Author Archives: Anne Rouen

PS They Weren’t Joking!

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Last Monday’s Country Leader showed a member of Animal Liberation holding a very strange contraption, a helicopter drone. It looked like something out of Doctor Who. And guess what? The date wasn’t April 1.

One of the reasons this man gave for flying these things over farms was that if they saw sheep dying of flies they could report it to the proper authorities.

I have a suggestion for you: report it to the farmers. Being on the spot they’ll be able to save them. Isn’t that better than reporting dead and dying animals to whoever the authorities are? Too late and after the fact!

I’d like to quote an 85yo retired farmer: When told of the drones he said, “Oh good. They should give them to the farmers. Then they’ll be able to take care of the animals themselves.”

Sadly, it is often very hard to detect flies on a sheep before it is too late. (Maggots release a toxin into the blood.) I doubt whether a person not trained in sheep behaviour would notice all but the most extensive instances of fly-strike. Sometimes, it only takes a tiny patch (5cmx5cm) to be toxic. If it is under the sheep’s belly it can be impossible to detect without upending the sheep.

The only real help is prevention, but chemicals are expensive and dangerous. I have always used long-acting chemicals that stay in the wool for a number of weeks and have sometimes wondered whether my stoush with breast cancer can be partly attributed to all the Diazinon showers I’ve taken over the years while putting sheep through the jetting race before we knew it was a carcinogen.

As mentioned, I don’t think drones would be very helpful in the matter of fly-strike in sheep, but calving heifers, now, that’s another story! I think longingly of sending out a drone to check my calving heifers instead of crunching over frost-embroidered hills, teeth chattering. Sneaking around so I don’t disturb them, close enough to see if they’re in trouble, far enough away to be safe if they get up and charge me. Heifers can become very upset when they’re calving and act completely out of character.

The farmers are reported to be unimpressed by the idea of drones, but when they think about it I’m sure they’ll see all the advantages of this new technology, just as the retired one did. The problem is that it is beyond the financial reach of most of us. The only one who seems to be able to afford it is Animal Liberation – thanks to the generous donations of its members.

But wait! Have we done an environmental impact study on this little gadget? Made sure it won’t terrify the birds? And is not noisy or  intrusive enough to spook our horses, stampede our sheep and cattle or put our hens off the lay? Yes? Excellent!

So how about it, Animal Libbers? Are you prepared to help the farmers help their livestock? Then, they’ll be able to save any poor animal they may have missed on their daily rounds.

I see this as a win-win situation all round: for the animals, the farmers and the activists.

Bring it on! Let’s do it!

 

Truth or Injustice?

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Listening to the local news at breakfast on Easter Monday, I almost choked on my toast when I heard something about drones being sent over farms at a height of less than ten metres to make sure that farmers were not being cruel to their animals. In the same professional tone the newsreader said that a Farmers’ Representative had stated that if they did that then some farmers would shoot them down.

Farmers – a put-upon minority group – accused of wholesale cruelty unless someone was watching? I spent about two hours churning before I realised the date: April 1.

But it set me thinking, wondering why this news item, though outrageous, didn’t seem out of the realm. Animal activists have been picking on the farmers lately. And they go for us at really bad times like droughts and GFCs. They say they want animals to be happy.

“So?” say the farmers. “What’s new? We spend our lives doing everything in our power to keep our animals happy.”

Personally, I think the answer lies in the understanding of what does or doesn’t make an animal happy.

Now, I don’t have particular insight into the minds of my animals (I only wish I did), but I can tell you what any farmer knows: If animals are under stress of any kind, their health and production decline dramatically with death the bottom line.

Conversely, an ideal environment is one with no physical or psychological stresses, in which the animals can happily thrive and perform to their genetic potential.

In other words, farmers have a vested interest in keeping their animals happy, not only from an ethical point of view (which most of us do have), but because unhappy animals do not produce.

Having said that: there are good and bad farmers. I only speak for the good ones.

So: how do we tell if animals are happy?

Not by putting ourselves in their places and thinking how we would feel! (What does a dog like to do best? And how about the expression: ‘happy as a pig in mud’?)

I believe that, in animals, happiness equates with well-being. Farmers gauge this by the health, behaviour and general brightness and demeanour of their animals.

As a race, we are fond of ‘humanising’ animals but the truth is that it is a mistake. They have not the brain structure to allow reasoning or imagination. Grave injustices have been perpetrated on animals due to forcing human expectations upon them.

