John Kinsella records a year in the country @ Overland.
When Tracy and Tim arrive, I’ll go up and close the double gates behind them. At this time of evening it would be usual to see roos, but none show. Their numbers are down. People have been shooting illegally in the reserve, and earlier in the day I noticed a strand of fence-wire cut where a hunter has stepped over, chasing roos onto our place. Our property. I reject the notion of property. Custodianship sounds too appropriative, and for a non-Indigenous resident, all too convenient. Really, that’s the issue that burns below the surface of all I write about this place. Proudhon is only halfway there with ‘property is theft’.
Some theft is more theft than others. He fails to investigate the nature of such theft: that’s more the key to understanding the implications of surveying, gifting, selling, claiming.Right across the block – its six acres, and an adjoining reserve twenty times that size – there are the tunnels of wolf spiders. They wait in their lairs and pounce. There’s one that lives under a rock near the 90,000-litre rainwater tank. I have been watching it for weeks. It sits under the ledge with its multiple eyes scanning its domain, then strikes out at insects that cross its path. If it gets alarmed, it disappears into a tunnel at the back of the rock – its cave under the ledge.