Jack Frost's Billabong

The billabong is frozen.

That much is abundantly clear. What is not known is how – it is summer, the minimum temperature last night was 25 degrees centigrade. The billabong should not be frozen. A group of local youths discovered it first, went to the surface to see for themselves.

That was their first mistake. Their second mistake was to touch the ice. I can’t rightly remember who did it, Ryder I believe? Anyway, he is regarded as one of the more risk taking of the local youths in town.

He got stuck to the ice. His skin froze to it, at 10am in thirty degree heat – whatever was happening to the billabong was still occurring, was still freezing it. It was only by sheer luck that one of that Tim McCallister, the ring leader of this little gang had some water on him. And thought to use it! He poured it over Ryder’s hand, it was enough to thaw out the ice and get Ryders’s hand free.

Then they actually used their brains, or what passed for them in this backwater town on the western edge of New South Wales – they went to the police. The police’s response? “Pull the other one, its got bells on it!”

Luckily they had taken pictures of the billabong. All hail the mighty smartphone, eh? Apparently the police stopped laughing pretty quickly – they recognised the flora around the billabong quickly enough – this town is small enough, and everyone goes to the billabong on a hot day.

And the billabong is frozen, in summer.

They go out to examine the billabong. It is not…a crime. That much they are certain of, they think. But it is a hazard to the local populace. They cordon off the billabong while they alert the state authorities.

There is one other thing that confuses and creeps out the police officers. Something that escaped the youths attention. There are birds frozen to the top of the billabong. It indicates that whatever happened, whatever caused this outback pond to freeze, was so fast, so rapid that it came with no warning.

A day passes, and the billabong is still frozen. Yesterday was a real stinker, 42 degrees. The local media is starting to call he billabong “Jack Frost’s Billabong.”. The bar flies are the postman, the local watering hole, are muttering over their beers. There is fear in the air, this is spooking everyone.

A rumbling breaks the air as the sound of trucks breaks the lazy silence of the midday heat. We leave the dark confines of the pub to see what the commotion is, and stare agape as dozens of camouflaged trucks enter the town centre.

We don’t know who called the army in, but likely it was the state or federal authorities. This is getting huge, all for a little billabong, which is still frozen. The lead truck stops in front of the town hall, and someone steps out, marching into the building. We stand and stare, not really knowing what to do. This just…does not happen in Australia. This feels like something that is supposed to happen in a bad B grade Hollywood film.

Five minutes pass, and a crowd of a hundred people are gathering in the town centre, gawking at the army trucks. By this time the army guys are stationed around their trucks, standing at ease. They look….wary of us. We stare back at them, unsure of what they are going to do. Almost the whole town is out (we are a small town, 150 population max).

A small standoff almost ensues, as the townsfolk and army personnel stare at each other, each waiting for the other to do something. All we need right now is for a tumbleweed to blow past and we are all set for a shootout – if only tumbleweeds grew in Australia!

This silent standoff is broken by the leader of the army contingent coming out of the town hall, followed closely by the councillor in charge of our little town. “Ladies and gentlemen of Jinderook, please go about your normal business.” The army colonel, as indicated by his insignia, yelled to the crowd.

At what the people assumed to be an order from an army man, most of the people in the crowd dispersed, with only a few older people staying about, intent on finding out what is happening.

The colonel turned around, speaking to the councillor. After a bit of gesticulating, including pointing in the direction of the billabong, it was obvious to the remaining townsfolk that the army was here for the frozen billabong.

A week has now passed. The Army has cordoned off the Jack Frost billabong, establishing a one kilometre exclusion zone – all for our protection, they claim. There was grumbling from the malcontents, but they all shy away from real confrontation when challenged with going up against the army. All we know is that there are multiple tents round the billabong, with two white ones – the local Dr reckons the white tents are biohazard in nature.

More visitors have entered our little town – there has been complaints about this, as we have no place to put them but we have been told that this is purely temporary. These visitors are different in that they are clearly not Army. The rumour mill is saying that they are academics, from some big shot university in the city. If that is the case, I really want to know what they are hoping to find. Cause all I have heard is that the billabong is still frozen, and they can’t establish why.