Ok, so it isn't as good as the 'glass half empty or half full' quote but I'm trying (really trying) to not be reduced to tears by the situation. You see, just the day before it was a tank that was 3/4 of the way full. We'd had a lot of rain, the tank had filled - this is the consolation of summer rain for any person on tank water. While the majority of people despise summer rain for messing up their beach plans we water tank owners are jumping for joy when those drops of H2O fall from the heavens. So with our heaven filled tank we were breathing a sigh of relief that we'd not have to spend another cent on a water fill (after the whoopsey situation last time). Cue one large farm animal to disconnect the main feed hose and shatter this dream. Our beautiful possum-poo infused water, all except about 3 inches deep of it was gone. Drained out all over the ground. We peer into the tank, a few inches of water remained along with a layer of green sludge. It'll need to be cleaned. It is now about 8.30 pm so we make the 90 minute round trip to my parent's house to use their shower.
First thing in the morning I called the tank cleaning and filling people and found out that they were booked up for a two weeks so I checked the price of having the tank cleaning person come out first....$320!!! Not in our budget at the moment. This nearly sent me to tears. I had a 1.5 litre bottle of water that was like liquid gold to me. With the reality that I wouldn't be getting water today I went to my parent's house for another shower, Sam would have one at work. When Sam got home that evening he donned his wetsuit, modified a ladder to fit in the hole and I hyperventilated at the thought of him climbing into this enclosed space. It took him an hour or so but he scrubbed, bailed and towel dried the interior of the tank. In the end it was sparkling clean. We booked the water for Saturday morning. I fantasized over the thought of turning on a tap and water coming out. Little did I know that that dream was still quite a way away.
On Saturday the water tank man arrived, he pumped 10,000 litres of water into the tank for $170. When he'd left I climbed the ladder and peered into the hole to see water and was almost knocked out by the smell of chlorine. Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. I jumped for joy and filled the animal troughs to the brim using the pump, the I raced to the house to turn on the tap. I stared at the pile of dishes, thought of flushing the toilet, remembered that I must turn on the hot water cylinder so that we could have a nice hot shower at OUR house tonight and with much anticipation I lifted the handle of the mixer........NOTHING! Not a single cough, splutter or dribble. What? I managed to get a slight dribble out of the bathroom tap but nothing else worked. Must be an air lock. Now, years ago this would have been something I'd but having a gentleman that opens every single door for me, forbids me from heavy lifting or strenuous 'blokes work' I've become somewhat gumptionless. No climbing under the house to locate the drainage tap for me. Sam was working a 12 hour shift so I delivered the news that there'd be no hot showers at our house tonight and we'd be flushing the loo with trough water and brushing our teeth with bottled water again. So, I took myself over to my parent's house again for a hot shower. On Sunday morning I went to the laundromat to use up their water and came across a lady in the same situation although the cause of her water shortage was her townie daughter in law having long showers, doing a load of washing ever day and leaving the water running while she leisurely brushed her teeth!
When I returned home with a car boot load of soggy washing Sam had sorted the water situation and turned on the hot water cylinder, hip-hip-hooray. I hung the gargantuan load of washing on the line and the wire fences and actually kicked back for a second. The novelty of turning on a tap and having water come out took a while to wear off. We were grinning like Cheshire cats.
That night I stepped into the shower and breathed a sigh of relief. Then I stepped out of the shower and gasped in horror as my legs burned and skin crawled. Chlorine, yuck. And here we are three days later and it is getting worse. It appears that my body has developed a hypersensitivity to chlorine. I suppose for the last 10 years I've not really been exposed to it. I swim in lakes and rivers rather than swimming pools, I'm really only exposed to chlorinated water when I wash my hands and usually I don't have an adverse reaction but now that I'm exposed to it daily my hands burn constantly. On top of that nothing soothes it. I've tried every lotion and moisturiser I own, nothing helps.
I suppose the chlorine will disappear slowly but for the next week or two I'll have to grin and bear it! The upside is the animals had half filled troughs so the addition of the chlorinated water means it is diluted and doesn't bother them, thank goodness for that.
Meal Time Etiquette (and freshly laundered leggings).
I may portray that home is peaceful and tranquil and my fur and feathered friends and I live together in perfect harmony and that may be true for the most part but I feel compelled to fill you in on a dirty little secret. Its a funny thing called meal time. I'm guessing any parent with a toddler will be nodding with frayed nerves in anticipation of the horrors of this daily occurrence.
And so my day begins. Today is Saturday so I sleep in until 8am and listen to the rain on the tin roof. Hmmm, I'll wait until it stops raining I think to myself remembering the last time it rained. That time I forced myself to stick to my schedule and in the process of feeding out in torrential rain I got soaked to the bone and cold, freezing cold. To make matters worse as I was stripping off, washing my hair and clothes the rain stopped. So, lets wait a little I say. All the while Hoby (dog) is performing like a circus pony, twirling, bucking, tip-tapping his little feet on the wooden floor in front of the cupboard that houses his cookie tin. Alright-alright. He gets a couple of scoops of biscuits, puppy biscuits.....yep I'm no mother of the year feeding my elderly dog puppy biscuits but all the old-timer biscuits seem to be diet conscious and Hobes is a frail old man [who just doesn't know it yet]. Our experience with general dog biscuits are that they're too big for him to wolf down in a hurry. If we do use them we get the dreaded 'vommies on the rug syndrome' which results in round two of eating breakfast either recycled or if I can control my gagging long enough to clean it up, a fresh bowl which goes down slower but heck it is an expensive exercise! And did I mention that I have wooden floors and only one rug in the house which is precisely the place Hoby chooses to review his breakfast? So I'm sticking to the pup cookies thank you very much.
