Natimuk is one of those towns that not many people have ever heard of, and even fewer have visited. Natimuk is in the Wimmera district of north-west Victoria, Australia and was largely unknown until the rock climbers, locally known as ‘goats’, discovered that the nearby Mount Arapiles was an excellent place to test their rock-climbing skills. In fact, it’s considered one of the top rock climbing locations, and attracts enthusiasts from all over the world.
But over 150 years ago, back in 1864, during the chilly winter month of August, there was a different kind of skill needed during a desperate crisis in this wild bushland near Natimuk. It’s a story of survival against the odds, three young children under the age of ten, went missing from their family home.
They were lost for nine days, and their predicament captured the hearts of this farming community, who rallied to search for the children who had wandered so far from their home.
Join us as we take a look at the remarkable story of the Duff children’s survival in the harsh Australian bush. It’s an inspiring story of resilience and fortitude that will uplift and encourage you as you face the challenges of life.
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A SMALL ERRAND
It was a day like any other in the small Duff timber home. At dawn on a frosty [winter] morning Frankie, Isaac and Jane tumbled out of the bed they all shared in the small log cabin where they lived with their mother and father.
The children helped with the morning chores, shivering against the cold and inhaling the smells of mutton chops and tea that permeated the small one-room slab hut they called home.
They were in many ways a typical bush family. Their mother Hannah was a midwife, and their father John worked at the nearby Spring Hill Station as a carpenter and shepherd.
After breakfast, their father rode his horse to work and the boys helped to roll up their bedding, tucking it into the corner of the hut to create more living space.
They scraped by on what little money they made. The family had simple clothing which were patched many times over and only wore shoes when absolutely necessary. They loved the sights and sounds of the bush and spent as much time as they possibly could outdoors.
On that particular morning the children set off into the bush to help their mother gather twigs from the broom bushes. The twigs from the bushes were perfect for making brooms to sweep out the cabin and even the little yard that surrounded it.
Their mother packed them a little snack in case they got hungry, and then sent them out on what she thought would be a relatively uneventful small errand. With a final wave the children tramped off into the bush, not suspecting what lay ahead for them.
The day was dry, and the sun provided some weak winter warmth. The patches of tea trees, heath, wattle and saltbush near their home were thick with stunted mallee trees which provided a canopy of shade for waddling echidnas and energetic possums to shelter under.
The underbrush was the perfect hiding place for all kinds of poisonous creatures, not the least of which were snakes. As the children went deeper into the bush Isaac, the oldest who was nine, led the way, lazily swinging his small axe at his side.
Jane, who was seven, brought up the rear, tucking little Frankie, who was only four, protectively between them.
DISTRACTIONS
Before long the children were distracted by all the sights and sounds bursting with life around them, like the trill of a magpie, or the squark of a crow perched in the trees overhead, the scuttling of a blue-tongued lizard in the leaf litter, a goanna racing up a tree, and maybe even the scrape of an echidna’s quills over dried leaves as it made its way across their path.
Isaac suddenly pointed to a stand of broom bush just ahead and the three of them took off towards it. Reaching it, they began to strip off twigs and bundle them together for their trek home. As they were resting after lunch, a goanna caught their eye.
“Look, a goanna.”
“Where?”
“Look, over here!”
Right…ready? One…two…three…”
“Ha Ha haha…get him quick!”
In a flash they jumped up and gave chase, following the goanna through the scrubby bush until it finally escaped up a tree.
“Aww, he’s gone. You missed him. He’s up a tree.”
“C’mon, back to the broom patch.”
“We should really be home by now.”
“Will mother be cross with us?”
“Not if we hurry…”
Now they were quite a distance from where the chase had begun, and weren’t quite sure where they were.
But the further they walked in the bush the more unfamiliar their surroundings became. Isaac began to worry, but bravely pushed on, unwilling to frighten his siblings. When they came to a rough track in the middle of the bush, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Surely they couldn’t be far from home now?
HOPELESSLY LOST
But the track didn’t lead them back home and the bush began to grow more and more unfamiliar around them. Finally, Isaac climbed up a tree to try to gain his bearings, but it was of no use.
As he scanned the countryside around him, he couldn’t see any familiar landmarks, nor any signs of a homestead. All that he could see before him were trees, twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching up into the sky. There was no sign of home.
Terrified, Isaac scrambled down to the ground and bravely faced his younger sister and brother. They were lost, hopelessly lost, and he had no idea how to get them home.
In desperation, the children shouted for their mother. They coo-eed and hollered, but the only thing that greeted them was the silence of the bush. As darkness closed in around them, the trees, which had seemed friendly enough in the light, began to look menacing.
A dingo howled in the distance and the bush rustled with the sounds of nocturnal animals lumbering out of their burrows and foraging for food. The children were frightened and with the waning light of the sun, the temperatures dropped.
“We’ll stay the night Frankie…we’ll have to.”
The children were soon forced to stop for their first night in the bush. Looking for a way to keep herself and her brothers warm, Jane stripped off her dress and laid it over herself and her brothers. Shivering in her petticoats she snuggled up to them for warmth and the three Duff children sobbed themselves to sleep amidst the grim shadows of a freezing winter’s night.
