Depending on your point of view, Waltzing Matilda should be either the national anthem or declared Australia’s creepiest song.
It is true that ballads about homeless people who steal sheep and then drown themselves while being chased by police are not usually the stuff of children’s songs.
But it’s central theme, livestock theft, is a regular conversation among farmers. Otherwise known as “rustling” or “duffing”, stealing farm animals is a crime with a long history.
The University of New England’s Centre for Rural Criminology is preparing to carry out the first national farm crime survey in two decades, building on some individual state surveys.
Expected to begin later this month, it comes after some big robberies that made headlines – unusual in an industry with a history of underreporting.
In February this year, 700 sheep worth $140,000 were allegedly stolen from a farm west of Bendigo in Victoria. In March, a farmer west of Wagga Wagga in New South Wales reported 350 sheep were missing, the majority about to have lambs, making them even more valuable in a strong sheep market.
The tendency of farmers not to report livestock theft means we do not have accurate figures, but the estimated losses are significant.
NSW police data contained in a report by PwC shows that from 2016 to 2020 an average of 1,845 cattle a year were reported stolen in the state.
The 2003 national farm crime survey showed only 35% of livestock theft was reported to police. Using this figure, PWC estimated total cattle theft at about 31,000 a year.
The reasons that farmers don’t report are simple.
Given the average size of Australian farms, it’s hard to have eyes on all four corners of the place. By the time you count stock, which could go missing in dribs and drabs, the theft might be discovered well after it happens. That means it could be a long time after the loot is turned into chops that are in somebody’s freezer.
So it is hard to find evidence. That means, in spite of some police efforts, there is a lack of confidence that the crime can be solved.
Dr Kyle Mulrooney, co-director of the Centre for Rural Criminology, says stock theft is quite commonplace in Australia. About 40% of farmers have been the victims of stock theft and 80% have experienced general farm crime.
That is in contrast with places such as the UK, where farm machinery theft is “absolutely massive”, according to Mulrooney, and often directed by organised criminals.
“It’s quite easy to get to all those John Deeres [machinery] from the UK to eastern Europe overnight, so it’s a whole different sort of geographical ballgame,” he says.
Mulrooney says anecdotal evidence in Australia suggests there are criminals taking economic opportunities in rural areas. Think of thieves stealing copper from farm machinery in Queensland in response to a spike in copper prices.
“When you’re coming into issues of food security, [things with] high levels of value for other markets, then you’re going to see these types of players enter and steal these things,” he says.
You could imagine the odd sheep would be grabbed over a fence and stuffed in the boot. But when it comes to hundreds of sheep or cattle in one theft, a bit of specialised knowledge is required to muster quietly without causing suspicion from passersby. Mulrooney has heard stories of dogs’ vocal cords being cut so they don’t bark too loud.
“If you’re worth your salt and you can muster quick and you’ve got good dogs, you’re gonna get in and out of there in literally no time,” he says.
Thieves without farm experience are less slick.
“I’ve seen a funny video of guys, clearly from the city, trying to back up a very large truck into a sale yard,” Mulrooney said. “They try a couple of times, switch drivers, you can see them getting really frustrated.”
Research found most farmers take responsibility for their stolen goods, though it does not necessarily make them change their behaviour. Locking gates and removing keys might make it harder for would-be criminals, but for some it’s not worth the inconvenience.
“Eighty per cent of them say that they’re responsible for preventing farm crime,” Mulrooney says. “Which is interesting because you have people in the city and they say, no, the police should make me safe.”
And perhaps that is because there is a cultural acceptance that a certain level of farm crime will occur. Historically, stock were not just stolen to make a quick buck but also as an asset class during early white settlement to move up the societal ladder.
“They would steal it for long-term economic and social capital,” Mulrooney says. “That is, they steal cattle and go set up their own farm further out to the frontier.”
Modern solutions to old problems suggest there may be hope in technologies similar to facial recognition for sheep and cattle.
One University of New England PhD student developed Stoktake, an AI-powered platform that identifies animals via their muzzle, which is as individual as a human fingerprint.
There is also hope in GPS tracking ear tags to send messages back to the farmer that livestock are moving a lot more than normal or crossing paddock boundaries. Think “find my phone” for livestock.
But until those technological solutions combine more seamlessly, farmers are left with not many more options than the squatter in Banjo Patterson’s poem.