Now that Hoby has been fed I look outside, the rain is still coming down, not torrential but that hazy drizzle that is quite capable of penetrating all of my attire. I don a freshly laundered pair of comfy black leggings, mmmm comfy for sitting at the computer all day doing paperwork. Then I muck around on Facebook for while. At 9.04 am the rain stops and cicadas start chirping. Time to feed. I throw on a woollen jumper and now that my leggings have warmed up to body temperature and feel like a second skin I decide that I'm just feeding out and worming the horses, I'm sure I can do that without getting dirty, right? Wrong!
Hoby's still failed to do morning ablutions so up to his enclosure he goes. En route, three chickens attempt to trip me up. With Hoby safely in his cage I survey the premises for the 500 kg 'toddler' Ella (big horse). She's eyeing me up from the bush in the paddock, I have about one maybe two minutes before she steps into my bubble, for a big horse she's surprising good at sneaking up on me. Now, let's see if these pigs have out-slept me. I peer into the pig pen, the gate is closed but there are no pigs in there. Sh*t. Cue entry of 100 kg Shamey (big pig) or toddler number two. He's grumpy and wet probably from spending the night somewhere other than home. How the heck did that happen? He stamps a muddy snout print on the back of my knee and then brushes the length of his wet frame across the front of said knee. Hi Ella, that was quick. She's not pestering me it is more like a enormous unmoving presence right in my pathway. Hi chickens. A dozen chickens come running at me. Then oinking and running with desperate anticipation is Tallulah. "Maaaaaaaaaaa" Mabel (goat) arrives, hi May-May. "Mmmmmm" don't talk with your mouth closed Lucifer. I detour around the big horse. The now excited big pig rubs his body against my other knee. I pick up the feed buckets. Hi Tarkie, you've come to join us. Right, lock up the pigs. But wait, little pig can still squeeze through the gaps in the gate I thought she was too fat for that now, dammit. Come here Tallulah. "Eeeeeeeeeeeee, oink, oink, oink. I'm now carrying the little-ish pig to her enclosure. I step over the low fence, dunking the crotch of my leggings on the wet rail dammit. A piglet leg falls free from my arm and leaves a print on the top of my leggings. I lean over the fence and lower piglet into her enclosure. The front of my leggings soak up more water from the fence rails. Shamey (big pig) snout-stamps the back of my other knee with such force that I half sit on his muddy head that's on bum cheek of leggings muddy.
Feeling slightly smug at having contained the pigs I walk to the feed shed. As I'm fumbling with the door Nigel (big rooster) leaps up and pecks my left butt cheek Ow! The persistent sound of cheeping starts oh sh*t. It seems none of the animals were put to bed last night, the little chicks and their two mums are out too huddling around the shed. I'll just put the buckets in the shed and then I'll remove the horses from the equation by putting them in their pens. As I step out of the shed Lucifer (goat) jumps up on me, putting his two dirty hooves on my stomach and then seeing I haven't got his feed bucket he slides his hooves down my front and the full length of my leggings. Thanks buddy! The horses are compliant. Tarka goes into his pen and rolls in the dusty wood chips, then shakes, I cop the dust cloud he emits. He has a huge eye-booger so I de-booger him and in the process he flicks his head which sends nose-drippings down the length of the legging on my left leg turning the dust into a river of nose-goobey-mud. I adjust the measure on the worming paste and Tarkie sees the syringe and spins, brushing his dusty frame all over my thigh. What next? Luckily the paste goes down well, he doesn't spit it all over me. I turn to go out, Ella (biiiiig horse) is at point-blank range "Hi Mum" Jesus Ella! Please don't sneak up on me like that.
Back to the shed I can finally breathe a sigh of relief knowing the big animals that are pros at tripping me up are safely away. However upon seeing me enter the room of food Sheamus starts with his squealing, not just a "hey I'm here" kind of a noise but a "feeeeeed me first, not second, not third but NOW!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" That kind of 'wake the dead' noise. The neighbours must hate me. Then the dog starts to bark. Did I mention he's deaf? Yeah, so he has no idea of the volume of his barking, let's just say it rivals Shamey's squealing.
I step out of the shed and turn sharply, ah-ha, this works, I stride out for about four steps before I'm being intercepted by hordes of chooks and two goats. I toss the contents of the bucket of chook chow, the masses flee in pursuit of grain. There are squawks and tweets of objection as the big breeds tread all over the bantams. Mabel (goat) is purring like a cat, a weird little ritual she has at feeding time. I place their buckets on the ground. Both horned heads shove into the buckets. The pig squealing is reaching epic decibels by this stage. I whistle and try to ignore it.
I secretly dose Ella's feed with her worming paste, she eats anything. When I get to the horses they've joined in on the serenade. I now hove horses whinnying, a purring goat, clucking chickens, a barking dog and screaming pig in my choir. I quieten down the pigs by giving them a bit of grain, they don't need it, they're barrel-sized both of them. I wait for the horses to finish their feeds before letting everyone out again. Tarka thanks me by wiping his feed covered nose on my bum. Ella take a big long drink out of the trough and then rinses her mouth out spitting down the back of my leggings. I play a game of flinger ball with Hoby and then in my muddy, sodden leggings seek refuge in the house. I change out of my pants that haven't lasted an hour and fantasise about a farm with fencing and a day where I wear the same set of clothes for a whole day. And at 11.44 am I finally feed myself.
