Planting Oaks

Walk through any park in Australia and you can feel the past beneath your feet.

The gravel paths wind gently through broad lawns and towering English oaks.

Their branches stretch wide now, throwing generous pools of shade across the grass where children run and families gather with picnic baskets.

But those trees were not always giants.

In the 1870s, when the town was young and the Darling Downs still had the rough edges of frontier life, ordinary citizens planted those saplings.

They were not politicians looking for applause or votes. They were shopkeepers, labourers, farmers, and families who simply loved their town.

During PP's excursions into croc country many years ago, there came a day, when I was asked to take the new IT officer with me as an introduction to the Cape communities, the IT bloke was fresh out of James Cook University, and a nervous type, not often away from home.

Now, to those of you not familiar with the Cape, I am talking about Cape York, up the pointy end of  Australia where the only thing bigger than the sharks are the crocodiles. And maybe the mosquitoes. And the snakes. And the spiders. You get the picture.  

Anyway, prior to the trip, which was to Lockhart River, I was "officially" invited by locals to go fishing for a day there.

All well and good, got the necessary approvals done, and off we two went, flying with Skytrans to Lockhart River, the young IT bloke wasn't all that fussed flying there,as it was monsoon time, so the flight was rough. Monsoon time up there is wet, humid and tough and rain comes down like the Niagra Falls.

The young IT bloke had never been in a boat or been fishing before. And so began today's yarn about a day fishing and how Jaws met the Titanic.........

DUSTY GULCH GAZETTE - INVESTIGATIVE FEATURE

OPERATION POUCH PILFER: THE DAY THE FENCE WASN’T ENOUGH

By Roderick “Whiskers” McNibble (who has reviewed the crumbs)

The Morning That Looked Innocent

It began as all disasters do in Dusty Gulch -  pleasantly.

Clear skies. A faint hum from Mrs McFookit’s rolling pin. Bandit the joey practising mid-level hops in the front yard. The fence was upright. The lawn respectable. The wheelie bin compliant.

Nothing suggested that by 11:17am, the town would be whispering the phrase:

“They came in broad daylight.”

As St Patricks Day approaches again, I cannot help but think back. There’s a moment, when I'm sitting under the wide Australian sky, that this old Paddy finds his mind drift homeward.

The sun beats down, the land stretches endless and dry, yet here on the coast it is green and wet,  but in my heart, I can still hear the rain pattering against the old stone walls of home. It’s in those moments that I remember the simple things - the warmth of the kitchen, the smell of the soup, and the sight of my Gran, sitting by the fire, sipping her nightly glass of stout. “Good for the blood,” she’d say with a knowing nod, as if the deep, dark drink carried the very essence of Ireland itself. And maybe it does. Because wherever you find a pint of Guinness, you find a bit of home.

So here is my story about Guinness. And it might not be the record book, but it has its own fair share of record breaking stuff. 

It has been a few months since the sad passing on the 15th of November 2025 of one of our favourite posters, Viv Forbes. I still catch myself expecting to see his name beneath an article -   steady, measured, and armed with that unmistakable blend of bush wisdom and scientific clarity.

I miss his wise words. I miss his common sense.

Few contributors left a mark quite like Viv -  a true son of the bush.

Born in Warwick in 1939, Viv brought the practical insight of a geologist, the grit of a working farmer, and the sharp, disciplined mind of a lifelong student of economics, politics, and the real science of our changing climate.

He never minced words. Through his articles, he defended carbon as the gas of life, challenged green orthodoxy, and reminded us to trust evidence over hysteria. His writing was clear, courageous, and often laced with that dry Aussie humour that made you nod in agreement while allowing yourself a quiet smile.

Viv wasn’t just a contributor here. He was family. As are we all. Here. On our blog. 

The Castle Hill Rebellion, also known as the Second Battle of Vinegar Hill, occurred on March 4th and 5th, 1804, in New South Wales, Australia. It was a pivotal moment in Australia's early colonial history, driven by a mix of political unrest, social inequality, and the desire for freedom among the oppressed convicts and Irish political prisoners.

The catalyst for the rebellion was the oppressive conditions endured by convicts and the lack of rights they faced under British rule. Many convicts were transported to Australia for petty crimes, yet they were subjected to harsh treatment, limited freedoms, and forced labour. Additionally, Irish political prisoners, who were often leaders in rebellion, added fuel to the growing discontent.

Under the leadership of William Johnston, a former Irish rebel, and Philip Cunningham, a convict, a plan to overthrow British authority was devised. The rebels aimed to seize control of key locations, including Parramatta and Sydney, and establish a free settlement.