20 August 2008Last week passed by relatively quietly.
Tuesday evening I got a long overdue haircut. Just a trim, or so I thought until I put my glasses back on and thought “Holy crap! Where the **** is my hair?!?” No worries, I told myself. I’m married. I’m not in my 20’s anymore. I don’t need to find a husband. I can cope. I left the hairdresser with wet hair. I got home with dry hair and curls. Curls?! Where the hell did the curls come from? I used to pay a fortune for those. I assumed it was something to do with having the heater on and the car window slightly ajar. The next morning I straightened it. And it took far longer than usual. And worst of all I didn’t like the look.
Thursday morning I got out of the shower and thought “What the hell, lets blast it dry with the hairdryer and see what happens”. Curls! All day staff were complimenting me “Wow, you look great”, “You look heaps younger”, etc What an ego boost.
But now I’m worried. How come I’ve got curls? Where did they come from? Will I just wake up one morning and they won’t be there anymore? I had a wave. That was it. A slight, wonky, hideous wave that had to be straightened into non existence on a daily basis. Now I have my sister Sarah’s wonderful, fluffy, bouncy, loose curls. The ones I desperately wished I had. What the hell?!? You don’t just get stuff just cos’ you want it.
I’m freaking out slightly. This is too good to be true. But hey, what the heck, while we’re here and the wishes are being granted, please, please please let me win the Lotto1st division this weekend!
Pest Control
Thursday morning I fed out the chickens and discovered a rat in the trap. Unbelievably it wasn’t dead. I can only assume it had just been caught. Bloody hell, what was I going to do? I had to kill it but with its head inside the trap, other than chopping it in half or whacking it with something I didn’t see I had many options. Quite frankly I didn’t know if I’d be up to the task. Then I walked out of the chicken coop and one of the dogs ran up and grabbed the rat’s body in its mouth. Problem solved! I would hand over the responsibility.
I released the rat from the trap. Coppa ran off with it. Only problem was he dropped it to have a look at it and it squeaked loudly. Whisky heard and came running. Coppa grabbed the rat in his mouth and tried to hide. Whisky wanted to see and Coppa didn’t want him to and he didn’t want to kill it until he’d had a good look at it. Bugger that. I tried to take it off him but he wasn’t having any of that. I dragged Whisky away and got the pig’s breakfasts.
Coppa kept dropping the rat and it would squeak loudly and then Whisky would run over and it just became hideously painful to watch and listen. “Kill the bloody thing will you!” I had no option but to head down the drive with the breakfasts. Coppa followed with his rat. While I was feeding Belle the dogs started to scrap. It was too dark to see so I yelled.
When I saw them in the light of my headlamp neither had the rat and Coppa was growling. Not a good sign. Joy and Phyllis were making an absolute racket.And so it was - “Hold on girls I’m coming. Boys, be nice! Be nice! I’m coming! Be Nice! Alright I’m coming!”
I fed the girls as fast as possible and then back got over the fence to make sure I was ready to sort out any further scraps. I adjusted the electric fencing around Belle’s paddock. It had rained heavily during the night and the stream was up and quite close to the fencing standards. We walked back up the drive and I caught a glimpse of Whisky munching on the rat. By the time we’d got to the top of the drive he’d finished eating it. It was best this way. The last time Coppa had a rat he kept it as a trophy in his run until its lifeless body was starting to squirm and writhe once again. Euwww! When he wasn’t looking I got a spade and biffed it into the compost.
Stormy Weather
Thursday night, close to midnight the electrical storm started. The dogs are terrified of thunder. Aaron’s alarm went off at 2am. I don’t think we’d got any sleep for those 2 hours.
On more than one occasion one of us had had to get up to try calm the boys down. Sometimes they get so panicked it becomes doggie hysteria. They bark, they cry, they whimper and they just generally go berserk trying to find the source of the thunder. Aaron got dressed and left for work.
For the first time the dogs followed him to the gate. They clearly wanted dad to save them. He gave them such a telling off they sprinted back up the drive to the house. The storm continued and I ended up getting up a couple more times, once to calm them down and once to stop Whisky beating up Coppa.
At 4:15am my alarm went off. Sleep had eluded me.The whole time I was feeding out thunder rumbled across the sky. The dogs raced around going completely mental so I had to keep stopping what I was doing to give them reassuring chest rubs. The stream was even higher this morning so I had to adjust Belle’s fencing again. Then as I started walking back up the drive the wind and driving rain hit really hard and there was such a wall of sound that it actually scared me. I fully expected to be hit by something, flash flood, tornado, something, but nothing happened.
