CHAPTER XX
THE MIRACLE OF THE MALLEE
Let no man declare anything to be impossible until he has seen the Mallee; he will then be in a position to affirm the reality of natural miracle wrought with the co-operation of man; he will know that a desert can blossom as the rose, and that the place where jackals lay can become a glorious human habitation. I have just beheld this miracle and now hasten to declare it.
The Mallee is an immense territory embracing about one-quarter of the State of Victoria—that is to say, twelve millions of acres. Until recent years it was regarded as a hopeless wilderness. In the early ’eighties a Royal Commission was appointed to inquire into the possibilities of this dreaded country. Their report was dismal to the last degree. The wise and learned men declared that the aspect of the country was that of a wilderness in the strictest sense of the word! sand, scrub and mallee below, the scorching sun and blue sky above, and not a sound of life to break the solemn silence. In a journey of 100 miles from north to south the Commission did not encounter a solitary bird or a single living creature. The only evidence of animal life was the barked stems of stunted scrub and bushes where the rabbit had once fed, and the dead carcases of a few dingoes which the trappers had snared or poisoned. As for water, all that could be discovered over an area of a few thousands of square miles was a few native wells, a small lagoon or two and one or two muddy water-holes. Throughout the entire region there was no grass.
Such a country was pronounced to be hopeless, and more than once the question was asked in Parliament: “Is the Mallee worth saving?”
It is a little difficult to convey to an English reader what is meant by “scrub.” It must be seen to be understood. But some idea of it may be gained if the reader can imagine an interminable country as big as four or five of the largest English counties put together, and this country covered with a dense undergrowth through which no man unaided could possibly force his way. A country absolutely flat, with not so much as a ghost of a hill to serve as a landmark. Not a track ever made by human feet. Scrub so thick that a man passing into it even for a short distance would need the device of a piece of string fastened to a tree at the place of entrance and by means of which alone he could find his way out again. That was the Mallee of forty years ago. More than one man set himself the task of conquering this wilderness. In every case he had to retire beaten. If he succeeded in clearing a space of ground and planting upon it wheat or vegetables, or raising a few head of sheep or cattle, down came the dingo and the rabbit from afar to kill his lambs and consume his green crop, or, if he successfully armed himself against these intruders, the heavens became his foe and refused to shower down the kindly rain. Wild animals, vermin and drought—the settler could not withstand them.
Then came a day when the Government erected a fence of wire netting around an enclosed area of two hundred miles. That was to keep out the dingo and the rabbit, and to give the new settlers a chance of cultivating the ground. Then followed the discovery of water in the heart of the country. Already sixty-three bores have been put down which tap water in an area of 500,000 acres. Later a supply of water has been drawn from the Grampian Hills, eighty miles away, and this is conveyed by means of channels to various settlements in the Mallee. Periodically the huge receptacles at the bottoms of the fields are filled up by this supply. Then the farmers draw it upon their land. The discovery of water in the interior, and the new supply from the Grampians, have helped to solve the problem of the Mallee. The country could not possibly exist upon its rainfall, which averages at the best only fifteen inches per annum. Enclosure and water, then, were the two primary elements in the transformation of this desert. The final element was found in scientific farming. One grand secret lies in frequent fallowing. The soil is so treated that it retains its moisture. “Dry” farming is practised by many, and the results of this process are remarkable. Senator McColl, who has made a special study of this particular branch of agriculture, predicts that by means of “dry” farming most of the difficulties of the Mallee will yet be overcome. Barely twenty years have passed since the problem of the Mallee was seriously attacked, and already a miracle has been accomplished. This former desert now produces one-fifth of the entire wheat crop of the State of Victoria, and it is claimed that Mallee wheat is the best in the world. Where twenty years ago or less a hundred acres of land would support only one sheep, to-day five sheep are supplied by two acres. Land that was not worth giving away is now valued at £5 per acre, and prices are rising. The Mallee promises to be the Beulah Land of Victoria. Indeed, the people have become prophets in naming one of their chief townships “Beulah.” At the first, the place was named in faith, and when the great drought came “Beulah” seemed to be a ghastly caricature of the actual situation. One poor settler, crushed to the dust by misfortune, yet retained enough waggishness to parody a well-known revival hymn thus:
“We’ve reached the land of drought and heat
Where nothing grows for us to eat;
For winds that blow with scorching heat
This Beulah land is hard to beat.
O Beulah land, hot Beulah land,
As on the burning soil we stand
We look away across the plains
And wonder why it never rains!”
That year of drought was terrible. Men were reduced to living on the very minimum of rations. It was only a decade ago, but the recovery has been phenomenal. As the years pass, science will lay for ever the spectre of drought.
It was through this wonderfully fertile country that I had the privilege of motoring in December, 1913. The experience was unique in every way. The hospitality of the people was unbounded. In the small towns there were banquets and receptions given in honour of the “distinguished visitor.” Churches and halls were crowded for the sermons and lectures. Farmers drove in by carriage and motor from every point of the compass. An angel from heaven could not have been treated more royally than was a preacher from Melbourne. To my amazement I found in little far-away Beulah the electric light installed in every house. The churches are beautiful little buildings. The streets of the “town” are wide. The shops are modern. The houses are commodious and comfortable. A year ago there was not a garden in the township: to-day every house has a garden. A grass lawn springs up as by magic when once water is laid on.