vintage wednesday

Unknown photographer

Museums Victoria

https://collections.museumvictoria.com.au/items/2082822

Why not "wordless" this week?  As I sometimes do, I ran out of my own vintage photo offerings.  I bring you this portrait from Museums Victoria of one John Lawrey and dog, of Kinglake, taken circa 1930.

phar lap turns 90

Copyright Museum Victoria / CC BY
Photographer: Benjamin Healley
Museum Victoria
http://collections.museumvictoria.com.au/specimens/139139

A hero from Down Under, the racehorse Phar Lap was born in New Zealand, trained in Australia, and lauded the world over.  His untimely and tragic death was a mystery for years, all the more so since he was only 6 and a half years old (Oct. 1926- to April 1932).    His mounted hide (shown here) is displayed at the National Museum of Victoria in Melbourne, his skeleton at Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, and his heart is in storage with the National Museum of Australia collections.
It's been 90 years since Phar Lap's birth, and the National Museum has a fascinating collection of articles to celebrate this champion.  Here's the link.

pet owl 1942

Museum Victoria Collections
http://collections.museumvictoria.com.au/items/770100
Accessed 30 January 2016. PD

In the district of Nathalia, Victoria, Australia, a lucky boy holds his pet owl.  I'd smile like that if I had an owl friend too.  This 1942 snap comes from the Museum Victoria Collections and is part of "The Biggest Family Album in Australia."  This is a special collection that gathered over 9000 family photos, creating an intimate look at the history and culture of Australia through the everyday lives of its people.  Here's an article on this wonderful project.

home and away, and guess which one wins

thanks reusableart.com (PD)

I couldn't use this poem in my upcoming eBook - it didn't quite fit anywhere - but it's far too winsome and funny not to share.  The speaker is in either Australia or Tasmania, and not being a good sport.  

As the year draws to a close, I thought this was a great piece to reflect on where you are and where you'd like to be.  Make what friends you can with the first, and make plans for the second!  

Thou and I.

(From Stony Creek.)

THOU art in happy England,
With peace, content, and joy;
And there no poisonous reptiles
Thy comfort can destroy;
No hissing sound the startled ear
With fear of death awakes  -
Thou art in happy England,
I, in the land of snakes.

About thy household duties
Serenely thou canst go;
No fear of fierce tarantulas
Or scorpion brings thee woe;
And day by day flows calmly on,
And sleep wings through the night-
Thou art in happy England,
I, where mosquitoes bite.

Thou hast the trusty faithful dog,
The quiet harmless cat,
But I the fierce Tasmanian D ---, (Devil.  --curator)
Opposum, and wombat;
Familiar objects greet thy sight,
Here all is strange and new
Thou art in happy England,
I, with the kangaroo.

Thou hast the blithe canary,
The robin chirps to thee:
While here the magpies chatter,
And rail from every tree;
Bright parrots glint beneath the sun,
And shriek their hideous song
Thou art in happy England,
I, wattle-birds among.

Than canst recline in any place,
And watch the moments pass:
Here briars and prickles fill the clothes
While lying on the grass;
They stick into the flesh, and sting
Like gnat, or wasp, or bee -
But thou in happy England
From all such plagues art free.

Hurrah for happy England!
For all the folk at home!
From hill and dale resounds the cry
No matter where we roam.
Hare scenes of beauty greet the sight,
The balmy air is sweet;
But still I sigh for England,
Where thou and I shall meet.

J. A. LANGFORD : On Sea and Shore.  In Langbridge, Frederick, 1849-1922. Poets At Play: a Handbook of Humorous Recitations. Vol. 2. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1888. 122-123.  (PD in the US.)

more about australian mick

vintage spot PD

More fond thoughts from Australian pioneer Robert Barton on the "wonderful cat" he found as a tiny feral kitten deposited on his cabin's bed. . .

There was one thing about Mick, she never interfered with any of my bird pets; no matter what bird I brought home I could let it go in the garden, and she would not touch it. When feeding the birds every morning she used to come out and stand alongside of me; of course, I gave her a bit, too, but the birds were far quicker at catching it than she was. When I happened to catch any mice in the trap I used to take them out on to the lawn, cats and birds all round, and shake them out of the trap. Mick, of course, made a dart, but the jackass* (who was sitting on the roof five times as far away from the mouse as she was) invariably got it first, and Mick used to gaze in astonishment at the vacant space where the mouse had been.

*Another term for the kookaburra bird - curator
Barton, Robert D., 1842-. Reminiscences of an Australian Pioneer. Sydney [N.S.W.]: Tyrrell, 1917. 136-137.

an australian pioneer recalls a wonderful cat

spot illustration PD

Robert D. Barton was born in the Australian outback, two hundred miles outside Sydney, in 1842.  In 1917 he wrote his memoirs.  They're a clearheaded look at the grit and pragmatism needed to be a pioneer then and there - yet, as the anecdote below shows, there was room for kindness when faced with a couple of surprise feral kittens. . .
* * *
At Burren, too, I had what I may call a wonderful cat. There was an old carpenter, who built my house (it took him a long while to do it, because he was a hatter that could not work with anybody else, but he did it most thoroughly, seasoned all the timber, so that when it was put up—with pine timber—it never shrank). There was a cat came from somewhere, and took up with old Thomas, and never left him. If anybody else- came she disappeared like a shot, but she used to follow him like a dog, even when he went out into the bush to fell timber, and when he was dressing it she used generally to be between his legs. When the house was finished, of course, the old man went away, and the cat was only seen occasionally, and was very wild. However, she had kittens under the house, and heavy rain coming on, she found it was necessary to shift the kittens, and she brought two into my room, and was lying on the bed with them when I came in. There was a broken pane of glass in the window, through which she went like mad when I opened the door. Of course, it gave me a start, and I meant to wreak vengeance on the kittens, but when I went to take hold of them they put up their tails and me-owed and made every demonstration of friendship, and I could not knock them on the head as I had intended, but took them on to the verandah, and put them in the wood box, where the old cat allowed them to remain till they grew up.

One of these kittens was a yellow tom, the other a black, brindle colour, which was christened Mick.

* * *

The "wonderful cat" is Mick, and now that we know Mick's origins Mr. Barton follows with a few pages of good stories about this animal, whom he clearly enjoyed and respected.  I will share one or two in the next couple of days.

Barton, Robert D., 1842-. Reminiscences of an Australian Pioneer. Sydney [N.S.W.]: Tyrrell, 1917. 133-134.