Couchsurfing
25 November 2008
Aaron and I have decided to join the Global phenomenon Couchsurfing. When my sister Sarah joined it I have to admit I automatically thought “ooh dodgy”. An Internet site that puts you in touch with people who will provide you with free accommodation as you travel the world? Who on earth would do that? Why would they do that? This was surely as dodgy as Internet dating. I worried for my sister and the age difference between us seemed immense. At what point had backpacker lodges become passé and strangers couches become acceptable?
Mum worried as well. So much so that eventually she joined Sarah on her travels. I think mum had this idea that they’d stay in motels. Sarah had other plans. They would both couch surf. I can only imagine how mum felt. In some ways mum’s more conservative that I am and I found the concept altogether too weird and just a little scary.
Left with no choice mum found herself travelling around Europe meeting and staying with complete strangers. From what I understand mum found the first few days a little strange and not altogether comfortable. However, by the end of the 3 weeks mum was a convert and is now a keen couchsurfing member.
I was both stunned and impressed.
I accessed Sarah’s couchsurfing profile and started reading the references given by the people who’d hosted her.
http://www.couchsurfing.com/mapsurf.html?SEARCH[skip]=0&view=detail&sid=d4c3c10eb27eade60a5b74504d623df3
Wow, not only did these people write the most fabulous things about Sarah but they also seemed to be genuinely nice people. Then I read my mum’s profile and her references and suddenly it clicked. There are actually thousands of genuinely nice people out there who want to share their home, their life and their slice of the world with others. What a fantastic way to meet people and share knowledge.
I emailed Sarah and said I quite liked the idea of opening our own home to travelers but that I wasn’t sure how Aaron would feel. And of course it did cross my mind that it would mean more work for us in terms of housework, and obviously there’s money involved in providing meals. I thought maybe I’d wait for Sarah to return to NZ and tell us about her travels and then suggest it to Aaron in the New Year.
Then one afternoon Aaron said he wanted to join Couchsurfing and there and then he opened the site and started creating a profile. Within 2 days we’d finished writing our profile and were set up ready to take in guests.
http://www.couchsurfing.com/mapsurf.html?SEARCH[skip]=2&view=detail&sid=d4c3c10eb27eade60a5b74504d623df3
It turns out Aaron is even more keen than I am about the whole idea. I don’t expect we’ll be inundated with requests for free accommodation but I’d be quite happy to host people every couple of months. While we can’t offer to spend our days taking people on tours around the local area, I hope that we can offer people a unique view of kiwi life.
Of course I’d love it if we could host people with knowledge of things that could help us with our goals on our block but that’s a big ask. In the end I’d just like to meet some nice people and learn more about the world.
Just from the short surf I’ve had of the site it amazes me the range of people who use it; from young to old, singles and couples and numerous nationalities.
Just from my own sister’s experience I think this concept could do amazing things for tourism. I’m not saying it won’t affect motels and backpack lodges in a negative way but it could encourage people to travel to places they may never have considered, either because they couldn’t afford it or because they just never knew about them until they met someone from the area.
For me this is a great way of learning about other cultures, only not through history and architecture but through people.
I hope by opening our home in this way it will also make me feel less selfish. I certainly don’t want my whole life to be about hard work and no pleasure.
It's Good To Have Friends
17 November 2008
Tuesday night we went to Marty’s for dinner. Poor Marty, I think we must have dominated conversation all night. Discussing politics and environmental responsibility, among other things. Marty is such a happy, pleasant host. I always feel so relaxed when we visit. It’s just a shame it’s always a Tuesday night as I’m the only one who has to get up early the next morning and I always pay for it by struggling to stay awake all Wednesday.
We’ve just had another fab weekend. Despite predictions of rain we ended up with a lot of sun and a very warm, dry wind. My favourite type of weather, except it’s bloody hard to work in and inhibits grass growth.
