On the 28th of May, 1934, a Vauxhall Tourer pulled up in front of Daniel’s house. As Constable O’Reilly alighted from the police-vehicle, Daniel held his breath. His mind was racing as he tried to formulate an excuse, before he even knew the reason for the Constabulary’s call. Daniel knew it wouldn’t be a social visit, so he guessed that one of his past sins was about to catch up with him.

Surely it couldn’t be because he took off to South Africa in 1902 to marry Vera, despite having married Annie in Sydney in May the year before? He dismissed that, as he always did, by rationalising that marrying in a different country had nothing to do with his marriage here. The two events were as separate as the two families that claimed him as their father.

In that split second, as he watched the constable walk towards him, it occurred to Daniel that perhaps he should have chosen a straighter, more narrow path in life. Ending up in the newspaper, as often as he did, made Daniel a little too conspicuous. It wasn’t that he looked for trouble; it’s just that trouble had a way of finding him, with seemingly no effort on his part.

Constable O’Reilly had called on Daniel that day to invite him to appear in court to account for why two protected wallaby skins were hanging on the wall of his shed.

Naturally, Daniel had a reasonable excuse: they had nothing to do with him; his son had shot the wallabies at Easter. But sadly for Daniel, the Judge didn’t see it the same way.

As if it wasn’t enough to be fined eighteen shillings for having the wallaby skins, Daniel’s name appeared in the Cumberland Argus and the Telegraph one month later, leaving a trail of interesting stories for descendants to find in future years.  

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Read more of my blogs at: Maureen Durney; Grandfather Berg: Family History Vault.

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