Author: Columnist at Caboolture Today

• The morning began with a call from north of Bourke, where Clem, a fencing contractor, was on day three of replacing six kilometres of boundary fence torn apart by floodwaters in February. He described in detail how the old star pickets had folded under debris—mostly timber and grass washed in from upstream—and how he’d begun spacing out new galvanised pickets and triple-running plain wire, using strainers reinforced with ironbark stays. He said he and his son were working from sun-up to sundown, trying to finish before cold mornings set in. When asked about ferals, Clem said wild pigs had torn through parts of the old fence, “like they owned the place,” but newer wiring and solar gates were holding them out for now. His matter-of-fact tone underscored just how routine big repairs have become across the floodplain.

• A call from Narrandera, NSW came from a citrus grower beginning the Valencia harvest after a warm, dry end to summer. She reported a better-than-expected yield, but noted that smaller fruit size and high freight costs were cutting into profits. She explained how they use handheld refractometers to check sugar levels and pick by hand to avoid bruising. She also mentioned the return of picker shortages, saying her family’s relying heavily on grey nomads and local teenagers. “We’re not fussy—we just need hands and hats,” she said. This brief but concrete update painted a clear picture of small-scale fruit farming in a challenging year.

• In a more unusual segment, a listener from Mount Barker, SA, described how he’d recently moved an upright piano from his grandmother’s house into a converted shearing shed on his property. He gave a precise account of how he and his brother constructed a timber sled using fence posts and a steel winch, then slid the piano down a ramp and loaded it onto a tandem trailer. The whole project took two afternoons and three fridge dollies. Now installed in the shed, the piano will be used for monthly folk nights with neighbours. “It’s a bit out of tune,” he said, “but no one here minds.”

• A farmer outside Deniliquin phoned in to report on a trial of mixed cover cropping in fallow paddocks. He had recently sown a mix of vetch, oats, tillage radish, and crimson clover, hoping to improve organic matter and suppress ryegrass. He explained how they’d rolled the seed mix in with a cultipacker behind a light disc and said early results were promising: good germination and less weed pressure than last year’s fallow. He added that his agronomist is planning to graze sheep on the stand in late winter before terminating it ahead of spring planting. This kind of rotational, multispecies grazing update—practical, dry and useful—was the type of call bush farmers tune in for.

• From Bunbury, WA, a retired brickie gave a quick run-through of how he uses leftover scaffolding planks and concrete bricks to build raised garden beds for mates on pensioner blocks. “Four bricks, one plank, repeat,” he said, adding that he’s built twelve beds across four homes in his neighbourhood. The caller said he sources soil from the local tip’s green waste recycling depot and gets seedlings cheap from the Lions Club markets. His motto: “No one should be too broke to grow.”

• One of the more entertaining calls came from a horse transport driver somewhere near Roma, QLD, who phoned in during a stopover to stretch his legs. He was on a four-day run carting six show horses from Tamworth to Mount Isa for a rodeo clinic. He explained how each horse was given its own feed bay, padded sides, and 3-hour rest intervals. “It’s not just a float—it’s a stable on wheels,” he said. He described how the horses react to traffic noise differently—some sleep standing, others sway with every corner. The transport rig runs a light spray system to keep dust down and a side fan system powered by an inverter. It was a rare insight into the logistics of long-distance animal transport done properly.

• A woman in Castlemaine, Victoria rang in to describe her firewood rotation system, which uses a combination of ironbark, box and redgum across three drying racks. She detailed how she stacks by species and burn time—ironbark for the coldest nights, box for regular use, and redgum for kindling or fast-start fires. Each load is dated with chalk. She mentioned that she processes most of her own wood with a hired log splitter, after a friendly tree lopper drops off clean cuts. “I’ve got firewood dated out to 2027,” she laughed.

@highcountrysnakecatcher Firewood, redgum for the win! #firewood #woodheat #eucalyptuscamaldulensis #redgum #stihl660 #stihl #warmth #coldweather #winter #highcountry #victoria #australia ♬ Something in the Orange (Z&E's Version) – Zach Bryan

• From Bridport, Tasmania, a call came in from a volunteer involved in restoring the town’s old surf club hall, recently repurposed as a community shed. She described how volunteers were using salvaged weatherboards from a nearby demolition site and had installed a new corrugated roof with donated insulation from a local builder. The building, which once hosted lifesaving classes, is now used weekly for men’s shed meetings, knife-making demonstrations, and ukulele practice. “We’ve kept the sea breeze but added power points,” she said.

