After the unexpected death of his wife, Steve Lehmann found comfort in a place most people have never set foot.
To the uninitiated, saleyards are simply where cattle and sheep are bought and sold before they become food — an economic tool, like a property auction.
But for Mr Lehmann and the people who run the country’s 34,000 livestock farms, they are much more.
“Going to the sale and talking to the old mates … helped me get off my bum instead of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself,” Mr Lehmann said.
“[They] were a godsend for me in that aspect … to just talk things over and just realise I’m not alone.
“A saleyard is worth half a dozen psychologists.”
But with physical saleyards across the country closing, that connection and support for rural communities is being lost.
Rising costs and a move to online selling platforms are sounding the death knell for more saleyards, which have meant much more to these communities than a place of transaction.
Farmers say the local saleyards are more than just a place to buy and sell livestock. (ABC Rural: Brandon Long)
Mr Lehmann, 69, is a quietly spoken but cheerful cattle farmer at Prenzlau, a small rural community an hour’s drive west of Brisbane.
Like many others in the district, his family started out with a dairy.
The fifth-generation farmer fondly recalls the days when, as a 16-year-old lad, he rode his pony 3 kilometres down the road to meet up with Elaine, who was the local farmer’s daughter.
They married three years later.
It was a love story that would endure for 46 years until her death three years ago.
“She worked beside me on the farm. That was the hard part when she passed,” he said.
“They always reckon a good woman can make a good man and I’d have to stand by that as a fact.”
The saleyards at nearby Gatton in Queensland’s Lockyer Valley were there for him when the deregulation of the dairy industry forced him to sell his cows.
When Gatton closed in 2016, the saleyards at Laidley, another 20 minutes away, filled the void and have been there for him ever since.
The Laidley Saleyards opened in 1972 and have been upgraded over the decades. (Supplied)
In the zone
Just a few weeks ago, Mr Lehmann was in his zone, soaking up the familiar mix of bull dust, crackle of the auctioneer’s megaphone, bellowing cattle and chatter over a hot tea.
Not long after the 8:30am start, retired farmer Tom Mulchay, 89, made his way up the gravel driveway with his walking stick.
He had a question on his lips.
“I believe it’s in the wind that they’re going to close the Laidley Saleyards?” he asked.
The answer was yes.
“To me, that will be the rock they perish on,” Mr Mulchay added.
Tom Mulchay, a retired grazier and Laidley resident, says the saleyards are important for farmers’ mental health. (ABC Rural: Brandon Long)
Lockyer Valley Regional Council voted in August to close the yards next year due to the cost of bringing them up to environmental and safety standards.
Mr Mulchay and others are concerned the council does not understand the significance of the yards to rural people.
He notes the thousands already spent on yard upgrades since 2009.
The days of getting out the chequebook might be long gone, but for him, and many others, it has never been just about the money.
“You needn’t have to be selling or buying to come to a sale,” he said.
Auctioneer David Stariha (centre) kicks off a Thursday cattle sale at Laidley. (ABC Rural: Brandon Long)
“It’s the camaraderie of the other farmers that get together, and those discussions you have are an enormous help to the mental side of our farmer community.
“I’ve spent years in and out of saleyards, and to me, you go away refreshed.
“This is the greatest place you can go to clear the mind.”
Lockyer Valley Mayor Tanya Milligan has since apologised for the council not consulting the community before voting on the closure.
Lockyer Valley Regional Council voted to close the Laidley Saleyards in 2025. (ABC Rural: Brandon Long)
A wider issue
The closure is not just a concern in the Lockyer Valley.
At least five complexes have shut their gates across Queensland in the past 17 years, leaving about 38.
Goondiwindi, Gin Gin and Oakey have remnants of what used to be bustling saleyards.
The Landmark saleyards in Toowoomba before they were demolished. The adjacent Elders yards still stand. (ABC Rural: Arlie Felton-Taylor)
Some were too old and uneconomical to bring up to modern standards, some were consolidated, and others were shut due to a drop in livestock numbers and more direct-to-abattoir selling.
National Rural Health Alliance (NRHA) CEO Susi Tegen said the closure of meeting places such as saleyards was a real issue for rural communities.
“Even though a lot of trading is now done on apps and online, they’re the structure or the fabric that pulls everything together, and it’s really important that we continue to maintain that,” Ms Tegan said.
Susi Tegen says the closure of saleyards and bank branches is a major issue for rural communities. (Supplied: NRHA)
Ms Tegan said natural disasters and financial pressures were putting a strain on farmers’ mental health and a lack of access to health professionals and distance made the spaces vital.
“People are choosing not to go to a doctor or a nurse or a psychologist because they can’t get in and they might have to travel many kilometres,” she said.
Because cattle are the focus, it takes the pressure off and approaching tough topics less awkward.
“You might be talking a little bit about the livestock, but then at the same time, you might be saying, ‘I haven’t been right lately. I’ve been feeling really down’, or, ‘I’m not dealing with the fact that this is the third year in a row that we’ve had a drought’.”
Biggest in the business
While some towns are struggling to keep their selling centres, places like Roma look unlikely to ever lose the asset.
With 244,000 head going through the facility last year, it is the biggest cattle selling space in Australia.
People look on over the cattle saleyards at Roma. (ABC Southern Qld: Baz Ruddick)
For isolated farmers like Julie Mayne from nearby Dulacca, these trips are some of the only chances they get to see people who aren’t family.
And of course, once a month when the farmer walks in, a yarn usually starts with rain.
“The conversation always starts off around the weather because that’s how we make our living — we convert rain into cash,” she said.
From there, the conversation can open up to more personal topics.
“It just provides that safe place where people are comfortable,” she said.
There are plenty of kilometres between Julie Mayne’s property and the nearest social gathering point. (Supplied: QRRRWN)
Hope for the little local
While the demise of the local saleyard is a real concern, it is not inevitable.
In a small, green hamlet north of Toowoomba, a local livestock agent has reignited sales at the Crows Nest showgrounds.
Wade Hartwig, who was a franchisee for a major agency, started his own business and launched monthly sales there in 2022 to service the region’s smaller farmers.
“It’s a good thing for the community,” he said.
“[They] catch up with their old mates or their old colleagues over the years, and that’s a good morning out.
“A lot of them just come there and talk a bit of bullshit.”
Wade Hartwig and Hayden King selling cattle at Crows Nest. (Supplied: Hartwig & Bliss)
Back in the Lockyer Valley, the mayor recently announced the formation of a saleyards working group to try to find some kind of solution for the region.
With his grandchildren now following in his footsteps, Steve Lehmann is choosing to remain positive about the future of the place he and many others find comfort in.
“There’s always a solution, no matter what the problem is,” he said.