Erica drove up on Friday night and it was good to catch up. She’s a bit of a trooper is Erica. She hates the country but endures it for the sake of our friendship. I told her to stay the weekend but I didn’t push it. I’m grateful for what time we spend together.
Last week Aaron and I made the decision to let each other sleep in on one day of the weekend. Aaron chose Saturday morning and I chose Sunday. We had a latish evening on Friday and I assured Erica she could sleep in as I would be up with the birds (Marty specifically) and be busy doing chores until about 10:30.
I joked that sleep-ins on the weekends are now impossible for me and Aaron due to Marty taking up residence on the verandah outside the bedroom door at 6:30 in the mornings.
I Think Our House Has A Design Flaw
Despite shutting the chooks away each night, Marty has created a doorway in the netting that he and the girls can get through in the mornings. Saturday morning as Aaron and I lay sleeping in bed Marty let rip with an extremely loud cock-a-doodle-doo.
I lifted my head off the pillow. Marty and the girls had their beaks to the door. The dogs sat behind them eagerly wagging their tails. Marty crowed again.
“What time is it?” Aaron mumbled
I looked at the clock. “6:30 on the dot. Marty, go away!”.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he crowed impatiently. The boys tails wagged faster.There was no point fighting it, I got up and got dressed.
A Busy Day On The Block
Marty and the girls got breakfast, the boys came with me to feed the eagerly grunting pigs. I walked the dogs up next door’s driveway in search of bunnies and then it was home for their breakfast. Once porridge and coffee were on the table I got Aaron out of bed. It was 7:30.
By 10:30 we’d finished our set chores and came inside for morning tea. Erica was up. She hadn’t quite had the sleep in she’d wanted. We’d fired the chipper up at 9:30, but Marty and the girls had already taken up residence below the guest bedroom window in their favourite sunny spot and had spent some time just chatting, as they do.
Aaron and I had a lot to do. There was fencing to be finished, more scrubcutting to do and flaxes to plant. We talked Erica into walking the dogs with us. In the end we toured our property, the DoC land and Gary’s property. It was midday by the time we got back to the house and then Jeff turned up. We had lunch and then Aaron and Jeff started fencing, I started scrubcutting and Erica made herself comfortable in front of the tv. It was an exhausting day and we worked our butts off until 3:30 feeding time.
I felt bad that Erica’s day had been so boring but it couldn’t be helped.
Erica departed just after 5:00 and the 3 of us blobbed out on the couch, too tired to do anything else.
Beware The Nasty Chemicals!
It’s now a week since Aaron and I have changed our washing habits, added oily fish to our diet and started moisturising. My hands look and feel a hell of a lot better. And although there’s still more work to be done I haven’t yet resorted to the antibiotics. I’ve also started using an anti dermatitis cream on other parts of my body that have dry patches and the itchiness has almost gone. Stupidly I had put the dry, itchy patches down to hard work and not bothering with body moisturiser.
Not only that but I had also discovered that the bottle of alco-gel that I keep on my desk at work to help ward off all those nasty bugs is probably the prime cause of the dermatitis on my hands.
Aaron’s eczema patches have also faded considerably and the intense itching is gone.
In just one week I have learnt a lot about the damage all these modern cleaning products do to our skin. It would seem that anything that states it’s got anti-bacterial qualities actually does more harm than good. I didn’t think I had been sucked into the whole anti-bacterial propaganda thing but then I stopped to think about how paranoid I have become at work in the last few months. The staff on my floor seem to have all become very ill with colds, flus and gastric problems and I have become quite obsessed about staying well. And so I’ve sailed through winter and into spring with no illnesses but my hands have suffered dreadfully.
Sunday was another great day. Despite it being my sleep in day the chooks and dogs decided 6am would be a good time for us to get up. Aaron dutifully got up and dressed and fed out while I lay in bed for the next 90 minutes trying to get back to sleep. It didn’t work of course but at least I felt rested when I did actually get up.