• Later in the program, a call from Cunnamulla came from a bloke who’d just completed 20,000 km in a 1981 Toyota LandCruiser, circumnavigating Australia. He gave a short field report on tyre pressure, road conditions, and fuel pricing from Ceduna to Kununurra. He also mentioned his custom water tank setup, which held 70 litres under the tray and was refilled mostly via campgrounds and filtered creeks. “I did the whole thing solo—no trailer, no fridge. Just me, a swag, and the weather band on the radio,” he said. Macca asked where he slept most. “Gravel pits, mostly. And one tennis court.”

• The episode ended with a brief but rich update from a historian in Gundagai, who’s been compiling local letters from the 1891 shearers’ strike. He read from one account by a station cook describing a week of feeding 60 men on damper, mutton and cold black tea. The researcher said he’s working on a short publication that includes never-before-published union minutes and anecdotes from station hands who walked off the job. “It’s not textbook history—it’s muddy-boot stuff,” he said.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

• One of the first calls came from Lightning Ridge, the opal-mining town in north-west New South Wales where the annual Easter festival was in full swing. A local festival volunteer described the scene: the main street was buzzing with a “goat race” unlike any other. After concerns from animal welfare groups, the town’s famous goat races had evolved into a comedy event with people—yes, people—dressed as goats pulling small carts. “It’s goat racing with a twist, and it’s a sight to behold,” she laughed. The caller said visitors absolutely love it and the town doesn’t mind poking a bit of fun at itself. Another highlight she mentioned was the Big Opal Dig – twelve mounds of opal-bearing dirt dumped in the main street, with thousands of dollars worth of opals buried inside. “Ten lucky folks get to dig for the prize opals,” she explained, saying it’s both a tourist draw and a clever nod to Lightning Ridge’s mining heritage. With live music, markets and a parade, the Lightning Ridge Easter Festival (18–20 April 2025) was attracting big crowds . The caller’s pride in her remote community was evident as she spoke about the boost in visitors. “For a town of 2,000 to host a few thousand extra people is huge – we’re flat out but loving it.” It was a classic bush event story of ingenuity and fun, setting a festive tone early in the show.

• From the Coral Sea coast, another caller phoned in amid celebrations at Gladstone, Queensland, where the last yachts had just arrived in the Brisbane to Gladstone Yacht Race. This annual Good Friday race is a storied Easter tradition in Queensland, and the caller – a volunteer with the finishing committee – painted the scene vividly. Dawn had broken as the leading boats slipped into the harbour, greeted by cheers from locals lining the shores. She reported that line honours went to the 52-foot Maritimo 52 yacht, which led the fleet into Gladstone in the early hours of Easter morning. Many smaller yachts were still arriving throughout Sunday. The caller described how families stake out spots along Gladstone’s waterfront to welcome the sailors: “Half the town comes down to the harbour with picnic chairs. When those boats sail in, tired and sunburnt, you can see the relief and pride on every skipper’s face – and we all clap them in.” Macca asked about the conditions at sea, and she noted it had been a moderate downwind run this year with a few squalls on Friday night that tested the crews. Despite the challenges, all 30+ yachts that started were expected to finish safely. The segment captured the camaraderie and volunteer spirit around a major regional event: the pride of a coastal city hosting a 77-year-old sailing race, and an insider’s look at how Easter in Gladstone revolves around the marina.

• Back inland, the show turned to the practical realities of country life after recent wild weather. Bill from near Coonamble, NSW – a fourth-generation wheat farmer – rang in while calibrating his seeder for the upcoming planting. He told Macca this Easter brought something of a rare blessing on his wheat paddocks: soil moisture. After several bone-dry autumns, heavy rains in late March had left his black soil country “moist like a chocolate cake” and ready for sowing. “I’ll tell you what, this year – for once – I’m not planting in dust,” he said with a chuckle, the relief palpable in his voice. Bill described how in his part of north-west NSW, many farmers were busy seeding winter crops like wheat and barley earlier than usual to make the most of the moisture. He also noted the Darling River was flowing again and local dams were full, which bodes well for livestock. Macca asked if the recent floods had caused him any losses. Bill admitted some lower fields had waterlogging, but the long-term gains outweighed the short-term damage. “After years of drought, a bit of flooding is a problem we’ll take any day,” he quipped. The call gave a down-to-earth insight into agriculture: the optimism that comes with a good soaking of rain, and the timeless Easter ritual for broadacre farmers – tuning the tractor and praying for a bumper crop.

