The Secret Hut

Prelude

Bylands, Victoria, Australia: A place where time has seemingly stood still from its early pastoral days and yet to submit to the hand of eager land developers.

Nestled between the towns of Wallan and Kilmore, Bylands is surprisingly unscathed by the modern-day development its counterparts have been subjected to. On many mornings, sometimes continuing into the afternoon, Bylands is covered by a thick layer of fog – akin to a cloak offering it protection and concealing it from unwanted visitors.

In its earlier days Bylands supported multiple hotels, a tollgate, racecourse, general store and post office. The Glenalbion hotel was in operation in Bylands until destroyed by fire in 1862 and the Union hotel built sometime between 1853 and 1857 hosted balls, race meetings and annual sports meetings. It also had a racetrack, steeplechase track and sports ground.

Wooden residences were the dominant form of building in Bylands, but most have been destroyed over the years. However, some of the old houses and buildings still remain and the Bylands School, constructed in 1872, remains as a relic of a time now passed. One may say that the area of Bylands holds magical properties where both the present and the past are intertwined. The following story which takes place near Bylands is a testament to this in which a combination of the past, present, and a string of magical events lead to the discovery of The Secret Hut, and reveal the life of the enigmatic fellow who lived there.

The immediate location of the hut has not been divulged, but for those with an appetite for adventure, it may be possible to discover it by following the clues provided in the riddle below, and throughout the article. But of course, only if the guardians of Bylands take a liking to you and permit it!

Riddle of The Secret Hut

Begin your quest at a valley that is hidden
Turning left at the mid of the hill below.
Tread cautiously through lands once forbidden
But do not venture past a place that only “U no”.

Continue your journey until you’re at the great lake
And do not show any signs of hesitation or fear.
Now climb the mountain of ash for the sake
Of knowing the end of your travels are near.

Take 50 paces east along the line of a fence
And to your north shall lay a house in the field.
Venture onwards to where the scrub is not so dense
Where magnificent treasures shall now be revealed!

Introduction

“For the moment – an eternity it must have seemed to the others standing by – I was struck dumb with amazement, and when Lord Carnarvon, unable to stand the suspense any longer, inquired anxiously, ‘Can you see anything?’ it was all I could do to get out the words, ‘Yes, wonderful things.”

― Howard Carter, Tomb of Tutankhamun

In today’s times, it is not often one is provided the opportunity to go treasure hunting. But the treasure being searched for in this story is not gold, diamonds, or jewelry. For those with interests of a historical nature, it is worth many, many times more: the discovery of that which has existed only until now as being recorded on paper, spoken or whispered about.

As we attempt to rediscover that which the progress of humans and time has attempted to conceal, tangible items are rarely left behind. Ironically, it is only by the existence of time that which is about to be revealed came to be. For it is time that brings new friends and acquaintances with information, and it is time itself that promotes good fortune and luck.

The search begins

It was a warm Saturday afternoon on February 6^th, 2021 when an initial search was commenced by the unlikely team of a most venerable lady (Barbara), myself, my wife, and our teenage son. We had one common goal in mind: to locate a long-forgotten hut built in the late 1880s situated ‘somewhere’ in the bush and which was once the abode of Barbara’s great uncle.

The chances of success were slim for we had no map and instead only vague directions handed down by Barbara’s father 60 years ago. Yet we avid explorers were unperturbed and foraged through the scrub, hurdled over logs, and trekked eagerly through muddy creeks as we sought any evidence for the existence of a hut. But as high as our enthusiasm levels were, it was not to return any dividends that afternoon.

We promised to regroup at a later date and vowed that next time we would return armed with further information. There had been rumours that the hut had been discovered 15 years beforehand by someone who had removed the front door and taken it away for safekeeping. It was reckoned that it may be possible to locate this person and interrogate them for information!

But as time went on, our situations, health, and energy levels changed. Other priorities took precedence in our lives and as it had been in the past, the hut was forgotten. Indeed, it may have been that this story ended here should good luck and fortune have not intervened.

A fortunate encounter

As we tread the road of life our lives intersect with some to whom we smile, acknowledge with a nod, and then continue on our merry way. But for others, our interactions are more prolonged and can change our lives and those close to us. Months later, I was speaking to a gentleman about other historical pursuits when he shared the discovery of an old hut in the bush (known as “The Woodcutters Hut”). He led me to know that its door had been removed and taken away to safeguard it from the elements. The rumours were true! And then he provided me with something all treasure hunters dream of – a map! Whilst it didn’t pinpoint the exact location of the hut, it did however show the vicinity in which it was situated.

