Ex-soldiers preserve emu plume tradition on slouch hats to honour army history
Former soldier Dale Kirkman first made a plume for his own hat more than 20 years ago and now makes up to 200 plumes each year for the slouch hats of the Royal Australian Armoured Corps, veterans and re-enactment groups.
"It's all about the fullness of the plume and some of the colour," he said.
"
The tradition was the darker the feather, the better the rider for the Light Horse.
"
An enduring military symbol
The emu plume was made famous in World War I but has its origins in the 1890s Queensland shearers' strike when the mounted infantry were said to have plucked feathers for their hats while riding alongside emus.
The plume is still worn by members of the Royal Australian Armoured Corps and is a source of pride to Captain Henry Lindsay, who is originally from Wagga Wagga.
The emu plume has become a symbol of the Australian Light Horse.
(
Supplied: Australian War Memorial
)
"We've continued the tradition that as someone posts into the regiment and becomes part of the Royal Australian Armoured Corps, you don't buy your own emu plumes," Mr Lindsay said.
"They're given to you by someone else for good luck.
Captain Henry Lindsay was given his emu plume by a colleague for good luck.
(
Supplied: Australian Defence Force
)
"When I put on my slouch hat with the emu plumes, I feel quite proud.
"You can feel them just on top of your hat blowing in the breeze."
A careful craft
The feathers are painstakingly sorted into different lengths, glued and then carefully stitched into a pouch of kangaroo leather to represent the Australian Coat of Arms.
"I try to get feathers with nice tips on them,"
Mr Kirkman said.
"I get a number of these [different sizes] put together and that allows the feather to have that layered effect, so it falls nicely over the slouch hat."
Dale Kirkman has been making emu plumes for hats for 20 years.
(
ABC News: Cara Jeffery
)
To source the feathers, Mr Kirkman works with an army veteran and southern New South Wales emu farmer, Ian Marston.
The pair met when they were both working at the Kapooka Army Training Centre in Wagga Wagga and the feathers are exchanged for farm work.
Mr Marston said his emus were bred to have full, lush feathers and he was careful about their diet.
"We try things all the time to see if we can improve their shine, on their feathers and their coats, as well as improve the oil and the meat flavour," Mr Marston said.
Other countries farming emus
The 750 emus at Mr Marston's farm produce feathers, meat, leather and decorative eggs for carving but the key product is oil, which is used in healthcare supplements, skincare and cosmetics.
Ian Marston says the diverse range of emu products adds to their profitability.
(
ABC News: Emily Doak
)
"We get around 9.5 kilograms of fat per bird and that renders down to about 8 litres of oil,"
he said.
Mr Marston said that oil could sell for a wholesale price of up to $80 per litre.
Emu Industry of Australia president Chris Gregory said about 45 tonnes of oil were produced in Australia last year and there was growing demand in South-East Asia and in the United States.
Emus might be native to Australia, but the birds have been farmed in the US since the 1970s, and in India, China and Japan since the early 2000s.
Mr Gregory said much like the boom and bust seen in the Australian emu industry, production in those countries had declined to only a handful of farmers.
Emus are native to Australia but are now farmed in India, China and the United States.
(
ABC News: Emily Doak
)
Mr Marston believes Australian emu farmers have a significant advantage over their international competitors through genetic selection of birds to produce high levels of vitamin K2-MK4, which is sought after for health benefits.
"We have a little secret that most people don't realise and that is that there are five different varieties of emu," Mr Marston said.
"You can have emus in America and China but they might not be the right kind of emu for our vitamin K2."
