Rosewood History

From the Queenslander (Brisbane), Saturday, 17 June 1876, page 19

FARMING IN WEST MORETON
[BY OUR SPECIAL REPORTER.]

In the ordinary course of things I generally commence my narration from the beginning of my journey, but in this case the rule may be broken with considerable advantage to the reader.

I therefore make my start from Ipswich. The weather claims first attention. It is raining “cats and dogs,” and the state of the main Ipswich and Toowoomba road may be imagined-boggy in the bottoms, slippery on the ridges, and so forth. Nothing very new to the wayfarer on that road. But the bye-roads, the lanes, who shall describe them? Owing to my natural regard for the comfort of my horse, I jogged along on a very fair road, as I imagined towards Walloon, when I came to a bye-road branching off to the right, some six miles out of town. A glance at it determined me to keep on my route and trust to luck to get a better turn off. Fortunately I met a German drayman, who in reply to my query,” How far to Walloon?” came down upon me with, “Och Gott! You not find Walloon on dis road. Dere ist one drack shust close by. You goes down dat track, und daun you turns to de right, und goes along a lettle bit, und you gooms to von flat, dere ish blenty vater, and doun you durns to de oder side, und you meets a vence-,” and a great many more directions, each more bewildering than the other. However, I turned down my rejected track, and I did find a fence-a hundred of them- selections fenced in in all directions, with an occasional house. Not a sign of cultivation anywhere. Mud and water were the principal features of the landscape.

 At last I reached a ranch where a man and woman were milking cows in a yard which was only a foot or so deeper in mud than the road. Here I pulled up, or rather the horse did, he seemed to have an idea that he was made for better things than sinking trial shafts for a good bottom with his fore feet. Here, however, I got further directions, and in attempting to follow them I arrived at an apparently recently ploughed strip of land between two fences. This turned out to be a road. We (that is, my horse and I) looked at it in mute dismay. There was, nevertheless, but one thing for it-more trial shafts. So on we plunged till time and careful sounding brought us to a house at the roadside. We stopped and entered into conversation with the only visible occupant-an old Irish lady-who informed us that the road to Walloon was before us, and ” Begorra it was the worst bit av road in Ireland. More betoken av we was only in that same at the prisint blessid moment.” 

Leaving this spot of civilisation, I struggled along through what was, as I then thought, the worst bit of road in Queensland, and at last descried some cultivation on ahead. Nothing loth, I pulled up at a very comfortable looking house, and seeing someone whom I correctly judged to be the proprietor, coming towards the gate, I dismounted, and on his invitation put my horse is the yard and made myself acquainted with the state of farming on this side of the railway line. Of course everything was soaked with water, but the cultivation ground could be walked over. My host did not appear to be deeply impressed with the prospects of farming at Walloon. The land is very flat, and in rainy weather, such as has prevailed lately, the water lies on the ground everywhere. The soil is black, stiff, and to all appearance should grow decent crops, but a closer inspection reveals the fact that the clay is touched at from six to eight inches, and consequently requires an outlay to make farming a success, which is not warranted by the results likely to be obtained. Draining and subsoiling are expensive operations, and if performed might doubtless be productive of heavier crops, but would never repay the enterprising farmer. 

Walking over the ground, I saw some oats which promised to turn out well. The usual corn crop was there, but although looking healthy, did not promise a very heavy return. The proprietor had sown several patches of lucerne, which looked pretty fair, although it showed by its growth, as compared with time, that something was amiss-the something being the shallow soil. One patch lately sown had been almost entirely destroyed by a large mottled grub, which was just going into the pupa state, after doing all the damage it could. 

The Bremer Creek, which runs past this farm, is an effectual bar to the cultivation of a major portion of it. One one occasion it rose over the land and rushed across the cultivation ground with such violence that it carried away crop and soil, leaving nothing but the bare clay. My entertainer has arrived at the sensible conclusion that if he can just cultivate sufficient ground to feed stock he will do much better than by farming. 

I saw here a method of preserving rosellas which is deserving of notice. The exterior portion of the fruit is detached from the seed-pod and dried in the sun, after which operation the dried fruit may be stored away in bags and used six months afterwards, as it retains all the properties of the fresh fruit. I was shown some rosella plants grown from cuttings which bore far finer fruit and in greater abundance than that grown from the seed. In course of conversation, the question of drainage cropped up, and this led to a visit to a neighboring farm owned by a most intelligent German. 

