So I Sang To The Steers

So I sang to the steers. And the next day, all the stock – steers and sheep – were diligently chowing down. I went back in the afternoon and they were still at it. I was pretty darned pleased with the response to my exhortations to eat, eat, eat. I could practically see the grass disappearing. I paid no attention to the other farmers who claimed that it was the sun drying the grass that encouraged our stock. Not my preaching. But since it has drizzled ever since and no four-legged friend has continued with the feeding frenzy, I reluctantly concede that those pooh-pooh farmers might be right.

It is holiday time and the whole family is here on the farm for two weeks which pleases me no end. Alessia and I are tending the vegetable garden. I pulled out the green beans which did not do well and have replaced them with squash for which I have high hopes. It has rained all night since so I have high hopes that the new seedlings settled in well.

Quarantine being over, Dan and Yael moved the 3 new steers to join the established 4 in paddock #3. I don’t know if I’ve described #3 to you. It is hilly but not as steep as #1. The really tricky part is that near the road, there is a deep gully lined with willow trees. Stock love it since it offers plenty of protection from the elements and lots of grass. The problem is that once they are in there, you can’t see them from the road so you have to hoof it over a fence, down the gully and start looking. Try that with 7 black steers. It is plenty dark down there.

I was pretty keen to keep up the sermonizing but my audience seems to have disappeared on me. Perhaps they are just adjusting to each other. Yael tells me that when the newbies were introduced that a lot of head butting went on. Nothing serious just simple statements of ownership of the domain. When I went down the next morning, all 7 were lying around together. Very little chewing was taking place. I tried discussing the prime directive with them – eat, eat, eat so others might feast – but they were singularly unresponsive.

We got another possum last night and the garage was invaded by what sounded like a horde of scavengers. We really must do something about that broken lattice. It is still raining and we are still waiting for the drought. Farming continues to be unpredictable and fascinating. I can’t wait to see what the new year will bring. Happy new year to you all!

A Well-Earned Promotion

As you know, I have been released from sheep and steer shifting duties due to my creative ideas on how the stock should be moved. Running them straight into my son was creative; unfortunately the sheep turned around and bolted up the hill. Not a pretty story but I did give my side of the story in an earlier blog.

Anyway, lately Yael has quietly slipped into my former position and for her the stock move efficiently into the designated paddocks. No fuss; no stubborn refusal to move, etc. etc. So I figured I was back to babysitting as a full time job. Interesting that they don't trust me with their stock but do with their offspring. Hmmm?

But yesterday I got my just reward! We took delivery of 3 additional black steers, bringing our total to 7 gorgeous, gentle bovines. Imagine my excitement when Dan explained that in order to keep these steers placid, they needed to be regularly exposed to human contact. Since everybody else in this family is back and forth to Auckland more than I am, guess who is the designated human.

Now the sheep and I have come to an understanding. I go stare at them twice a day. They stare back. I count them. They scatter, dodge, duck, and hide. I come away with a count (usually) of 11. Not bad out of 13. Sometimes more; on rainy days less.

I have talked to the cattle. They listen politely but I don't sense any true meeting of the minds. They chew their cud or let stalks of grass hang from their mouths, but no deep, meaningful rapport. So now that my audience has increased, I have been giving serious thought to topics that might be of interest to our herd.

I thought I might build audience involvement by giving them a daily briefing on how the rest of the farm is doing. For instance, I could tell them that we have been finding possum scat right on our front porch and that all trapping efforts have been fruitless. I think we have already killed off all the stupid possiums (a la Darwin) and now are left with the more cunning creatures. So far they are winning. Perhaps they would be wryly amused that I had the most beautiful potato plants in the world but no potatoes. I showed those potatoless plants; they are now contributing their mite to the compost pile.

Then I would move into the heart of the talk: the responsibilities of cattle toward their owners. I believe in positive reinforcement. I'll go with encouraging words on how well they are eating. I'll follow up with how important it is to move around the paddock and eat (and fertilize) all the area. The big finish will be when I discuss the adviseability of putting on poundage as quickly as possible. I will exhort them to remember the prime directive - eat so that others might feast. A tad tactless, you say? Perhaps you're right. I'm about to go out and give my first sermon. I'll let you know how it works out.

Country Silence

You know how they always refer to the sounds of the city and the silence of the country. I’m here to say that it ain’t necessarily so. I awaken at 5:15 or so to a full choir of birds all excited about a brand new day and a flurry of new attempts to raid my vegetable garden.

Later in the morning I walk down to the paddocks to check the steers and sheep serenaded by Benny the Bull. His long, mournful bellows echo across the hills. Benny is a young bull just approaching his prime. I’d say he is about 17 yrs old in human terms. He doesn’t have any idea why he gets so hot and bothered all the time but has some vague suspicion that he has to do with all those receptive cows in the next paddock – none of whom seem to be available to him.

Benny is a registered Angus bull and as such in great demand to stud. Or should be. He was scheduled to join a herd of Angus ladies a few miles off but the farmer already had one bull and after viewing Benny the roisterous one (and listening to him) the deal was off. So Benny is as ready as he’ll ever be and so far the bell has not tolled for him.

Instead Benny spends his days (and his nights) bellowing his frustrations to the wind, the hills and to me. Occasionally there is a bull across the valley who bellows right back and I get the baffled fury in stereo. Lucky me!

But Benny and the birds are not the only sounds. We have train tracks just the other side of the road from our property, about a mile away. Trains actually use them – not like the States where I almost never see a train any more. And don’t forget the flying school and airport about 4 miles away. We seem to be in their flight path. And of course there are the quad bikes.

I am the only farmer on the mountain without one and I walk everywhere. No one else does. They all ride and noisily too. No that is not indignation that you hear in this blog but pure envy. I WANT one. I want one bad. To sail over the hills astride my modern steed seems perfection to me. Particularly on days like today when it rains and rains and rains and the winds howl around me as I make my twice daily trek the check the stock.

But the serenity of the countryside is also assaulted by tractors, trucks, and seasonal machinery such as haying thrashers, lawn mowers, etc. Sometimes I think that the city couldn’t be much louder. Then I think again. The quantity of sound might be similar but the quality is very different.

I don’t hear sqealing brakes, screaming teenagers, drunks arguing at 4 am outside my window. Come to think of it, Benny is sounding pretty good to me right now.