Watch this story on ABC TV's Landline at 12:30pm on Sunday, or on
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After living an incredible 100 years, WWII veteran Russell "Rusty" Leslie Fuller has died and will finally reunite with his late wife, Jenny. On Thursday, July 3, 2025, Russell, who had lived Albion Park Rail for about 25 years, died peacefully in Temora, where he had moved to be closer to his daughter Michelle. Many in will remember Anzac Day 2020, when during the height of COVID, Rusty's neighbours in Albion Park Rail decided to put on a special service for their oldest serving resident, who was 95 at the time. As the sun rose over Kimbeth Crescent, the WWII veteran and his neighbours stood on driveways and listened to the Last Post. Rhonda Reeves, who was Russell's neighbour from across the road for more than two decades, described her friend as a very special man. "I thought it would be lovely for Russell to feel special on Anzac Day, as he should, and we got the neighbourhood together and it turned out to be a very special day," she said. "He was just so excited about it. 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The skipper must have thought his luck had dwindled, as each day, he would set crab and lobster pots along the coast and would rarely secure a catch. But Russell and his best friend, Ronnie Foster, always seemed to have the catch of the day on their dinner tables. "We were terrible. It was the wrong thing to do, but we got away with it," Russell said with a laugh when I spoke to him in 2020. Before joining the army, Russell lived with his sister at Bulahdelah, where he worked in a timber mill. "I got a call from the army to go and have a medical exam," Russell said. "I was called up in June 1943. I had to get my Dad's permission to join the AIF. He said, 'Go ahead, Russell, go ahead'." When speaking about his father, Richard, who served in the Australian Army during World War I, Russell always had a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He said if it weren't for a Salvation Army lady, his father would have died in the trenches of the battle-torn landscape during the Battle of Menin Road. Wounded in action when a bullet tore a deep incision in his right leg, two inches deep and three inches wide, Richard tried to hide his injury and dampen the pain with mud. It hadn't worked, and he collapsed. His body was placed among the Canadian dead. "This young little Salvation Army lady walked past, and Dad waved his hand, and she saw it and pulled him out," Russell said. Like his father before him, Russell was proud of his service. During World War II, he was part of the three-inch mortar patrol within the 2/16th battalion. When he trained, he remembered being given metal helmets for protection. Yet, Russell said those helmets often lay in the dirt, replaced by comfortable slouch hats. "It is the risk you took," he said. 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Russell stood with his fellow three-inch mortar crew, had a barrel on his back and three bombs underneath each arm. "We were allowed to take up to four days. It was captured on the first day," he said. After the war, Russell returned to Rockhampton and found work laying telephone cables for the Postmaster-General's Department. He met his wife, Jenny Dickerson, through dinner dates with his sister, Yvonne. Russell courageously asked Jenny if she would go on a date, and she said yes. "That made my day," Russell said. "She is the best thing that ever happened to me, believe me." On November 15, 1952, they became husband and wife, and the couple adopted two girls, Michelle and Debbie. Russell lived much of his later life in Albion Park Rail where he cared for his beloved veggie garden, enjoyed reading, attended church, and listened to music programs. "If everybody was there to help one another, what a wonderful world it would be," Russell said. "Good health, that's number one. 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"I thought it would be lovely for Russell to feel special on Anzac Day, as he should, and we got the neighbourhood together and it turned out to be a very special day," she said. "He was just so excited about it. He shared a lot of tears. He was just so proud walking around with younger children, while we all clapped him. "He was wise, kind, giving, quiet-talking, never bragged or raised his voice. He was just someone you could sit and talk to. He was so calming. I don't think there's anyone else like him anymore." Born to parents Richard and Grace Elizabeth in Goulburn on February 1, 1925, Russell "Rusty" Fuller was the second eldest of eight children. Russell spent the first eight years of his life in Goulburn before he and his family moved to a farm in Forster. The 500-acre farm "Coomba" was located in Shallow Bay, had 30 dairy cows, and provided milk to the Tuncurry Butter Factory. As a child, Russell used the lakes and rivers that passed along the farm as highways to town - his mode of transport a small white wooden punt with two oars and a lot of elbow grease. Russell was