Here I found a system of cheap drainage which I had already heard spoken of years since in East Moreton, but had never seen put into practice. Mr. Dowe, the owner of this farm, took me over the ground and proved most satisfactorily that his method of draining was cheap, effective, and durable. The method consists in opening trenches about two to three feet deep. These trenches are filled up with logs and light timber, dead and dry be it noted. The soil is then shovelled in over the timber, and fire is placed at one end. The fire once started does not go out till the whole of the timber in the drain, no matter what length the latter may be, is completely burned out. The surrounding and superincumbent soil is thus burnt to the consistency of brick, and forms a continuous porous drain through which the water freely percolates. It never gets choked, and will last for about seven years. These drains placed at intervals of a chain thoroughly dry the ground. The cost is small, especially if timber be handy. According to Mr. Dowes’ experience, a man can open about six chains in five days. Two days suffice to cart in the timber and cover up the drain and the fire does the rest. This is a plan, which deserves the universal attention of farmers. The cultivation here is mainly intended for the purpose of raising cattle, of which description of stock Mr. Dowe is an extensive proprietor. The character of the soil appears to be everywhere the same on this side of the line, and will most certainly never pay the mere agriculturist. 

Crossing the railway line, I travelled on to Rosewood Gate station, still struggling through the most wretched roads I had hitherto seen. About five miles of this dismal work and I arrive at Rosewood Gate, whence I make a visitation of the

ROSEWOOD SCRUB. 

Rosewood Scrub is a very pretty name to write. It has an euphonious title, which would be very taking until one had seen it in wet weather. Very few people have any idea of the magnitude of this dense scrub, and still fewer, until the publication of the last census, knew that it contained eight thousand two hundred inhabitants. Nevertheless, there it lies in the immensity of one hundred and twenty-five square miles. A bewildering sort of place to get into-a sort of rabbit warren, with a labyrinth of roads and tracks which entrap the stranger into all sorts of out-of-the-way places. 

But the roads in this scrub! Many farmers remember the roads in the Oxley scrubs in days happily gone by, but they only afford the faintest notion of the execrable ways of Rosewood. Deep, stiff, and slippery, they wind amongst the dense growth of brigalow and rosewood, a deterrent to those unacquainted with the nature of the bottom. There is no help for it however, they must be faced; but where to begin? Eight thousand people means a large number of farms, and it is impossible to go to all. I elected to be guided by circumstances, and the varied and contrary advice of those “native to the soil.” 

Starting out then from Rosewood Gate, I plunge into the boggy mazes, and make fair headway at the rate of two miles per hour. The first part of the way lies along flat country intersected by deep gullies, with steep slippery approaches. Further on, the road rises by a succession of ridges, until at a certain point occupied by the farms of Mr. Farelly and Mr. Hudson, a good view of the surrounding country is obtained. At every point clearings are to be seen in the vast mass of scrub, and patches of maize, with an occasional sprinkling of oats and wheat, are visible. The quantity of maize grown in this scrub is astonishing, when it in considered that the average return has not been over thirty-five bushels per acre. Last season, I am informed that 18,000 bushels of this cereal were sent per mail to Ipswich, and a large quantity went by dray to Walloon. This year the dry season militated greatly against this particular crop, and judging from appearances, I should say that the average return all through the scrub will not top twenty five bushels. I know that some of the farmers will consider this an under estimate, but the results of the dry weather show in the unevenness of the majority of the corn fields. I saw one field where the corn of the same planting was in three different stages of growth. Many cobs are small, not well filled, and others are mere blind cobs. 

