TOO MANY RABBITS IN AUSTRALIA: THE BARNES LEGACY 🐇

Before I begin, I must acknowledge the Traditional Custodians of the lands on which my family’s stories unfolded. I pay my respects to Elders past and present, recognising that my family’s history is just one small part of a much older story, deeply connected to Country, culture and community.

Oh my God. It is official — my family tree is one big rabbit warren, full of mysteries, surprises, all vying for my attention. A mixed bag of all sorts, with gaps and question marks hanging overhead that I struggle to prioritise and connect the dots.

Don’t rely on AI completely, because it has a tendency to produce incorrect information. It’s a tool, yes, and it can serve up some delicious-looking information. But here’s the important bit — always ask it to verify its claims and provide reliable sources. Then check those sources yourself, because AI can sound convincing even when it’s wrong.

Trust me on this one. I’m learning the hard way!

A week ago, I donned my Supergirl cape and historian’s hat and got straight into it. I was once again the “I’ve got this — how hard could it be?” girl who was going to tie all those loose ends up in a neat little bow.

Oh, the confidence. If only I'd known what I was getting myself into!

Yeah, nah, I’d do it again.

I’m feeling a tad defeated, but that’s just my bruised ego talking. The self-doubt has slipped in because the hyperdrive has just hyper-versed. And as you saw in my previous post, it’s been a shit storm week.

I thought my birth and change-of-name certificates would be the biggest obstacle for future generations to sort through. 😅 But I’m now a little wiser.

Just quickly, I changed my maiden name by deed poll after our first child was born, so the four of us could share the same name. We figured it would be best until we tied the knot — but we never got around to it.

Sigh. Regret. 😥💕

Maybe someone else could do this research thing better — and faster.

But then I hear him:

“Bubs, pull ya head in. This isn’t about you.”

That’s what he would have told me.

God bless his cotton socks. ❤️

I didn’t go into this family-history business blindly, you know.

Back in 2008, someone lovingly put together our Barnes genealogy folder, which I’ve recently revisited. I’m working with the information I have, and it’s certainly given me food for thought. A most intriguing heritage, indeed.

And this is something I’m quickly learning about family history.

People who are completely unrelated can share identical first and middle names, even in the same town and generation.

In nineteenth-century New South Wales, names such as John, William, George, Elizabeth, Mary and Ellen, appear to have been very common. Names passed down from parents to children, including nieces and nephews.

Nicknames and variations — Elizabeth becomes Eliza, Betty or Lizzie. Middle names become first names — someone registered as Edgar Gordon might be known as Gordon.

There was a time when Australians were fiercely loyal to the Crown and Commonwealth — when naming your child after a king or queen was seen as a patriotic duty.

Then you have indexing errors, where a transcription can attach the wrong name to the wrong person.

A fine example of why you should never assume that the person you've found is the person you're looking for.

I’ve wasted hours chasing the wrong people. A note to future self — consider this a lesson learnt.

The trick is to identify a person through a combination of factors — parents, spouse, dates, locations, occupations and original records. A name on its own tells you very little. And discovering that two people aren't the same person can be just as valuable as finding the connection you were looking for.

And then there’s Ellen Elizabeth Barnes, who I keep getting drawn back to. It’s the mystery surrounding her parentage, and where, if at all, she belongs in our family tree.

The first piece to the puzzle — the marriage index confirms her marriage to Henry Hall, son of the bushranger Ben Hall. Ellen and Henry had one child — a son named Arthur.

I haven’t established what happened to Ellen after she left (or ran away?) to South Australia with Charles Knightley, reportedly taking Arthur with her.

MARRIED SEARCH RESULTS

Source: NSW Registry Index — NSW Government

When it comes to Ellen's parentage, the information I have so far comes from the family folder. It names her father as George Barnes, born around 1830, and spouse unknown.

Remember King George?

Those bloody rabbits aren't making this easy!

Thank goodness for my AI assistant, who keeps hitting me with new suggestions when I hit those roadblocks. There’s always another avenue to explore.

If you think I'm not enjoying this search through my family tree — quite the contrary!

Once, these were just names and stories about people who held no particular significance to me. Just ancestors who lived in the past. But the more I read about their lives, the more I empathise with those founders who set the precedence for today.

I might not be able to follow every dot to the end, but it’s becoming something much more than a list of names and dates.

Before I finish, I can’t sum this all up in a neat little bow, but I can give a couple of people and their story an honourable mention — or perhaps I’ll call them heartfelt mentions.

It was my great-great-uncle, John Frederick Barnes (1812–1863), who was shot and killed by John O’Meally, a member of Ben Hall’s bushranger gang, after attempting to rob him of his horse and saddle near Wallendbeen Station on 30 August 1863, according to historical accounts and contemporary newspaper reports.

Note the spelling of O’Meally’s name on the wanted poster above — spelt O’Mealley. This is a good example of one of the obstacles I was talking about with my own research.

O’Meally was killed in November 1863, while Ben Hall met his own end in May 1865 — around 18 months later.

Interestingly, John Frederick Barnes was the father of John Frederick Barnes (1838–1915), who was appointed Cootamundra’s first mayor in 1884.

There’s also a family connection to George Robert Nichols (1809–1857), a lawyer and parliamentarian who married Susanna Barnes. Susanna was the sister of my great-great-grandfather, Joseph Samuel Barnes, and his brother John Frederick Barnes, who was shot by O’Meally.

And the possibility that I may be a descendant of Henry and Ellen Hall is a nice little thought to sit with, at least for now.

Hard to believe that being associated with a bushranger or convict of the time could bring shame to the family. I guess, like anything, as the years roll on, the shame fades and the stories become folklore.

Last, but by no means least, my dad deserves a dedication of his own. He’s the mathematical genius of the family — the man who can conjure up answers to mathematical problems that would leave Einstein questioning his own genius. I suspect he was born on another planet. 👽🤓

Mum’s the calm and Dad’s the storm. Yin and yang. Maybe that’s the secret sauce to sixty-six years of marriage, celebrated earlier this year.

Makes you wonder what other secret sauces are hiding in our family legacy.

Until next time.