John Edward Colbert died on October 27, 2020. A private family Mass was held in Birchip on November 5, followed by the burial at the Watchem cemetery. 

The following tribute was delivered by John’s son, Peter. 

Dad was born on September 8, 1930, to John Vincent and Susan Colbert and grew up on their farm east of Watchem, close to the shores of Lake Buloke. 

He was the fifth of eight children. Growing up in the ’30s and ’40s on a farm in the Mallee forged the strong work ethic and resilience he relied upon all his life. 

He described their pony as “always trying to scrape his passengers off against the barbed-wire fences en route to school”, and one 1940s dust storm in which Vince was lost as “being so thick that you really couldn’t see your hand in front of your face”.

School 
Dad went to school at Massey, a one building, one teacher school at the Massey bend, a-walk or-ride of some six miles from home. Dad didn't really tell us what sort of a boy he was, but . . .

The Massey teacher’s horse liked to bite, so when the chap arrived each morning at school in his buggy, rather than get down to open the gate, he had a responsible kid (Dad) open it for him. 

One morning, the kids decided to put one over him. They all scattered and hid. The teacher sat in his buggy, calling out; but the kids stayed away, apparently until most of the day was gone. Someone got a hiding that day, but he didn’t say who!

College
He was smart enough to win a scholarship to St. Patrick’s College, Ballarat, where he boarded for four years, completing Matriculation in 1947. In that final year:

• He was a member of the heavy weight division wrestling team that won the championship. Dad always said being taught how to fall by an ex-AIF Commando saved him from plenty of injuries over the years.
• In the same year, he won the Barbeta Cup in the open handball championships, played in the Galvin House senior football premiers team, and the McCarthy House senior cricket premiership side.
• He was awarded the Christian Doctrine scholastic prize.

The year after Dad left St. Pat’s, his younger brother, Patrick Francis, also a St. Pats student, drowned in Lake Wendouree. Pat was only 16 years old at the time.

Dad came home to the family farm at Watchem. Then as well as during school holidays, he worked for other farmers around the district when they needed a hand.

Marriage 
Dad and Mum married on May 29, 1954, in St Mary’s church in Donald, and together they raised ten children. Dad's life became farming, family and community.

Once Dad had his own land, he realised he had to address the lack of reliable water for stock and households east of the Single Tree Road. He used two star pickets to survey his farm, then convinced the Grampians Water Management Board it was possible to run channels east from its main channel to fill dams in each of his paddocks. He volunteered to drive Hillgrove’s dozer to help with the job, beginning an enduring love affair with caterpillar tractors. 

Neighbouring farmers saw the success of Dad’s enterprise, and asked for his help to extend the network, eventually to a total of over 40 dams and many miles of channels. It was one of the largest private water networks in the-GWM system, and was managed by Dad and Roy Gilchrist. 

Farming 
Farming on the margins of Lake Buloke meant floods in the wet years. In the early '70s crops were threatened, so Dad, his neighbours and the local bank manager volunteered to build levy banks with the help of AD Hillgrove and his workers. Some banks still exist and were last useful in 2011.

Dad lived for farming. His passion for better farming methods, regulations and policies led to his involvement in a number of organisations. Hats off to Mum here, juggling cows, farm, kids and ironing Dad’s shirts so he could be a hell of a cove! He may not have been half what he was without her.

Council
As a councillor for the old Donald Shire for 21 years, he served three terms as Shire President. On retiring from Council he did not stop in his quest for improved services. Be it gravel on his roads, and lower shire rates for farmers, he would scrutinise every annual budget, going through it with a fine-tooth comb, then writing letters to the shire and  attending meeting to put forward his case. 

It wasn’t just the shire he  harassed, but state and federal politicians by phone, letter and calls to radio stations. I think there would be a few on the shire and in politics who would breathe a sigh of relief now that Dad is no more. 

VFF 
Dad joined the Victorian Farmers Federation in the 1960s and was awarded a Life Membership in 2012. His various offices included:

1963 delegate to the Charlton district council, 1980-85 president of the Watchem branch. 

1985 elected to the VFF Grains Council. 

1986 elected to the Grains Handling Committee.

1989 chairman of the Grains Legume committee and member of the Land Use Council.

1990 Wimmera salinity forum. 

1991 deputation to local shire.

1992 rural rates transport committee and young farmers finance committee. 

1993 he proposed a 7-point plan for the younger farmers finance  committee. 

1994 he worked with the Buloke Shire on rural rates.

1995 delegation to Buloke shire commissioner on rates.

He continued to attend annual conferences into his 80s. After no luck with local government, he was successful in recent years in getting the VFF to vote on a motion to pursue lower rates for farmers. 