I held a long conversation with Mr. Farelly on the subject of the corn crop, and he was of the opinion that some other crop must be grown if farming is to pay. Some six years since he planted cotton, which grew very well; but as he said, it would never pay at 2d. per lb. in the seed, whilst paying children a ½d. per lb. and their food to pick it. He was ploughing a piece of ground to sow wheat, at the time of my visit, and has every confidence that it will succeed. A great many of the farmers are putting in a small acreage of wheat this season. Mr. Foote-of the firm of Cribb and Foote, is about erecting a flour mill, anticipating that the farmers will find it a far more profitable crop than maize. I saw several samples which had been grown for a trial last year, of White Lammas and Egyptian, and the wheat seemed even superior to that grown on the Downs. One Scotch farmer who thoroughly understands wheat growing, stated that he was sure of forty bushels to the acre. Should the hopes of the farmer in this neighborhood be fulfilled, the Rosewood Scrub will eventually prove to be entirely a wheat district, as the feeling seems to be universal that maize as a paying crop is a delusion and a snare. 

A short distance from Mr. Farrelly’s farm, and on the opposite side of the road, lies the selection of Mr. Hudson. The land lies on high ridges, and seems to be remarkably good. There is a considerable crop of maize here, which shows well for forty bushels per acre in many places, but there are several unpleasant looking patches on the lower ground towards the road, which are suggestive of a return which will pull down the average. Lucerne and wheat are being tried here, but the wheat already up seems to be far too thickly sown. Mr. Hudson has within the last two months taken up some land farther up the scrub, and is busy getting away the pine timber which is plentiful in the high land, and finds a ready market at Mr. Smith’a saw mill near Walloon. 

Seeing another farm contiguous to this, I paid it a visit, and found it to be the property of a Mr. Smallbones, a name by the way which I imagined to be the sole invention of the late Captain Morryat. The representative of the family in question whom I now introduced myself to, bore no resemblance to the hero of “Snarleyow,” inasmuch as he was hale and hearty and invited me to partake of an excellent roast fowl and “trimmins.” It would scarcely have been consistent with the dictates of politeness to have gratified my curiosity as to the “keelhauling” mentioned by the gallant captain, so I ate and was thankful. A walk over the farm revealed the same state of the maize crop-a portion good, and a considerable amount of poor, stunted growth promising no return. In fact, a great deal of this latter is being cut for the pigs. Wheat has been sown, and is coming up nicely, and a piece more was being put in when I visited the farm. 

Leaving my hospitable entertainer, I came upon a road party who were busy at a new road, of which more hereafter. The “Scrubbers,” as some of the Rosewood men call themselves, seem to be divided in their road counsels, and hence considerable bitterness of feeling has arisen. I shall enter more fully into this question before I conclude with the Scrub. Following directions given me by the overseer of the party, I rode along a track which in addition to being soft, boggy, and slippery, was nearly closed in by standing scrub and fallen timber, and ran over a succession of steep ridges whose sides, shining and slippery, invited descent from the obviously about-to-go-on-his-nose steed. 

Again emerging upon a cross-road, a succession of farms meets the eye. One begins to realise the presence of the eight thousand. Farm upon farm-clearing upon clearing-will they ever end? There being little choice, I turn to examine those farms to the northward, and there the universal corn is to be seen, with the same characteristics as all the rest.

Returning on the road towards the railway line, a dozen more homesteads are passed, in various stages of advancement, but not requiring any special mention until the clearing of Mr. Dale is reached. Here I found an acre of wheat sown, and Mr. Dale, who is an old hand at the wheat business, expects to reap forty bushels. He stated that when he sowed his acre, he was told by the neighbors that he would never get a crop. “Areeht,” he said, “gang yer ain gait, an’ I’ll gang mine. Ye micht be recht, but I ken that I am.” 

He agreed with many others of the scrub farmers that something else must be grown besides corn. The latter crop would not provide a decent living. Just now he is sending in brigalow, split for firewood, by rail to Ipswich, and gets 15s. per ton for it delivered in town. He thus profitably employs the idle hours enforced upon him by the recent wet weather. 

At Rosewood Gate, Mr. Vance has some twenty acres of maize, which he it sanguine will go over forty bushels. I do not think it will reach it. Mr. Vance is storekeeper and postmaster as well a farmer, to that whether the crop turns out good or poor, it will probably not seriously disturb his equanimity. It is when the farmer depends entirely upon this crop, at hundreds do here, that a comparative failure is a matter of moment. Bad crops mean bad living, and heavy struggles against debt in such cases. 

