Over the years at Fordleigh, Tom acquired additional lease hold property that was mainly scrub and timber country, with crystal clear streams flowing through. Sheep grazing in this heavy bush land were always very healthy due to the vast area they fed on. They rarely crossed the same place twice and the new growth and eucalyptus in the leaves kept them healthy, whereas sheep grazing in the open plains and red gum country were more prone to internal parasites like Barber’s Pole worm and fluke, particularly in the wetter seasons. The only way to muster the sheep in this dense bushland was with horses.
Each year a section of the land was burnt, which promoted regrowth for feed and protected the family home from bush fires, since it would be seven years before the land would burn again. After each burn, the fencing would need to be replaced. The wires would be still lying on the ground to be reused after the fire, but new fence posts would need to be cut from any suitable trees along the line. Despite the fences, the sheep would often get out and wander into the heavier bush. How far they went was dictated by the availability of water. In the cooler months, when water was not an issue, they would venture over the mountain and there would be weeks of mustering and looking for foot prints to find them. Very often there could be sheep with more than a year’s wool on them when they were found and these were classed as ‘double wool.’
“We used to have a Border Collie sheep dog called ‘Nobby’, who was absolutely useless in wide open paddocks. He spent most of his time looking up in the air and chasing birds. If we were rounding up sheep, Nobby would be tearing along, looking back over his shoulder at the horses coming behind. One particular day, he tumbled into a deep wash-out and stunned himself so he wasn’t much good for the rest of the day. But as clueless as Nobby often was, he certainly found his niche whenever he hit the bush for mustering. As soon as we’d enter the bush paddock, he would shoot his nose up into the air, then take off on his own, like something possessed! We’d often spend a good six hours out mustering on the horses in the thick scrub before returning, with little reward. And, there would be Nobby, sitting up at the gate waiting for us, with a large mob of sheep he had found”.
- from Harold's Memoirs
Shearing time at Fordleigh was a major production involving the whole family. While Tom shore the sheep, the older kids would help out as “rousies”- doing the bellies, picking up fleeces, tossing them on the wool table, sweeping up, penning up and putting tar on any sheep cuts. Millie did the wool classing mostly by feel and colour, usually with one of the little ones in the pram or pusher looking on. Towards the end of the day, one of the kids would have to go and bring up the cows for milking and Tom would brand the sheep and shed up for the next day while the milking was underway.
The original old wool shed at Fordleigh had round timber poles and roof rafters made from saplings. The roof was galvanised iron and the walls were made of red gum slabs and old tar drums cut up into sheets. There was a simple two stand overhead shearing plant with woolsley shearing gear. Tom was always a believer in everyone pulling their weight, so he taught the boys to use a shearing hand piece as early as 10 years old so they could try their hand at 'crutching'. This involved removing any wool from the face of the sheep to prevent 'wool blindness' and clearing the wool and any 'dags' from around their tail end to discourage fly strike. It was often a bit of a challenge, since at that age, the kids were not much bigger than the sheep they were trying to tackle! Never-the -less, as the years went by, persistence paid off and eventually the older boys were quite at home on a shearing stand. Usually, after a day’s shearing, or first thing in the morning, Tom would put down a bale of wool and the kids would often hop into the cumbersome, old home-made wool press to tramp the wool down before pressing.
A double box wool press.
“Our old wool press was a pretty dangerous beast made of solid red gum timber with a double box. There was a pulley up in the roof of the shed, then a windlass to pull the heavy box over. As you turned the lever, it would wind the cables around a cylinder at the bottom. A series of teeth that turned a cog, also acted as a brake. On one occasion, when one of the older boys was winding up the lever, he lost his grip on the handle and the windlass unwound so violently with the weight of the wool, that it smashed into his face, breaking his nose and causing other facial damage. Not a pretty sight and straight to hospital for a few days! Another time, when Tom was baling, he found a red patch of blood on the bottom of the bale he had just pressed. He flew into a state of panic thinking he had pressed one of the kids, but on ripping the bale open, and tossing wool everywhere, he discovered it was a squashed chook that had jumped into the bale to lay an egg!”
- from Harold's Memoirs
After the shearing was done, the sheep had to be ‘dipped’ to kill any pests or parasites like bush ticks or lice; a process that involved completely immersing them in a toxic solution of Coopers Quick Acting Arsenic Dip, diluted in water. This had to be done after the shearing cuts had healed but within six weeks of shearing so that the dipping solution could penetrate the oily lanolin in the wool to reach the skin. The shorter the wool, the easier it was to penetrate to the skin and kill any parasites that might be feeding on the wool, the skin or in some cases, even the flesh of the living animals. Also, since sheep that live in the bush are in a warm, sheltered environment, they tend to develop thin skins as they are not exposed to the colder conditions of the open paddocks. It was therefore always important to take them back to the bush as soon as possible after shearing and dipping so that they did not die of exposure if the weather turned bad.
Before the dipping could commence, the old plunge dip - a long trench about 2 metres deep, dug out and lined with concrete - had to be cleaned out. This grim job involved siphoning out as much of the old, dank, swampy water as possible, before baling out the black, stinking sludge and muck that had accumulated at the bottom over the previous 12 months. Next, it was filled up with clean water from the old well and charged with arsenic dip solution. Finally, with every available hand on deck, the dipping would begin.
A typical plunge dip lined with concrete walls.
The older boys would tip the sheep into the plunge dip while the younger ones and dogs would keep the sheep coming up from behind. This particular job for the little ones not only created a healthy illusion of "importance" but kept them well away from the dip so they didn’t accidentally fall in and drown. Tom (and in later years the older kids) would dunk each sheep under the water with a big dipping stick as they swam through to the other end of the channel, then out into the draining pen. The dogs would have to be muzzled because if they bit a sheep, it could develop an infection, or bad reaction to the arsenic poison and die. It was usually an early morning start before sunrise so that the sheep didn’t get too hot. Several hundred could be dipped in a short morning; a much quicker operation than shearing. Of course, such work was never without its fair share of drama - an overzealous young “dunker” could suddenly find themselves precariously off balance and head first into the dip, sparking yelps of amusement from the onlookers and a great measure of shock and revulsion for the unlucky kid who fell in. As a general matter of course, the dogs were also often tossed in at the end to combat any fleas.
The only real predators for livestock in the Valley were foxes and wedge-tailed eagles. Although mainly scavengers, feeding on the carcass of a dead sheep or calf, both could attack a live animal if it was sick or having trouble lambing.
If a young lamb wandered too far from its mother, or if there were twins, a fox could quite easily take one, particularly at night. “Spot light” hunting was a popular means of controlling their damage, as was hunting during the day with dogs.
Wedge-tailed eagles, particularly when nesting, would occasionally glide down and pluck up a young lamb in their powerful talons to take back to their own young. This was more common in poorer seasons when natural food sources such as lizards, small native mammals, rabbits or hares were scarce. A lamb wandering too far away on its own, however, could be vulnerable to attack in any season. If a particular "wedgie" became a problem it would be either shot or poisoned, as in those days before becoming a protected species, wedge-tailed eagles had a bounty on their heads.