Despite the raincoat I was absolutely soaked by the time I got to the house. The dogs didn’t want to go in their run. I got the pleading, scared, begging look and I came extremely close to ringing in sick just so I could cuddle my boys better (not to mention get some sleep). However, I decided to harden up and I shut them in and went inside to get changed.
As I went to leave Coppa was sitting in the pelting rain by the doorway to his run. He refused the offered treat he always gets before I leave and just looked at me, pleading with me with his eyes. Man, talk about guilt trip! I felt like the worst mum in the world. Thank god they don’t speak, I’d never be able to cope. I drove off and Coppa flipped out and started barking incredibly aggressively. I stopped and reversed the car. I yelled out to him to calm down and eventually he did. I left for work.
How Much Does A Pig Weigh?
While googling on the internet for info about pigs I discovered a calculation for ascertaining the weight of one’s pig. This was fabulous. Previous attempts to get the pigs to stand on our bathroom scales had failed miserably, besides, the last thing we need is big muddy piggies traipsing through the house and into the bathroom.
Unbelievably we didn’t even need scales. All we needed was a tape measure and to wait until the pigs were eating so they’d stand still long enough to be measured. When we fed out next Aaron got in with a tape measure.
The first measurement is around the pig, just behind the front legs to get the heart girth in inches. The next measurement is the spine measurement from ears to tail, again in inches. As Aaron measured I wrote the measurements down. Back at the house Aaron got out the calculator. Heart girth x heart girth x length / 400 = pounds of weight, with an extra 7 pounds added for pigs over 150kg. Aaron then worked out the kilo weight and we ended up with Stanley 51kg (4 ½ months) Spotty 151kg (9 months) Joy 142kg (9 months) Phyllis 148kg (9 months) Belle 256kg (4-5 years) This would seem a reasonably accurate way of measuring pig weight, as we know Belle was roughly 270kg on arrival and she has since lost weight.
Blokes In Sheds
Friday evening Troy and Russell picked Aaron up at work and they headed up to Kaiwaka. Troy and Russell spent the evening putting the repaired gearbox in the ute. What a relief it will be to have it up and running once again. The boys finished about 8ish and I started making dinner. Marty visited to drop off his block and tackle and air compressor and ended up crashing out on the sofa for the night. After dinner I went to bed and the boys stayed up drinking, chatting and watching the Olympics.
Spotty Discovers The Love Shack
Saturday morning Aaron and I dragged ourselves out of bed at 7:30.We moved the cattle onto the bottom paddock early morning. It’s the only place with grass the cattle can actually get to at the moment. It was heartbreaking watching them walk onto the sodden ground knowing it will be a complete mess by the end of the week.
With cattle moved we decided it was time to put Belle and Spotty together. Spotty and Stanley happily trotted up to the gate when called but then we had to find a way of separating them. I started giving Stanley scratches and belly rubs and he was automatically in piggie heaven, oblivious to the gate Aaron was holding wide open.
Unfortunately Spotty wasn’t interested in going through the gate. He wanted scratches as well. Eventually Aaron convinced him to go through the gate and Spotty was soon happily trotting down the drive and into his new paddock.
And so we stood there, watching as Spotty discovered the scent of Belle and went quickly looking for her. Belle emerged from her house, realised Spotty was there and started to tense up. Spotty went up to her all excited and she lashed out. Spotty hesitated but then he tried again, grunting appreciatively, grinding his jaw and frothing at the mouth.They clashed again.
She drew blood. Side by side they stood, unsure what to do next. He grunted, she lashed out again and with that he quickly turned around and trotted back to us. Belle went back inside her house. On further inspection Spotty had some deep wounds. They’d need cleaning and disinfecting. He’d be alright. We hoped that would be the end of the aggression.
I gave Spotty some reassuring rubs and then checked on Belle and the house. I discovered Belle had snapped 4 slats of the pallets she was sleeping on. These would have to be fixed quickly to avoid leg injuries. Aaron went and got some plywood, wooden planks and nails and I sat in the house to make sure Spotty didn’t come in and hurt himself.
Aaron came back down and started fixing the flooring and I wandered back up the drive to get some more hay for the house. When I got to the shed I could see poor Stanley racing around looking for his best friend. That was all it took to get a lump in the throat. My poor little Stanley was all alone! By the time I returned Belle was asleep and Spotty was wandering the perimeter and getting worked up.
Stanley Is Lonely
We went up to the house to get something to eat and then we wandered back down the hill. Poor Stanley looked lonely.