From the scapegoats of the ancient world, cats burned as witches’ familiars, pigs put on trial for stealing and other crimes in the middle-ages, to the cute monkeys adopted by misguided animal lovers (because they look like babies they are treated as such); history attests to the injustice of human imagination having endowed these hapless creatures with qualities they cannot possibly possess.

The weird, intense eyes of a goat, cat or owl are not evil or supernatural, it is human imagination that sees them so. Despite an uncanny resemblance, those tiny monkeys are not babies, and their sadness and frustration will remain with me forever. Injustice stacked upon injustice! Humanising: A great wrong.

Sadly, history abounds with incidents of animal abuse, yet in some cases they received better treatment than humans. The parable of the prodigal son, for instance, or a great 19th century racehorse and his jockey. (I am not excusing it – on the contrary – just reporting with a heavy heart.)

We must be aware that what an animal may consider an acceptable environment need not necessarily coincide with the human perspective. (That varies also: Take a walk through an inner city park at 7 o’clock on a Saturday morning.)

Is this bandying of accusations pots calling kettles? A case of ‘pull the log out of your own eye …’? Or just another illustration of human injustice?

 

 

 

From Closet Writer to (Self-)Published Author

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My secret dream has finally come true! And I only half believe it.

For years, I scribbled away, feeling guilty when I took time out for my hobby; hiding my work from others. But it’s not a hobby, it’s a passion; a compulsion. When I sit down with a pen something takes me over and a whole morning can go by before I surface.

I find myself getting up at night, or jotting on odd scraps of paper because inspiration strikes at odd times. If this sounds familiar, I believe it is a common symptom shared by writers.

One day, I looked around at my piles of manuscripts and decided to see if I could make ‘my obsession my profession’.

I joined a fledgling writers’ group. One of the members read my work and we went to a workshop at NEWC, ‘Mind Your Business’ with Dr Jeremy Fisher. I picked up on some gems of advice: Get a website, show you’re prepared to engage with readers and promote your work; go to writers’ festivals; meet people in the business.

An author talk by Matthew Reilly held me riveted. Here was a man radiating positive energy. It is clear that he loves his work: A man living his dream.

The main thing I took away with me: He believes in himself. None of his wonderful achievements would have happened had he not self-published his first book.

I resolved then and there not to let self-doubt stand in the way of my dream.

Publishing is a business, whether self or otherwise. It is important for self-published authors to have their work professionally edited. You may be grateful you’ve spent the time and money. Editors pay close attention to details that could come back to haunt you.

By an amazing set of circumstances, I found a web designer who was not only a talented and intuitive designer, but an editor and marketing analyst as well. When she suggested I put my novel out as an ebook while I tried to find a publisher, something clicked in my head and I bolted with it.

Forget finding a publisher, I’ll do it, myself. The idea took me over. I read Authorpreneurship by Hazel Edwards – several times, marking the pages. It contains invaluable advice, demanding honest evaluation. I researched blogs of self-published authors, borrowed books from the library.

One of these sounded great: positive and chatty. I went to her website. There had been one post since 2007. I clicked on ‘Comment’ and was taken to another person’s website offering to sell me information!

Rest assured if there is anything I have learned or will learn about self-publishing it will be available for others right here – for free. You only have to ask.

I moved quickly, using my ABN to register a business name and get started.

There were many daunting moments: no domain available in my name; agonising over a nom-de-plume; applying for an ISBN; registering for CiP; and then the big one that almost stopped me in my tracks: I had to have a US tax ID to sell my book on Amazon.

Here, the asa (Australian Society of Authors) was wonderful, organising a US tax seminar at just the right time for me. I met published authors, including the kind and generous Susanne Gervay, who took me under her wing, introduced me to her friends and generally made me feel comfortable. A few days later, success! I had my EIN.

Towards the end of the publishing process, I realised that writing Master of Illusion was the easy part. I fell in love with my characters, let them call the shots and went on a fascinating ride, never knowing what was just around the corner. I loved every minute of it.

There are many people I have to thank for help along this journey. You know who you are and how much I love and appreciate you. All of you.

So what happens now that StoneHut Publishing has run down the slipway and is heading into uncharted waters with the author at the helm? Will it be fair wind and plain sailing from here? Or are there hidden rocks and shoals out there? Monsters of the deep? Waiting …

Watch this space!

