Tim the Yowie Man: Ever heard of Bowning's mythical pheazel?

The big what?

You haven't heard of the pheazel (sometimes spelled pheazal)? Well, you obviously haven't spent much time in Bowning, located about an hours' drive north of Canberra.

If you pull up a bar stool in the village's historic pub, taking pride of place behind the main bar is the Pheazel Honour Board which lists pheazel "sightings".

Meanwhile, if you wander down to the recreation oval, there, in the modest besser-block pavilion amongst the dust-encrusted tumble weeds, is a colourful sign announcing you've arrived at the "Pheazel Bar" in the "Pheazel Hut".

You'd be safe to say the village is pheazel-mad. Or at least it once was. But what exactly is a pheazel?

The origins of this mysterious "creature" date back to a cold wet Monday afternoon in the mid-1980s when a larger than normal crowd had gathered in the Bowning Hotel.

That afternoon became such a momentous one in the folklore of Bowning that ex-Bowning resident and knock-about larrikin Tony Southwell penned an entire chapter about it in his recently autobiography (The Cruci-Fiction of Southy, self-published, 2022).

"There was a stack of us all sinking beers, mostly guys who worked in shearing sheds and guys who either worked for the electricity commission or water resources, who were on their day off," recalls Tony.

"Suddenly Mick, the fresh-faced general duties copper from Yass living in Bowning, bursts through the door, intrigued as to why there was such a big crowd at the pub on a Monday afternoon," explains Tony.

Tony immediately responded with "It's Pheazel Day mate".

With Mick clearly still perplexed, Tony explained that "Pheazel Day was the first Monday of July every year, and that it was the only day we were allowed to legally hunt the pheazel, and that we were all celebrating our very own local animal".

"I had heard the word pheazel on The Cosby Show a few days earlier, and thought it was a great word, so I ran with it," recalls Tony. "Of course, everyone else in the pub went along with my stupid story."

The city cop bought the story which was soon after further enhanced when another local dug up a fictional photo of a hare with antlers, a chook's comb, wings, and duck feet.

"He had it blown up into a poster print and it was hung up it the pub for everyone to admire," says Tony, "and through years the legend of the pheazel grew."

When puzzled tourists in the pub asked about the pheazel, the well-versed bar flies would respond "it only ever comes out if you have a motor vehicle accident or roll your tractor".

"We even mounted a set of antlers on an honour board and every time someone spotted a pheazel, their name was added to it."

Although the pheazel honour board is still in situ, due to several changes in ownership of the pub, the poster of the mythical beast no longer hangs on the wall and as a result knowledge of the pheazel seems to be waning.

In fact, on my recent visit, the barmaid hadn't even heard of the pheazel.

But Duncan Burleigh is hoping to change that.

The jack-of-all-trades (including a rodeo clown) who until recently regularly rode his horse to the pub, salvaged the old poster when a previous owner tossed it out.

"The glass frame it was in was smashed and the poster was all wet, but I've fixed it up," says Duncan, who although it's currently squirreled away in a post pack tube in his home office, would love to see it hanging in the pub again.

But Duncan doesn't want to stop there. "We need a Big Pheazel in town," he asserts, "Perhaps a statue made from wrought iron."

One person he won't be getting any arguments from is Tony Southwell who is still miffed that he hasn't been acknowledged as the official inventor of the pheazel myth.

"I'm chuffed it all started with something stupid I said all that time ago, even though I have never been credited with it," he laments.

There are reports that Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson, two of Australia's most celebrated poets, occasionally shared a drink at the Bowning Hotel, and I'm sure pheazels were the furthest thing from their minds.

According to Cyril Cox, former owner of the 1857 sandstock Mayfield House (a private home next to the pub), "Henry's Aunt Phoebe who lived at Mayfield House would send money to Henry so that he could catch the train from Sydney to Bowning to help him 'dry-out', to overcome his severe alcoholism".

"During these regular visits, Henry would write some of his poems before despatching them to publishers on the train," claims Cyril.

Meanwhile, Banjo, who lived in and visited the Yass Valley during the early 1900s, would also sometimes despatch some of his written works to Sydney by rail from the Bowning railway station.

"Stories abound of the two poets, who didn't always get on, enjoying a drink or two together at the pub," reveals Cyril. "Apparently Phoebe wouldn't let Banjo sleep in her house as he was a blue-blooded Liberal and the Lawsons were staunch Labor supporters."

If you sit on the shady banks of the Murrumbidgee River at Wagga Wagga and spot a tourist with a boogie board or surfboard firmly tucked under one arm and frantically checking their watch on the other arm, don't worry, you aren't seeing things.

Despite being located more than five hours' drive from the coast, the site of a wannabee surfer in boardshorts waiting to "hang ten" at Wagga Beach is a not uncommon occurrence.

It's likely they are waiting for the town's infamous "five o'clock wave", a sudden surge of water released from "nearby" Burrinjuck Dam at precisely the same time each day. The surge, which if some locals are to be believed, creates a wave so big as it travels downstream that you can surf it all the way to Narrandera, some 100 kilometres away.

Of course, just like Bowning's pheazel, it's a complete hoax, aimed to reel in unsuspecting victims.

MORE YOWIE MAN:

Adding some credence to the story is that there really is a Burrinjuck Dam located upstream of Wagga Wagga, albeit 200 kilometres away, and that water really is released from the dam, for irrigation of crops and pastures in the Murrumbidgee Irrigation Area.

However, when you start drilling further into the detail, holes start appearing in the story.

Firstly, water releases from Burrinjuck Dam are ongoing - the water flow never ceases, unless in an extreme weather event like a flood when release rates may change significantly in order to mitigate the severity of floods.

The final nail in the coffin of this urban legend is that any change in the release volume sufficiently large enough to create a wave is highly unlikely to ever occur. According to a spokesperson for WaterNSW, "any dramatic changes in release flows need to be scaled up and down gradually to prevent bank erosion, equipment and stock loss and other unfavourable impacts immediately downstream of the dam".

But hey, don't let the facts ruin a good story.

Rating: Medium - Hard

Clue: Hopefully they aren't looking for people in barrels!

How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to tym@iinet.net.au. The first correct email sent after 10am, Saturday July 1 wins a double pass to Dendy, the Home of Quality Cinema.

Last week: Congratulations to Peter Harris of Latham who was first to identify last week's photo as the 1875 St Andrew's Anglican Church at Jerangle, located between Captains Flat and Cooma.

Now for some light relief from all the morbid photographs of graveyards that have recently appeared in this column.

Vince Condon thought he stumbled upon "The Tomb of the Unknown Phone Technician" when he saw this public utility remnant next to a footpath outside an ACT Emergency Services facility near Fyshwick Markets.

"The old and colourfully capped wires form a unique 'wreath' on the 'grave'," he quips.

While recently exploring the laneways of Farrer, Leigh Palmer of Isaacs spotted this timber crocodile. "Looks like it might have been chainsaw art using an old sleeper," he suggests. I wonder if there are other similar artworks in Canberra's many suburban laneways.

CONTACT TIM: Email: tym@iinet.net.au or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/- The Canberra Times, GPO Box 606, Civic, ACT, 2601

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