• In a more intimate conversation, Charlie, a saddler from Tenterfield on the NSW-Queensland border, shared the love of a nearly lost craft. He has been hand-making stock saddles and leather tack for over 50 years, working in a tin shed workshop behind the old Tenterfield saddlery. Charlie explained to Macca how he still uses many tools passed down from his grandfather – edge bevellers, awls, and a 100-year-old stitching pony. He described the process of crafting a saddle tree, covering it in wet rawhide, and patiently hand-stitching the skirt and fenders. It’s painstaking work that can take months. His latest project was a custom saddle for a local campdraft champion, complete with carved floral tooling and the rider’s initials branded into the leather. “You measure twice, cut once, and pray the hide holds,” he joked, saying he’s learned to be patient with both cattle and leather. Macca seemed fascinated and asked how demand is these days. Charlie said he mostly does repairs and bespoke pieces now – “I’m one of the last of the bush saddlers around here” – but noted a resurgence of interest from younger riders who appreciate quality. He also mentioned training an apprentice one day a week, passing on the old techniques. This call was a gentle dive into bush craftsmanship and heritage, and listeners could almost smell the saddle soap and leather through the radio. It highlighted the value of slow, skilled work in a fast-paced world.

• An especially heartwarming call came from Currawinya National Park in Queensland, near the NSW border, where a small team is working to bring the bilby back from the brink. Erin, a wildlife volunteer with the Save the Bilby project, phoned in at sunrise from the boundary of a vast fenced sanctuary. In the soft morning light, she described seeing two bilbies scamper back to their burrows after a night of foraging. “It’s magical! Those big ears and that hop, like little Easter bunnies of our own,” she said. The bilby, as Macca noted, has become an Australian symbol of Easter, and Erin’s update was fitting for the day. She talked about the 25-square-kilometre predator-proof fence the group maintains at Currawinya, which has created a safe haven free of feral cats and foxes. Within this enclosure, bilbies are breeding successfully. She reported several new joeys spotted this season. Erin recounted how she spent her Saturday night on “rabbit patrol,” not chasing rabbits but checking the fence for any holes or breaches after recent rain. The team’s dedication paid off: no intrusions, and the bilbies inside continue to thrive. Macca asked how people can see the bilbies or help out. Erin explained that while the Currawinya site isn’t generally open to tourists, the nearby town of Charleville has a bilby experience centre for visitors, and donations to the project help expand their work. The call ended on a hopeful note as she wished everyone a Happy Easter and reminded Australians to think of the bilby not just the bunny. It was a touching blend of conservation news and holiday cheer, clearly striking a chord with listeners who value these small marsupials.

• Not all Easter morning stories were about planned events. Some were happy accidents of travel. A pair of grey nomads, Doug and Val, called in from a dusty roadside along the Oodnadatta Track in outback South Australia. They had paused at an old telegraph station ruin near William Creek and, to their surprise, found themselves amid an impromptu bush gathering. Val explained that several caravans and 4WDs had converged at this spot the night before, entirely by coincidence. By dusk, there were about 15 travelers camped in a loose circle on the gibber plains. “Someone started a campfire in the middle, and before you knew it we had a little party,” she laughed. Different groups contributed something: one couple played guitar and fiddle, another family roasted damper and shared billy tea, and a group of backpackers produced a box of marshmallow Easter eggs to pass around. Doug chimed in to describe the sky above: “No light for a hundred miles – the stars were like diamonds. We even caught a few shooting stars.” (It turns out the Lyrids meteor shower was just beginning). In the morning, the ad-hoc friends parted ways, but not before swapping phone numbers and promises to send photos. Macca was enchanted by the story, noting how it echoed the old bush ethos of camaraderie among strangers. The callers said this unplanned Easter bush camp became one of their most cherished memories of their trip. Their tale captured the serendipity of outback travel – how the vast emptiness of the interior can still bring people together in the most unexpected and joyful ways.

• As the program neared its end, Macca squeezed in a handful of quick calls from all over Australia. A truck driver rang from Eucla, on the Nullarbor Plain, reporting a veritable convoy of caravans headed west and east: “You’ve never seen so many grey nomads – it’s like a pilgrimage across the Nullarbor this year,” he said, noting every roadhouse was overflowing with Easter travelers. Another listener from Launceston, Tasmania joked about pulling out her winter clothes as an early cold snap sent the mercury near freezing overnight, reminding everyone that summer was truly over down south. And in a delightful historical tidbit, a retired army mechanic in Victoria called to share that he had just finished restoring a World War II Willys Jeep in time for Anzac Day. He even took it for a spin on Easter morning, proudly noting, “80 years old and she purrs like a kitten.” Each of these mini-stories – from the open road to a chilly Tasmanian dawn to a piece of wartime history brought back to life – added extra threads to the rich tapestry of the show. They underscored what Australia All Over is all about: every caller, whether they have 30 seconds or three minutes, contributes something unique and genuine. 

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights.