Driving through rural roads, intersecting paddocks and fields of livestock, Fiona Conroy approaches each day as it comes. After lasting two droughts and now enduring a third she is cautious about what the day may bring. Fiona, an agriculturalist in livestock farming, has been working her family farm in St Leonards for more than 50 years. Observing the ebbs and flows of the job’s order: emotional isolation, business operations, and animal welfare.

A small single room building erected in front of trees and beside a coop for 15 chickens, is dubbed the coffee hut. A reprieve from bare or yellowing fields. This room, with pictures of the farm’s history and proof of success on its walls, was where Fiona sat and shared her experiences of tending to more than 400 hectares of land amidst seemingly constant challenges.

As one of her leading strategies to combat unexpected issue, Fiona recounts the times she has reinforced business relationships over the years to know she will have contacts “reliable and willing to help” when a drought hits. Often buying large amounts of feed stocks from a supplier—even when non-essential—to supplement loyalty with a granted priority in periods with feed shortages.

“We gotta manage costs. We gotta manage animal welfare. And we also gotta manage what labours involved, and look at what infrastructure we’ve got,” she says.

When asked if this was the way she will tackle drought going forward, Fiona sits back in her chair, chuckling.

“That’s what’s interesting when you go into a drought, because its not one size fits all,” she says. “Even though we’re in the same drought, we can all be reacting differently. Even though we all got, probably the same goal. We just want to come out the other side and not have a whole heap of problems.”

In January this year, Fiona’s mother was moved into palliative care in Melbourne. Acting as the landmark reference for this drought, the loss of a parent introduced extreme stress onto already precarious times. As result, Fiona sold about 1000 sheep to ease the time demands and ongoing costs of the farm.

“There always seems to be a little complication factor, and I suppose— the real thing is there’s probably complicated factors running through your life all the time, but you only really come under extra pressure when you’re in a drought,” she says, looking around at the room’s clutter. Spending every third day in Melbourne during her mother’s palliative care, in a roster with her two brothers, made managing the extra workload on the farm with the drought more strenuous and complicated.

“With drought there’s a lot of decisions you have to make, really, at the right time to have a good decision,” she says. “Otherwise you’re like oh crap! Now I’m in hospital! Or— oh no crap! Now my mum’s in palliative care and I got to drive to Melbourne.”

Emotional isolation and seclusion are major considerations. Fiona is explicitly conscious of how letting unspoken thoughts spiral for days can be “detrimental”.

“There’s a lot of ball juggling in the air, and you’re juggling yourself with those,” she says. “You gotta recognise what the triggers are, to you feeling like you’re not okay.”

Human connection, and having someone to talk to “that’s not a farmer” is pretty important, Fiona says.

Her mornings driving to the farm are sworn to the ritual of buying a coffee at her favourite café. Not only a moment to interact with someone, have a laugh, but also to grant a chance to treasure the calmness of life before the farm takes hold over the rest of a day.

Fiona’s academic background is in the agricultural sciences, and she is immensely aware of environmental shifts.

“Things are going to get more extreme, and more frequent,” she says. “And that is both ways— more droughts, and more rain. Both will get more intense.”

Despite the tension of combatting natural conditions and the looming presence of climate change, Fiona says a career in agriculture is still immensely viable for younger generations choosing a life path. “It’s a phenomenal career path now… There’s so many commodity jobs whether its bull broking, or trading, or meat processing, marketing.”

This story is part of a project exploring regional Victoria and the issues farmers are facing. See the whole collection here.