First They Came...

Pastor Martin Neimoller is reputed to have delivered these now quite famous words, and the summary of history as he saw it below, in a speech before representatives of the Confessing Church, Frankfurt 1946.

THEY CAME FIRST for the Communists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.

THEN THEY CAME for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.

THEN THEY CAME for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.

THEN THEY CAME for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up.

The passage above can also be quite neatly summarised as "United we stand, divided we fall" or any number of derivatives and even through modern times still rings true.

Recently on a photography website, a blog title caught my attention: "We're Photographers, Not Criminals!" It caught my attention because for so long shooters, as a somewhat semi-organised group, had been trying to get the same message through about them.

I clicked and started reading with interest.

"Join... some of Australia’s leading photographers at an Arts Freedom Australia Protest Rally to demand fair access for all to iconic public locations like Sydney Harbour, Bondi Beach and Uluru. " (Source)

The parallels to our (Shooters) cause was uncanny!

As photographers have suffered a major image blow (excuse the pun) with the increasing association between them and any host of shady characters or downright criminals (terrorists, paedophiles etc), shooters suffered (and continue to suffer) following the Port Arthur massacre and any other incident with a firearm.

And though the reasons are somewhat different, the fight to retain access to "public" lands is again common to both. For photographers the excuse of 'National Security' and 'child welfare' are the cloaks behind which the assumption of guilt until innocence is proven lie. World famous landmarks are slowly becoming out-of-bounds for professional and amateur photographers alike. While for shooters, public safety (speaking of which, I don't think it will be long before the first fatal wild dog attack occurs on public lands) does the job of shutting down access to vast tracts of so called public lands; the assumption being we're all a bunch of malicious, negligent and drunken morons.

Like the photographers plan to, the shooters attempted to bring home a contrary message to the public; that we are not malicious or negligent or lay-about drunks. That many, many of us are just your average suburbanite, or perhaps a professional offering you our services in day-to-day life, seemed to fall by the way-side as the politically correct, anti-shooting (referred to generally as "the antis"), hysterical fanatics took their cause to the media who of course lapped it up; forever hunting for the next sensationalist story.

Now of course I'm not suggesting that every minority support every other minority without question; to do so would be ridiculous. But Don't let the fact that you don't stand to benefit directly from a cause limit the support you give. Because one day, you may need their help to protect your freedoms.

March and another flood event

Almost 12 months to the day, Junee - and the surrounding Shire this time - experienced record rainfall.

The rolling claps of thunder and bright flashes of lightning accompanied the sun's rise on Sunday, 7 March. A series of storms were skirting the western part of the Shire while intermittent, light rain fell on the town itself.

By 8:30am the rain had begun to clear and while showers were forecast for the afternoon, no-one did or could have predicted what was to come.

January had been disappointing in the rainfal stakes to say the least, while February had been a good month with close to double the mean rain being recorded. The town was looking fantastic; the gardens were lush and the parks and ovals in great condition. There was an air of optimism on the streets. Talking to some of the local agronomists yielded such information as "best soil moisture profile for a decade" and "best early season rain in years". But there was more to come.
By lunchtime the clouds had started to gather and light rain soon began to fall.

1pm and while sitting at home, it was a challenge to hear the tele over the rain pounding the tin roof. It looked as though it had well and truly set in for the afternoon and being the weather/water/flooding/engineering nerd that I am, it wasn't long before my will to stay put was overwhelmed with the desire to see what I was sure would be a transformation of the landscape as the numerous dry creeks and gullies began to run water.

A quick drive around town told me that the heavier rain was falling in the southwest areas. The creek that drained this part of town had been a topic of contention within a small part of the community following some recent flood studies. And now it was running as high as I had seen it.

It was starting to become clear that this was no ordinary rain event, but instead was something of some significance. Venturing further afield only reinforced this.

A quick drive down the highway, towards Wagga, revealed just how significant this storm was. As we topped the crest of the hill, before us was a truly awesome sight.

The paddocks were awash, the road more closely resembled a river and fences were straining against the will of the water rushing off the hills.

Hundreds of metres of fencing had been bent over or ripped out, such was the force of the water.

Thinking that this would surely result in Houlghans Creek flowing we continued on along the highway to check a few more spots.

For the next 4 hours we travelled around the Shire. It was incredible to see so much water on a landscape that is so often associated with drought and fire. Creeks that hadn't seen water run in them for several years were now not only flowing, but were almost scary they were flowing so strongly. We were almost caught on Harefield Rd as flood waters rose behind us, threatening to cut the road. Several cars were stranded when their drivers attempted to negotiate the flooded roads. And the Great Southern Railway, the only direct rail link between Sydney and Melbourne, was washed out.

In total, 87mm of rain fell at Junee's official raingauge; the highest March daily total recorded since records began in 1892. But further south the falls were even more incredible. There were widespread 100mm+ falls, while the highest reported to me was 141mm. It was also Wagga's wettest March day on record with a total of 110.2mm for the day.

In the following days the scale of this event became quite apparent. Nearly $500,000 worth of damage was caused by the flooding to local roads. 20km of fencing was either ripped out our damaged beyond repair. For the first time in 12 years Houlaghans Creek ran its full length into the Murrumbidgee River and was flowing the highest it had been for some two decades.

It really was an incredible experience to see this transformation, particularly in the north of the Shire. A large lake, Lake Noorla, filled in less than a day; this lake by all accounts had not been full for some 25 - before I was born!

This Lake Noorla was apparently constructed late in the 19th century by Chinese gold miners to serve as a watering point for the drovers and their stock on the long trip from the Queensland channel country to Melbourne. Some of the old timers recall a time when regular duck hunts, fishing trips and boating took place on the lake. And to now see it in all its glory, when only a month ago it had been a dry, dusty paddock was just awesome.





Where the creek ran out of the lake, it ran across the road, stretching for almost a kilometre. In the late afternoon light, with crisp blue skies and white clouds above, the image of this water flooding through the eucalypts conjoured a romance of the old Australia. Kangaroos bounding through the grass, a spray of water with every jump, the warbling of currawongs and the screeching of galahs; it was so wonderfully Australian.


And with this rain there was now even more optimism; Mother Nature still new how to make it rain. And I love that there is connection with the elements in the Country. Out here rain is meaningful. It isn't thought of as annoying, or a pain. Out here it isn't a nuisance, but a life giver.


It transforms the country, the landscape. It washes away the dry, brown and tired facade of summer's landscape, revealing the green of new growth and arrousing the frogs and crickets in their songs. So here's to a good season; let's hope this was but a prelude!