RIP Snowball's Mom

The fly strike struck. Remember how I said I could only count 12 sheep that rainy weekend. I tried and tried but always came up one short. Now we know why. Snowball's mom was down with the dreaded fly strike and died without me even knowing. Dan found her a few days later. Of course we moved the rest of the flock but it was a bit unsettling for us. Sad, really.

Fly strike comes in with the wet, warm weather. Nasty little maggots burrow in the wool, reach the skin and literally eat the sheep to death. Very little warning, great pain, and dead in a couple of days. Dan was pretty sickened by the sight. I didn't look but the look on his face was enough.

So we moved the sheep and then couldn't find the ram. Dan tramped the paddock. I tramped the paddock. We tramped the paddock together. Either the wily ram had made a bolt for freedom and we didn't notice or he was buried in the deep grass. Either way we were frantic. We drove around all the farms on the mountain. No ram.

I swapped chores with Yael and she went to search with Dan. And naturally our sheep whisperer found him. He had been hiding behind a tree down in the tall grass. With his coloring he was almost invisible in the shade. But he perked up when she arrived and stood to greet her. Who would have guessed that this Johannesburg chic lady would have such an affinity for livestock. The steers love her too.

So now I am on the farm by myself and I headed out to get the mail and check the stock. We are trying something new this week. We put the steers and sheep in the same paddock and used our electrified tape to seal off the barn and the hay. They have all settled down well together and the grass is practically disappearing before my eyes. Pretty soon the ram won't be able to hide in the long grass.

Obviously he has figured this out because once again I couldn't find him. I walked all over the place. No ram. I was wondering what the odds were of some ram thief taking him but doubted it. He was way too mean to go with anybody but Yael. So I decided to walk the perimeter and check the live tape. I did this. Starting on my right and going around the whole paddock. I finally came within 2 yards of my starting point and there was the ram. I could have saved myself 20 minutes by turning left instead of right. Lesson learned.

And where was the ram, you ask. Guess! He was inside the electrified tape zone, snuggled down in the hay in the barn. He is the exact color of hay so if I weren't on top of him, I'd never see him. Plus, I mentally ignored the barn thinking he couldn't get there without electrocuting himself. I don't know how he did it but he did. And now I get to call Dan and tell him that the experiment has unanticipated side effects.

Progress Report

So I tried the mint. I’m not too optimistic since the flies buzzed around me as I brought the cuttings into the house. I left doors and windows open for them to escape the pungent mint smell but they were noticeably loathe to venture outdoors. They are definitely house flies; not farm flies. Perhaps we inadvertently brought them with us from Auckland.

Anyway, things progress. My tomatoes are close to becoming table food, the squash are doing well, and nothing else is growing. Even the garlic is dying off and I thought nothing got to garlic. Perhaps we have vampire insects.

We have one of the most beautiful Pohutukawa trees I have ever seen. These trees from the Myrtle family have multiple trunks and the splashiest red brushy flowers you’ve ever seen. This tree was planted several owners ago and sits in the perfect position outside our dining room window.

Lately I have noticed small branches, and fair sized twigs scattered all over the ground. Tui birds attack this gorgeous tree and savage it. I have seen the tree tremble all over as these black and white birds hop around twisting branches in their beaks. They are beautiful birds but very destructive. They are also not fans of man. They dive bomb us. I wave my hands and scream at them (not very effective) but I worry about my tiny grandchildren. Yet another reason this over-protective Grandma goes outside when the wee ones do.

I looked up the Pohutukawa tree and found out that it is slowly disappearing from New Zealand. Part of it is that there is more farm land than before but a major problem is my old friend the possum. Yet again these varmints come up on the top of my Most Wanted list.

The steers have finally decided to graze on this side of the paddock. I must have ruined their bucolic sanctuary for them when I hiked the paddock yesterday to see if they were all right. Now this paddock isn’t Mt. Everest, or even the dreaded Paddock #1 but its steep enough to be going on with. I appeared on the crest and 14 brown eyes raised themselves from the grass to watch as I lurched down among them. I don’t want to say that they’re nonchalant about me, but not a one of them moved. I could have touched them as I wove my way to the far gate. A far cry from those cows from Hell we had before.

I approached the sheep paddock from the far side and saw some of the flock gathered in the gully with the willow trees. They love it there. They never seem to come out. I don’t know if there is enough grass down there for them or if they have some sort of sentry who warns them when I come down the driveway and they all beat feet for the gully. Whichever it is, I will take it on faith that they’re all right. I’ll let our sheep whisperer, Yael, count them when she moves them on Sunday.

Our freezer was delivered today. It’s huge! I made some joke about storing a body in there and the delivery man told me that they referred to it as the ‘coffin’. Eventually it will be the coffin for some sheep and probably a  steer as well. I haven’t sorted out my feelings on that yet. I’ll let you know.

Flies

I don’t like flies! I have never liked flies and I never will. There are lots of flies in New Zealand. So many that my favourite magazine here – NZ Gardener – just had a full page article on how to get rid of flies. First the author listed a number of ways that don’t work and then suggested growing mint and putting the pots in all the fly-infested rooms. Flies don’t like mint and will leave. If they don’t, then tickle the mint to increase the amount of fragrance they give off.

Now I plan to try this. I will take cuttings from my garden mint and start the process tomorrow. But! A question springs to mind. What’s the matter with screens? Why have the Kiwis not climbed on the screened window/door bandwagon? I understand why the older homes like our house at the farm don’t have screens. They were built when screens were either not invented or too expensive.

But what about now? My quarters over the garage are a pretty new addition and I have one window in each room that has one stationary side and one with a screen. The other two sets of windows don’t have screens! Why? What is the rationale behind this? Are the flies supposed to be deterred by the one screened window and give up?

 My experience is that they generally come up the staircase from the garage. Perhaps they are socially correct flies and wouldn’t dream of dropping in through a window. Following that logic, there should be no screens in my windows; all they do is keep the flies in. However, having been raised in a house with screens, I automatically leave those windows open and keep the others closed. Still it beats counting sheep for something to think about during my frequent bouts of insomnia.

There are an abundance of flies on a farm. Dan tells me not to worry about them; that fly-borne diseases don’t make it to rural areas. Oh yeah! What about flies visiting sheep or cow poo and then coming to visit us? Don’t tell me that there are no bacteria/germs making the trip to the big house.

Besides carrying unwanted germs (I have enough of my own, thank you very much), they are very annoying. They swarm around your head making vile whining noises (I get all the whining I need from a hungry 3-year-old’s “Why isn’t it ready yet” repeated endlessly until actually biting down on afternoon tea). And they leave little specks of fly poo all over that make you look as if you’ve never cleaned that room in your life.

I suppose in fairness I should state here that they are an excellent source of protein. Naavah, my 1-year-old granddaughter, is an avid scavenger of dead flies. She hears our electronic fly zapper go off and she crawls at the speed of light for the delicious, fried fly that will soon drift down like manna from heaven. And is she fast! She always manages to get at least get the fly in her mouth before I can reach her. It has gotten so bad that she automatically turns away when she sees me coming so that she can swallow in peace.

But aside from cutting down on the baby food bill, there is nothing good to be said for flies. They are major league pests  and I am on a campaign to introduce screens to this otherwise incredibly civilized country. Who knows, I may get a statue in Auckland Harbor as a result. Or they may look at me with that strained tolerance I know so well and deftly turn the subject. We’ll see.