He helped educate others on soil management through VFF education projects.

Committees  
He was an active member of the Watchem CFA for some 60 years and on the truck roster until this year.

Like most locals, he was active on various committees around the town, including the Watchem Racing Club, the Primary School and Pool committees.

I think Dad could have been a politician, but he preferred farming: There was time for Mass on Sundays, and all those meetings, but he farmed the rest of the time. Holidays and treats depended on the farming cycle and the farm's returns.

Changes 
He saw a lot of changes in farming – as a young man working dawn to dusk on tractors without headlights, sweltering in summer under an umbrella clamped to the machine to louvred then air-conditioned cabins. 

From binders and harvesters to the big headers of today, bigger plant shortened the seasonal work but there was more maintenance and greater pressure to keep moving. 

During harvest, we’d run up to the front gate to hand over Dad’s lunch as he drove another load into Watchem, such was the need to get the grain in and keep the wheels turning. 

Changes in farming practices too, from burning stubble to ploughing-in to today's minimal cultivation. He hated to see land lying idle, so while working his own farm, he share-farmed for other landowners: the Davidsons, Graham Hodge, Wavell McPherson and his own siblings Vince, Dot and Rita.

Sharing the Work 
As farm kids, we all chipped in, milking and separating before and after school, feeding animals and chipping thistles. We quickly learned how to tie a leg rope. And learned the hard way what happened if you didn’t do it properly!  

One thing some of us enjoyed was burning fire breaks before the fire restrictions came in. Dad had the knapsack and we had wet bags. As we got old enough to drive (when we could just see over the steering wheel and reach the pedals) we mastered utes, tractors, headers and later, trucks. We all knew to drive carefully, though, because he could read individual tyre prints on the dirt roads.

Shaping Lives 
Over the years, most of us left home – boarding schools, work and university, shaping our own lives. Jujj worked the farm with Dad for a period, then movedon. 

After a stint driving trains, Bert came home in 1988 to work beside Dad, and did so until early this year. 

I remember one harvest a few years ago, when Ty had joined Bodie in helping with harvest, and Bodie had graduated to driving Chris’s header. Ty just wanted to drive his Grandad’s header and join him on it for hours, learning its controls. 

Then Dad had to see his GP in Warrack, so Ty went stripping. When Dad got back to the paddock, he wasn’t too thrilled to find out that he had lost his seat. He never again left the keys in his header.

Rocks 
One of Dad’s ambitions was to cultivate every acre of the land he owned. The stony paddocks on the western side of the farm were a challenge. We have probably picked up hundreds of tonnes of rocks, by hand then machine. Dad added to his dozer collection plus built himself a stone rake. The one proudly standing at the entrance of the Birchip Catholic Church is one of Dad’s, and he gave them away to decorate the gardens of many houses in the district.

Shooting 
Dad was a reasonable shot with a gun. I believe he has a trophy for live pigeon shooting. When we were young, we used to go spotlighting with him. We kids held the spotlight from the back of the ute and reloaded from the passenger seat, while Dad drove and shot out the window. 

One memorable night, Dad shot 14 foxes on “Bull” Richard’s property. We never hit a fence or crashed through a channel; his memory of the lay of the land in the dark was amazing. But we’ve seen the top barb wire strand shot a few times, and if “too bloody slow” at opening or closing a gate, we’d risk being left behind rather than lose the fox.

Lifelong Friends 
He also loved duck shooting and about late ’70s (Buloke was full) he befriended a group of Italian shooters who had come up from Melbourne for the opening, and set up camp at Roy’s old place. 

The group (Silvio and Gino  Zancan, Dean Porapat, Bruno and Nino Costa, Albert Giacometti and their families) would welcome Dad into their camp with Italian feasts served with wine, grappa and espresso coffee. 

We spent many hours with them over the years as they became Dad's lifelong friends. I remember we would always have boxes of food and wine left at the back door, even if they were only passing through. 

Matt Costa did a placement with Dad 2011 as part of his tertiary studies, and attributed his love of farming to his time with our Dad.

Music
Dad was an accomplished piano player, self-taught and played in a band for local dances and balls, with the likes of Vic Vallance, Lindsey Borden and Hughie McCallum. We as kids still have fond memories of sitting at the piano some nights listening and singing along, although I’m not sure the song about “The Hobyars are coming” was a good sleep remedy for us. 

As a strong supporter of country music, Dad travelled far and wide to festivals. He went to Tamworth 25 times, including 2019. Most were with Brendan’s Tours, sleeping in tents with a camp kitchen at the back of the bus. 

