In 82 I flew an
aging Hiller 12E4 (piston 4 place –
pilot in the front – space for gear
or up to 3 passengers behind him)
out to a Station which we would
describe locally as “beyond the
black stump”.
Little Kiwi
Mike had just come out from The Land
of The Land of The Long White Cloud
looking for experience and was jammed in the back of the
machine with enough gear for us to
carry out spray ops for a week.
What
didn’t fit in the back was jammed on
the two external litters between the
6 spare Jerry cans of avgas (we
couldn’t go faster than 55 Kts with
the load and drag unless we both
lifted our feet off the floor at the
same time!).
Our fishing rods where
tied to the spray booms for a spot
of relaxation on the way back to the
coast. Someone (guess who) had
painted a big Playboy bunny sign on
each door and the whole shebang was
quite a sight.
Infesting the
plains out past Winton, was a weed
called Noogoora Burr which embedded
itself in the sheep fleece and made
the wool price on the market rock
bottom.
One of the graziers did some
sums on the back of his cigarette
pack and figured that fewer burrs
would mean a better wool price – so
he called me. A quick handshake over
the Flying doctor radio chat hour
and I was on my way.
The spray
program went so well that we ended
up out there for over eight weeks as
neighbour radioed neighbour to give
it a try.
About week
seven, the Kiwi (a keen, low hour,
snowflake coloured skin pilot who
had come to OZ to build helicopter
flight hours and
experience) and I struck something
different.
After three
days, the spraying was coming to an
end at one particular Station and I
asked the owner if he minded giving
his neighbour a call to let him know
what was up.
The answer was
a furrowed eyeballed direct ”No”.
Me, being me,
and having an enquiring mind, had a
yack to the owner over a cold beer
that night and found out that there
had been a family feud going on
about the location of a very short
boundary fence and, as a result, the
neighbours hadn’t spoken to each
other in living memory.
“That’s a
bit weird”, I thought and left it at
that.
Next day was
the last day on that Station and
Kiwi Mike and I were working about
25 miles from the homestead, using a
turkey nest (windmill bore) to get
our water for the heli chemical
tanks.
On the way back
to get another load I spotted a
huge, black, wild Sow and her
piglets, trotting over a big flat
plain and for some unknown reason,
an idea floated thru my head.
Back at the
loading pad I checked my fuel status
and yelled for Kiwi Mike to strap
himself in the back. Ever the
disciplined Kiwi – he jumped in and
away we went without a question
asked.
The Pigs were
still on the flat.
For the next
twenty minutes that old Hiller
turned into an HughesOH6 from
the Asian War Games as we separated
out the piglets and kept the Sow in
the middle of the flat – not a bad
feat considering the spray booms
stuck out a long way on each side
and Kiwi Mike was holding on for
grim death as the intercom wasn’t
working and he hadn’t a clue what
was up.
Eventually the
old Sow was completely stuffed –
turning round and round in one spot
as we pedal turned around her in
circles – keeping the nose of the
machine at the nose of the pig.
Sensing that
the time was right – I yelled at
Kiwi Mike to take the belt of his
pants and jump out on her and hogtie
(no pun intended) her legs together.
Kiwi Mike looked real small on the
ground beside her – she was
certainly the biggest pig he had
ever danced with.
Like any Kiwi -
he did the job well.
I landed and
explained what I was up to. Between
us we heaved the pig into the RH
back seat – sitting her up and tying
her in with the seat belt and a big
mob of ropes.
On the way back
into the Station Kiwi Mike put his
baseball hat and headset on the pig.
The station
owner sensed something was wrong
with us returning well before
schedule and ran out to see what was
up.
He couldn’t see
the RH seat and as the engine shut
down I called him over.
I’ve never seen
anyone’s eyes so big or jaw drop so
low in shock after he sighted that
pig.!
“Mate” I said –
“Mate – while we were out working
near the boundary fence, we met your
neighbour and as you haven’t seen
him for so long we thought we might
bring him over to say hullo so you
mob can get to know each other
again.”
The grazier saw
the funny side and promised to do
something about talking to his
neighbour.
We laughed for
days afterwards every time we
visualized the
grazier's face at seeing the pig,
with the headset and cap, sitting in
the back seat of the helicopter.
TC in the Hiller12E4 at Winton
The Hiller
- two weeks later after Kiwi Mike flew it without a rating
on type while TC was on leave. He
left the company almost immediately
for some reason.....
True story
TC (Tony
Carmody)