The front door of the hut stored safely at a private residence

The search continues

So it was with map in hand nearly 3 months after the initial search expedition that I set out alone on a foggy morning of May 6^th, 2021 in search of the hut. The Australian bush can be hostile if one is unprepared. It is only common sense to tread cautiously to avoid pitfalls such as falling into old mineshafts, being beaten up by a kangaroo, bitten by a snake, or simply becoming disorientated and lost. I was familiar with such dangers since childhood but it was still with some trepidation that I proceeded. The early morning dew had softened the detritus underfoot and allowed me to quietly scout the area and shield my presence from the native wildlife until I was nearly upon them. The breakfast of a mob of kangaroos was interrupted and they momentarily looked at me before deciding I was of no interest and bounded away. As I continued to search deeper into the bush I encountered a fox that looked up and then raced away, knowing all too well that humans are not to be trusted.

It was evident that others had been in this area beforehand by the many tree stumps and branches fallen by their axes and chainsaws – but it was long ago. The wildlife had once again claimed ownership of their land since man had trespassed upon it, and rightfully so did not offer any assistance to an intruder such as myself. I forged on alone thinking that any dwelling in the bush would be built close to a source of water and spent some time searching the line of a creek. But as I scouted the area all I found was scrub, trees and rocks, and certainly nothing resembling a hut.

Evidence of others in the area beforehand. Could the hut be close by?

I persevered well into the morning searching for any glimmer of a man-made structure but eventually conceded that the hut was not to give up the secret of its location today. I returned home weary with disappointment but still somewhat hopeful – for even a needle in a haystack may be found if one persists long enough.

The next day I spoke with Barbara and shared my failed endeavors with her. We both agreed that yet another search was warranted to locate the hut of her great uncle. But as the week progressed I became resigned to the thought that Mother Earth had reclaimed the hut and that its materials had returned to the earth from whence they first came. I continued to mull over this thought until one morning when I woke up with the epiphany that the map I had been provided was not correct and that the hut lay just outside of the area indicated.

Renewed Vigour

It was with heightened resolve that I set out on May 13^th, 2021 on one further search expedition. As I was now familiar with the terrain of the area I was hastier in my search efforts this time around. But a distinct lack of flat land combined with an abundance of hills made it evident that it was impossible to build any kind of structure within the vicinity. After 30 minutes it seems my plight was hopeless and that my search attempts would again result in failure. Whether it was a hunger to be satiated by the fruits of success or whether it was something more supernatural that resulted in the following, I cannot be certain.

As though guided by an unknown force I found myself returning to the initial search area from one week ago; this time not as deep in the bush and closer to the fence of a neighbouring property. It was shortly afterward that I stumbled upon iron sheets, wooden slabs, stones, and bricks. What lay before me was a mass of fallen material but there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that this had once been the hut we had been searching for and a feeling of great elation came over me.

Stone and bricks which once was a chimney — Corrugated iron from the roof

The remains of the hut blended in with the natural bush habitat as it had slowly become one with the surrounding ecosystem. Indeed, if it had not been for the iron sheets and other scattered man-made metal items, it may have remained hidden for eternity. I was amazed that only one week ago I had passed this location no further than 20 metres away, so its camouflage had served it well to avoid any detection. Today it was as though it had beckoned me to its location and that it had wanted to be discovered – if but only so its story could be told. I shall therefore not reveal the hut’s immediate location, but instead begin to fulfill the task of telling it’s story seemingly bestowed upon me. To do so, the hands of time must be wound back 170 years to the era of a pioneering family in the Bylands district.

The Poulter family

On a pleasant autumn day on August 28^th, 1852, “The Theodore” set sail from Liverpool destined for Melbourne, Australia. Amongst her 463 passengers were William Poulter, his wife Mary, and their 8 children from Cowlinge, Suffolk England.¹

They arrived in December 1852, albeit with one less child, for their youngest daughter died at sea at the age of six months. Upon landing in Australia, their son George, born in 1834 and now eighteen years of age set about beginning a life of his own with the opportunities this new land afforded him.