I suggested that maybe we put the girls with him for company. That meant we could also move the sheep into the girls’ paddock as they were now desperately short of feed in the southern paddock.
We fetched some cheese and got the girls up the drive. As usual it was a very easy move. The girls happily trotted up the drive with us.We put them in Stanley’s paddock and called Stanley over. He saw the girls and it was an automatic ‘What the hell, who are you?” reaction from Stanley. But then he realised they were girls and started grunting heavily and frothing at the mouth.
Unfortunately Joy is in heat so she was giving off all the right signals. Poor little Stanley was like a horny little teenager. However, a few quick gentle nips from Joy and Phyllis quickly put him in his place. The girls trotted off to reacquaint themselves with their old paddock and Stanley trotted excitedly after them. Knowing he was far too small to mount either girl we left them to it.
3 Men, A Tree And A Chainsaw
As Troy and Russell wanted to head back to Auckland no later than 2pm we had an early lunch and then the boys went down to the stream with the block and tackle and chainsaw to bring down a tree that had partially fallen in the storm. I understand Russell (The man who fears nothing) risked life and limb to climb the tree and attack it with the chainsaw. At one stage the tree rolled, with Russell on it. He survived, the boys were impressed and I decided I didn’t want to hear about it because quite frankly it’s best I don’t know the stupid things men do.
Crazy Chickens
While the men did battle with a tree I cleaned out the chicken coop. The hens seemed hungry so I took in a plate of pellets and a bowl of crumbled feta. I turned around to pull the door shut with my foot and suddenly there was a hen digging her talons into my arm pecking crazily at the bowl in my hand. She wouldn’t let go until I put the bowl down. That crazy hen must have smelt it as soon as I got in the door. I’m sure feta is not the best thing for chickens but they sure do love it.
Killing Time
We fed out early, and then Troy drove us to Puhoi, where we picked up Aaron’s car from work. We drove straight to Kevin and Raewyn’s and dropped off some cheese for the party that night. With 2 hours to kill we made a couple of errands and then made a surprise visit to Jo and Phil’s. We stayed for a couple of hours, watching the Olympics and chatting.
It was a very pleasant afternoon and I even held Blake for a while. Then Jo asked me the parent’s version of “Does my bum look big in this?” – “Don’t you think he’s cute?” Uhhhh… Crap. What could I say? Quite frankly I just don’t think babies are cute unless they come with 4 legs and have fur. I think my response may have been “Well he’s not ugly or unpleasant looking”. I think Jo took it the right way, although I suspect I’m the only person who would get away with a comment like that without offending. Kevin's 50th
We spent the evening at Kevin’s 50th birthday celebrations. The evening was cold and wet but we kept dry under the large verandah. Troy and Jacqui were also guests and Dre was looking after the spit. Aaron was sober driver so it was an early evening for us. The birthday cake was lit at about 8:30, happy birthday was sung and then Kevin proposed to Raewyn. What a shock.
Thank god Raewyn was happy about it because it would have been damned near impossible to say no in front of all those people. And so shortly after 9 we left for home. I put the seat back and pretty much slept the whole way home. I went to bed as soon as I got home and Aaron spent the night in the lounge watching numerous sporting events.
She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not
Sunday was a struggle for both of us as far as motivation goes. Aaron was tired and I was quite simply completely over the weather. We got into it though. We always do. Hell, there’s no choice really!
And then Aaron discovered Belle and Spotty had had another fight and she’d completely shredded his ear. I went and had a look. He wasn’t a happy piggie. He was covered in bite marks and his ear was a bloody mess. I felt just absolutely terrible. Belle, as always, was back in her house sleeping.
This is not how we had imagined things working out. With only a few short weeks left before we send Spotty to the butcher we had wanted them to be happy ones. We kept an eye on them during the day and I gave Spotty numerous hugs and rubs. We just hoped like hell their differences were now sorted.
Sheep On The Move
The rest of the animals seemed happy enough so we decided that we would also move the sheep from Stanley’s paddock onto Naniwha Hill. It required taking down a large section of electric fencing and offering sheep nuts as a bribe. That meant keeping the pigs away.
We tried a couple of times but each time the pigs heard us and came sprinting. In the end Aaron worked with the sheep when I fed out the pigs’ dinner. The sheep hesitated and pissed around for ages and we only just managed to re-erect the fencing before Phyllis finished dinner and sprinted over to see what we were up to.
Frank had left a message on Aaron’s phone while we were moving the sheep “Would you like to buy some mud?” It seems we’re not the only ones struggling this winter.