Dad used to help Brendan serve breakfasts, and would bring back recipes for Mum. After his hip was replaced, we tried to persuade him to change tour companies for more  comfortable accommodations, but he said “all my mates are on this bus”. He regularly went to Mildura Country Music Festival, camping with Chook and John in various caravan parks. 

Over the years he could be found at the Logan pub, the St. Arnaud Club and the Horsham Festival and other performances. 

He loved meeting and chatting with the artists, always interested in learning about them and their songs. 

Such was Dad’s rapport with them that some would play a special song to acknowledge his presence when he arrived. He made friends easily and readily wherever he went.

Faith and Community  
His faith and community were very important to him. We attended Mass every Sunday, every Holy day, Stations of the Cross and every local and not-so-local funeral. 

We remember Dad not wanting to be late, ready in the car, tooting the horn, as the rest of us rushed to get into our Sunday best. On arrival at the church Dad took his place at the front of the church, singing the first hymn with gusto. Later, as we got older, probably to Dad's annoyance, we would try to sneak into the back pews, and sneak out early. And there was always so much talking after mass. Dad would have to talk to everyone! Even with us little kids pulling at his trouser leg, we were always some of the last to leave.

Depending on the circumstances and Mass times, our parents, then Dad alone could be found at Donald, Birchip or Wycheproof churches. A meal at the Wyche. pub was the norm after Saturday night Mass. After Sunday Mass in Donald, he’d regularly drop in to visit old mates in the JG's and catch up with friends of other denominations at lunch in Johnno’s café. 

He struggled with the COVID closure of churches. When zoom masses started, Bert would set up the iPad for him, and even though he participated, he found it very strange. From being so physically a part of life, all his life, he was now simply an  observer.

Sports 
With Shae, Bodie and Ty playing sport on the weekends, Dad loved to watch them play. He attended the footy, netball and hockey, as he had once done with his own kids. He always arrived well before the kids’ matches though; enjoying the chance to catch-up with other spectators.

Dad was very smart, and I’d like to think that we have all inherited a bit of that gene. Over the years we have had many robust discussions initially about homework topics; later politics and world events. He always had time to help with our schooling, even listening intently as we read aloud to him after a long day on the tractor. 

Mathematics 
His curiosity about the world and love of logic and mathematics was a great help to us, and he found mental arithmetic easy. Especially the 11 times tables. We’ve all seen him chatting to younger people  at the football, down the street, after church, at functions and even in McDonalds, challenging them with the famous 43 elevens. He would begin by asking “Are you any good at maths?” and then would teach them to multiply by 11 in their head. So, what is 43 x 11? If you don’t know by now, it’s too late, because the master has gone. 

Dad loved a chat (folksing as we call it) and whether it was political exchange, a farmers’ weather chat after Mass, finding something in common with a stranger at Tamworth or on the Ghan he was  always able to “hold an audience”. That genuine social connection is a theme amongst the good wishes received from those that had the pleasure of a Johnnie Colbert chat.

“The Lodge”
In March this year, Dad left the farm and took up residence in “The Lodge” as he called it. Covid followed, so all visits, including for his ninetieth birthday, were conducted through a pane of glass. Even though his mind was slipping, he knew the virus prevented us from being inside with him. He teased us by guilelessly, offering chocolates and “poppables” through the screen, then would began laughing with, “I would give you one if I could!”

Dad was not always a cat-lover, but warmed to them later in life. Once at The Lodge he looked forward to spending time with his “Boy”, a young orange tom from the farm, who was brought to visit.

In his last weeks, we were fortunate to be allowed to take Dad out for drives around the family crops, a look at some silo art and down the street for a coffee. His last outing was to hold the Melbourne Cup when it visited Birchip.

We were lucky to get such a nice photo of him and his “favourite son”. 

From Simon 
Message from Simon and family, who were unable to be here today:

We will miss you Dad, Grandad. I am in awe at the quality of life you have lived and all the change you have seen. Everywhere I go I proudly tell of a life on the farm to those who ask, and without trying, you and Mum are heroes. 

You both should have had a lot more grey hair for all the carryings-on you went through with us kids. I am so happy you and Mum had time with my wife, and your grand kids. And they have strong memories of you both. I am glad you have got to rest now, after 90 years of hard work and caring for us all.

I also know that it has only been because of the strength of your family around you that I have had the opportunity to be away from home and know you, and Mum, are being taking care of. It has only been possible for me because others have stepped up and been there for you, your strength as you grow old. This is a reflection of the quality of family you and Mum instilled in us. Safe travels to the next adventure . . .

Peace and Love.

– Skinny, Srutih, Ruby Blue and Muirinn. 

“One fine morning, when my work is over, I’m gunna fly away home,

“Fly away home to my Soul, Fly away home,

“Fly away home to my Soul, Fly away home.”