He initially worked on different farms but when the Victorian Gold Rush reached its peak in 1853, he, like countless other men could not resist its lure. He worked at the gold diggings for approximately three years in the hope of becoming prosperous, and to some extent his endeavours were successful. After the Gold Diggings, he worked for a short time with his father William who had settled the Poulter family at Greensborough. George subsequently bought a house and land at Greensborough for himself with the land described being “4 acres or thereabouts”.² In 1856 he also purchased a 49 acre plot of land and a property consisting of 300 acres at Bylands.³George’s brother James had come to Bylands in 1857 and established a home on Pretty Sally hill⁴so it is possible the brothers bought land in Bylands at the same time. George, however didn’t move immediately to the area.

In 1860, he married Ellen Chapman who was 16 years of age⁵ and they initially lived in a 4 room weatherboard house⁶on George’s land at Greensborough and where their first 2 children were born.

It was sometime after this they relocated to the property at Bylands which they named “Leslie Dell” and is here where they brought up their 10 children whilst farming the land.

Crops of oats were used to make hay and potatoes were also planted. Cattle, sheep and pigs were also raised.

The children of George and Ellen Poulter are as follows:

Name	Born	Died
John	27.04.1861	07.12.1925
Joseph	19.02.1864	24.02.1923 (Buried)
Jonah	24.07.1866	22.12.1943
Jane	27.09.1868	12.07.1932
William	01.11.1870	16.07.1943 (Buried)
George	04.03.1873	29.05.1942
Peter	29.08.1875	09.05.1943
Charles	23.10.1877	25.09.1940
James	24.11.1882	15.10.1945
Ellen	06.03.1885	21.12.1887

Around 1885 they built a splendid weatherboard house. George and Ellen were so proud of their house and property that the name “Leslie Dell”was displayed at the front doorstep and also on the hearth at the fireplace.

In 1910, Leslie Dell is described as “…containing 299 acres and 19 perches upon which is erected a 6 room weatherboard house about 25 years old in fair repair with the barn 50 feet long by 20 feet wide, cowshed, 2 stall stable, feed and harness room built of slabs with galvanised roof, small fowl house.”⁷

The house and most of the buildings still stand today.

George Poulter feeding the chickens at Leslie Dell. Circa 1880.

Leslie Dell House - western aspect — George Poulter feeding the chickens at Leslie Dell. Circa 1880.

Jonah Poulter

Jonah Poulter drew his first breath on July 24^th, 1866. He was the third son of George and Ellen Poulter and was born with Microtia, an unfortunate condition resulting in him having no ear lobes. In 1872, at the age of 6, with his older brothers John and Joseph he began schooling at Big Hill State School no. 1105 (later renamed Bylands).

Jonah attended Bylands School until 1880 when he was 12 years of age.⁸ Like many other boys of a similar age at the time, he did not continue with elementary schooling and instead went to work on his Father’s farm. But even though he was surrounded by the love of his family it was not enough to ease his feelings of being an outcast and thoughts that he would never fit into the social norm.

Society to some degree has always judged those whose appearance differs from the preconceived idea of what is felt to be the most appropriate. Those who do not meet certain criteria are scorned, pointed at, and laughed at. Whilst people generally treated Jonah well, others didn’t know how to interact appropriately with him. In his early adulthood, he made a decision that would dictate how he would live out the remainder of his life. He ventured to an area of isolated bushland as part of his father’s property to begin a life away from mainstream society where he would not be looked upon and judged for his physical appearance.

He knew his new lifestyle would not be simple but life at Leslie Dell had already prepared him with the knowledge required for success. He set to work to craft himself a single-roomed hut from mostly the material the bush afforded him. Medium sized tree trunks were used for the corner posts and sunk well into the earth and the walls were made from slabs split out of fine straight-grained timber. The roofing structure was made from saplings and initially covered with sheets of bark cut and stripped from the trunks of trees and later covered over with corrugated iron sheets. In preparation for a log fire to keep Jonah warm during cold nights, a chimney and fireplace was made from bricks and local stone held together by a mortar of clay and mud.

He cleared some of the land surrounding his hut for gardens and grew cherries, carnations, and gladioli’s. It has been said how beautiful his flowers were.⁹

The remains of a garden edge made from stones

On March 13^th, 1910 Jonah’s father George died, and later that year on November 25^th, 1910 his mother Ellen also passed away. In September of 1911, the 49 acres that George Poulter had purchased in 1856 was sold¹⁰ to finalise his estate and the “Leslie Dell” farm now came under the ownership of Jonah’s younger brother, Peter.

