Birds on A Wire

Short story dedicated to Australian Shearers, they were a nature all to their own. Some were very short for words. Because they were always busy working.

In the light of dusk the shearers sat, like birds on a wire. Row after row a teams of shearers will sit, with a beer in hand, exhausted; after a hard day’s work. There is a certain silence about a group of shearers, an unwritten law, no words spoken till the Bush telegraph starts at sunset.

Telegraph wires; carry news of the bush, voices chattering to and fro. Birds on a wire feel the vibrating voices, listening to the incessant chatter. Bush telegraph it is called.

Now in the light of dusk, all the colours of the sky and all the hard work is done, shearers sit watching and listening, with not much to say. Watching, birds on a wire, wondering.  Not much to see or do in the light of dusk the shearers laugh watching birds on a wire.

With a beer in hand Charlie cries out, ‘Hey Joe! Look at that one, hanging upside down.’

‘Looks like Flo’s soaking up all the gossip again,’ laughed Joe.

Drowning the dust of the day with a beer, shearers sit and watch the Galahs preening themselves after a lively day. Silhouettes now form in the night sky, an almighty roar and flapping wings as the Galahs fly off into nearby trees for the night. Now chattering together birds nestle for the night amongst the hollow branches of the giant gum trees.

Charlie now amused by the nights happenings, ‘Hey! Joe, what do they do with the gossip?’

‘Don’t know’ said Joe.

Joe, with never much to say, leans back against the shearer’s quarters and pulls down his hat over his eyes. Joe, a dreamer often sat thinking about his family left behind in the town nearby while he worked the homesteads.

Charlie was different he moved around readily never staying in one spot long enough to form relationships. The love of the open road and moving about the country always made Charlie a bit of a chatterbox amongst the shearers not having much to say.

With only the stars now in the skies, darkness prevails, no birds on a wire, silence is in the air.

‘Going to bed; Charlie! More sheep tomorrow’ added Joe.

‘Silly Galahs will be back tomorrow or another bunch needing to catch up on the gossip’ laughed Charlie.

‘Night Charlie, work tomorrow’ saluted Joe.

Quietly the benches emptied, shearers looked for their bunks to lay their weary bones for the night. Candles dotted the open windows lighting the way for many dreams of lonely shearers about the country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

It's been a while but I hope I've described the nature of the Australian shearer. They were simple people

Reviews

[Marie]

This is very interesting, because I had no idea about the lives of these shearers.

[B.J]

Thank you so much for your comment, I have also done a poem Birds on a Wire. These men were one of a kind during the early part of the 20th century. I am also a little bias as my Father and his brothers were shearers during this time. I used to listen to many stories of their adventures

[Marie]

That must have been so interesting. Of course, there has to be someone to sear sheep. I just never thought about it before.

[B.J]

:).........................