Society, and at the time of his death was one of the trustees of the Society; he was also a Churchwarden of St. Luke’s Church of England, Brownsville. He was held in very high esteem in the district, being a man of very high principles, his word being his bond. The funeral on Tuesday was one of largest ever seen in the district. A short service was held in St. Luke’s Church of England, prior to the interment in the cemetery attached to the Church grounds. The Rev. O’Neil, an old friend of the family, and the Rev. Chapple were the officiating clergy. The late Mr. Lindsay was predeceased by his wife some four years ago, and he is survived by five sons, Messrs. Charles, Walter, Eric, Harold and Hilton, and four daughters, Misses Muriel, Estelle, Doris, and Hilda. One son, Roy, died some years ago. Messrs. George, Thomas, and Charles Lindsay are brothers, and Mrs. E. T. Evans, Dapto, and Miss Lindsay, Kembla Park, are sisters of the deceased. Mr. Charles and Miss Hilda Lindsay had just arrived in Tasmania on a holiday trip, when they received the news of their father’s death. They immediately crossed to Melbourne and arrived in Sydney on Wednesday by means of one of the aeroplanes of National Airways Ltd. We extend our sympathy to the bereaved family. Source
As I delve deeper into my family history, I’m struck by a recurring theme: the erasure of women’s identities. Reading the obituary of my great-grandmother in the Kiama Independent from June 10, 1925, it’s evident that women were often not given the dignity of being named in their own right. MRS. JOHN LINDSAY – not even her first name (Mary) is mentioned. Instead, she is an extension of her husband’s identity. This was a woman who lived a full life, moving from Tullimbar to Shellharbour, raising a family, and being an ‘ideal wife and mother’. Yet, her personal identity is overshadowed by her husband’s name.
Obituary – MRS. JOHN LINDSAY. Wednesday June 10 1925 Kiama Independent
The death took place at her residence “West Horsley,” Dapto, on Sunday night, of Mrs. John Lindsay. ‘The deceased lady had been in her usual health until Wednesday evening last when she was suddenly overcome by alarming symptoms of what appeared to be peritonitis. Dr. Kerr, of Wollongong was called in immediately and on consultation with his brother, decided to have the opinion of a specialist. Consequently Dr. Poats of Sydney arrived with a special nurse and an operation was performed, but although the operation was in itself successful, Mrs. Lindsay’s strength was not equal to the great shock incurred and she gradually sunk until death took place in the presence of her loved ones on Sunday night.
Mrs. Lindsay was born at Tullimbar and came to Shellharbour with her parents, the late Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Dunster, when quite a tiny child. She spent her girlhood at the old home at “The Hill” until her marriage with Mr. John Lindsay ,about 40 years ago, since then she has resided continuously at “West Horsley.” An ideal wife and mother she will be sadly missed by her loving husband and family of six sons and four daughters. Of Mrs. Lindsay’s brothers and sisters Mrs. J. E. Miller (Shellharbour), Mrs. Musgrave (Dunoon), Mr. Joseph Dunster (Billinudgel), and Mr. Walter Dunster (Dapto) still survive. One sister, the late Mrs. John James and two brothers the late W. C. Dunster and Robert Dunster, of Shellharbour, pre-deceased her. The funeral took place at Brownsville Church of England cemetery yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon.
Nola Irvine’s life was a testament to love, resilience, and community spirit. Her ever-smiling face, unwavering friendship, and compassionate personality left an indelible mark on all who knew her. As we remember Nola, we celebrate a life well-lived, filled with joy, strength, and an enduring faith in God.
Irvine Family- L to R Back Row Sisters Nola, Valma, Olwyn and Molly, Front Row Parents Ivy ( nee Fredericks) and Robert Irvine
Nola Marjory Irvine’s life is a beautiful tapestry woven with threads of love, resilience, and an unwavering spirit. Born on July 21, 1926, at “Brooklyn,” a private hospital in Kiama, Nola was baptized and christened in the Church of the Resurrection (CoE), where she remained a devoted member throughout her life.
Nola grew up on Clover Hill, a dairy farm run by her parents, Robert and Ivy Irvine, since their marriage in 1920. Despite the untimely passing of her father in 1949, the family continued to manage the farm with the invaluable support of share-farming families like Ray and Avril King and later, Michael and Lynne Strong. These families provided much more than labour; they offered genuine friendship and neighbourly support, enabling the Irvine family to stay rooted at Clover Hill.
