A cry for help is heard

Before Cathy moved to Braidwood in the southern tablelands of NSW in 2001, the closest she’d come to farming was owning a dog.

Then she was given a poddy calf, fell in love, and today she has a 100-hectare farm with around 50 Poll Herefords. She became heavily involved in researching bloodlines, breeding using artificial insemination and showing her prize-winning cattle. Life was good.

Two years ago things took a turn for the worse. Her persistent neck pain turned out to have been caused by a giant brain tumour. Cathy was rushed to hospital and operated on. She spent the next year off work, recovering from complications.

In the meantime, there had been no decent rain since 2015.

Cathy’s 12-month check-up revealed a new kind of brain tumour. A second surgery followed. Cathy sold a lot of cattle and bought a semi-trailer load of hay to last through her recovery.

Her recovery was much shorter, but there still hadn’t been any rain. She came home to bitter cold and biting winds flinging the topsoil and fertiliser that was supposed to be nurturing feed for her cattle onto the walls of her house. The next crop literally blew away on the wind.

And the hay ran out in just months.

From worse to worst

The cost of hay doubled, the price she got for her calves halved. Cathy no longer went to the mailbox because she knew she couldn’t pay the bills inside. She estimates that the drought and her surgeries have cost $150,000. As she says, “it’s a long way to go backwards.”

Many farmers in her small community were in the same boat.

In desperation, she rang Sydney broadcaster Alan Jones. The Salvation Army’s community fundraising director, Andrew, was listening on his car radio. He pulled over and the Army’s well-oiled response commenced.

Practical support brings breathing space

Within days, rural chaplains visited Cathy and other local farmers. They gave out grants of $3000 to each farmer, along with boxes of groceries and hand-knitted beanies and scarves to keep the cold at bay.

“Just being able to talk to the rural chaplains probably helps more than the money,” Cathy says. “To know that people know you’re doing it hard, that it’s not going to go any further, and they’re not judging you.

“Thanks to the Salvos I’ve realised that there’s still good in the world, and good in people.”