And so my day begins. Today is Saturday so I sleep in until 8am and listen to the rain on the tin roof. Hmmm, I'll wait until it stops raining I think to myself remembering the last time it rained. That time I forced myself to stick to my schedule and in the process of feeding out in torrential rain I got soaked to the bone and cold, freezing cold. To make matters worse as I was stripping off, washing my hair and clothes the rain stopped. So, lets wait a little I say. All the while Hoby (dog) is performing like a circus pony, twirling, bucking, tip-tapping his little feet on the wooden floor in front of the cupboard that houses his cookie tin. Alright-alright. He gets a couple of scoops of biscuits, puppy biscuits.....yep I'm no mother of the year feeding my elderly dog puppy biscuits but all the old-timer biscuits seem to be diet conscious and Hobes is a frail old man [who just doesn't know it yet]. Our experience with general dog biscuits are that they're too big for him to wolf down in a hurry. If we do use them we get the dreaded 'vommies on the rug syndrome' which results in round two of eating breakfast either recycled or if I can control my gagging long enough to clean it up, a fresh bowl which goes down slower but heck it is an expensive exercise! And did I mention that I have wooden floors and only one rug in the house which is precisely the place Hoby chooses to review his breakfast? So I'm sticking to the pup cookies thank you very much.
Now that Hoby has been fed I look outside, the rain is still coming down, not torrential but that hazy drizzle that is quite capable of penetrating all of my attire. I don a freshly laundered pair of comfy black leggings, mmmm comfy for sitting at the computer all day doing paperwork. Then I muck around on Facebook for while. At 9.04 am the rain stops and cicadas start chirping. Time to feed. I throw on a woollen jumper and now that my leggings have warmed up to body temperature and feel like a second skin I decide that I'm just feeding out and worming the horses, I'm sure I can do that without getting dirty, right? Wrong!
Hoby's still failed to do morning ablutions so up to his enclosure he goes. En route, three chickens attempt to trip me up. With Hoby safely in his cage I survey the premises for the 500 kg 'toddler' Ella (big horse). She's eyeing me up from the bush in the paddock, I have about one maybe two minutes before she steps into my bubble, for a big horse she's surprising good at sneaking up on me. Now, let's see if these pigs have out-slept me. I peer into the pig pen, the gate is closed but there are no pigs in there. Sh*t. Cue entry of 100 kg Shamey (big pig) or toddler number two. He's grumpy and wet probably from spending the night somewhere other than home. How the heck did that happen? He stamps a muddy snout print on the back of my knee and then brushes the length of his wet frame across the front of said knee. Hi Ella, that was quick. She's not pestering me it is more like a enormous unmoving presence right in my pathway. Hi chickens. A dozen chickens come running at me. Then oinking and running with desperate anticipation is Tallulah. "Maaaaaaaaaaa" Mabel (goat) arrives, hi May-May. "Mmmmmm" don't talk with your mouth closed Lucifer. I detour around the big horse. The now excited big pig rubs his body against my other knee. I pick up the feed buckets. Hi Tarkie, you've come to join us. Right, lock up the pigs. But wait, little pig can still squeeze through the gaps in the gate I thought she was too fat for that now, dammit. Come here Tallulah. "Eeeeeeeeeeeee, oink, oink, oink. I'm now carrying the little-ish pig to her enclosure. I step over the low fence, dunking the crotch of my leggings on the wet rail dammit. A piglet leg falls free from my arm and leaves a print on the top of my leggings. I lean over the fence and lower piglet into her enclosure. The front of my leggings soak up more water from the fence rails. Shamey (big pig) snout-stamps the back of my other knee with such force that I half sit on his muddy head that's on bum cheek of leggings muddy.
Feeling slightly smug at having contained the pigs I walk to the feed shed. As I'm fumbling with the door Nigel (big rooster) leaps up and pecks my left butt cheek Ow! The persistent sound of cheeping starts oh sh*t. It seems none of the animals were put to bed last night, the little chicks and their two mums are out too huddling around the shed. I'll just put the buckets in the shed and then I'll remove the horses from the equation by putting them in their pens. As I step out of the shed Lucifer (goat) jumps up on me, putting his two dirty hooves on my stomach and then seeing I haven't got his feed bucket he slides his hooves down my front and the full length of my leggings. Thanks buddy! The horses are compliant. Tarka goes into his pen and rolls in the dusty wood chips, then shakes, I cop the dust cloud he emits. He has a huge eye-booger so I de-booger him and in the process he flicks his head which sends nose-drippings down the length of the legging on my left leg turning the dust into a river of nose-goobey-mud. I adjust the measure on the worming paste and Tarkie sees the syringe and spins, brushing his dusty frame all over my thigh. What next? Luckily the paste goes down well, he doesn't spit it all over me. I turn to go out, Ella (biiiiig horse) is at point-blank range "Hi Mum" Jesus Ella! Please don't sneak up on me like that.