Education was a challenge in the early days, with Nola and her sisters often riding horses and walking long distances to attend Jamberoo Public School. Eventually, Nola completed her education through correspondence with Blackfriars’ Correspondence School, which later became known as the School of the Air.
Nola Irvine is 2nd from the right in the bottom row at Jamberoo Public School circa 1931-1932
Nola’s childhood memories are filled with joy and laughter. Visits to Clover Hill were marked by her great sense of humour, engaging board games, and delicious treats. Her love for animals was evident as she cared for her chooks, cats, birds, and cows, always accompanied by her faithful feline friends during farm chores.
Diagnosed with Coeliac disease in 1985, Nola faced her health challenges with remarkable strength and positivity. Her condition, undiagnosed for many years, never dimmed her spirit.
Her favourite saying, “it’s only a problem if you make it one,” encapsulated her approach to life. Nola’s calm, loving nature and unwavering faith were a testament to her resilience and courage.
Nola was an active member of the Girls Friendly Society during the war years, participating in hikes and picnics. Her loyalty and warmth were highlighted by her pen pal relationships, particularly with friends in England, which spanned over 50 years. A visit from her pen pals about a decade ago was a cherished moment, allowing Nola to proudly showcase her beautiful district.
Her passion for photography, inherited from her father, and her interest in family history were integral parts of her life. Nola played a significant role in researching and publishing the Fredericks Family History in the 1970s, preserving the legacy of her ancestors, including her two great-great-grandfathers who fought in the 1815 Battle of Waterloo.
Nola’s life was a testament to love, resilience, and community spirit. Her ever-smiling face, unwavering friendship, and compassionate personality left an indelible mark on all who knew her. As we remember Nola, we celebrate a life well-lived, filled with joy, strength, and an enduring faith in God.
Nola Marjory Irvine, born July 21, 1926, passed away on June 20, 2004. Her legacy continues to inspire us, reminding us of the power of love and resilience.
As urban boundaries stretch and twist, let’s not forget the green fields and the mindful practices that sustain them. Here’s to a future where growth and green can coexist, beautifully. 🏙️💚🌾
In the shadow of rapid urban expansion, the distinction between prime agricultural land and productive prime agricultural land has never been more crucial. As our countryside skirts ever closer to the bustling edges of expanding cities, the importance of utilising every inch of agricultural space wisely and sustainably cannot be overstated. Today, more than ever, the practices we adopt on these precious plots of land can ripple through our ecosystems, economies, and communities. 🌍💡
In the context of farming, the term “productive” specifically refers to land or farming practices that not only support the growth and health of crops or livestock but crucially have the ability to generate a positive return on investment (ROI), ensuring the economic viability and sustainability of the agricultural operation.
Why Timing is Everything in Grazing 🕒🌾
Amidst the push and pull of urban development, the practice of grazing dairy cows at the optimal stage of grass growth emerges not just as good farming but as a necessity for maintaining the delicate balance between productivity and sustainability. Here’s a closer look at the benefits of getting this timing just right:
Optimal Nutrition for Peak Performance 🍽️💪
In areas squeezed by urban pressures, making the most of available pastureland means grazing our cows on young, nutrient-rich grass. This ensures they’re getting a diet packed with the energy and protein needed for top-notch milk production, a critical factor when land is at a premium.
Digestive Health and Happiness 😊🐄
The health of our dairy cows is paramount, and grazing at the right moment promotes efficient digestion and nutrient uptake, vital for the well-being of the herd and the quality of milk produced. Healthy cows in healthy pastures are the bedrock of productive dairy farming.
Sustainable Pastures, Sustainable Future 🌍💚
As urban areas encroach on agricultural land, the importance of sustainable pasture management becomes magnified. By practicing rotational grazing and ensuring cows graze at the ideal growth stages, we’re not only optimising milk production but also contributing to soil health, biodiversity, and carbon sequestration. In the face of urban expansion, these practices are vital for environmental stewardship. #SustainableFarming
Economic Efficiency: More Moo for Your Buck 💷🐮
In the context of diminishing agricultural space, efficiency is key. By maximising the productivity of each pasture through precise grazing management, dairy farmers can navigate the challenges posed by urban sprawl, ensuring a profitable operation that thrives on quality, not just quantity. #EfficiencyIsKey
The Practice of Precision Grazing 📏🌱
Precision grazing stands as a beacon for dairy farms encircled by urban growth. It allows for meticulous management of grazing schedules, ensuring that cows feed on grass at its nutritional peak. This method is essential for sustaining an endless cycle of growth and regrowth, vital for farms fighting for space and relevance against the tide of development. 🔄🌿
The Takeaway: Grazing Gold 🏆🌾
As we navigate the complexities of farming in the age of urban expansion, the role of targeted grazing practices becomes not just beneficial but imperative. It’s a testament to the resilience and adaptability of modern dairy farming—a commitment to excellence in the face of encroaching urban landscapes. So, let’s raise a glass to the farmers who make it possible for us to enjoy high-quality dairy, all while stewarding the land with care and foresight. 🥛❤️
Remember, in the ballet of progress and preservation, every step, every graze, counts. It’s not just about sustaining; it’s about thriving. #DairyFarming #GrazingGold #UrbanExpansion
As urban boundaries stretch and twist, let’s not forget the green fields and the mindful practices that sustain them. Here’s to a future where growth and green can coexist, beautifully. 🏙️💚🌾
The 1st of March launches an important pasture management strategy for our dairy farmers. Its so important that our dairy farmers DO NOT take holidays in March or April.
