On a life long excursion beginning at eleven, a chance meeting with an enquiring sheep farmer would change the direction of two young endearing business partners. My friend Victor and I were in the process of removing another copper cistern ball from a sheep trough, when caught in the act by the owner. After a brief rebuke he made a thoughtful suggestion, embarking on this led to a long and profitable relationship with Mr Lonny and his neighbouring farmers and carved out a path in naïve business ventures for us. Thus began a great learning of the principles of life and livelihood.
Fate
Mr Lonny had explained that after a sheep has died the wool on its back is still a valuable commodity and can be easily plucked once the skin has decayed suitably enough. His daily duties meant that this time consuming constant chore was largely left undone. Dead sheep were scattered across the paddocks and wool wasting away in the sun and wind. He instructed us in the finer points of extracting the raw textiles and cautioned us on matters of hygiene. Finally he pointed in the direction of known carcases and that on completion we should make our way to the homestead for refreshments and payment of $1.00 per sack. Pulling a few dusty Hessians from the back of his Ute and tossing them in our trolley he disappeared into the heat rippled horizon.
Embarking
We flattened out the copper cistern ball, stuffed it in canvas bag, dumped on our” all terrain trolley” and headed off in the direction of dead sheep. There was no need for a compass to guide us. The stench became more acute as we drew nearer, but the lure of earning twice our weekly pocket money in a matter of an hour kept us well motivated.
Intentions
Prior to our encounter; At times our dubious intentions lead to trouble, but unknowingly, what we considered as deserted farm houses were actually not so. But by the time we had ripped out all the electric cabling, burnt off the casings, stripped the copper and lead piping, demounted the brass light switches and remove every ounce of metal from doors and windows, any kind of retribution was to no avail. At that age bad intentions were not so apparent; our actions were spontaneous and never gave much thought to “we were doing wrong” it was the age of innocence. Our awareness of cold hard realities, the pit falls of business and misunderstandings became obvious and my good friend Victor and I discussed these problems. I remember clearly sitting together with him at Emu Bridge Creek with our fishing rods ready to catch the big Black Fish. The fish did’nt bite but the mosquitoes did. How we navigated solutions and naively drafted strategies to improve our chances of avoiding trouble and doing less for more, this was in fact the beginning of a childhood business plan that I repeated in essence for the rest of my life. “Less effort for greater return”, “allow for every contingency”, and, “sincerity”.
Work eat and rest
After bagging wool, for rest, we dragged the muddy dams with drop nets made out of bird wire, which surfaced our catch of Yabbies (fresh water Cray fish) a fire blazed on the bare earthen banks and Billy boiled ready for cooking our catch for lunch. We diarised our plans and mapped out the paddocks with sketches of land marks, every track and creek crossing was known to us, every tree line silhouette horizon guided our way, every billabong bank and stagnant dam, dark water creeks had been swum and fished out by us. We carried no compass, “Nor” time pieces; time was lost, partly, but observed the degrees of setting sun like pioneers and our North point, even at night we had learned to navigate using the Southern Cross, so never got lost in the wild, nor lost sight of our goals. Fear was yet to consume.
The law of economics
Deserted farm houses were becoming thin on the ground and the distances to locate more of them became greater and less economical, not worth our while. We learned the fundamental principle of economics, “effort versus return” So we had to turn our attention to areas that would require less travelling, less manual labour and apply less effort for greater return. Of course we knew nothing of economics, but upon reflection this is concluded. Our time had to be divided between playing competitive Cricket, doing our assigned family chores, homework, school, collecting bird eggs for sale, hunting, fishing and many other activities. So we actually decided to spend less time travelling long distances collecting scrap metal and apply less effort collecting wool, which gave us a greater return for less effort, “we were in the money”. Collecting scrap metal was now excluded from our business port folio; textiles became the core.
Our Business Plan; The average sheep
Around my home town of Benalla the average farm sized up at about six thousand acres, and supported approximately four thousand to five thousand Australian Marino Sheep. Given their relatively short life span, It didn’t take much calculating to figure how many sheep died in our territory every week. Finding them was easy and often our regular clinents would inform us their exact location.
Charity Work Not For Tax
Victor and I would visit an old man who lived by the banks of Emu Branch a tributary of the larger Broken River. We never even knew his name. On good weather days he would kick start his old motor scooter and putt up the hill to town to do his grocery shopping and greet old friends. But due to his age and in bad weather this activity was not always safe, so me and Victor developed good habit and did him the kind service of shopping and collecting fire wood. Sometimes the poor old chap didn’t have quite enough coin to foot the bill so secretly we would make a contribution and even when there was no change we would oblige, it was worthwhile just to see the smile push wrinkles up around his baggy eyes. Our motivation was not for any financial gain or praise; we were just doing well because it made us feel happy. Then one day the old man died, Victor and I were greatly saddened by the sudden shock of death, we had never encountered this phenomenon so directly, it brought reality home. For many months we avoided sight of the old mans house, but everywhere we went brought back memories of him and on numerous occasions we would cry relentlessly over the loss of our old companion, our reason for charity had been swept away in darkness. There is none so predictable, but unpredictable as death.
In a matter of months we’d discovered the joy derived from charitable actions and the great sadness that accompanies death, the hopeless feelings of insecurity, the not knowing what to do, the painful sensations that manifest through your whole being, that rip at your heart and destroy every joyess feeling ever felt. Our youthful innocence was being eroded by the harshness’s of reality. Me and Victor sought solace in each other, like pillars of strength to one another.
Communications Systems
In an endeavour to save pedal power and flat tyres, we observed the local farmers movements and discovered that each week they visited the bank and stock and station agency. There timing regularity was quite precise, so we would confront them not before they took care of business banking or ordering provisions but after wards. This meant we could capture more of their time without hindering. We even rehearsed our scripts and nominated who would open the conversation. It was pretty simple, “excuse mister, have you noticed if there are many dead sheep in your paddocks”? “We pluck wool from them and get a dollar for a sack full”. It was easy to get answers from the farmers who knew us; others looked in surprise and said “What”
So textiles became part of our growing business port folio, I was only eleven. Now at a ripe age and as a man of silk ties, in all modesty, I still draw on my childhood past for inspiration and motivation, If I could do it at eleven, no car, no phone, no internet, then how much better should I do with all of it.
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Article Source:http://www.articlesbase.com/fashion-articles/the-chronicles-of-a-man-of-silk-ties-1433124.html
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