Back to the shed I can finally breathe a sigh of relief knowing the big animals that are pros at tripping me up are safely away. However upon seeing me enter the room of food Sheamus starts with his squealing, not just a "hey I'm here" kind of a noise but a "feeeeeed me first, not second, not third but NOW!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" That kind of 'wake the dead' noise. The neighbours must hate me. Then the dog starts to bark. Did I mention he's deaf? Yeah, so he has no idea of the volume of his barking, let's just say it rivals Shamey's squealing.
I step out of the shed and turn sharply, ah-ha, this works, I stride out for about four steps before I'm being intercepted by hordes of chooks and two goats. I toss the contents of the bucket of chook chow, the masses flee in pursuit of grain. There are squawks and tweets of objection as the big breeds tread all over the bantams. Mabel (goat) is purring like a cat, a weird little ritual she has at feeding time. I place their buckets on the ground. Both horned heads shove into the buckets. The pig squealing is reaching epic decibels by this stage. I whistle and try to ignore it.
I secretly dose Ella's feed with her worming paste, she eats anything. When I get to the horses they've joined in on the serenade. I now hove horses whinnying, a purring goat, clucking chickens, a barking dog and screaming pig in my choir. I quieten down the pigs by giving them a bit of grain, they don't need it, they're barrel-sized both of them. I wait for the horses to finish their feeds before letting everyone out again. Tarka thanks me by wiping his feed covered nose on my bum. Ella take a big long drink out of the trough and then rinses her mouth out spitting down the back of my leggings. I play a game of flinger ball with Hoby and then in my muddy, sodden leggings seek refuge in the house. I change out of my pants that haven't lasted an hour and fantasise about a farm with fencing and a day where I wear the same set of clothes for a whole day. And at 11.44 am I finally feed myself.
The Wild Ones
Wild goats. Love them or not they've always been a part of my life here in Hunua. Whether it is a glimpse of a lone goat on the side of the road in the gorge or a herd of 30-odd blocking our driveway they're around and probably always will be. I love them. In fact any creature that can fend for itself is admired by me. Who are we to point the finger and say they're destructive and wrecking our native bush....look what we as humans do to this fine world of ours. So, destructive or not I do enjoy seeing these little creatures roaming around. If humans were more resourceful and exercised their right to a carnivorous diet by hunting their meat instead of buying it on plastic trays would we have the problem with goats, possums and rabbits? Food for thought isn't it?
At the moment there's a herd of about 10 magnificent wild goats that are coming over from the army land. A huge billy with impressive horns accompanied by does and kids. They are very inquisitive and Sam managed to get pretty close to them yesterday to take photos. They seem to show up without fail at about 5pm each evening and graze the long grass at our property El Ranchero and our neighbour's too. The kids frolic and play with so much zest for life, oh to be so carefree!
At home our own goats have been creating quite a fuss lately. Lucifer loves to leap onto the bonnet of our cars, of course we tell him off and chase him down but he is a goat and goats to love to be up high. It isn't as if he hasn't got plenty of other places he could play but the cars are his favourite play-things right now. I came home last week after going out to lunch with a friend and as I was collecting my things together in the car Lucifer leapt onto the bonnet and then onto the roof to do a tapdance. In turn I leapt out of the car and grabbed him in mid dance and lifted him off the roof, taking time for a quick cuddle. Then I lowered him to the ground, as he felt the earth beneath his feet he threw his head back, catching his horn on my dangley earring, and took off. My earring half tore, half pulled out of my ear, and in true Heidi fashion I was fine until I saw blood. I had to sit with the pigs and regain my composure, then Sam came home and inspected the damage. Luckily it wasn't torn all the way through the earlobe so I may be able to salvage the piercing. I'd already had visions of sporting the single pirate-style gold earring, to which an eye patch would be an absolute necessity.
Today I went out to let the animals out of their sleeping quarters, all except for the horses who had remained out overnight. The pigs usually have a quick tummy rub and snuggle before wandering off. The goats try to intercept my travels back to the house by cutting me off mid stride, leaping up into the air and galloping sideways endeavoring to convince me that it would be way more fun spending time in the sunshine with them. And don't I know it! On this beautiful morning the goats and pigs followed me up into the paddock while I checked on the horses. Ella was laying in the sunshine with Tarka standing over her. As I reached her, Sheamus went up to her for a sniff, she didn't mind, Tallulah nudged her, she protested with pinned ears but continued to lay there, then Lucifer arrived. He sniffed Ella's bum and leapt onto her rump, I expected Ella to hate this blatant disrespect but she didn't bat an eyelid, as if this happens every day. Lucifer, looking quite smug atop his horse-rump mountain spun around and sprung up kicking his heels into the air. Ella just looked at him, not minding this playing at close quarters, then she rolled a couple of times and got back to her feet. With the whole family complete they wandered off to graze together.
How lucky we are to have such a fabulous four legged family that co-habitate so well. It is these moments of interaction between species that remind me how closed minded we are to think that spoken words are the most effective method of communication. They have a language they use with one another and it is something they all understand. Of course no language will suppress mischievous personalities or boundary pushing exercises (of which Lucifer and Ella are prime examples). I remember how kind Ella was to Tallulah when she arrived as a tiny little piglet with no mum or siblings to keep her company. Ella would 'kiss' Tallulah's back with her nice warm muzzle, she did this often, as a form of comfort. She had a motherly look of concern on her face for this tiny little creature that made such a lot of noise. It was a similar story with the goats who took a long time to gain confidence on the property, they took an instant liking to Tarka....possibly due to his colouring and height and stuck to him like glue, now the goats roam all over the property and they're never far from their Tarka, or God as I'm sure they see him as.
