So, your children are complaining about how hard life is nowadays. Get them to compare their life with this account, written by Clive Emery, from when he was a child about 100 years ago:The education of a country boy or girl is not limited to the classroom. In my own experience, a lot of learning took place beyond textbooks and school curriculum. Experience, a great teacherThis is an area where the country child had an advantage over their city cousin, as we discovered when they were visiting us during school holidays. Some of the duties we performed filled them with horror, like the killing and skinning of calves and the beheading, plucking and cleaning of roosters for the baking pan, but a quite ordinarily part of life in the country. The milk they drank came out of a bottle, and they shook with excitement or terror to be asked to touch a cow's teat and draw forth a few drops of milk.There were farm duties, which simply had to be done: the milking, the washing, the cleaning, the gathering of the cattle, the feeding of cows, of calves, of pigs and horses and the ploughing of land and the sowing of crops all done in all weathers. Not just on one day, but every day in rain, hail or sunshine.This was much self-discipline in getting out of bed at the crack of dawn each morning and dressing oneself ready for work. When the milking was finished, there was the separation of cream from the milk, the turning of the separator, 55 turns per minute exactly – almost one per second – or the butterfat test would be low. That was where I learned to count, every minute of every day. And so apportion time to my greatest and smallest task, which led me to believe there was not a minute to be lost and life was too short to waste a day, forever timing myself in all occupations.The understanding schoolmasterCalf-feeding time, with a dozen heads poking through bars of a gate, straining, eager, hungry. Two heads to a bucket of frothy separated milk: The bunting, the sucking of ears or fingers afterwards, the satisfaction of feeling you were needed. The calves were dependent upon your ability to satisfy their appetite, you were their master and that was a responsibility, a trust if you like, and also a joy! It was the same with all the animals and poultry. Each boy was allotted his own tasks to manage and to discharge.Breakfast on school mornings was usually eaten as the school bell was ringing. Neither my brother nor I was ever in the playground to hear it ring, despite our efforts. The schoolmaster never demanded a note when we sat in class late, and we were given time to copy the chalked message from the board. The only notes taken were to explain our reason for missing school days, and they were exceptional.Saturdays may be a holiday from lessons at school, but it was not a holiday on the farm. There were fences to repair, ferns to brush, tussocks to dig or cattle to muster – perhaps all four, depending on the day and the urgency. We had a boundary of about eight kilometres of fencing to maintain, and it fell to me most Saturdays to service these fences, carrying hammer and staples and a small roll of barbed wire, in case of need.Adventures in the mountainsSundays between breakfast and lunch were often spent climbing the mountain forests, if the farm work was up to date, we scaled the cliffs for rock lilies in the spring, called the Wongas in the dank forest, or listened to the shrill calls of the lyrebird, or sat by a mountain stream to wait for the birds or foxes or native cats coming to slake their thirst. In the grassland, we set snares where the hares had their running tracks and trapped the rabbits on their favourite mounds. We sat by the mountain moses watching the bees watering, and then followed them to their nests, often trying the methods the black used. That of attaching a piece of thistledown to the sucking bee to make it more visible on its way to the nest, with little success, however.Then it was back home for a quick wash and dress for Sunday school before milking time, walking another mile to the church; perhaps a chance ride with Mr. Rankin in his Sulky, if there was room, mostly not for our troop of four or five was too large. After the psalms, it was back to bring the herd in for milking.The world at our feetWe always ran a garden throughout the year, learned the vegetables and their seasons for cropping and harvesting, and were applauded for our results by the household in general. We participated in exhibitions and competitions with moderate results, always striving for excellence in type and taste.We fished the creek for perch, mostly at night, with tiny lanterns with light enough to see to bait the hook, while the owls hooted, and the flying foxes screeched as they fed in the big Moreton Bay Fig nearby.Before we left school, we were ploughing fields, erecting three-rail fences using axe and adze and mortising axe, riding horses and laying concrete.We could identify birds by their call, if not by sight, and trees by their fruit, if not by their flower. We collect the eggs of the water goanna and hatched them on the verandah floor in the sun for a lark, saw the leathery egg begin to wriggle then split open and the lively youngsters make immediate haste to the shelter of a garden bed of flowers within seconds of their birth.The world was at our feet in the valley! It was alive with life, possibilities and places for experiment and achievement. We indulged in family and competition sports at every opportunity and read books by E.S.Ellis and Zane Grey, which whetted out appetites for adventure, believing everything was within reach if one only stretched out one's hand for it.