The Courage of the Pope

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I heard the stunning news that the Pope has just resigned — the first Pope to do so since Pope Gregory XII(resigned 4 July 1415), almost 600 years ago. Listening to him being lauded for his courage in knowing when to step aside, I thought of the kind of courage I would like to see in the next Pope.

I stand, open-mouthed, when I see good, serving priests excommunicated. And why? Because they fall in love, admit they cannot keep their vows of chastity and marry. These are good men who find they cannot serve God alone, without the support and nurture of a partner and the joy of children. The Church loses a devout family for each one they get rid of. Not only that, but some of these men start their own church and take their parishioners with them. There are many dioceses who have to make do with lay preachers, crying out for priests, when there are good ones cast aside.

Believe me, this is not a flippant debate. It has been going on at least since Vatican II. Why deny such men their rightful place in the Church? Why not let them marry and solve the problem?

I once spoke to a priest about this and he explained that the vow of celibacy was the ultimate sacrifice: the key to the priesthood. Yet, I have seen such sad priests. They listen to everyone’s problems, have so much misery dumped on them; then when they get home there is nobody to comfort them.(It is not just sex I am talking about here, but the physical and emotional support of a family.)  Fine, if they want to aspire to such a pinnacle. All I am saying is that it should be personal choice and if they find they fall short, they can still be good, perhaps even better priests.

The Pope I want to see will have the courage to go back to the Bible rather than Church tradition and allow priests to marry as they once did. Many Catholics have hailed Saint Peter as the first Pope. There is no doubt that he was married.

If I am flummoxed by seeing good men excommunicated, I cannot even find words to describe how I feel about the green light predators have been given to infiltrate the Church, their repulsive desires concealed beneath a mantle of piety. Church authorities, having failed to deal effectually with this incendiary issue, have continued to sweep it under the carpet until the mound has got so big it is blocking the door and will now be the subject of a Royal Commission.

 I believe in the seal of the confessional, but priests have a duty of care to protect the innocent. Why should they not as a general procedure support and encourage the victims themselves to go to the police? They will then have satisfied both criteria. Alternatively, the Church has closed orders where they could keep these vile creatures away from children. Defrocking them first, of course.

Then they could spend the rest of their lives in isolation, praying for their victims. I would have no fault to find with that. But because of cover-up, crimes committed over the last 40 years are only now coming to light, the Church having negotiated compensation in return for what? The silence of the victim? More cover-up?

Who can compensate victims who will never recover: who struggle with horror every day? What price betrayal by a trusted family friend? What figure can be set upon a ruined life?

The Pope I want to see will have the courage to lift the carpet, clean out the filth and put down a bright, new welcome mat. He will recognise that damaged souls need more than money, putting in place a victim support network to help them heal. A wise and holy shepherd, he will banish wolves that would ravage the flock; and shore up the walls of the fold.

I don’t wish to denigrate the achievements of Pope Benedict XVI. To me he is a sensible man. Perhaps he will encourage other public figures to know when their time of service should be over.

But a Pope who would change the church for the better? That is the courage I would like to see.

Will I get my wish? I wonder, hope and pray …

I is for Intelligence, Integrity – and Ita.

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 This morning I heard an interview with Ita Buttrose. I love listening to Ita and heartily applaud her choice as Australian of the Year. I think her the greatest ambassador for women, standing up for us with charm and dignity: subtle, yet tenacious.

 Thankfully, she has put to flight the unkempt stereotypical image of the 1970s Women’s Libber. Invariably perfectly groomed, Ita would be appalled by hairy armpits, I feel; and, as far as I know, has never advocated the burning of bras; but with diplomatic finesse, she continues to beaver away for feminism.  

In the same gentle, conciliating manner, Ita both praised and reproved the Prime Minister, Germaine Greer and the Opposition Leader.

‘He’s not a misogynist,’ she said of Tony Abbott. ‘Men say things without thinking. They need re-educating.’

‘What will we do, Ita?’ asked the interviewer.

‘Continue to educate them,’ she said.

I could hear the smile in her voice, the tolerance, the charm that allows her to comment without offence. I hope they were listening and took note of what she had to say.

 And then there is her famous lisp, making her the butt of various comedians, whose derogatory sketches she accepts with patience and humour. I wonder if you’ve ever thought what a monumental impediment it is to being taken seriously? Yet, Ita overcame it, made it part of her identity. An incredible achievement when you realise that authors give their characters a lisp when they wish to portray them as effeminate(men), weak, or childish.