We have a few bunnies back at the farm, they look healthy enough but I wonder if they'll get sick like the others. For the time being they're enjoying interacting with the chooks and one even sneaks up on our neighbour's chick Squirt who we're fostering and plays a game of peek-a-boo. Which Squirt still hasn't grasped the concept of and suffers a small moment of heart failure with every BOO.
Last week we spent a small fortune on fencing rails for our new three-rail pig proof post and rail fence. So far we've fenced the culvert and installed a gate which has become our new front gate. The original entrance has a double gate system , it is quite a handful to co-ordinate the two when it is windy. The new entrance is fantastic, Sam did a stellar job of getting the gudgeons perpendicular which has resulted in a beautifully hung gate. I love the new entrance way.
As the weather becomes more stable and the rain stops falling I look up into the clear sky and think I really am lucky to have such a beautiful home. Now I'm off to buy 22 metres of cord to repair my two broken blinds so that I can let the sun shine in.
At the moment there's a herd of about 10 magnificent wild goats that are coming over from the army land. A huge billy with impressive horns accompanied by does and kids. They are very inquisitive and Sam managed to get pretty close to them yesterday to take photos. They seem to show up without fail at about 5pm each evening and graze the long grass at our property El Ranchero and our neighbour's too. The kids frolic and play with so much zest for life, oh to be so carefree!
At home our own goats have been creating quite a fuss lately. Lucifer loves to leap onto the bonnet of our cars, of course we tell him off and chase him down but he is a goat and goats to love to be up high. It isn't as if he hasn't got plenty of other places he could play but the cars are his favourite play-things right now. I came home last week after going out to lunch with a friend and as I was collecting my things together in the car Lucifer leapt onto the bonnet and then onto the roof to do a tapdance. In turn I leapt out of the car and grabbed him in mid dance and lifted him off the roof, taking time for a quick cuddle. Then I lowered him to the ground, as he felt the earth beneath his feet he threw his head back, catching his horn on my dangley earring, and took off. My earring half tore, half pulled out of my ear, and in true Heidi fashion I was fine until I saw blood. I had to sit with the pigs and regain my composure, then Sam came home and inspected the damage. Luckily it wasn't torn all the way through the earlobe so I may be able to salvage the piercing. I'd already had visions of sporting the single pirate-style gold earring, to which an eye patch would be an absolute necessity.
Today I went out to let the animals out of their sleeping quarters, all except for the horses who had remained out overnight. The pigs usually have a quick tummy rub and snuggle before wandering off. The goats try to intercept my travels back to the house by cutting me off mid stride, leaping up into the air and galloping sideways endeavoring to convince me that it would be way more fun spending time in the sunshine with them. And don't I know it! On this beautiful morning the goats and pigs followed me up into the paddock while I checked on the horses. Ella was laying in the sunshine with Tarka standing over her. As I reached her, Sheamus went up to her for a sniff, she didn't mind, Tallulah nudged her, she protested with pinned ears but continued to lay there, then Lucifer arrived. He sniffed Ella's bum and leapt onto her rump, I expected Ella to hate this blatant disrespect but she didn't bat an eyelid, as if this happens every day. Lucifer, looking quite smug atop his horse-rump mountain spun around and sprung up kicking his heels into the air. Ella just looked at him, not minding this playing at close quarters, then she rolled a couple of times and got back to her feet. With the whole family complete they wandered off to graze together.
How lucky we are to have such a fabulous four legged family that co-habitate so well. It is these moments of interaction between species that remind me how closed minded we are to think that spoken words are the most effective method of communication. They have a language they use with one another and it is something they all understand. Of course no language will suppress mischievous personalities or boundary pushing exercises (of which Lucifer and Ella are prime examples). I remember how kind Ella was to Tallulah when she arrived as a tiny little piglet with no mum or siblings to keep her company. Ella would 'kiss' Tallulah's back with her nice warm muzzle, she did this often, as a form of comfort. She had a motherly look of concern on her face for this tiny little creature that made such a lot of noise. It was a similar story with the goats who took a long time to gain confidence on the property, they took an instant liking to Tarka....possibly due to his colouring and height and stuck to him like glue, now the goats roam all over the property and they're never far from their Tarka, or God as I'm sure they see him as.
We have a few bunnies back at the farm, they look healthy enough but I wonder if they'll get sick like the others. For the time being they're enjoying interacting with the chooks and one even sneaks up on our neighbour's chick Squirt who we're fostering and plays a game of peek-a-boo. Which Squirt still hasn't grasped the concept of and suffers a small moment of heart failure with every BOO.
Last week we spent a small fortune on fencing rails for our new three-rail pig proof post and rail fence. So far we've fenced the culvert and installed a gate which has become our new front gate. The original entrance has a double gate system , it is quite a handful to co-ordinate the two when it is windy. The new entrance is fantastic, Sam did a stellar job of getting the gudgeons perpendicular which has resulted in a beautifully hung gate. I love the new entrance way.
As the weather becomes more stable and the rain stops falling I look up into the clear sky and think I really am lucky to have such a beautiful home. Now I'm off to buy 22 metres of cord to repair my two broken blinds so that I can let the sun shine in.
Time alone.....or so I thought.
