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Updated: May 14, 2025
This is a story about the only one of Job Falconer, Boss of the Talbragar sheep-station up country in New South Wales in the early Eighties when there were still runs in the Dingo-Scrubs out of the hands of the banks, and yet squatters who lived on their stations.
'It would be better than the buggy, Joe, she said 'there'd be more room for the children, and, besides, I could take butter and eggs to Gulgong, or Cobborah, when we get a few more cows. Then James heard of a small flock of sheep that a selector who was about starved off his selection out Talbragar way wanted to get rid of. James reckoned he could get them for less than half-a-crown a-head.
He had been married a year, and had lately started wool-raising on a pastoral lease he had taken up at Talbragar: it was a new run, with new slab-and-bark huts on the creek for a homestead, new shearing-shed, yards wife and everything new, and he was expecting a baby. Job felt brand-new himself at the time, so he said. It was a lonely place for a young woman; but Gerty was a settler's daughter.
So James rode across to Talbragar and drove a hard bargain with that unfortunate selector, and brought the sheep home. There were about two hundred, wethers and ewes, and they were young and looked a good breed too, but so poor they could scarcely travel; they soon picked up, though.
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