Sophia Bulling experienced the common 'double love' when she visited for a working holiday, falling not only for a local, but for her new career in the dairy industry. She regularly moves 800 cows at a time across the road that bisects Lang Dairies at Tatura, seen competing here with one of them wanting to share in the publicity. Photos: Andy Wilson
‘Eierschale abschrecken’ is not commonly heard in the dairy industry, nor anywhere in these parts for that matter.
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The reason is not only that it is a Swiss-German expression, but it also pertains to eggs, and in the burgeoning adventure of one former backpacker, the term’s double meaning is a paradox.
Sophia Bulling of Tatura could be forgiven for experiencing the ‘shock of a freshly boiled egg plunged into cold water’, which refers to someone when they experience a massive change, such as leaving her native Stuttgart for a new life.
Abschrecken also means ‘deterrence’, of which Sophia has experienced none in settling into the Goulburn Valley.
“I think it is hard to describe the change because it is so different; a shock but in a good way,” Sophia said.
Servicing car companies IT systems from a desk in Germany is worlds away from standing in a Goulburn Valley chill, escorting 800 dairy cattle across a road.
This is where Sophia has found herself after coming to Australia on a trip that was intended to be brief but ended up with the typical ‘double love’ that afflicts many backpackers.
“I just came for a working holiday and yes, exactly, I fell in love with the country and in love with an Australian of course,” she says with nary a blush but a broad grin.
The half-kilometre column of Friesians, dotted with the occasional Jersey, moves quietly from one side of the road to the other with precision, seeming to appear over one horizon and disappear over the other as the cows come in for their afternoon milking.
Sophia manages this gently walking herd on her own from a short distance, armed only with a two-tone whistle, occasionally dashing off to stop the column and lower a rope across the road to let local vehicles through.
Between whistles and traffic control, she describes the sudden tree change in her life.
“It’s crazy because when I was working in that office back home, I always thought that office work was what I was headed to,” she said.
“But then I started working here and I thought ‘what have I done in the last couple of years’?’
“I took the longer way but found my place.
The 800-strong herd makes its well-organised and quiet way to the milking shed in a slow-moving half-kilometre column at Lang Dairies at Tatura.
“I just love it; and yes, it’s a physical job and sometimes you have days when you’re a bit down or get angry with the cows, but every day is different.”
She suddenly dashes off to whistle along a Jersey that has stopped in the road to pose for my camera, aware that she is different from the crowd.
Sophia returns without skipping a beat.
“And you have lots of opportunities because I mainly started with milking, and I said to the boys that I would be really interested in learning other things.
“They basically started showing me things and — ”
She leaves again to lower the rope, returning after some cheerful waves with drivers crawling past in their cars.
“I mean they are my bosses, but I feel like we all have that friendship a bit and it makes it so much easier.”
Her bosses are brothers Markus and Phil Lang, who run the family dairy farm now into its second generation.
“If you have a problem, they are understanding and when I ask for learning more about things, they like to show me.”
Apart from an uncle with a few non-production sheep, Sophia said her family had no farming background.
She said the contrast between her office job and the dairy was something that could not be expressed effectively between two languages.
The laissez-faire approach of Australian life is also different from the organisational rigours of her homeland.
“Over there, it’s really straight that way, and everyone has to follow the rules.
“But it’s not Germany here!
“I used to stress about being five minutes late for a meeting because in Germany, if you have a meeting at nine, then you turn up 10 minutes before nine and it starts at nine.
“Here? You can just turn up on the right day.”
Her humour is clearly making the transition just as well.
And in a blink, she’s gone again to push along another Jersey media tart who’s holding up the others, then lower the rope once more before disappearing with the herd as the column nears its end.
Sophia waves from a distance and heads down to the milking shed, her day just beginning in the middle of an afternoon.
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