This is the weekend of the Kumeu car show and Sam decided to camp there on Friday night. Now, I've been a solo life-styler for years but in the last eight months Sam's been on site and there's barely a day that goes by that we don't see each other. Strange but I thought I'd really miss him, his company, them I remembered the rest of the family. I walked Hoby and then stayed out with the farmies (goats, chooks, horses and pigs) until darkness fell. I read a book, watched a movie and had a yummy dinner. In short, I barely noticed Sam was gone.
I got up early this morning and went out to see my friend and graphic designer at a really cut cafe called Garnet Station. Then I popped in to see Mum and Dad.
When I got home all the family came to meet me, you'd have thought I'd been gone for a year! I felt very special. I played a game of flinger with Hoby and then had tummy cuddles with Tallulah and a tummy rub with Shamey. Tarka came down for a brush and some special one-on-one time. Ella eventually left the top corner of the paddock (where she'll stand for hours talking to Dexter across the road) and because I'd fed half of the carrot to Tarka and the other half to Tallulah trying to teach her how to sit (failed) I had to pinch a radish from the garden, Lucifer nicked a few of the long prickly leaves and Ella snaffled the rest.
Mabel came over for a cuddle with me while I was in the stall with Tarka and Lucifer licked the pink-rock-of-deliciousness (a.k.a pink rock salt block). Lately Lucifer has been extra inquisitive and friendly but still freaks out when I touch him. Actually when I say freaks out, what I mean is he has all the attitude of a ten year old boy, basically if I touch him he runs off and I get the feeling he's saying to himself "ew, girl germs, girl germs". Today however Lucifer was extra brave and perhaps a little jealous of the attention everyone else was getting so he put on a leaping and balancing show for me. He is quite talented. He leaped over a metre onto the horse poo pile, then he walked along the 100mm rail on top of the gate. Once he was there he looked me dead in the eyes and dropped his head a little which means "PLAY?" I answer his question by holding up my fist, he pushed into it with his head. Then he rubbed his head all over me. Took a step back re-assessed the situation and realised that it was fun having a playmate. He's tried playing with Ella and butting her between the eyes which ended in him being chased the whole length of the paddock by the 500 kg redhead. He knows better than to mess with Tarka, because in Lucifer's eyes Tarka is god-goat. He's no doubt messed with Sheamus but again, I doubt that was much fun. Mabels boring. So far Tallulah's been his best bet but she just screams in terror as he runs up and t-bones her the guts but she can't run as fast as he can so he gets a few good shots in.
Poor little Disco Batman has gone missing, I'm sure he has either been snatched by a hawk or the disgusting cat from next door. Little Mohawk has drowned (in the trough that I rescued Nemo from a few months ago) so that just leaves Robin, Nemo and Squirt, one baby for each mumma. It is sad but there's not much I can do with free ranging chooks, there's always going to be natural predators and dangerous situations. The troughs are either very high or if low they've got the minimum amount of water to ensure the animals can get to them but still these accidents happen. Farewell little beings that don't make it, they're all sorely missed.
Minus the departed souls I've had a lovely couple of days and I feel so lucky to have such a neat bunch of furry, bristly and feathery companions.
I got up early this morning and went out to see my friend and graphic designer at a really cut cafe called Garnet Station. Then I popped in to see Mum and Dad.
When I got home all the family came to meet me, you'd have thought I'd been gone for a year! I felt very special. I played a game of flinger with Hoby and then had tummy cuddles with Tallulah and a tummy rub with Shamey. Tarka came down for a brush and some special one-on-one time. Ella eventually left the top corner of the paddock (where she'll stand for hours talking to Dexter across the road) and because I'd fed half of the carrot to Tarka and the other half to Tallulah trying to teach her how to sit (failed) I had to pinch a radish from the garden, Lucifer nicked a few of the long prickly leaves and Ella snaffled the rest.
Mabel came over for a cuddle with me while I was in the stall with Tarka and Lucifer licked the pink-rock-of-deliciousness (a.k.a pink rock salt block). Lately Lucifer has been extra inquisitive and friendly but still freaks out when I touch him. Actually when I say freaks out, what I mean is he has all the attitude of a ten year old boy, basically if I touch him he runs off and I get the feeling he's saying to himself "ew, girl germs, girl germs". Today however Lucifer was extra brave and perhaps a little jealous of the attention everyone else was getting so he put on a leaping and balancing show for me. He is quite talented. He leaped over a metre onto the horse poo pile, then he walked along the 100mm rail on top of the gate. Once he was there he looked me dead in the eyes and dropped his head a little which means "PLAY?" I answer his question by holding up my fist, he pushed into it with his head. Then he rubbed his head all over me. Took a step back re-assessed the situation and realised that it was fun having a playmate. He's tried playing with Ella and butting her between the eyes which ended in him being chased the whole length of the paddock by the 500 kg redhead. He knows better than to mess with Tarka, because in Lucifer's eyes Tarka is god-goat. He's no doubt messed with Sheamus but again, I doubt that was much fun. Mabels boring. So far Tallulah's been his best bet but she just screams in terror as he runs up and t-bones her the guts but she can't run as fast as he can so he gets a few good shots in.