MEANWHILE…
Meanwhile back in the little one-roomed slab hut, Hannah Duff had been busy doing her chores and then sat down in a chair to get some sewing and mending finished before the excited children returned home.
By late afternoon when the children still hadn’t come home, she began to worry. She went outside calling for them. When she heard nothing but the familiar evening sounds of the bush, she grabbed a shawl and went down to the broom bush patch not far from their home.
She called for her children until she was hoarse, but the children were nowhere to be found. By the time her husband returned home after work she was nearly frantic with worry, and blurted out the entire tale.
He tried to reassure her that no doubt the children had wandered away from the broom bush patch and had been too far to hear her call. He went out looking for the children promising to find them and bring them back home in time for dinner. He coo-eed and shouted but received no answering call.
SEARCH PARTY
Night was falling, and when John Duff couldn’t find the children, he decided to ride back to the Spring Hill Station and gather a search party.
The men at the station quickly jumped onto their horses and rode out with him in search of the missing children. The group knew how frightening it was to be lost in the bush without any identifiable landmarks. Fortunately, there was a full moon, lighting up the bush and giving them just enough light to search by.
John was certain that with the help of the other men, they would soon find the children. Hannah anxiously waited at the house for her children to return. But when John came galloping into the yard in the middle of the night, the children weren’t with him.
At the time the odds of surviving in the bush were impossibly low. European settlers who got lost in the bush almost always starved to death; not like the local indigenous people who knew exactly how to survive in the bush.
The indigenous people in the Wimmera District, taught their children how to find bush tucker. The quandong berries, also known as ‘wild peaches’ were a favourite source of food.
They also taught them how to find clean water by slicing into the roots of mallee trees.
But with limited knowledge about bush survival and no food or water, the [Duff] children were in serious danger. While they managed to drink rainwater and eat grass stalks these weren’t sufficient to sustain them and keep them alive for long.
Meanwhile John Duff and the group of men continued to search for the children over the weekend but their efforts were unsuccessful. By Monday morning many people in the group believed that it would be impossible for the children to survive, and they would never be found alive.
Though tempted to call off the search, the men also knew that John Duff wasn’t going to give up looking for his children until he had found them, dead or alive. So the group huddled together and began to strategize their next move.
Later that day one of the searchers found two little footprints in the sandy soil and suddenly their flagging hopes were revived. The search party began to follow the tracks through the bush, winding through kilometres of dense bushy undergrowth.
They’d been traveling for most of the day and searching for more signs of the children, when a pair of socks was found. The socks belonged to four-year-old Frankie. Once again, the discovery provided much needed encouragement to the search party.
The group camped for the night and then set out again early the next morning. Throughout the day the search party found more signs of the children; a withered wreath of flowers from Jane’s bonnet and a bundle of broom bush.
They were now five days into their search, but the children were still nowhere to be found. Despite this, John Duff clung to the little clues they had found, believing that his children were most likely still alive.
When they set up camp on that fifth night a storm blew through the bush, soaking into the ground and creating little rivers of mud. It was a miserable night for both the children and the searchers but there was one blessing in it: the children now had access to some clean water.
By the sixth day the children were too weak to keep walking. Emaciated with hunger and weak from dehydration they staggered a few hundred meters before falling to the ground, crawling under a bush and falling into a deep, restless sleep.
As the seventh day dawned the search party were feeling very discouraged. They had lost the children’s tracks, mainly due to the heavy rains on the soft soil.
ABORIGINAL TRACKERS
Once again, among the searchers there was talk of giving up the search, but John Duff could not bring himself to give up. He had to find his children! So he decided to seek the help of the local Aboriginal trackers.
The nearest Aboriginal settlement was over 30 kilometres away near Mount Elgin, but Duff was certain that the tracker would have the skills to find his children if they were alive. One of the group set off to locate the Aboriginals and seek their help in finding the children.
Three of the Indigenous men agreed to join the search.
At first light the next day John Duff set out again with the three Aboriginal trackers, his hopes revived that he would find his children alive. By this time the children had been lost in the bush for eight days and seven nights.
On the morning of the eighth day, as Duff was heading out with the Aboriginal trackers another experienced bushman, Alexander Wilson from the nearby Vectis Station joined in the search. It was Wilson who managed to rediscover the children’s tracks again.
Now they had picked up the children’s trail, the search party slowed down to a crawl. Afraid of losing the trail they moved forward cautiously, sometimes even on their hands and knees. But as another gruelling day of searching came to an end, the children had still not been discovered.
DAY 9
As dawn broke over the ninth day the search party was now reduced to only a handful of men. Provisions were running low and many of the volunteers had given up and gone home. Those who remained knew that they had to find the children soon, because it was unlikely that they would survive another night in the bush.
The Aboriginal trackers were now invaluable to the search. Not only were they able to find tracks that no one else could locate, but they were able to read the tracks like a book, narrating to the other searchers the story the tracks told.
They described how Isaac the oldest had carried Frankie, the youngest for a short distance. How the children had slept under a bush, with Frankie tucked between them for warmth.
