With temperatures reaching the thirties during the day, the fire wasn’t really needed, but it was as much a part of the Muster as the Stockmen’s Challenge. A massive construction, with whole trees placed side by side and then on top, the bonfire took all night and half the next day to burn itself down. A CFA truck stood on standby, although Nunkeri had had more rain this season than Tindarra and there was at least a tinge of green left up on this plain. Even so, the tanker was good insurance in case a spark got away. With his butt planted on an old gnarled gum tree log set a strategic distance from the leaping flames, Will tuned into the poem being recited by an elderly man on the other side of the fire. It wasn’t hard to see that Wesley Ogilvie – cattleman, bush poet, legendary stockwhip-maker and Will’s neighbour at Tindarra – adored every minute of his annual Nunkeri Muster performances. For as long as Will could remember, Wes had regaled them with poems, bringing to life Banjo Paterson’s ballads and adding a few of his own.
