Opinion: With every step mother nature mostly responded with less rain and more dirt

I had been performing CPR on a newborn calf. Mum had just popped out two babies and neither of them were breathing. It was clear the larger one had died well before it arrived, so I honed in on the smaller calf. I had to try for the mum - losing one calf was bad enough but losing two at the same time surely meant double, and unimaginable, grief even if you are a pet cow called Molly.

When I realised it was useless I sat there in the paddock, hands covered in bodily fluids, and cried. Why?! Why?!

It was in that moment I realised nature always wins in the end and sometimes even your very best efforts are simply not enough.

It reminded me of the fight against this unrelenting, and in some cases, overwhelming, drought. It's become a huge battle for survival on many levels. What was Mother Nature doing? Was she reflecting upon one of William Shakespeare's famous lines, but with a twist? 'To rain, or not to rain, that is the question'.

There has been a huge outpouring of help for farmers since early last year, and with every bit of assistance given Mother Nature mostly responded with less rain and more dirt. It's hard to imagine, but in most places things are even worse now than they were 18 months ago. Sometimes I wonder how that is even possible.

So much help has been delivered, and it's still not enough. There is only one thing that can fix this and that's drought-breaking rain. But, it will not come.

I've been reporting on the drought for 18 months now, and there's a new concern that's rapidly rising - drought fatigue.

The technology at our finger tips in the modern newsroom gives us a deep window into our online audience. It shows us what stories are resonating with them, how long they spend on a page and the top stories of the day. Social media data tracks the engagements on a post and its reach.

It's this information that has allowed The Mercury to monitor the soar of awareness that unfolded after I broke the story of the drought in the Hunter and across regional NSW early last year. It's also the data that has proved the drought is falling off the radar.

A year ago our audience were shocked and saddened about the battle for survival on the land and wanted to help our farmers - and our food bowl. And help they did.

The intense level of support was like nothing I have ever seen and readers were demanding drought-related content. Now engagement is at an all time low. It's as if our audience has drought fatigue and has become immune to images of farmers and animals in dusty paddocks.

I understand why they feel this way. The drought has gone on much longer than anybody thought it would, and with the plight of most farmers becoming progressively worse each week - not to mention the unfolding water crisis in regional NSW - the whole situation can feel entirely overwhelming.

I know, I've felt like that. But could I sit back and not do anything to help at all? No. Sometimes it's a case of not knowing how to help when the situation is so dire and widespread.

We're so protected from the brutal reality of life on the land in regional suburbia - and the city.

Water is still coming out when the tap is turned on, and a trip to any of the major supermarkets will unveil shelves full of food. The fruit and vegetable section looks like perfection, the meat is healthy and plump and there are still too many bottles of milk and dairy products on the shelves to count. It looks like any other plentiful time on the land.

Bit it's a mirage.

It's a common question I am asked a lot. I'm frequently surprised at the number of people who are still unaware that NSW is battling drought - and not just any drought - the worst one in living memory.

Talk to volunteers who are travelling to drought-ravaged farms to help farmers tackle some of their jobs and they will tell you the issue isn't resonating when they share the experience with city-based friends and family.

They'll also speak about how surreal it is to actually set foot on one of these bone dry farms - the places that produce our food.

Alan Newbery and Jeanette Dib, of Newcastle, spent this week on a large sheep station 27 kilometres from Lightning Ridge in north-western NSW. They were volunteers with charity Rural Aid's Farm Rescue.

They said pictures of dusty paddocks and hungry stock had conveyed a concerning situation and encouraged them to do what they could to assist.

But, it wasn't until they actually saw it for themselves and felt the soil crackling under their feet that they truly understood the plight of our drought-stricken farmers.

"Bleak", "desolate" and "vast" were some of the words they used to describe what it felt like being there.

"You quickly see how grim it is and what a bad situation the people are in. They can't even manage to feed their dogs and get on with everyday life. They are in dire straights," Mr Newbery told me.

Mr Newbery even went as far as saying that people in the city lived "in another dimension" compared with the conditions and challenges in regional areas.

Some of the farm photos I saw from the week could be mistaken for sand at the beach - it's that barren where the grass is supposed to be.

When they share their experiences with family and friends they noticed the urgency of the situation was not sinking in.

Of course there are many who have opened their wallets - and their hearts, and donated or become involved with projects to make a difference.

After such a long time though it's understandable some people are wondering how they can help when the issue is so vast.

I put this question to the two volunteers and Ms Dib summed it up perfectly.