During the interwar period and the early years of the Second World War, the agricultural community of Arthurs Creek, Streamville, and the surrounding districts relied heavily on the expertise of local farmers and stockmen to manage livestock. Through the reminiscences of Chester Draper (b. 1905) and contemporary reports concerning residents such as Les Apted and Bill Edgington, these accounts provide a vivid record of the daily hazards and labor-intensive practices defining the lives of pioneer families in the region.
…Mr. Lodge then wanted me to ride his horse. I said, ‘I will for a pound’. He said, ‘It’s quiet’. I said, ‘Alright, ride it yourself’. He said, ‘I’ll give you a pound then’…
The following news item was published in the Advertiser of June 13, 1941 under the heading ‘Farmer tossed by Bull’.
‘While taking his Shorthorn bull home from Mr. Healey’s property last week-end, Mr. Les Apted was suddenly attacked by the bull and tossed in the air. Quickly recovering his feet, Mr. Apted dodged round a post nearby, and Mr. Healey brought down his dogs and drove the animal off. Later Mr. Apted shot the bull.’
The following is an extract from the Reminiscences of Chester Draper (born 1905).
‘(My brother) Tom and I used to break in horses. One day Bill Edgington, who worked for Reids, wanted a horse to ride. There was a mob belonging to various owners running in Denny Murphy’s paddock at Streamville. Tom and I yarded them at Lodges. Mr. Lodge wanted us to buy his horse, but we chose one owned by Leo Ryder for six pounds. Mr. Lodge said, ‘You’ll never ride it’. I put my saddle on and got on. It went through two fences of his yard and I rode it home (along Running Creek Road to ‘Barton Hill’). It went O.K. after that. We called it ‘Fire-works’, and we owned it after Bill left Reids.
Mr. Lodge then wanted me to ride his horse. I said, ‘I will for a pound’. He said, ‘It’s quiet’. I said, ‘Alright, ride it yourself’. He said, ‘I’ll give you a pound then’. We were told by my father (Jim Draper) not to ride it home. We took it home and found it an outlaw, but we soon got it under control. Mr. Lodge got it back, but we never got the pound.
Another one of the mob was Denny Murphy’s. It was wild. I rode it to Glenburn and let it go with hobbles on it, but we could not catch it next morning and finally it jumped from the 640 acre paddock to the 700 acre. I said, ‘We need a horse paddock’ and fenced in about nine acres straight away.’