Sleeping With The Enemy
Monday arrived all too quickly. At 7:30 I fed out only to discover another pig fight had taken place. The front wall of the love shack had been completely knocked out, a panel of wood from the house lay on the driveway and part of the electric fencing was knocked down. There were bloody splatters inside and outside the house. Belle was sleeping inside and Spotty was nowhere to be seen.
I started to freak out and then I saw him near the stream under a flax bush. I woke him up and got him up for breakfast. I fed the 2 of them and checked out Spotty’s wounds. She’d attacked his ear again as well as his face and neck. My wonderful, happy Spotty was a bruised and unhappy piggie.
I didn’t know what to do except put all the pigs back in their own paddocks but I didn’t think I could do it on my own. It started to rain yet again and I hung around for a while. Belle finished eating and wandered off. Spotty wandered off in the opposite direction. I stayed with him for a while. Rubbing his belly and snout and talking to him. He was very subdued.
I took the dogs back up to the house and had breakfast.Aaron phoned as I sat drinking my coffee. I told him what had happened. I was upset and angry. There wasn’t a hope in hell Spotty would get Belle pregnant and I would never let Arthur near her.
It had all become crystal clear. I now knew why Belle had not been pregnant when she’d arrived. Like the naïve small farmers we were we had clearly been duped. The man who got rid of her wasn’t getting rid of a dearly loved pig, he was getting rid of 270kg of PMT on 4 legs.
She may have had piglets before but I can almost guarantee they were when she was smaller and easy to dominate. The only way to get Belle pregnant would be with a much larger and slightly more aggressive boar. This is something we neither have nor want.
Aaron was angry as well. He decided there and then her fate was sealed. By lunchtime he’d rung the butcher. Spotty had won a small reprieve. We cannot put them both in the freezer at once so his time will come later. Aaron wanted Spotty out of the paddock as soon as possible. I took some camembert down to Spotty and tried to persuade him to leave. Unfortunately he’d zapped his nose on the electric fence on the Sunday and was clearly terrified about walking past the boundary line, even with a section of fencing removed. It took a good 10 minutes to get him onto the driveway but from there it was a fairly easy walk up into the girl’s old paddock.
Sometimes You Just Need Your Mates
The rest of Monday drifted by all too fast. It rained frequently and heavily and every time I went outside I seemed to get wet. Aaron rang again. He wanted Stanley put in with Spotty in the hope that it would lift his spirits. The only problem was the paddock was full of girl pig smells and I suspected it had something to do with all the pig poo. I didn’t want to put Stanley in until I could eliminate some of the smell in case it made both boys aggressive towards each other. That meant picking up 3 months worth of poo.
After 2 hours of poo collecting I still wasn’t finished, my back was sore and I didn’t think I could face walking up the hill to the compost again. Then Aaron arrived home and I called it quits. We fed out the animals and then we went and got Stanley. He happily trotted down the drive with us and up into the paddock.Spotty came out to greet him.
Unfortunately Stanley was covered in girl smells and Spotty got confused. For several minutes Spotty chased Stanley around the paddock until eventually Stanley realised he couldn’t keep running forever. He would have to remind Spotty who he was. He stopped and spun around. It started to absolutely piss down with rain. Several minutes of grunting and rubbing snouts went by and finally Spotty calmed down. We showed Stanley his new home and then left them too it and took the dogs for a walk next door. I felt completely mentally exhausted.
Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head
At the moment I feel like it’s taking every ounce of effort I can muster just to stand upright. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this weather. It’s not the place, not the life, not the hard work that’s grinding me down.
It’s the rain, the incessant rain that is attacking my will to live at the moment. I am constantly on the verge of tears. As soon as something goes wrong I feel myself starting to panic. If this farm was our livelihood I couldn’t cope with these conditions. Sometimes it hurts just to think. At the moment we’re achieving nothing, we’re just existing until the weather becomes drier and we can make some progress. There’s absolutely no sense of satisfaction in our daily lives. We just lurch from day to day trying to solve problems. Every now and then it will start raining (again!) and one of us will just lose the plot and start screaming expletives at the sky.
In our world rain has now become synonymous with the “F” word. It’s not just us of course, the farming people we speak to seem to be reeling from one problem to another as well. Large amounts of money, time and energy are being spent on fixing problems the weather has caused. The willow trees are suddenly covered with tiny leaves of green this week. Spring is on its way. It’s the one flicker of light in the gloom that I find myself desperately clinging to.
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