The Vocal Local

About the Old McLarsen chapters

Old McLarsen Had Some Farms

Book One - Brave Beginnings

I was thinking that you may enjoy knowing the names of the chapters in this first book of my farming memoirs – and a taste of what each chapter contains, so here we go -

One: Introduction

From the most unlikely beginnings on the opposite sides of our wonderful world, two young people were destined to meet and form a partnership and a marriage now well into its fifth decade. Here is a small inkling of how it all came about.

Two: Welcome... ?

I'm reminded of the little train engine who's chant 'I think I can, I think I can' took him up and over the hill. No doubt about it. You had to be young and naïve and full of 'wannabe' dreams and schemes. Tackling a farming 'apprenticeship' as a young married couple was never going to be easy. Nothing a Building Supervisor and a Secretary couldn't handle... right? As it turned out, all we experienced in the next 18 months or so was exactly the 'stern stuff' needed to build the inner strength and fortitude that has kept us farming ever since. We had thought earlier 'visits' had prepared us for our new life... well-ll-ll no. Here's how 'moving day' to our new rural home unfolded.

Three: Welcome... ? (cont'd.)

Four: Kangaroo Rescue

Marsupial murder and mayhem. That's how I viewed my first and only 'roo-shooting trip. There are many ways to look at this vexing question of culling—or not. Personally, it was easy. I'm a carer, not a killer, so I flowed easily into the role of 'rescuer. There's something about a mother and child, no matter the species, that touches my deepest beliefs in the sanctity of life. Maybe my story can help you decide which side of the fence you choose to live, as you read the thought-provoking aspects of both viewpoints.

Five: Kangaroo Rescue (cont'd.)

Six: Life is Mostly Froth and Bubble

We all know the one about 'if you can't take the heat in the kitchen... '—in this case it was a question of seeking relief from the heat in the bedroom. (Now, now, now... don't jump to conclusions – I have yet another homily for this one)

'Don't be mistaken, don't be misled,

ALL that is hot, doesn't happen in bed'—hmmm...

The French don't allow us to call our 'bubbly' Champagne any more – but this concoction has always been known as Rhubarb Champagne. Maybe we can get away with it because it's not a saleable product. (Maybe something to do with its over-enthusiastic desire to escape.) I recommend you approach the accompanying recipe with great respect.

Seven: Roo-manship?

Most people raise kids—and we did, too. But at this early stage of our marriage, we raised kangaroos—and a number of needy four-leggeds, as well. So much work and worry—and despite our most heroic efforts, sometimes nothing could restore that will to live. But how shall we count the many wondrous blessings that came from our efforts to save these beautiful small creatures? Each one was such an individual; each one has a special place in our hearts forever. Here are a few delightful tales of kanga 'kapers' we shared.

Eight: Bloody Hell or Heaven?

Some days there are many shades between pastel pink and blood red. Sometimes people can be fooled, just like the way that all that glistens is not necessarily gold. This is surely a story of what 'ain't necessarily so'. From the suburban backyard of a working class South Australian family, to our hilarious harvesting many decades later on the far western side of Australia, some situations never change...

Nine: A Little Honey called Candy

Here was my first own dog, after the longest wait since my childhood companion, I had shared with my Navy brother, my darling Kim. At last, here was our golden girl, filling a gap we really wanted to crowd with children. Yet another city slicker making a tree change to the wilds of the country, and embracing every minute of her new-found freedom. Candy may have been the smallest Earth mother we ever met, but her heart expanded without boundaries, to embrace her large family, plus any needy rescue that came her way.

Ten: Ooroo means Goodbye

... in old Australian language—but not if my sweet pup, Candy had any say in the matter. Her experience with Ooroo when she was not even a teenager in dog years, reinforced her natural tendencies of loving and never-ending patience. Her tender care sustained this tiny kangaroo through his darkest hours, and throughout their widest explorations of the vast expanse of country surrounding their home. Perhaps it was fortunate for both of them that her unexpected 'real' motherhood meant an enforced weaning and new learning curve of the babe –wonder of wonders—he was actually a kangaroo.