So what is the story…
In the picturesque rain-fed pastures of Jamberoo, dairy farmers have mastered the art of keeping their lands green and productive throughout winter and spring. The secret? A strategic farming technique known as oversowing, where ryegrass seeds are introduced into existing kikuyu grass pastures. This practice is crucial for ensuring that cows have access to energy-rich feed during the colder months when the robust summer grass, kikuyu, fades.
However, this isn’t without its challenges. The high rainfall in Jamberoo can sometimes lead to an overgrowth of kikuyu, making the planting of ryegrass a bit of a balancing act. Farmers must carefully manage the kikuyu levels to give the ryegrass seeds a fighting chance to establish themselves without competition. This meticulous management is what sets Jamberoo’s dairy farms apart, ensuring that they remain green and productive even when other farms do not.
To tackle the task, many farmers in the area have turned to innovative methods like using fertiliser spreaders for efficient seed distribution —a tool that plants seeds directly into the soil with minimal disturbance. This not only preserves the soil structure but also reduces erosion and maintains moisture levels, making it a win-win for both the environment and the farmers.
Other farmers in Jamberoo opt for direct drilling, a technique that allows for precise seed placement into the soil without significantly disturbing the existing grass or soil structure. This method is especially beneficial for integrating ryegrass into kikuyu pastures, as it minimizes competition and promotes better seed germination and growth. By using direct drills, farmers can maintain the soil’s health, reduce erosion, and ensure that the new seeds have the best possible start, contributing to the sustainability and productivity of their dairy farms.
This photo shows a direct drill where a light knock down spray has being used to give the ryegrass every possible advantage
While sod seeding ryegrass into kikuyu offers benefits, managing kikuyu’s aggressive growth is crucial to prevent it from overwhelming the ryegrass. Effective strategies include regular mowing or slashing to keep kikuyu manageable. In cases where kikuyu growth is too dense, farmers might opt to bale it for silage, ensuring the ryegrass has room to establish. Additionally, setting clear boundaries is essential to contain kikuyu within desired areas, preventing it from encroaching into spaces reserved for ryegrass.
While kikuyu grass offers rapid establishment and drought resistance, its aggressive growth requires diligent management. Through innovative practices and careful planning, the dairy farmers of Jamberoo have found ways to harness its advantages while ensuring the successful establishment of ryegrass, thereby keeping their pastures and our rolling green hills productive year-round.
The story of pasture management in Jamberoo highlights several connections to the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Let’s explore them:
SDG 2: Zero Hunger
The oversowing technique ensures that cows have access to energy-rich feed during colder months, contributing to food security for both humans and animals.
By maintaining productive pastures, dairy farmers support sustainable food production.
SDG 15: Life on Land
The meticulous management of kikuyu levels demonstrates responsible land stewardship.
Innovative methods like using fertiliser spreaders and direct drilling minimize soil disturbance, reduce erosion, and promote soil health.
SDG 12: Responsible Consumption and Production
Efficient seed distribution through fertiliser spreaders reduces waste and ensures optimal resource use.
Direct drilling minimizes resource-intensive practices, aligning with sustainable production principles.
SDG 13: Climate Action
By preserving soil structure and reducing erosion, these practices contribute to climate resilience.
Maintaining green pastures helps sequester carbon and mitigate climate change.
SDG 6: Clean Water and Sanitation
Reduced erosion and moisture preservation benefit water quality and availability.
Responsible seed placement minimises water runoff and contamination.