 Ita is practical, having a wealth of experience at her disposal. She knows what it’s like to have a husband walk out on her; to rear her children alone; to succeed in a man’s world and come out a wiser person, without losing any of her femininity. If you want practical advice on any of the above, you can do no better than to ask Ita.

 As a journalist, Ita commands respect for her attitude and integrity. Journalists everywhere: take a tip from an acknowledged leader of your craft. Her disapproval of the modern penchant for reporting rumours and just plain untruths as fact resonates with me. And what she had to say about them wasn’t subtle.

‘I have my own opinions,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to read the opinions of journalists. I want the truth. And then I can form an opinion for myself.’

I will go along with that. I stopped reading women’s magazines years ago because I was disgusted with the spiteful innuendo and frankly damaging gossip reported as fact.

Pay attention, Journos, and you will have at least one new reader and possibly many more.

 I have said, tritely perhaps, that I is for Ita but I have found a few more I-words that are apt.

I personally find her incredible: infinitely inspiring. Kerry Packer found her indispensable in saving the Womens Weekly. She is the indisputable hero of her industry, truly a Media Icon. She is an indomitable champion of women’s rights. Yet, through it all, Ita has maintained her individuality with common-sense, warmth and charm. She is immaculate, inimitable in her insight and feminine wisdom. Just now, she is focusing her innovative ideas on health.

 Towards the end of the interview, Ita said she felt her work(on earth) wasn’t yet finished. She was waiting for the door to open. ‘They do, you know,’ she said.

Well, Ita: Australian of the Year is a pretty substantial door. I think it has opened. I, for one, am looking forward to the next exciting episode.

 I is for Inspiration — and Ita.

Weasel Words?

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When I heard this charming expression drop from the lips of our Prime Minister, I don’t know whether I cringed most at the purile alliteration or the flat, boring monotone in which it was delivered. She seemed enamoured of this clever phrase because she savoured it several times during her rambling monologue. (Will somebody please get the PM a new speech writer?)

And with all the matters that could occupy the leader of a country in these difficult times, what was she droning on about? A conspiracy?

Yes, and what a conspiracy! Allegedly invented by Mal Brough to discredit Peter Slipper and take his seat. (This bears an uncanny resemblance to certain other attempts to discredit politicians, but more of that later.)

Someone should tell the Prime Minister that Mal Brough won’t need a conspiracy to take Peter Slipper’s seat. He’ll only need to stand as a candidate. I should imagine that a blind dog would have more appeal in Mr Slipper’s electorate than the sitting member at this moment. Even if he was the ‘last prayer’ of a tenuous minority government.

And this brings me to certain conclusions about two other incidents that made me uneasy.

Before the last elections in South Australia, a damaging document was leaked to an opposition leader. The document was a lie and the opposition leader who ran with it knocked out. I was stunned by the injustice of it.

Not so long ago, a politician viewed by many as the most promising Statesman since Menzies was leaked a damaging email. He believed it, ran with it, and was put out of action in exactly the same way. Was I the only person to see the pattern? Surely not!

Once again, the injustice of it shocked me. The liar wasn’t punished; the traitor sacrificed himself for ‘the faith’ and the innocent head went on the chopping block. (Of course, we wouldn’t want a leader that’s not up to all the tricks, would we?)

When I heard a few months ago that James Ashby had contacted Mal Brough for advice, I thought, Here we go again: another Godwin Gretch.

Does three times prove it? Or is it third time lucky? Or unlucky? Is there anything these unscrupulous people won’t do in their pathetic attempts to cling onto power?

Nor does the Opposition escape my censure: Boring on about the legality of a slush fund set up by the Prime Minister twenty years ago. She’s a lawyer, right? Of course, it was legal! … Wasn’t it?

At a time when the dollar is so high that it is strangling export and fizzling out the mining boom; when the economy is so rocky that every week another large company goes under, flinging hundreds out of work; I find such trivia frustrating.

People’s lives are being ruined: They are losing their hard-earned homes because they cannot pay their mortgages; cannot find new jobs in a dying market. And the Prime Minister wants to harp on about a so-called conspiracy involving an election not yet called? Unbelievable! Scurrilous!

Weasel words, Prime Minister? Yes, indeed!