With each kilometre that passed and each new clue they uncovered, the search party became more and more impressed with the tenacity of the children and the way they had cared for each other. They found that the children had come across a dry river bed and decided to follow it, no doubt hoping that it would lead them home or to another farm homestead.
The search dragged through the ninth day. More clues were unearthed, including signs that the older children had dragged Frankie along behind them. As the sun began to set, there was still no sign of the children.
DESPERATION
John Duff was now desperate. He knew that if they didn’t find the children before nightfall it was more than likely that the rest of the party would call off the search. He didn’t want to admit to himself the very real possibility that the children might not be found alive.
John’s employer and the owner of the Spring Hill Station, Dugald Smith rode up to him and gently told him that they would have to give up the search soon. Twilight was gathering around them and there was still no sign of the children.
John rode out into the bush just once more, frantically searching the area for any signs of his children. And then, in the waning light, as he made his way along a dried-out desert section of the scrubby bush, a shimmer of something pale lifting in the breeze caught his eyes.
FOUND ALIVE
He jumped off his horse and raced to where the children lay, Jane’s faded dress draped over them and their arms wrapped around each other.
Shouting for joy John rushed towards them, but they didn’t move. Fear gripped his chest and clenched tight as he wondered if they had found the little ones too late. Had their desperate search been in vain? Cautiously he approached their small limp bodies and laid his hand against Jane’s cool cheek.
He felt the faint flutter of her breath wash over his skin, and he wept with relief. The children were alive. They were in bad shape, but alive.
Nine-year-old Isaac struggled desperately to sit up, his eyes darting wildly about him, trying to decipher the noises and confusion. And then he saw his father’s face and his entire body relaxed in relief.
Isaac could finally surrender the responsibility he had shouldered for nine long days as the oldest sibling. His father had found them, and he could trust him to take care of them.
Both Jane and Isaac had worked hard to care for Frankie and keep him as healthy as possible. Jane was the worst off, mainly because she was only wearing her thin petticoat, having taken off her long dress to keep her brothers warm at night.
SAFELY HOME
The children were returned safely to their mother, who spent the next month lovingly nursing them back to health. The story captured the minds and hearts of countless Australians, and the rescue was hailed as a miracle.
Today this simple stone monument commemorates where the children were found, and on the silo at the Horsham railway siding is a poignant painted image of the Aboriginal man; the tracker who found the children’s tracks that played such a vital role in the children’s rescue.
The inspiring story of the Duff children and their miraculous rescue reminds me of one of Jesus’ most famous parables found in the Bible book of Luke 15.
During much of Jesus’ public ministry he was surrounded by those who were considered to be social outcasts. The Pharisees and other religious leaders looked down on this association scornfully, commenting “this man receives sinners and eats with them.”
ANOTHER RESCUE
The words were meant to be cutting and condemning, but Jesus didn’t flinch when He heard them. Instead of arguing, Jesus told a story. Drawing on an example that the crowd would understand, Jesus asked.
“What man of you having a hundred sheep, if he loses one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?” (Luke 15:4)
The life of a shepherd was both gruelling and tedious. If the shepherd kept his sheep in a pen at night, then he would need to rise well before dawn to lead them to green pastures where they could feed.
On the other hand, if the shepherd had a large flock that couldn’t be penned, he would need to spend the night out in the fields with them to make sure they were safe through the long, cold night.
It was the shepherd’s responsibility to make sure that his sheep had an ample supply of food and a clean source of water. Sheep don’t drink from rushing streams and the shepherd needed to lead them to a clear clean pool to make sure they had their daily supply of water.
It was also the shepherd’s responsibility to make sure the sheep in his care were kept safe from the attacks of wild animals that frequently roamed the countryside. And if a shepherd lost a sheep, even if it was only one, it caused deep distress and there was a desperate search for the lost sheep.
Jesus’ hearers could relate to what he was saying as he told them this parable. One lost sheep was valuable. They knew one lost sheep would trigger a tireless search. And when the shepherd found his lost sheep, the discovery would be cause for a big celebration.
Jesus concluded his parable with these words,
“I say to you that likewise there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance.” (Luke 15:7)
In many ways we are like the lost children in the Wimmera, and the lost sheep. But God refuses to give up on us. In John 10:11 Jesus says,
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep.”
Jesus left heaven and came to this earth to search for each one of us.
In fact, he was so determined to rescue us from sin and restore us to our Heavenly Father that he was willing to sacrifice his life just for us. If you or I had been the only lost sheep on the entire planet Jesus would have given his life just for us. That is the reality of God’s love!
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If you have enjoyed our journey into the Wimmera bushland in Victoria, Australia and the search for three lost children, along with our reflections on how God is our shepherd who loves us and seeks us, then be sure to join us again next week when we will share another of life’s journeys together. Until then, let’s pray to the Good Shepherd who loves us and cares for us.
Dear Heavenly Father, We thank you that you love us and care for us and never give up searching for us when we are lost and wayward. We thank you for your love, patience and perseverance with us. Please continue to guide and bless us, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.