required to board a boat to get to school in Tuncurry, skippered by a German man named Poppy Norman. The skipper must have thought his luck had dwindled, as each day, he would set crab and lobster pots along the coast and would rarely secure a catch. But Russell and his best friend, Ronnie Foster, always seemed to have the catch of the day on their dinner tables. "We were terrible. It was the wrong thing to do, but we got away with it," Russell said with a laugh when I spoke to him in 2020. Before joining the army, Russell lived with his sister at Bulahdelah, where he worked in a timber mill. "I got a call from the army to go and have a medical exam," Russell said. "I was called up in June 1943. I had to get my Dad's permission to join the AIF. He said, 'Go ahead, Russell, go ahead'." When speaking about his father, Richard, who served in the Australian Army during World War I, Russell always had a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He said if it weren't for a Salvation Army lady, his father would have died in the trenches of the battle-torn landscape during the Battle of Menin Road. Wounded in action when a bullet tore a deep incision in his right leg, two inches deep and three inches wide, Richard tried to hide his injury and dampen the pain with mud. It hadn't worked, and he collapsed. His body was placed among the Canadian dead. "This young little Salvation Army lady walked past, and Dad waved his hand, and she saw it and pulled him out," Russell said. Like his father before him, Russell was proud of his service. During World War II, he was part of the three-inch mortar patrol within the 2/16th battalion. When he trained, he remembered being given metal helmets for protection. Yet, Russell said those helmets often lay in the dirt, replaced by comfortable slouch hats. "It is the risk you took," he said. "Helmets would blister your head in the sun and were too heavy to manoeuvre efficiently, so the felt hat was the best option, regardless of the risk." He vividly remembered waiting in formation with his comrades for dinner when the unthinkable occurred, and another battalion's shell fell short of its intended target. "A drop short. It landed in front of the troops who were lined up for dinner, and it killed six of us. I was in about 10th position," he said. Months before the Battle of Balikpapan, the battalion practised barge landing in Australia and Morotai before taking the shore in July 1945. He was 20 years old. With rucksacks secured on their backs and rifles in hand, soldiers huddled as one, as their arms held onto the side of the landing craft. Their eyes gazed towards the beach approaching, but their view was obscured by a heavy black, smoke-drenched landscape with staggered palm trees ripped of fronds. Russell stood with his fellow three-inch mortar crew, had a barrel on his back and three bombs underneath each arm. "We were allowed to take up to four days. It was captured on the first day," he said. After the war, Russell returned to Rockhampton and found work laying telephone cables for the Postmaster-General's Department. He met his wife, Jenny Dickerson, through dinner dates with his sister, Yvonne. Russell courageously asked Jenny if she would go on a date, and she said yes. "That made my day," Russell said. "She is the best thing that ever happened to me, believe me." On November 15, 1952, they became husband and wife, and the couple adopted two girls, Michelle and Debbie. Russell lived much of his later life in Albion Park Rail where he cared for his beloved veggie garden, enjoyed reading, attended church, and listened to music programs. "If everybody was there to help one another, what a wonderful world it would be," Russell said. "Good health, that's number one. If you have good friends and neighbours, that's number two. The other things are just extra." After living an incredible 100 years, WWII veteran Russell "Rusty" Leslie Fuller has died and will finally reunite with his late wife, Jenny. On Thursday, July 3, 2025, Russell, who had lived Albion Park Rail for about 25 years, died peacefully in Temora, where he had moved to be closer to his daughter Michelle. Many in will remember Anzac Day 2020, when during the height of COVID, Rusty's neighbours in Albion Park Rail decided to put on a special service for their oldest serving resident, who was 95 at the time. As the sun rose over Kimbeth Crescent, the WWII veteran and his neighbours stood on driveways and listened to the Last Post. Rhonda Reeves, who was Russell's neighbour from across the road for more than two decades, described her friend as a very special man. "I thought it would be lovely for Russell to feel special on Anzac Day, as he should, and we got the neighbourhood together and it turned out to be a very special day," she said. "He was just so excited about it. He shared a lot of tears. He was just so proud walking around with younger children, while we all clapped him. "He was wise, kind, giving, quiet-talking, never bragged or raised his voice. He was just someone you could sit and talk to. He was so calming. I