RB Sellars Visits
Tipperary Station
In the mighty north, a fresh dawn is rising and lighting the way for the future of farming.
From the passenger seat of the R22 Beta II helicopter, the cattle tracks in the grass make a mosaic of the ground below. The lines in the land tell a story, of where the Brahman have been and where they're headed. In the same way, the lines on the hands of the helicopter pilot tell a story too. Sam is the Livestock Manager of the iconic Northern Territory station, and his hands are tougher than overcooked beef shank. He’s been and gone – twice – and now he’s back.
The Territory has that effect on people; the red dirt gets under your skin. On the 30-kilometre, unsealed road to Tipperary Station – two and a half hours south of Darwin – the red dirt stirs under your tyres and follows behind like a ribbon in the wind. It doesn’t get more Territorian than Tipperary. The aggregation – which includes Tipperary, Litchfield and Douglas West stations – covers 386,001 hectares (3,860 square kilometres).
General Manager, David Connolly (Sam’s father), knows almost every inch of the property that stretches from horizon to horizon, and between the Daly and Adelaide Rivers. The land is currently home to roughly 16,000 head of cattle, 6,000 acres of rainfed cotton, 12,000 lemon trees, 3,000 mango trees,
50-odd staff and 15 contractors. David came to Tipperary on a three month
contract to roll out a new management plan for the station’s owner. That was nearly ten years ago.
“Since then, we’ve upgraded, developed and diversified the property to be more than a cattle station – although cattle are still a major income stream
and very important to the property. I had visions of doing broadacre cropping, and we’ve achieved that vision,” says David.
Places have names here. As well as the Honeymoon outstation, there’s
The Boulevard where some of the station’s families live, the Qantas Club
near the helicopter shed, Greenant Creek where a local croc lives. These
are the names – and stories – passed down from generation to generation
of workers. The current team includes people from all over the country:
Abbey, who drives a cotton picker, is from Deniliquin in New South Wales;
Ben, the Rangelands and Conservation Officer, came up from Adelaide; and
Wendy, the all-important cook, left her life running cafes in Brisbane to take
over the cattle station kitchen.
If the people do indeed make the place, Tipperary is colourful, connected and ready for all that's to come. Just l ike the cattle tracks in the grass, there's a clear path forward for the station, and a healthy respect for its history.
Remnants of the past are everywhere. The pre-historic crocodiles in the waterways represent strength and survival in Aboriginal culture, the oldest living culture in the world. The gamba grass is a throwback to the 1930’s when the government introduced it as a pasture species. There was once a sign at the entrance of the Tipperary Station that read: “The Pride Of The North.” The sign may be gone, but the sentiment remains.
Likewise, signals to the future are aplenty. The trampoline at the school
building is frequented by the station’s youngest residents, who are growing
up on the land. The cotton bales dotted along fence lines are a sign of a new direction in agriculture in the Top End.
It’s a long way from Botswana where the couple met in 1999, while both working at luxury safari camps. “I sometimes think ‘what the heck am I doing here?’,” Sarah laughs. When they decided to move back to her homeland with their two children she voted for a beach house but Richard’s love of animals won out. “This is like heaven for him,” Sarah says. “He lives in a beautiful bit of the world with incredible wildlife and deals with animals on a daily basis.”
A new era is dawning on the great north, and the team at Tipperary – led by the Connolly family – are paving the way, like the characters who’ve gone before them. “My big hope is to see the station work to its capacity,” says David. “Not over-farming the property but using its full potential.”
