I killed baby olive trees! On purpose!

 

Many years ago, while I was between jobs, (the factory had moved its operation overseas where they could manufacture shoes cheaper and so make more profit for themselves), I wore out my sneakers dropping off applications and resumes, even applying for volunteer work at libraries, thrift shops and meals-on-wheels. Nobody wanted me. I eventually came across a tiny office with a sign, “Conservation Australia” with a notice that volunteers were wanted. In I went.

The information seemed exciting, going around the country in groups helping out farmers etc. Then I spoke to a woman who said only the younger people did that and if I signed up I would join an older group, called the “Green Reserve” who only did day trips once or twice a week. I decided anything was better than nothing and signed up. I was told the group meets outside the office at 8am and the van takes them where they need to go. Well, I missed the first day because the bus was late!

On the second day, I was there on time, had my name ticked off as I climbed into the van and off we went. Arriving at a section of hillside an hour or so later, we learned that we were to be clearing away plants that were not native to Australia. There were three men in the group as well as the team leader, and five of us women. The men were given small hatchets and pruning saws, while we women were given small buckets of glyphosate and paint brushes. We followed the men as they located artichokes and baby olive trees which we then hacked off low to the ground and the stumps painted with the glyphosate to ensure their deaths.

I was appalled! We were cutting down perfectly useful trees, Olive trees, simply because they weren’t native to Australia! While down in the city there were olive groves everywhere and every Italian or Greek home owner had at least one olive tree on their own property. I asked about this and was told wild areas were to be conserved with only native plants. Huh! Anyway, we continued for a few hours with a lunch break and a rest in between the hacking and killing.

One time were taken to a section of Torrens Island which was an aboriginal sacred site and were told to walk carefully, do not disturb any rocks or move things out of our way and not to pick up anything we might think might be a nice souvenir. Yet we had to still remove unwanted plants and I didn’t see how we could do that without disturbing anything, I remember we spent a lot of that day just watching out for snakes! Not much work got done.

A more fun day was the time we went out to a farm and planted windbreak trees and threw baby reeds into the edges of a dam where they would settle in the mud and grow. The farmer barbecued sausages and chops for all of us and allowed us to use the toilets. Most places we went to were in the middle of nowhere and didn’t have facilities so if we needed to go we were driven to the nearest town to use the public facilities. We also planted trees and shrubs on the banks of the River Torrens in the city limits one week and had to put those little plastic guards around them. Another fun day as there was a bakery and cafe close by.

Another time we wandered along the edges of a busy highway pulling weeds and picking up garbage. I felt like we should all be singing some kind of Chain Gang song and soon after I discovered that a local supermarket was hiring casual workers for the Christmas season, so I applied and got the job. “Working in a Shop” apparently is something little girls dream of doing, but I never had and had always promised myself I never would, but here I was learning how to man a checkout, pack groceries into bags AND talk to the customers. I actually got very good at it and stuck with it for twelve years before retiring.