Bush life is not all isolation and hard work. Every big station has its saddle horses, and both men and women are accustomed to long rides to dances, tea parties, or picnics.
CHAPTER IX
LIFE ON THE SHEEP STATIONS
SOME of the Australian squatters and their managers live like lords. Their low, one-story houses roofed with galvanized iron have a score or more rooms looking out over wide verandas that run along the front. There are many servants and the station is often more like the estate of a feudal baron than that of an ordinary farmer. Most of the sheep men are well educated, many are college-bred, and their homes show all the evidences of culture and taste. One squatter has a picture gallery that cost him one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and others have music rooms and fine libraries. The leading Australian and London newspapers are to be found at all the stations. Whatever else is lacking, one is sure to see a well-read Sydney Bulletin lying about.
Most of the stations have large stables, with horses for the use of the men employed on the estate and for pleasure riding and driving, as well. They are usually well supplied with guns and fishing tackle, and not infrequently have tennis, cricket, croquet, and golf grounds.
Far from being slack about social forms, the people on the best sheep stations are more careful about matters of etiquette than those in the cities. It is the usual thing to dress for the evening, and, although there may not be a stranger within fifty miles, the men will appear night after night in dinner coats and the ladies in décolleté gowns. In travelling through the country every gentleman carries a dress suit with him: If he goes away from the railroad he usually tucks his evening clothes in his saddle bags or in the back of his automobile.
No matter how far out in the country they may live, both men and women pay a great deal of attention to dress, and on some of the stations a hundred miles from nowhere the latest fashions are as much in demand as in the Australian metropolis. Many of the belles of the Queensland “bush” come regularly to Brisbane and carry back wardrobes to astonish their rivals. The fair country girls of New South Wales get their fashions from Sydney and those of Victoria send to Melbourne for new clothes once or twice a year. A great deal of ordering is done by mail. One reads a good deal about the loneliness of the life in the “bush,” or “out back,” or “in the back blocks,” as the rural districts of Australia are called here. But it is my observation that, except in the most sparsely settled areas, the station dwellers have a social life of their own. For one thing, they have become used to the great distances and make nothing of visiting trips that we should consider long journeys. It is not uncommon for a young man or a young woman to ride or drive fifteen miles to take a cup of tea with a friend. At the dances, guests come from forty and fifty miles around, dance all night, and then start back at daybreak. The stations are noted for their hospitality. When a caller arrives, whether friend or stranger, everyone takes it for granted that he will stay overnight.
The automobile has worked wonders in both the social and the business life of “outback” Australia. Long inspection journeys or trips to town are now easier matters than when horses were the sole means of getting about. A homestead may be one or two hundred miles from the nearest railroad station, but the owner thinks little of running in to take the train for a business trip to the city. Sometimes, of course, the country is soaked with rain and the motor cars must be laid up for a few days. But, in general, the automobile has replaced other vehicles and is considered an absolute necessity. This is especially true for those who run several stations. I have heard of one man, for example, who has five ranches at an average of seventy-five miles apart. Two of these he visits every week, while he gets around to the others at least twice a month. He keeps a car on each of the properties as well as one at Melbourne, where the stock and wool are marketed. His bill for gasoline, oil, and repairs is more than five thousand dollars a year, but he considers this merely necessary overhead, as he says he could not well carry on his business without the cars.
Saddle horses are still indispensable on the big farms, however, and there seems no likelihood that Australia will ever stop breeding the fine horses for which she is famous. Besides, these people are racing enthusiasts, and there is great rivalry between the stables of many of the sheep men. Every town has its track, to which the station men come from a hundred miles around whenever there is a race meeting.
The big stations are often owned by syndicates or wealthy men living in Sydney or some other city, the ranches being in charge of managers, some of whom started in as “jackeroos.” “Jackeroo” is the name given the young man who begins as a ranch hand with the idea of learning the business. In the old days he was frequently a well-born young Britisher sent out ostensibly to gain experience in sheep raising, but really to be kept out of the way of mischief at home.