With the number of people living under the roof at Leslie Dell now reduced, there may have been an opportunity for Jonah to return to the house he grew up in and live there alongside his brother Peter, his wife Mary, and their four children. It is not known if such an offer was made, but regardless, Jonah continued to live a reclusive life at his hut in the bush. However, it is not unreasonable to believe that Jonah at times worked at Leslie Dell for his brother. At the time of Peter’s passing, he owed Jonah £200¹¹, and which possibly may have been for work Jonah performed for him.

During Jonah’s time in the bush, the events of World War I (1914-1918), the Spanish Influenza Pandemic (1918-1920), and World War II (1939-1945) took place. It was a quiet and remote life for Jonah where receiving news about local and widespread events of the world, social opportunities such as going to race days, attending church, or simply going to the shops were close to non-existent for him.

However, Jonah was not entirely isolated. He was surrounded by the properties his brothers had purchased as they too spread their wings and separated from the flock at Leslie Dell. Jonah’s hut was situated a small way down in the bush from Leslie Dell where Peter and his wife Mary lived. George and his wife Johanna had settled on a hilltop a short distance away on their property named “HillView”. Charles and his wife Catherine Jane had also settled on a hilltop on their property named “Majuba Hill”, just across from George and Johanna. Catherine Jane would often take the train to Melbourne city and pick up supplies for Jonah, including packets of seeds. When Jonah became more elderly, a cousin by the name of Albert (also known as “Paddy”) walked from Charles’ and Catherine Jane’s house to deliver home-made soup to Jonah.¹²

From the top of Pretty Sally Hill, the properties of “Majuba Hill”, “HillView” and “Leslie Dell” were all visible, and close by, hidden away in the bush was the hut of Jonah.

Jonah himself never married. Loneliness often leads to depression but for Jonah it was the opposite and he lived a happy and content life. Surrounded by the trees, his garden, and native wildlife it seems impossible that Jonah was ever lonely.

A few kilometres to the north-east of Jonah’s hut was the railway station siding of Leslie, part of the Wandong, Heathcote, Sandhurst Railway (later known as the Heathcote Junction to Bendigo Railway or the Wallan to Bendigo service). As Jonah sat in his hut or worked in his garden he would have heard the chugging of the steam trains as they carried their passengers to Bendigo or Melbourne. The trains also carried local lumber to Bendigo for gold mining purposes and firewood, charcoal, and railway sleepers to Melbourne. Jonah’s occupation is listed as ‘labourer’ and ‘farmer’¹³ and with his hut surrounded by an abundance of trees and living in the vicinity of Leslie Siding he may have been involved in the wood chopping and carting industry.

The railway line was closed in 1968 and the train tracks were subsequently removed. Whilst the old train line is still easily identifiable today, the location of Leslie Siding is not so obvious, but it is marked on some maps of the Bylands area. Further information on the siding can be found at the Leslie Railway Siding article and which also details the ‘Laurel Vale’ property which was located opposite Leslie Dell.

Final Days

In December of 1943, Jonah was admitted to the Kilmore Hospital, suffering from a long-term illness. He died on December 22^nd, at 77 years of age.¹⁴ Jonah’s life in the bush had served him well and he outlived all his siblings except his youngest brother James, born 16 years after him.¹⁵

Jonah is buried at the Kilmore Cemetery but his headstone was unable to be located. He is likely to be buried in an unmarked grave, but in the same vicinity as the other Poulter family cemetery plots.

One final extraordinary event occurred whilst this story was being compiled. Adrian Skehan, the son of the undertaker responsible for Jonah’s burial was searching through old family records when he came across the birth extract of Jonah Poulter. He contacted a member of the Poulter family via email who subsequently sent it to her sister who was responsible for compiling the Poulter family history. Aware of the research being undertaken for this article, that sister then forwarded a copy of the email to me. No explanation has been discovered as to why the undertaker had Jonah’s birth extract. What a strange turn of events for it to be discovered now and it falling into the hands of the correct people at the right time!

Jonah had few material possessions when he died, but he had amassed a tidy sum of money. Whilst there was only just over £1 in his bank account, he held £205 in a fixed deposit account. He was also still owed £150 from his brother Peter’s estate. After hospital and funeral expenses were deducted, the remaining sum of Jonah’s wealth and all of his belongings were left to his niece, Emily Netta Poulter who was the daughter of his brother Charles.

Jonah Poulter’s birth extract — Final resting place of Jonah Poulter?

