Spuds, stories, and straight fences: Bert’s way

With reporting on the January bushfires often centred on loss, rebuilding, and the long road back, Brian and Mary Kelly were not looking to dwell on their own hardship. Instead, the Creightons Creek couple wanted to talk about Bert. They had not come expecting an interview, but the thread of the story was clear: gratitude, and the quiet impact of one volunteer who made a difference. Bert, originally from Ireland, had been part of the BlazeAid effort on their property, quickly becoming more than just an extra set of hands. “He’s very neat,” Mr Kelly said. “He takes pride in his work. Everything’s got to be perfect.” Mrs Kelly laughed as she recalled the lighter side. “We took him out to dinner with his partner Sue — to the Middle Pub, because he likes the Middle Pub,” she said. “He likes the way the veggies are cooked. Not too hard. He liked the spuds.” It was typical of the stories they shared — practical help mixed with small, human details that stayed with them. For the Kellys, whose property has now been burnt three times, the latest fire was another chapter in a long and testing recovery. “And I wouldn’t say we’re getting any better at recovery,” Mrs Kelly said. But in the same breath, she spoke of what had carried them through. “The generosity of people has been beyond words.” That generosity has not gone unnoticed - the couple have printed dedicated thank-you cards to send to those who helped them. “The people sent some of the loads of hay this year had sent hay to us after the 2014 fire as well,” Mrs Kelly said. BlazeAid volunteers, she said, approach the work with a clear and respectful mindset. “They are wonderful people because they don’t want to know your situation,” she said. “They just come and do the job.” She said Bert’s own motto was simple: “We do what the farmer wants.” Bert's connection to BlazeAid goes back more than a decade, to the 2014 Creightons Creek fires, and although the Kellys did not meet him then, they heard how, during that early trip, he badly injured his arm on his first encounter with farm work — and kept going. Throughout his time in the district, Bert became known not just for his work ethic, but for his humour. “He was always cheerful,” Mrs Kelly said. “Always telling jokes.” It is those qualities, as much as the kilometres of fencing rebuilt, that stay with people. Bert has since returned to Melbourne with his partner Sue, but plans to be back again in spring. For the Kellys, his departure does not mark the end of the story — just a pause in a connection that grew, unexpectedly, out of a difficult time. And while the fences stand as a visible sign of progress, it is the quieter contributions — the conversations, the meals, the shared days of work — that linger longest.