Poor little Disco Batman has gone missing, I'm sure he has either been snatched by a hawk or the disgusting cat from next door. Little Mohawk has drowned (in the trough that I rescued Nemo from a few months ago) so that just leaves Robin, Nemo and Squirt, one baby for each mumma. It is sad but there's not much I can do with free ranging chooks, there's always going to be natural predators and dangerous situations. The troughs are either very high or if low they've got the minimum amount of water to ensure the animals can get to them but still these accidents happen. Farewell little beings that don't make it, they're all sorely missed.
Minus the departed souls I've had a lovely couple of days and I feel so lucky to have such a neat bunch of furry, bristly and feathery companions.
Happy New Year
My first post in 2014 and there's so much going on.
I hope you enjoyed the festive season as much as I did. I love Christmas and the lead up to Christmas and Christmas music, oh how I love the music. My favourite carol of all time is O Holy Night, I listen to just about every version every artist has put out and Andrea Bocelli is still the winner in my opinion although Josh Groban and Celine Dion do pretty good versions also. So with the Christmas music blasting the kitchen goodies that Sam and I made this year were Lemon Curd, Apple and Plum Jelly and Ginger, Pistachio & Cranberry Biscotti to give away to friends and family. We used up our stockpiled free-range eggs, picked a tree of lemons bare and scoured the many aisles of fruit markets to find our ingredients. Then we scrubbed, zested, peeled, chopped, juiced, stirred, boiled, re-boiled and bottled our creations. We bought our jars from Arthur Holmes Ltd and dressed up the final product with cute coloured hessian fabric and stickers. It was a great bonding time for Sam and I and a chance to slow down from the busy-ness, you have to go slow and be patient when doing these things, I found out the hard way by burning a batch of lemon honey...not that Sam complained as he ate the yellow (with black freckles) goop every day for the next two weeks! The lemon curd made many a lemon meringue pie, pavlova, toast and biscuit topping and has now become my memorable taste of Christmas 2013.
Next Christmas I'll have a go at candied peel and fruit cakes I think. I now have a fabulous biscotti recipe that I'll definitely use again and probably adapt to be just a plain almond biscotti which is my favourite.
On the animal front I managed to get Ella and Tarka's hooves trimmed just before Christmas, thank goodness. Their waistlines are looking great, they have free run of the place at the moment although I do lock them up overnight sometimes especially after they've spent a day out the front on the grassy-grass verge. The chooks are good, the babies are growing and there are still a few broodies sitting diligently on egg so we'll have some more additions in the weeks to come. Nigel attacked me again, while I was wearing shorts and gave me another hole in my knee. This time I washed it out straight away and dosed it with anti-biotic ointment (that the doctor gave me after the last injury) and covered it with a plaster. That exercise helped as I didn't get the major swelling or pain like I had with the others.
Sheamus and Tallulah are the best of mates, they go for a mid-morning and an afternoon siesta every day, side by side in Sheamus's bed, Tallulah's purpose built house will be donated to the chooks now as she never uses it.
Mabel and Lucifer have been the real show-stoppers lately, their bravery astounds me. They are very interactive little critters now. Every evening we spend time with the animals, piggy tummy rubs, games of fetch with Hoby, horsey cuddles, being a human-jungle-gym fer the chickens and all this with the goats looking on from a distance. But now they join in. Mabel loves having the base of her horns scratched and her tummy tickled and will even let me wrap my arms around her in a bear hug, Lucifer likes to stand on his hind legs, put his front hooves on my tummy and chew on my index finger but he won't allow me to lay that chewed index finger on him. He's the instigator of all the attention but pushes Mabel up to me for cuddles and watches on fascinated. When I lay down in the grass he always comes over to sniff my elbow or put his little black velvet muzzle millimetres from my face. He's interested in me but lacks the courage to let me scratch him behind the horns. When I put them to bed I take cabbage leaves from my garden and we cluster around the cable reels, I sit on the low one and they jump up onto the tall one, they love this time. They frolic and chase each other and torment the other animals, poor Tallulah cops a few butts to the side when Lucifer is in a playful mood, she squeals loudly but that's about the extent of her objections. Ella on the other hand got a nudge in the guts the other evening and in true Ella style squealed in disgust and in a rolling thunderous canter chased Mabel and Lucifer down the hill and out onto the driveway, and then stopped and snorted as if to say 'get out and stay out!' then she turned and wandered back up the hill to resume grazing. Lucifer's eyes were gleaming with mischief as he mulled over his options of who would be his next victim.
Tallulah has become, unfortunately, a human-house dweller. Not intentionally nor a welcomed house dweller I might add. The famous line of the day on Christmas Day was "why is there a piglet in the kitchen?" Yep, she'd wandered in through the front door and was tucking into the bag of apples I'd designated for the Christmas treat for the animals. She just didn't want to miss out I guess. But since then any time we're airing out the house or if we come in armed with a bag of groceries and put them on the floor she's hot on our heels and has her little piggy snout in the bag before you can say "what's this pig doing in the house?" usually in a loud, high pitched voice. She's also become a master tummy-cuddler, in the sense that when I'm laying in the grass she'll climb onto my tummy, lay down and snore in my face, protesting with squeals every time I move to get up. A ten minute tummy-cuddle usually suffices. One day it was pouring with rain so we didn't get up to spend out evening time with the animals and Tallulah didn't get her tummy cuddle for the day, that night at 10.30pm she turned up at the French doors to my bedroom and pushed her nose up against the glass. We tried ushering her back up to the sty but she kept coming back, squeezing through every gap in the fence she could find. In the end I gave in, wrapped her in a towel and lay on my bed cuddling her for 10 minutes with grassy burps and piggy snores coming from her. After that she put herself to bed with Sheamus. I suppose I have to remind myself that she's still just a baby and mummy cuddles are a precious thing at that age.
