"We had governesses, that's plural because some of them did not like the isolation. One governess on her first night when she heard the curlews cry and dingoes howl she thought the devil at least had arrived on her doorstep and she demanded a passage home immediately. So we didn't learn much from her. Then we had some wonderful governesses."
Peg Tyndale Powell

"Mother was an outdoor person and at one stage she had us in the boat that had been up on the bank and out in the middle of the river with the water gushing in everywhere and she said 'I think you'd better do some bailing'. Then when we didn't have any effect with the bailing with little jam tins she said 'I think we'd better go back to shore'.

We kids used to row from where we had our boat parked, down to the mouth. Mum would let us go. We'd ride down there and tie the horses up and get the boat going and row and work on it until we got down… we didn't go down to the bar very often we usually stopped at the `Yates'. I think we must have got tired by then. We used to use something to hold up to sail home on. We didn't have a proper sail.

We kids used to have a money-making thing on brush skins [brush-tailed wallaby] we'd snare. We'd see where the brush would come in under the fence lines to the grass on the fields. Ross and Peg used to get on their horses and ride further up. I used to sit on the ones close to the house where I didn't have to walk far. In the morning we'd go around our traps and as we went past the wood heap we'd pick up a section of wood ready to dong them on the head. Ross used to skin the brush. As soon as I'd done my two or three holes I'd go home, I didn't have a very big heap of skins. He and Peg did much better because on the weekends they'd ride out and set where the brush didn't expect to find snares. He used to hammer the skins up on the shearing shed, which was made of wood, rough wood, and they would always have skins drying out there. When there were enough to realise on them we'd sell them to dad and then he would sell them on to one of the traders. But I had a very good system where I sold my heap several times. But when I came to the third time to sell them he said he'd already bought them twice, he wouldn't fall for it and I was disappointed in his dealing then.

We had no sentiment about killing things. If there was a sick chook we stuck it in a bag and took it down to the river and threw it in and then watched to see how many bubbles it would blow, things like this. It didn't worry us one little bit and if there were kittens they went the same way, with a stone in the bag to make sure they sank. I can remember jumping with joy at the number of things and all. But we had definite ideas about what you got rid of and what you didn't. It was a wonderful life really and there was adventures."
Betty Sewell

"I can recall the first time I ever saw and was given a fox whistle and my brother and I went off, we were going to get all the foxes in one foul swoop. What we didn't cater for, we chose a rock and we sat on this rock that looked down on the riverbed and we overlooked the fact that this rock was really a ledge, it jutted out from where it was anchored in the side of the riverbank. We got blowing this fox whistle and the next thing we had a fox sitting between us and we didn't know what to do and nor did the fox. But we got a lot of foxes with that whistle, it was a wonderful thing."
Brian Moir