"I guess all living matter returns to the earth eventually," I solemnly mutter to Matthew Higgins, my walking partner and guide for the day, as we carefully step over the brumby's detached skull, partially hidden amongst more flowers 20 metres away. Talk about pushing up daisies.

The irony that we discover this grisly scene just minutes after paying our respects at the grave of Francis Dunn, a 19th century hut keeper at Peppercorn Station, isn't lost on us.

Marked simply just by a fencepost and a chunk of limestone surmounted with a wooden cross, Dunn's grave is one of the more isolated final resting spots of our region's early pioneers. If the light is right, you can just make out the words "FRANCIS DUNN" hacked into the limestone. There's no mention of his age nor date of death and who knows if it will be recognisable after another century of blizzards blow through this vast plain.

Although noteworthy, it's not the remoteness of his grave, nor is it how Dunn died (more on that later) which makes Dunn's story such an extraordinary one. Rather, it's the series of events immediately after his death which makes the story worth retelling.

On September 11, 1890, Dunn's body was found by George Southwell, of nearby Coolamine, who promptly (or as quickly as one could in the 1800s) alerted the police. Eventually John Gale, the Queanbeyan coroner, was sent to the scene to conduct an inquest.

Needing a jury of five to officiate at such an inquest on the first day of his long ride to Peppercorn, Gale stopped at Brindabella to try to find five volunteers from the local gold diggings to join him as jurors.

"But as soon as he arrived word spread and the diggers, not wanting to get involved, cleared out," explains Matthew who features the saga of Dunn's death in his authoritative tome on the high country, Rugged Beyond Imagination (National Museum of Australia Press, 2009).

"Next day, after threatening a group of miners with fines if they didn't join him as jurymen, Gale and his entourage and arrived at Peppercorn, astonished to find no one around, not even the dead Dunn," Matthew explains.

Had Dunn suddenly risen from the dead and done a runner? Not quite.

Gale's men soon uncovered some clues - the slabs were missing from one wall of the hut, there were fresh woodchips on the ground and footprints and fresh wheel tracks in the snow.

"Gale quickly concluded that a rough coffin had been made and that Dunn and been buried," explains Matthew, who adds, "his theory was confirmed when a group of men, including the Kiandra policeman suddenly appeared."

The Kiandra policeman explained that he'd been given instructions to bury Dunn. Having trekked all this way through snow and dragging along the jurors, Gale was understandably furious (one can only imagine the disposition of the jurors) and demanded that the body be immediately exhumed so he could examine it.

"As both men's tempers frayed further, the policeman explained that raising the body would be impossible – Dunn's coffin had been lowered into a mineshaft and boulders dropped on top of it," Matthew explains.

Buried under a tonne of rock it clearly wasn't going to be possible for Gale's jurymen to examine Dunn's body, leaving Gale with only one choice - to replace the men who had reluctantly trudged all the way from Brindabella as jurors with the men who had buried Dunn.

Gale promptly held his inquest on the veranda and with the new jurors indicating there were no marks of violence on Dunn's body, Gale concluded that he had "died of natural causes, accelerated by exposure".

Just as Matthew starts to reveal to me the disturbing postscript to Dunn's death, we hear an almighty crack above the roar of the wind. It's rapidly followed by a muffled thud. "No doubt a big branch falling off a tree," Matthew remarks as we push on through the maze of snow gums.

Only a couple of hundred metres ahead we stop in our tracks - an old snow gum has been completely uprooted by the gusty westerly and blocks our way. The earthy aroma of the damp dirt still clinging to the roots testimony to it being felled just minutes earlier.

Matthew and I are left to contemplate our fate if we hadn't stopped to examine the brumby carcass. Perhaps it was the spirit of Dunn saying "hey, thanks for visiting", or possibly warning us off away from his ghostly domain. I like to think it was the former.

Paranormal aficionados often argue that ghosts especially haunt a location if someone dies in a violent or dramatic way. While the exact circumstances of how Dunn died will forever remain a mystery, the postscript to the story - the cause of death for his two cattle dogs – is, however, sadly known.

"Right through the Gale's inquest Dunn's two dogs sat patiently guarding Dunn's hat and coat which lay on the ground, departing only once to briefly chase away some brumbies which suddenly appeared," Matthew explains.

