The Queensland cattlemen and the traditions they keep going

My grandpa, Don Henning, was born in Surat, a small rural town on the banks of the Balonne River in the Maranoa Region, about five hours west of Brisbane.

He left school at 15 to join the workforce, later becoming a stock and station agent for Australian Estates. He travelled throughout outback Queensland, managing offices in Roma, Mitchell and Wallumbilla, and working as a stock auctioneer.

At one stage, his career was so successful that Country Life, a prominent rural newspaper still in circulation today, labelled him “The Ace Auctioneer” of the west.

Auctioneer Don Henning at work in Wallumbilla in 1966. A whopping 7500 white-faced Herefords were sold that day, a record for the time. Credit: Courtney Kruk

He and wife Betty eventually left the bush and moved to Brisbane, which is where they spent their retirement years.

Opportunities to reconnect with the country were few and far between – except when the Ekka, Queensland’s annual agriculture show, rolled into town.

Despite the decades that had passed, every year on the first Friday of the show, my grandpa would head into the RNA Showgrounds to catch up with old stock and station agents and friends from out west at the Cattlemen’s Bar.

It was an annual tradition and one he kept up until he could no longer make the journey.

The iconic Cattlemen’s Bar, under the old Machinery Hill stand, was permanently closed in 2023 to make way for more seating. The Stockmen’s Bar and Grill, perched further up the hill in front of the Horse Pavilion, is the showground’s new spiritual watering hole for visitors and country folk.

Troy Nuttridge, and many of the farmers and families spending the week sleeping above the Cattle Pavilion, has no doubt visited the bar a few times already.

He’s been coming to the Ekka for 25 years now, with no plans to stop making the annual pilgrimage.

“We love it, it’s part of history for us,” he says. “I actually met Tracey here.”

Tracey, his wife, is guiding the black angus hereford they’ve just clipped out of a small holding pen at the back of the Cattle Pavilion. Hopefully, the weather will have cleared in time for Thursday’s cattle judging.

“We do about 25 to 30 shows a year, plus sales,” Troy says.

“We breed Angus, but we also run a business where we show for other people ... that in itself is an art form these days, and not something many people can do.”

Troy started working with cattle when he was 15. I ask if he remembers his first Ekka.

The Stockmen’s Bar and Grill is the showground’s new spiritual watering hole for visitors and country folk.Credit: Brisbane Showgrounds

“I don’t think it’s something you’ll ever forget. It’s a real show, [and] it’s very important to us,” he says.

That importance extends beyond the accolades. “It’s bringing country culture to the city. That’s what it has always been about.”

I leave the Nuttridges to meet Duncan McInnes OAM at the members’ bar overlooking the Main Arena.

McInnes is a third-generation dairy farmer and Scenic Rim Regional Council’s longest-serving councillor.

“I first came to the show as a 16-year-old with a bloke that used to show here in dairy cattle,” he says.

“Some things have changed ... but the principles [of the show] are the same.”

McInnes tells me his grandfather was also a devout visitor to the show, even decades after his farming days had ended.

“I can remember when I was a small child and he’d retired to Redcliffe by then, he would come for four days and sit in the stand with his packet of sandwiches and watch the shows and cattle.

(Left to right) Duncan McInnes, Rowena Crouch and Craig Magnussen.Credit: Courtney Kruk

“There were a lot of people like him there at the time.”

We’re soon joined by Rowena Crouch, a dairy farmer from Mount Mee, and Craig Magnussen, chief executive of the Darling Downs Moreton Rabbit Board.

The board is responsible for the maintenance of the 555 kilometres of rabbit-proof fencing running from the back of the Gold Coast to Goombi near Chinchilla. The fence, which has been in operation for more than 130 years, is entirely funded through local government.

“It’s virtually still the same as what it was [when it was first built],” Magnussen says.

I tell the table that when my grandpa was a boy in Surat, he used to set rabbit traps on properties out of town and sell the hides to the local Cobb & Co for sixpence (five cents).

I leave the trio and head to the Stockmen’s Bar to collect my nephew. This is the second year I’ve brought him to the Ekka, we’ll see how long the tradition lasts.

My brother is there with a group of mates. He’s starting a new tradition to honour our grandpa’s memory and the country life he dearly loved.

The Ekka might one day become obsolete. But like all traditions, as long as there are people to keep it going, they will continue to do exactly that.