A different style of farming, and one which promises greater results than anything I had yet seen, prevails at a point of the scrub some two miles from Rosewood near the railway. There is here a cluster of homesteads and conditional purchases, held by Messrs. Dutney, Bunney, Mitchell, and others. These men were amongst the earliest settlers, and have commenced a system of growing oatmeal grasses for the purpose of raising stock. Unfortunately they were not provided with Sam Weller’s spectacles, and hence were unable to peer through the vista of eight or ten years. They scarcely expected to see Rosewood entirely occupied as it now is, and thought they would be content with small acres of ground. With astonishing rapidity, however, settlers began to pour in, until in eight years an increase of one thousand persons per annum has been the result, and now there is not an inch of available land to be had hereabouts. I understood that a petition numerously signed has been sent to the proper quarter, praying that a portion of Franklyn Vale station may be thrown open for selection. Should this occur, there are numbers ready to pounce upon the choice selections. 

On Mr. Dutney’s farm, rye-grass has been sown amongst the nearly ripe corn, alternating with prairie grass. When the corn is pulled, the stalk will be left standing, and the cattle turned in to eat down the grass and break down the cornstalks, a proceeding which will be a great saving of labor and of no injury to the field as a meadow. The seed has come up very evenly, and a thick sward has already commenced. The great objection to rye-grass is its inability to stand the scorching heat of summer, otherwise it appears to suit the soil and climate well, the cattle eating it with avidity. 

There it a very good-looking young bull on this property, about twelve or thirteen months old, and a heifer with something of the Hereford in its composition has just produced two female calves at a birth. The interesting twins are strong and healthy, and the interested owner is proportionately in raptures. Cattle look very well on the place, but still it appears to be rather flat and wet. 

Mr. Dutney has just removed to a new house, which stands on a slightly more rising position than the initiatory tenement. It has a good vegetable garden which it producing good cabbage from last year’s sowings. Cauliflowers in the same way. Potatoes do not appear to like the district. The maize, of which there is a considerable area, it very uneven. One large patch although drawn up to over eight feet, with an abundance of stalk, being pretty certain to yield less than twenty bushels per acre. The failure it accounted for by the want of rain, and this it probably the true reason, at the season was too dry for any of the usual agricultural operation to be performed at this appointed time. 

With Mr. Dutney, after a hearty dinner at his festive board, I visited Mr. Bunney’s selection. This contains 80 acres of excellent land, which is principally under cultivation for the use of his cattle. The condition of the stock shows well for their feeding. Mr. Bunny is a practical gardener, and it not at all impressed with the financial results of corn raising in the scrub. He in most emphatic in supporting the opinion of the rest, that cattle must be combined with agriculture to make both ends meet. To the question whether farming had paid him since he had been at Rosewood, he replied that he would have been better off had he remained at his trade. Of course his land was worth a good round sum, and he was not dependent on his crops, but he considered that he had not made more than a bad living by farming, and he thought a little more was required than to merely exist. 

He took me through a field of maize which was to all intents and purposes a mere mass of stalks, with about sufficient cobs to produce five bushels per acre! He has decided against any more cropping for the market; whatever is grown will for the future go into beef, bacon, milk and butter. To this end both he and Dutney have sown down a paddock of prairie grass. The cattle are busy with the crop, which they prefer to any other grass on the place. It produces an abundant mass of fodder, and spreads rapidly. The present difficulty is that the grass paddock it not divided, so that the cattle run over the whole and eat it down, and there is no second field of young grass ready for them to continue on. This is to be remedied as soon as possible, and there will soon be seen the spectacle of which to much has been written in the shape of advice to farmers, of a farm entirely devoted to the raising of stock by the cultivation of artificial grasses. There it no doubt of the lucrative nature of such a proceeding, but the limited area of Messrs. Bunney’s and Dutney’s farms must also limit the quantity of cattle to be raised for the market. This consideration is causing many to cast about for a larger extent of ground where they may enter upon the pursuit on an extended scale. 

The farming at this part of the scrub is certainly an immense improvement upon that in fashion in localities more remote from the railway line  but should it be proved that wheat on a fair scale will yield as well as the isolated samples which have been already raised, then a new era is before the hardworking scrub farmers, which may lead them by easier toil to more affluent, or at least comfortable, circumstances.