I hope you enjoyed the festive season as much as I did. I love Christmas and the lead up to Christmas and Christmas music, oh how I love the music. My favourite carol of all time is O Holy Night, I listen to just about every version every artist has put out and Andrea Bocelli is still the winner in my opinion although Josh Groban and Celine Dion do pretty good versions also. So with the Christmas music blasting the kitchen goodies that Sam and I made this year were Lemon Curd, Apple and Plum Jelly and Ginger, Pistachio & Cranberry Biscotti to give away to friends and family. We used up our stockpiled free-range eggs, picked a tree of lemons bare and scoured the many aisles of fruit markets to find our ingredients. Then we scrubbed, zested, peeled, chopped, juiced, stirred, boiled, re-boiled and bottled our creations. We bought our jars from Arthur Holmes Ltd and dressed up the final product with cute coloured hessian fabric and stickers. It was a great bonding time for Sam and I and a chance to slow down from the busy-ness, you have to go slow and be patient when doing these things, I found out the hard way by burning a batch of lemon honey...not that Sam complained as he ate the yellow (with black freckles) goop every day for the next two weeks! The lemon curd made many a lemon meringue pie, pavlova, toast and biscuit topping and has now become my memorable taste of Christmas 2013.
Next Christmas I'll have a go at candied peel and fruit cakes I think. I now have a fabulous biscotti recipe that I'll definitely use again and probably adapt to be just a plain almond biscotti which is my favourite.
On the animal front I managed to get Ella and Tarka's hooves trimmed just before Christmas, thank goodness. Their waistlines are looking great, they have free run of the place at the moment although I do lock them up overnight sometimes especially after they've spent a day out the front on the grassy-grass verge. The chooks are good, the babies are growing and there are still a few broodies sitting diligently on egg so we'll have some more additions in the weeks to come. Nigel attacked me again, while I was wearing shorts and gave me another hole in my knee. This time I washed it out straight away and dosed it with anti-biotic ointment (that the doctor gave me after the last injury) and covered it with a plaster. That exercise helped as I didn't get the major swelling or pain like I had with the others.
Sheamus and Tallulah are the best of mates, they go for a mid-morning and an afternoon siesta every day, side by side in Sheamus's bed, Tallulah's purpose built house will be donated to the chooks now as she never uses it.
Mabel and Lucifer have been the real show-stoppers lately, their bravery astounds me. They are very interactive little critters now. Every evening we spend time with the animals, piggy tummy rubs, games of fetch with Hoby, horsey cuddles, being a human-jungle-gym fer the chickens and all this with the goats looking on from a distance. But now they join in. Mabel loves having the base of her horns scratched and her tummy tickled and will even let me wrap my arms around her in a bear hug, Lucifer likes to stand on his hind legs, put his front hooves on my tummy and chew on my index finger but he won't allow me to lay that chewed index finger on him. He's the instigator of all the attention but pushes Mabel up to me for cuddles and watches on fascinated. When I lay down in the grass he always comes over to sniff my elbow or put his little black velvet muzzle millimetres from my face. He's interested in me but lacks the courage to let me scratch him behind the horns. When I put them to bed I take cabbage leaves from my garden and we cluster around the cable reels, I sit on the low one and they jump up onto the tall one, they love this time. They frolic and chase each other and torment the other animals, poor Tallulah cops a few butts to the side when Lucifer is in a playful mood, she squeals loudly but that's about the extent of her objections. Ella on the other hand got a nudge in the guts the other evening and in true Ella style squealed in disgust and in a rolling thunderous canter chased Mabel and Lucifer down the hill and out onto the driveway, and then stopped and snorted as if to say 'get out and stay out!' then she turned and wandered back up the hill to resume grazing. Lucifer's eyes were gleaming with mischief as he mulled over his options of who would be his next victim.
Tallulah has become, unfortunately, a human-house dweller. Not intentionally nor a welcomed house dweller I might add. The famous line of the day on Christmas Day was "why is there a piglet in the kitchen?" Yep, she'd wandered in through the front door and was tucking into the bag of apples I'd designated for the Christmas treat for the animals. She just didn't want to miss out I guess. But since then any time we're airing out the house or if we come in armed with a bag of groceries and put them on the floor she's hot on our heels and has her little piggy snout in the bag before you can say "what's this pig doing in the house?" usually in a loud, high pitched voice. She's also become a master tummy-cuddler, in the sense that when I'm laying in the grass she'll climb onto my tummy, lay down and snore in my face, protesting with squeals every time I move to get up. A ten minute tummy-cuddle usually suffices. One day it was pouring with rain so we didn't get up to spend out evening time with the animals and Tallulah didn't get her tummy cuddle for the day, that night at 10.30pm she turned up at the French doors to my bedroom and pushed her nose up against the glass. We tried ushering her back up to the sty but she kept coming back, squeezing through every gap in the fence she could find. In the end I gave in, wrapped her in a towel and lay on my bed cuddling her for 10 minutes with grassy burps and piggy snores coming from her. After that she put herself to bed with Sheamus. I suppose I have to remind myself that she's still just a baby and mummy cuddles are a precious thing at that age.
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