Nearly 40km from Augathella (population 450), Doug and Rachelle Cameron load supplements for their cattle. The day is typical for an Australian drought, still and silent as if the landscape has gone to sleep.

Their children Stirling, 11, Ella, 8 and Grace, 6 jump out of the ute and kick around the dust and cow pats as their cattle mill around the water troughs. Muffy the overgrown grey poddy calf comes up to watch. A bird’s nest sits in the struts of a disused windmill.

Their 34,000 acre station, Nive Downs, is 750km inland from Brisbane in south-west Queensland and they are facing their fifth year of drought. For the Camerons, the big dry started after the floods of 2012. Like most diligent farmers, they have tried to cut down their herd to take pressure off pastures and ensure they don’t need to spend too much on feed.

The couple met in agricultural college. Rachelle grew up on a cattle property on the coast, all green pastures, rivers and mountains, a stark contrast to the flat dry country around Augathella.

“Most people around here are pretty active in de-stocking, they have sold replacement heifers but we are lucky in that we have kept our dry stock but they will be going pretty shortly if it doesn’t rain,” says Rachelle.

Drought has dominated the media debate in Australia in the past month after the whole of New South Wales was drought declared. Further north though, a majority of Queensland has been in drought for up to seven years. Myriad charities have sprung up raising cash, fodder and services for farmers. Tradesmen are offering to fix sheds, knitting clubs are making little jackets for orphaned lambs, city residents are travelling inland to inject cash into small towns via a coffee and a pie.

Debate over drought and climate change was only briefly eclipsed by the latest overthrow of an Australian prime minister as Malcolm Turnbull was deposed by members of his own Liberal party. He toppled the previous prime minister Tony Abbott in 2015, a few years after this latest drought began.

Even in the worst times, you have to get away, go to the beach for a week and that’s for sanity as much as anything.

While most Australian farmers prepare for drought, the latest dry in the eastern states is lingering on and most have eaten through their reserves; of fodder, cash and patience. In a normal year, the Cameron family gets 19 inches of annual rainfall on Nive Downs, yet near the end of August they have only had six. Talk turns to what normal is.

“The new norm seems to be drier and hotter over the years we have been here with our average summer temperatures,” Rachelle says. “I wouldn’t say [climate change] is not happening. It seems to be all or nothing in the country.”

The Cameron’s have cut their breeder herd of Angus Charolais cross down from 1,300 to 900 and they are preparing for the possibility they will not get their usual summer rain. Again. They are also trying to increase cash flow by diversifying into production of Nive Beef jerky. It was an idea Doug hit on after a cattle price crash due to a temporary live export ban in 2011 which caused prices to plummet to $50 a head. He stopped at a roadhouse on the way back from the saleyards and saw a 25g packet of beef jerky for $5.

“I thought I could sell 10 of those and it’s the same as the price for the whole cow,” says Doug.

“It didn’t matter what I did to the cattle, we could have the best genetics, the best everything, but outside influences just crushed us. I thought maybe we can make something out of the jerky and set the price.”

Drought affected pastures near Wyandra, Queensland, Australia. Photograph: Mike Bowers/The Guardian

The last big drought was from the late 1990s to 2010, known as the Millennium drought, when southern Australia suffered persistent dry periods but northern Australia got above average rainfall. In previous droughts, a section of the farm sector resisted the science of climate change, but this time more farmers are considering the possibilities.

Last week, the first female president of the National Farmers Federation, Fiona Simson, declared climate change would make droughts worse. Days earlier, her predecessor Brent Finlay criticised politicians for “jumping in front of cameras” in drought while failing to create effective policy to deal with drought and climate change.

The farm lobby also accused the Coalition government of failing to implement a national drought policy.

The drought has got tangled up in energy policy which was used as a stalking horse by conservative Liberals, in some cases climate deniers, to overthrow their more progressive leader Turnbull. After losing the Liberal leadership in 2009 over climate change, Turnbull later became prime minister and tried to implement a technology neutral energy policy. Conservative Liberals want their government to subsidise coal and gas. As they fought amongst themselves, the spectre of drought amplified the climate change debate, the energy mix and power prices.

Louise and Andrew Martin have a sheep property an hour north of the Camerons around Tambo. The station is in Mitchell grass country, an old inland sea, 860km north-west of Brisbane. Their fertile black soil swells and contracts with heat and rain. Andrew takes a long term view on climate as he holds an ancient ammonite fossil, disgorged by paddocks. Rather than debate climate change, Andrew is more interested in preparing for whatever climate throws at him.

“The best way of dealing with drought is accepting you are going to have one,” Andrew says.

The Martins prepared by making 200 bales of hay off their pastures in good years but they produced fewer lambs since the drought took hold and that means less income for to pay debts. Still, they don’t believe in subsidies. Andrew, who is also mayor of the Blackhall-Tambo region, would rather see funding go to councils to create work for locals by upgrading infrastructure such as roads and community buildings.

“There is no better anti-depressant than hope, hope is cash, cash comes from work, work comes from jobs, cash goes back into the business,” he says.

Drought affected land near Tambo, Queensland, Australia. Photograph: Mike Bowers/The Guardian

As for individual businesses, Andrew follows his own “stabbed rodent” theory rather than what he calls “agrarian socialism”. He believes subsidies create dependency.

“So we just get out of this drought and fall into the next bastard and instead of recognising we have had a gift from the Almighty with great rain and go like a stabbed rodent to build up a bit of fat for the next pinch, people say if we get into trouble, someone will help us. They will give us a payout.”

Like the Camerons, the Martins have also tried to diversify. Andrew breeds donkeys which are used by some sheep producers as flock guards for lambing to ward off wild dogs. Five years ago at the beginning of the drought, they banded together with neighbours to build a cluster fence around the outside of their properties to keep out the dogs. It improved their lambing and increased social interaction in one of their driest years on record.

“The people within the cluster got together monthly to discuss the fence over beer and dinner at the pub, it gave us a really positive goal,” says Louise.

“Otherwise each day limps into another. Even in the worst times, you have to get away, go to the beach for a week and that’s for sanity as much as anything. It’s good for the soul.”