SDG 8: Decent Work and Economic Growth
Efficient pasture management supports dairy farmers’ livelihoods and economic stability.
Innovative techniques enhance productivity and profitability.
In summary, Jamberoo’s pasture management strategy exemplifies sustainable practices that address multiple SDGs, promoting environmental conservation, food security, and economic well-being. 🌱🐄🌎
This is the second in a series of four blogs outlining my mother’s family’s journey to dairy farm in Australia beginning very humbly the 1880’s with starting capital of 10 shillings and proudly continuing today
The journey begins with a ship the “Samuel Plimsoll” which carried 9 members of the Chittick family. Leaving Plymouth in April 1880 and arriving in Sydney in July 1880.
In the picturesque landscapes of Australia’s Gerringong and surrounding areas, the story of the Chittick family unfolds—a tale rich in history, resilience, and accomplishment. It’s a narrative woven through generations, beginning with Henry Chittick, the patriarch, and stretching across the lives of his descendants, impacting the dairy farming industry and local communities significantly.
This is what Henry Chittick’s “Alne Bank ” family farm purchased in the late 1800’s looks like in the 21st century – This photo was taken by Ken Duncan in 2005
Born in 1860, Henry Chittick’s life was a testament to perseverance. Arriving in Australia in 1873, he faced early adversity with the death of his mother and the loss of family capital. His arrival in Gerringong with his brothers marked the beginning of a remarkable journey. Henry, along with his brother Robert, found work on a farm in Saddleback Mountain, laying the foundations of their future.
Henry’s commitment to hard work saw him involved in various ventures, including working for the Miller family and witnessing the transformation of Omega, where he once plowed fields that would become part of the Omega railway station. His entrepreneurial spirit led him to acquire land at Kangaloon, where he and his brother Robert embarked on dairy farming and potato growing—a venture that would define the family’s legacy.
Henry married Margaret Johnston in 1885, and the couple eventually settled in Jamberoo, leasing the Woodbrook property. It was here their first son, Charles, was born. The family’s move to Jerrara, to lease Cunningham’s farm, marked the beginning of a significant chapter in dairy farming. Henry’s diligence in carting milk to Kiama Railway Station showcased his dedication to the burgeoning city milk trade.
By 1898, Henry had made his first land purchase in Jerrara, an expansion that signaled the growth of the Chittick family’s influence in the agricultural sector. His savvy in business led to more acquisitions, including Glenburn farm and a part of the Riversdale estate, culminating in the purchase of Alne Bank in Rose Valley.
Tragedy struck with the untimely death of his wife, Margaret, leaving Henry to care for their five children. His devotion to his family and his land remained unwavering, establishing a successful dairy enterprise and becoming a respected figure in public affairs.
Henry’s sons, including Charles and Gustavus Ernest Chittick, continued their father’s legacy in dairy farming and cattle breeding. They became renowned for their prize-winning AIS cattle, contributing significantly to the local and national agricultural scene.
Sons of Henry Chittick
Gustavus, born in 1892, took over the Alne Bank property, expanding the family’s dairy farming and cattle breeding ventures. His marriage to Daisy May Nelson and their two sons continued the Chittick lineage in agriculture. A respected figure, Gus’s contributions to local government and the dairy industry were immense, earning him an OBE in the Queen’s Birthday Honors in 1962.
The Chittick family’s story is not just about land and cattle; it’s a narrative of community involvement and leadership. From serving as mayors to participating in church and public affairs, the Chitticks have left an indelible mark on their community.
The story of the Chittick family, from Henry’s arrival in Australia to the achievements of his descendants, is a profound reminder of the impact one family can have over generations. Their legacy in dairy farming, community service, and personal resilience continues to inspire and shape the regions of Gerringong, Jamberoo, and beyond. As we walk through the fields of “Alne Bank” or pass by the Gerringong Methodist Church, we are reminded of a family that not only cultivated the land but also nurtured a community’s spirit.
The source of my blogs is from “The Chittick Family History”, as chronicled by Mr. J.H. Chittick and Ms. Betty Chittick. It can be found in the National Library of Australia, and it is an enduring testament to a family’s journey through hardship to prosperity. I have done my best to blog it in a similar language to how it was documented in this book.
Wollongong Railway Station, 1900. 
A treasure I inherited from my grandfather 
Ethel Lindsay with her sisters Mary and Alice Carr
This is what Henry Chittick’s “Alne Bank ” family farm purchased in the late 1800’s looks like in the 21st century – This photo was taken by Ken Duncan in 2005
Sons of Henry Chittick