I grew up on a small farm outside of a town called Young on Wiradjuri country, NSW.

 

Although it was small property the land was endlessly fascinating to me and when I was young I had lots of freedom to explore the country.

 

We had many animals. My dad liked to raise animals for fun and profit and at various times we had sheep, dairy cows, horses and cattle. We also had lots of pets around the house as Dad ran a vet practice and would bring home animals that people left at the clinic.

 

At one time we had two dogs and three cats in the house and a bald cockatoo in a big bird cage just outside the back door.

 

One of my chores was to feed the poddy lambs, those poor little lamb orphans who didn’t have a mum or were rejected by their mum for some reason.

 

My parents would fill glass bottles with milk, put a rubber teat on the end and then warm the bottles in some hot water. I then had to take the bottles out to the pen to feed the ravenous lambs in the evening. They were so hungry that by the time I got there with the bottles they would almost knock me over trying to get to the milk. It always cheered me up seeing their woolly tails wag with delight as they drank up the warm milk on a cold winter’s evening.

 

One of my favourite poddy lambs was called Petunia.