L4 RIP

The reality of farm life is sometimes a bit hard for me. We found the newest lamb, L4, dead in the paddock. We don't know what happened. Perhaps one of the sheep butted it. Or it didn't go to shelter during the rain storm the previous night. We just don't know. And I don't know how I feel about it all.

I know that death is part of the reality of a farm; heck I even plan to eat some of the animals but I still feel disquieted. Maybe it is my suburban sensibilities where we mourned every kitten's death, every bird's. I don't know but I feel a tad sad when I go watch the flock now. I keep trying to figure out which ewe lost the lamb. We have 6 that all look alike but there is no hint in behavior that one is mourning.

So I block the whole death thing with some serious gardening work. I have finally gotten in my beans and green peppers (capsicums to Kiwis). Dan built me a cage to keep out possums, rabbits, birds, etc. and so far it has worked beautifully. It also keeps me out. There is a complicated system of flaps and doors and I don't have the key to the maze so I water from the outside and hope I learn the system before I have to start staking. If not, then Dan will have to do the weeding and staking. Hmmh? Perhaps there is a strategy here!

It has been a long weekend and we go back down to Auckland today. I always feel as if I could get a handle on things here if I just had a few more days. I think that is the lot of the farmer. Dan has been vigilantly checking each and every tree that he planted. We were stunned to find out that some arborist thief had dug up our silk speciman tree planted at the entrance to the farm and stole it. They actually took all the mulch with them!

There have been a series of thefts like that over the past year and finally Dan and Yael went to talk to the police. The officer was wonderful. Not too much that can be done but at least there is a file now and we feel that someone will keep an eye out.

I finally finished de-pooing the first bag of sheep wool. It takes forever and is smelly and is altogether not my first choice for a lovely afternoon. But it is done. Only 3 more to go. One of Yael's Kiwi friends told me that we get used to the smell after a while!! It never goes away unless you have it chemically treated professionally. That is so what we are not about but I wonder how we will feel if the kids' duvets smell lingeringly of sheep. Well, I have a long time before we find out. Three bags to go. I want to give it my all out best simply because when the hot weather hits, the smell will intensify and I am not looking forward to it.

Cattle Auction

First of all, we now have L4. Another black lamb and the ram continues to impress us. We now have 3 black lambs and 1 white. The first two, Starlight and Snowball are so big now that it is hard to tell them from the rest of the flock. But enough of my babies.

Monday I went to my first cattle auction.  We took Alessia and I promised to watch her so that Dan could wander around and learn. So she and I walked across endless two plank wide bridges that are ABOVE the cattle pens. She was hesitant but game and I was fine until we got to the larger groupings,. The pens with 6 or 8 cows were fine but some were really mashed in there. So off we went to get good seats for the auction itself.

Now I have to tell you that I only understood 1 word out of each 10. Partly the accent and partly the speed. I had been to estate auctions as a child and they sounded very similar. Perhaps it was partially our seats in the nosebleed section. Alessia and I (and later Dan) sat in the final row. The building is hot, Luckily Alessia is wearing the layered look. Over time she shed several layers and was still beet red. And this is not a hot day. Behind us was the aisle which rapidly filled with stockmen, observers, etc. I was wearing my tiny ponytail and someone put his arms on it and my head was constantly jerked as the cattleman reacted to the price flucuations,

These are pleasant men; no nonsense men; men hunched slightly against the constant New Zealand wind. They are generally overweight with strong, strong thighs (shown in shorts and boots or wellies). And most of them were older. As in 50s and more. I don't know if the younger cattlemen let the fathers do the buying or if there is a problem with young people staying on the land. I know its a hard life.

So cattle enter from the right into one holding pen and then proceed into a second. In the second they are bid on and then moved out while two more groups are moving in. The auctioneer does his rapid pace delivery. Spotters point to bids and yell 'OM' and a board tells the per kg weight average of the group being sold. The elderly man next to me was bidding; he barely moved his pink number paper but the spotters found him and he found himself the proud? possesser of several lots of cattle.

We watched for an hour. Dan hoped to get 5 head that were very thin and fatten them on our paddocks. But someone else got them. Perhaps we'll try again next week. It was like another world, with a foreign language and customs but it was fascinating..

Downside on the Farm

To explain what I mean by ‘downside’, I first need to take you on a tour of my living quarters. I live over a three car garage. You can enter through one of the three bays or from the house via a covered passageway so I am pretty secure from human invaders.

Not so for the rest of the animal kingdom. The covered passageway is latticed along the side not abuting the house or garage. This lattice is an open invitation (pun intended) for all sorts of critters. During the day we often leave the bays open so the avian population also comes to call; following the wind currents up my staircase and then turning left into my bathroom or right into the living area.

The doors to both areas are generally left open for two reasons. One is that I am a hospitable creature and enjoy the occasional guest and the second is that the doors have problematic locks. The bathroom door can only lock from the inside but it can be securely shut. The living room door can only be locked from the outside and any wind will blow the unlocked door open. Obviously I don’t lock my door when I am out and around the farm and can’t lock it at night since I’m inside.

So I get to the farm Wed. night still shaky and fall into bed at 6pm. Whatever illness I have had has been virulent and my recovery slow. I sleep for 12 hours awakening only for the calls of nature. On one of these calls, I move the 12 lb. weight keeping my door closed, step to the landing and discover a fair smattering of rat pellets. I sweep them up and return to bed.

The next morning I gather my laundry basket from the bathroom and head into the main house and the washing machine which is located right by the back door and the covered passageway. I bend over and pull up the first fleece jersey and out moseys a rat. Now I confess, I am not a fan of rats. I have faith that God made them for a reason but He also made me shiver and want to throw up when I see them.

This rat obviously has no harsh feelings toward me. She ambles toward the doorway and stops as if deciding what to wear in the great outdoors. My screams marginally encourage her to take the day as she finds it and off she goes.

I kick the basket outside. I still shiver to think what would have happened if the rat had decided to turn into the house rather than away. So here I am kicking the basket out to the porch. I then kick it upside down. Finally I start picking up my clothes – very carefully. Hordes of rat pellets splash out onto the bricks. Now I shudder at the thought of that rat nestled in my undies. Not a good morning!

But I am woozy and go back to bed. As usual I put the weight In front of the door and fall asleep. The weight is a recent addition. I never used to shut my door at all until I woke up one night to something walking over me while I slept. I have tried convincing myself that it was a stray cat but my heart knows it was something creepy. Hence the weight. However sometimes the wind is very strong and manages to push the door and the weight open a few inches.

This is what has happened on my fateful day. So I wake up midafternoon to see the door slightly ajar and my rat placidly wandering around my kitchen area. I yell at her to go away. With a hurt look she walks slowly to the landing. I can see her tail as she sits there. Luckily I had remembered to close the bathroom door so that area is off limits. I yell again as I get to the door and down the steps she goes. I slam the door shut , reposition the weight and return shaking to bed.

When I look back on events, I realize that that was one fat rat. I think she is pregnant and looking for a place to give birth. The idea does not please me. Lots of places to make a nest in a three car garage. What if she nestles into my wool? The possibilities are many.

Anyway, I don’t like rats and being a suburbanite, I had never encountered one before. I hope never to encounter one again. But this surely can be rated a downside of living on a farm.