How South Australia’s record dry is hurting our farmers’ children

They breed ’em tough out in the bush. But South Australia’s record drought is testing the resilience of our farmers’ children.

They’ve been brought up in the harsh South Australian Mid North, where the parched, red-brown soil turns to dust at the slightest hint of wind.

They’ve spent their young lives on the land, watching mum and dad tirelessly work the soil and tend to their sheep as they attempt to eke out an existence and keep the bank manager at bay.

But these tough, resilient kids of the bush are starting to worry. They’ve seen the stresses mount as their parents make the tough decisions to sell off sheep, even ones they had considered pets.

And they’ve watched in disbelief as the crops they have helped put into the ground have withered and died before their eyes thanks to the lowest rain period anyone in their families can remember.

These are the kids of the drought. The kids of a farming community at the epicentre of an ongoing dry spell that is threatening the future of some country towns.

Farming leaders say the entire state is in drought, but here, in the Mid North is ground zero. Some farmers are heading into their third year of drought conditions.

Kody Chapman, 9, Matisse Arthur, 11, and Noah Zwar, 10 from Booleroo Centre District school. Picture Mark Brake

And as their parents take second jobs off the farm to pay the bills, the strain is starting to filter down to the next generation.

“It makes me feel sad and a bit worried about what’s going to happen next and about the year ahead,” Noah Zwar, 10, says.

Noah’s parents Russell and Davina run a farm between Wirrabara and Murray Town, about 250km north of Adelaide.

He’s a student at Booleroo Centre District School and is one of several primary school students from the region The Advertiser is speaking with to get an idea on how the drought is affecting their lives.

Noah says his parents haven’t been able to grow any crops because it’s been so dry, and when we ask what his mum and dad say about the drought, he’s emphatic.

“That it’s horrible. And they don’t like it. And they are struggling to keep their money and not lose their money.

“It’s not good, and it’s not good if you run out of water on the farm, because it’s hard to get more water if you do run out.”

One of thousands of empty dams in South Australia’s Mid North. Picture Mark Brake

Matisse Arthur, 11, and Kody Chapman, 9, are also off the land and are students here at Booleroo.

Matisse’s parents Jordan and Libby have a farm between Melrose and Booleroo. Kody’s parents Wayne and Kirby are only a few kilometres north of the school.

Like all families around here, they are doing it tough. Kody’s mum Kirby, 39, and grandmother Maureen, 70, both work at the school.

His dad Wayne has started working five days a week at a metal fabrication business in town, leaving the farm work to after hours and weekends.

Ever since he can remember, Kody has wanted to follow the family tradition and work the land like his parents, grandparents, great grandparents and more. His ancestors were among the first to settle in this area back in the 1800s and he and his brother Cooper, 5, are the sixth generation to live here.

The previous five have all been farmers. But Wayne and Kirby want their sons to find another path. Sheering, perhaps.

“We’re saying things to Kody like don’t be a farmer, there’s no future in farming,” Kirby says.

Booleroo Centre District school teachers Kathy Kupke and Kirby Chapman. Picture Mark Brake

Up at Quorn Area School, Lara Cuffe, 9, says she feels “angry and sad” about the drought, especially if the sheep die. She wants the kids of Adelaide to know that it’s not easy for farmers to look after their sheep in the heat, dry and dust.

Her parents Shane and Jodi farm at Washpool where their once-full dams are now “just dirt” and they tune in the television weather report every day. “But it never says anything about rain,” Lara laments.

She says the family has had to sell off some of their livestock - but she’s adamant at least some will survive.

“I do have a poddy calf and a pet goat... and another pet cow... but we’re definitely not selling them because they’re in the family,” she beams.

Quorn school principal Andrew Gilsenan-Reed said demand for school counsellors had increased after two years of drought combined with a cost-of-living crisis had left families struggling to maintain their regular routines.

“These children are hearing the stories, they feel that anxiety,” he said. “We’re having more conversations with young people about money because they become a lot more aware of it over the past two years. It’s really clear that they’re a little bit more anxious.”

Quorn Area School students Lachy Heinze, 11, Kallan Hotham, 12, and Lara Cuffe, 9. Picture: Mark Brake

Sisters Ava, Ruby and Stella Duthy make the 85km each-way trip from the family station at Yunta each day to attend Peterborough Primary School. They are accustomed to sharing a shower to save water

“If you live on a farm and there’s a drought, most of the sheep are probably going to be dying, and the bush is going to be dry and lots of things like that,” Ruby, 8, says.

Back at Booleroo, deputy principal Kathy Kupke is with us as the kids talk about the drought. She can’t help but cry as they speak and needs time to compose herself before telling us her story.

Kathy, 62, moved here from Balaklava 40 years ago when she married her farmer husband Neil, now 69. She reckons she’s not quite a local yet (maybe in another 10 years) but can’t remember things being this bad on the land.

She says the tough times of the past few years are starting to affect the vibe of the kids at school, who can’t help but be affected by what their parents are going through.

“It’s not that the parents put anything on them,” she says.

Ruby Duthy, 8, Zara Woods, 9, and Ava Duthy, 10, from Peterborough Primary School. .Picture Mark Brake

“They don’t say, ‘Oh, we should all be feeling bad’. It’s just the emotion, kids pick it up, They’re like little sponges aren’t they?

“They pick up the anxiety and the worry of their families. You don’t necessarily see it in behaviours, they don’t act out or anything.

“But you just… you just know that this is a concern for them too.”

Originally published as How South Australia’s record dry is hurting our farmers’ children