Emily had no aspirations to be like her Uncle Jonah living in the bush and thus his hut was abandoned and sat alone and unoccupied. With nobody to tend to it, Jonah’s garden withered. Slowly, the wooden slabs of the hut rotted and the iron on the roof rusted. But it stood relentless, ignoring the cold winds of change that rattled its windows. Fifteen years ago it’s seemed that its tenacity would be rewarded when a stranger came across the hut. However, all hopes of a new occupant were dashed when they returned only to remove its front door, never to visit again. With the hut’s determination weakened, time who is the destroyer and devourer of all things whittled away at its victim until it was ultimately victorious. And as time laid its final blow, the hut drew its last gasp and let go of all it was holding onto; the once magnificent abode of Jonah Poulter shattering apart as it impacted heavily with the ground. And there the hut lay until the magic of the Bylands area could play its hand – the present and past thrust together, fortune, luck, and coincidence intermingling until the culmination of its recent discovery so that this story could be told. And thus it came to be.

Conclusion

“For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.”

-1 Timothy 6:7

Jonah entered this world with nothing, eked out an isolated existence in the bush, and died with few material possessions except for his hut and that which lay within it.

It has been said that everyone must leave something behind when they pass away. A family heirloom, a book, a painting, or otherwise. For Jonah Poulter, it was his hut; something his hand had touched so that part of his soul could remain in the bush at Bylands so 78 years after his death his legacy could be shared.

His name was not greatly known like those who through beauty, fortune, wealth, or social status are highly esteemed, envied and frequently spoken of by others during their time on this earth. But over time, as one turns to dust, no matter how important a person once was or is concocted to be, their name is eventually forgotten and this is when they truly die.

But what compels us to take an interest in a life that pales in comparison to those who have achieved financial success, are attractive and popular, or have a high social status? Is it because deep down we know these to be shallow merits to determine a person’s worth, and instead the more important measures to look at are our service and good deeds, and how we treated others, and our family?

We have learned that Jonah Poulter had a close relationship with his family. Indeed, it is through the Poulter generations that information has been passed down and information within this story has been sourced. We have no doubts that Jonah was a kind and gentle soul, nurturing and caring for the bush environment in which he lived. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that he is being spoken of today?

Jonah found solace and peace by living a simple life in the bush away from the hustle and bustle and problems brought on by a society living in close proximity to one another. With the fast-paced world we live in today which brings stress, fatigue, and anxiety I have no doubt that at some point in our life (perhaps even at this very moment in time!) we all secretly hope and dream of living in a hut in the bush.

Epilogue

Time is frequently mentioned throughout this story. It has been said that time brings new friends and that it promotes good fortune and luck. It has also been said that time is the devourer and destroyer of all things. But perhaps the most important thing that should be learned about time is that we only have a limited amount of it and how we spend our time between when the clock first begins ticking, and when it ends for us is truly what matters most.

This story has been written during the time of Covid 19, which is still wreaking havoc throughout the world 2 years from when the pandemic first began. Whilst very few good things can be said about the situation, it has allowed us to slow down the pace of our lives and to contemplate and think about those things which matter most to us. Those things should certainly not be the number of physical possessions we have, the size of our bank balance, or spending countless hours working away from our family. These may still be elements in our lives, but many people have now come to realise that the more important aspects to focus on are our health, the wellbeing of our family, helping others, and taking the time to seek and enjoy what makes us happy.

It seems that society had lost its way somewhere in the past century, perhaps even before this, or maybe it had always been off-course. Jonah Poulter seemed to know this all too well, and thus lived a simple life in the bush to avoid the pitfalls and problems that the progression of society brings. Could it be that the recent discovery of Jonah’s hut is to remind us of a simpler life we should strive for, allowing us the happiness we rightly deserve?

“I think when the dust settles, we will realize how little we need, how very much we actually have and the true value of human connections.”

– Author unknown

Acknowledgments

This story would not have been possible without Barbara Laffan (daughter of Myrtle Poulter) who first brought the existence of the hut my attention. It was she who invited my family to join her on the first search expedition and without her continued encouragement, the location of the hut would never have been found.

My sincere thanks to Lyn Noonan (daughter of Hazel Poulter) for sharing the Poulter family history, answering a multitude of my questions and forwarding the email with information regarding Jonah Poulter’s birth extract.

I am indebted to Ian Wilson, who provided details on the approximate location of the hut.

A very special thanks to Adrian Skehan (son of Barry Skehan) for his email correspondence and allowing me to include a copy of his initial email.

I am grateful to Conrad Roberts for assisting with research into the Poulter family history and for providing constructful criticism after reviewing my scribblings.

To Annie Carlin, a big thankyou for proofreading and editing.