don't think there's anyone else like him anymore." Born to parents Richard and Grace Elizabeth in Goulburn on February 1, 1925, Russell "Rusty" Fuller was the second eldest of eight children. Russell spent the first eight years of his life in Goulburn before he and his family moved to a farm in Forster. The 500-acre farm "Coomba" was located in Shallow Bay, had 30 dairy cows, and provided milk to the Tuncurry Butter Factory. As a child, Russell used the lakes and rivers that passed along the farm as highways to town - his mode of transport a small white wooden punt with two oars and a lot of elbow grease. Russell was required to board a boat to get to school in Tuncurry, skippered by a German man named Poppy Norman. The skipper must have thought his luck had dwindled, as each day, he would set crab and lobster pots along the coast and would rarely secure a catch. But Russell and his best friend, Ronnie Foster, always seemed to have the catch of the day on their dinner tables. "We were terrible. It was the wrong thing to do, but we got away with it," Russell said with a laugh when I spoke to him in 2020. Before joining the army, Russell lived with his sister at Bulahdelah, where he worked in a timber mill. "I got a call from the army to go and have a medical exam," Russell said. "I was called up in June 1943. I had to get my Dad's permission to join the AIF. He said, 'Go ahead, Russell, go ahead'." When speaking about his father, Richard, who served in the Australian Army during World War I, Russell always had a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He said if it weren't for a Salvation Army lady, his father would have died in the trenches of the battle-torn landscape during the Battle of Menin Road. Wounded in action when a bullet tore a deep incision in his right leg, two inches deep and three inches wide, Richard tried to hide his injury and dampen the pain with mud. It hadn't worked, and he collapsed. His body was placed among the Canadian dead. "This young little Salvation Army lady walked past, and Dad waved his hand, and she saw it and pulled him out," Russell said. Like his father before him, Russell was proud of his service. During World War II, he was part of the three-inch mortar patrol within the 2/16th battalion. When he trained, he remembered being given metal helmets for protection. Yet, Russell said those helmets often lay in the dirt, replaced by comfortable slouch hats. "It is the risk you took," he said. "Helmets would blister your head in the sun and were too heavy to manoeuvre efficiently, so the felt hat was the best option, regardless of the risk." He vividly remembered waiting in formation with his comrades for dinner when the unthinkable occurred, and another battalion's shell fell short of its intended target. "A drop short. It landed in front of the troops who were lined up for dinner, and it killed six of us. I was in about 10th position," he said. Months before the Battle of Balikpapan, the battalion practised barge landing in Australia and Morotai before taking the shore in July 1945. He was 20 years old. With rucksacks secured on their backs and rifles in hand, soldiers huddled as one, as their arms held onto the side of the landing craft. Their eyes gazed towards the beach approaching, but their view was obscured by a heavy black, smoke-drenched landscape with staggered palm trees ripped of fronds. Russell stood with his fellow three-inch mortar crew, had a barrel on his back and three bombs underneath each arm. "We were allowed to take up to four days. It was captured on the first day," he said. After the war, Russell returned to Rockhampton and found work laying telephone cables for the Postmaster-General's Department. He met his wife, Jenny Dickerson, through dinner dates with his sister, Yvonne. Russell courageously asked Jenny if she would go on a date, and she said yes. "That made my day," Russell said. "She is the best thing that ever happened to me, believe me." On November 15, 1952, they became husband and wife, and the couple adopted two girls, Michelle and Debbie. Russell lived much of his later life in Albion Park Rail where he cared for his beloved veggie garden, enjoyed reading, attended church, and listened to music programs. "If everybody was there to help one another, what a wonderful world it would be," Russell said. "Good health, that's number one. If you have good friends and neighbours, that's number two. The other things are just extra." After living an incredible 100 years, WWII veteran Russell "Rusty" Leslie Fuller has died and will finally reunite with his late wife, Jenny. On Thursday, July 3, 2025, Russell, who had lived Albion Park Rail for about 25 years, died peacefully in Temora, where he had moved to be closer to his daughter Michelle. Many in will remember Anzac Day 2020, when during the height of COVID, Rusty's neighbours in Albion Park Rail decided to put on a special service for their oldest serving resident, who was 95 at the time. As the sun rose over Kimbeth Crescent, the WWII veteran and his neighbours stood on driveways and listened