"Not wanting to leave the dogs to their own devices for fear they would starve to death, the men laced two pieces of bread with the strychnine and threw them to the grieving dogs, Matthew says.

Little wonder after poisoning the dogs, all the men immediately rode off, for death by strychnine is a slow and painful death by asphyxiation – not a pretty sight.

The theme of this year's Canberra and Region Heritage Festival, which officially starts on Saturday is "conflict and compassion". I understand that Dunn's faithful companions were dedicated to their master but I hope if a similar situation were to arise today that more would be done to save the dogs, and if they had to be put down that it would be done in a more "compassionate" way.

With the wind increasing in intensity and the branches above us starting to ominously creak, not wanting to add to Peppercorn's already grim heritage, Matthew and I quicken our step and return to the relative safety of the open expanses of the plain.

Francis Dunn's far-flung improvised tomb isn't the only grave in our region with an unusual story. The Canberra and Region Heritage Festival features a number of tours which visit the final resting places of many of our early pioneers, my pick of which leads you, by torchlight, to an intriguing grave in Queanbeyan's Riverside Cemetery.

"Standing alone, pushed up against the farthest fence in teh cemetery is a grave which for many years, the identity of its occupant was shrouded in mystery," reports Nichole Overall, local historian and tour guide.

According to Nichole, "the dedication doesn't include a full name, but does offer a clue: In loving memory of our dear sister Susie, who was taken suddenly 23 August 1903, aged 32 years. Erected by her sorrowing brothers and sisters."

"Many thought it was most likely a suicide, isolated as the grave was and perhaps just outside the boundaries of consecrated ground," explains Nichole, who adds, "only recently did it come to light that Susie was a murder victim - and also the daughter-in-law of John Gale, one of the region's most prominent citizens." Yes, that's the very same John Gale who was Queanbeyan coroner and who features in this column's lead story on Francis Dunn.

"Gale's son Charles was sentenced to hang for shooting his wife on an otherwise quiet Sunday afternoon 112 years ago," Nichole says.

Check it out: 'Mysterious Queanbeyan by Moonlight' walking tour. 6.30pm – 9pm on 17 April and 2 May. Bookings essential: Ph: 0413 671 123 or email: qbn@qbncityofchampions.com.au For more details and a full Heritage Festival program, see: www.act.gov.au/heritagefestival

This column has been deluged with reports of the recent spread of "dead-looking" gum trees lining the sides of some of our busiest roads, especially in our northern suburbs, with many readers concerned the eucalyptus weevil which decimated parts of the Monaro (Mystery on the Monaro, February 28) may have chewed its way into the ACT. In response, during the week I drove along some of the worst-affected roads, William Hovell Drive, Kingsford Smith Drive, Kuringa Drive and then towards Yass on the Barton Highway. I lost count at about 2500 gums trees which appeared to be dying. Somewhat alarmed, this column enlisted the expertise of local naturalist Rainer Rehwinkel.

Rainer reports that the culprit isn't the dastardly weevil, rather a significant case of eucalyptus die-back in which the leaves of many gums, especially Blakelys Red Gum are falling victim to a proliferation of "psyllids - bugs that produce sugary coverings known as lerp". The reasons for the die-back outbreak are complex and partially due to a breakdown in the symbiotic relationship the psyllids have with local birdlife.

Although such die-back outbreaks are not uncommon, I sympathise with Robert Mohr, of Flynn, who warns, "I've never seen die-back in Canberra this bad." I hope the situation improves quickly otherwise we could be left with a most depressing landscape, not befitting of a "bush capital". Watch this space for updates.

Cryptic clue: Latham was here.

Degree of difficulty: Medium

Last week: Congratulations to Barbara Jaques, of Flynn, who correctly identified last week's photo as Canberry Fair which operated near the Federal Highway in Watson between 1981 and 1991. Barbara just beat a number of other readers to the prize including John Nott who "designed all the buildings", and recalls that "overall, it was a fun project at the time; something that probably wouldn't get off the ground today".

The photo (taken in November 1986 and is a part of the ArchivesACT photo collection) took many readers on a trip down memory lane. These included Michelle Silcock, of Broulee, Kathy O'Neil, of Waramanga, and Jody Livingstone, of Fisher, who especially enjoyed "riding in the oversized swan boats on the man-made lagoon".

How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to timtheyowieman@bigpond.com. The first email sent after 10am on Saturday with the correct answer wins.