to the Last Post. Rhonda Reeves, who was Russell's neighbour from across the road for more than two decades, described her friend as a very special man. "I thought it would be lovely for Russell to feel special on Anzac Day, as he should, and we got the neighbourhood together and it turned out to be a very special day," she said. "He was just so excited about it. He shared a lot of tears. He was just so proud walking around with younger children, while we all clapped him. "He was wise, kind, giving, quiet-talking, never bragged or raised his voice. He was just someone you could sit and talk to. He was so calming. I don't think there's anyone else like him anymore." Born to parents Richard and Grace Elizabeth in Goulburn on February 1, 1925, Russell "Rusty" Fuller was the second eldest of eight children. Russell spent the first eight years of his life in Goulburn before he and his family moved to a farm in Forster. The 500-acre farm "Coomba" was located in Shallow Bay, had 30 dairy cows, and provided milk to the Tuncurry Butter Factory. As a child, Russell used the lakes and rivers that passed along the farm as highways to town - his mode of transport a small white wooden punt with two oars and a lot of elbow grease. Russell was required to board a boat to get to school in Tuncurry, skippered by a German man named Poppy Norman. The skipper must have thought his luck had dwindled, as each day, he would set crab and lobster pots along the coast and would rarely secure a catch. But Russell and his best friend, Ronnie Foster, always seemed to have the catch of the day on their dinner tables. "We were terrible. It was the wrong thing to do, but we got away with it," Russell said with a laugh when I spoke to him in 2020. Before joining the army, Russell lived with his sister at Bulahdelah, where he worked in a timber mill. "I got a call from the army to go and have a medical exam," Russell said. "I was called up in June 1943. I had to get my Dad's permission to join the AIF. He said, 'Go ahead, Russell, go ahead'." When speaking about his father, Richard, who served in the Australian Army during World War I, Russell always had a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He said if it weren't for a Salvation Army lady, his father would have died in the trenches of the battle-torn landscape during the Battle of Menin Road. Wounded in action when a bullet tore a deep incision in his right leg, two inches deep and three inches wide, Richard tried to hide his injury and dampen the pain with mud. It hadn't worked, and he collapsed. His body was placed among the Canadian dead. "This young little Salvation Army lady walked past, and Dad waved his hand, and she saw it and pulled him out," Russell said. Like his father before him, Russell was proud of his service. During World War II, he was part of the three-inch mortar patrol within the 2/16th battalion. When he trained, he remembered being given metal helmets for protection. Yet, Russell said those helmets often lay in the dirt, replaced by comfortable slouch hats. "It is the risk you took," he said. "Helmets would blister your head in the sun and were too heavy to manoeuvre efficiently, so the felt hat was the best option, regardless of the risk." He vividly remembered waiting in formation with his comrades for dinner when the unthinkable occurred, and another battalion's shell fell short of its intended target. "A drop short. It landed in front of the troops who were lined up for dinner, and it killed six of us. I was in about 10th position," he said. Months before the Battle of Balikpapan, the battalion practised barge landing in Australia and Morotai before taking the shore in July 1945. He was 20 years old. With rucksacks secured on their backs and rifles in hand, soldiers huddled as one, as their arms held onto the side of the landing craft. Their eyes gazed towards the beach approaching, but their view was obscured by a heavy black, smoke-drenched landscape with staggered palm trees ripped of fronds. Russell stood with his fellow three-inch mortar crew, had a barrel on his back and three bombs underneath each arm. "We were allowed to take up to four days. It was captured on the first day," he said. After the war, Russell returned to Rockhampton and found work laying telephone cables for the Postmaster-General's Department. He met his wife, Jenny Dickerson, through dinner dates with his sister, Yvonne. Russell courageously asked Jenny if she would go on a date, and she said yes. "That made my day," Russell said. "She is the best thing that ever happened to me, believe me." On November 15, 1952, they became husband and wife, and the couple adopted two girls, Michelle and Debbie. Russell lived much of his later life in Albion Park Rail where he cared for his beloved veggie garden, enjoyed reading, attended church, and listened to music programs. "If everybody was there to help one another, what a wonderful world it would be," Russell said. "Good health, that's number one. If you have good friends and neighbours, that's number two. The other things are just extra."