Aaron and Jeff continued fencing until they ran out of wire and I scrubcut some more. After a break for morning tea Aaron and Jeff worked on the duck dam and I started planting flaxes at the bottom of the drive.
Aaron suggested I put a stick in the ground where I plant each flax, due to the fact that every time we cut the grass we invariably lose flaxes because we don’t see them until too late. We’ve planted up around the gate before but escaped cattle ate everything they could find. What was left we let the grass grow up and cover but then our neighbour kindly scrubcut our entrance last summer and we lost the remaining plants.
So the area by the gate is now planted with small flax plants and tall sticks. We’re determined not to lose our plants this time round.
Jeff left at midday and after lunch I continued to plant and Aaron caught some zzz’s on the couch
I lifted my head off the pillow. Marty and the girls had their beaks to the door. The dogs sat behind them eagerly wagging their tails. Marty crowed again.
“What time is it?” Aaron mumbled
I looked at the clock. “6:30 on the dot. Marty, go away!”.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he crowed impatiently. The boys tails wagged faster.There was no point fighting it, I got up and got dressed.
A Busy Day On The Block
Marty and the girls got breakfast, the boys came with me to feed the eagerly grunting pigs. I walked the dogs up next door’s driveway in search of bunnies and then it was home for their breakfast. Once porridge and coffee were on the table I got Aaron out of bed. It was 7:30.
By 10:30 we’d finished our set chores and came inside for morning tea. Erica was up. She hadn’t quite had the sleep in she’d wanted. We’d fired the chipper up at 9:30, but Marty and the girls had already taken up residence below the guest bedroom window in their favourite sunny spot and had spent some time just chatting, as they do.
Aaron and I had a lot to do. There was fencing to be finished, more scrubcutting to do and flaxes to plant. We talked Erica into walking the dogs with us. In the end we toured our property, the DoC land and Gary’s property. It was midday by the time we got back to the house and then Jeff turned up. We had lunch and then Aaron and Jeff started fencing, I started scrubcutting and Erica made herself comfortable in front of the tv. It was an exhausting day and we worked our butts off until 3:30 feeding time.
I felt bad that Erica’s day had been so boring but it couldn’t be helped.
Erica departed just after 5:00 and the 3 of us blobbed out on the couch, too tired to do anything else.
Beware The Nasty Chemicals!
It’s now a week since Aaron and I have changed our washing habits, added oily fish to our diet and started moisturising. My hands look and feel a hell of a lot better. And although there’s still more work to be done I haven’t yet resorted to the antibiotics. I’ve also started using an anti dermatitis cream on other parts of my body that have dry patches and the itchiness has almost gone. Stupidly I had put the dry, itchy patches down to hard work and not bothering with body moisturiser.
Not only that but I had also discovered that the bottle of alco-gel that I keep on my desk at work to help ward off all those nasty bugs is probably the prime cause of the dermatitis on my hands.
Aaron’s eczema patches have also faded considerably and the intense itching is gone.
In just one week I have learnt a lot about the damage all these modern cleaning products do to our skin. It would seem that anything that states it’s got anti-bacterial qualities actually does more harm than good. I didn’t think I had been sucked into the whole anti-bacterial propaganda thing but then I stopped to think about how paranoid I have become at work in the last few months. The staff on my floor seem to have all become very ill with colds, flus and gastric problems and I have become quite obsessed about staying well. And so I’ve sailed through winter and into spring with no illnesses but my hands have suffered dreadfully.
Sunday was another great day. Despite it being my sleep in day the chooks and dogs decided 6am would be a good time for us to get up. Aaron dutifully got up and dressed and fed out while I lay in bed for the next 90 minutes trying to get back to sleep. It didn’t work of course but at least I felt rested when I did actually get up.
Aaron and Jeff continued fencing until they ran out of wire and I scrubcut some more. After a break for morning tea Aaron and Jeff worked on the duck dam and I started planting flaxes at the bottom of the drive.
Aaron suggested I put a stick in the ground where I plant each flax, due to the fact that every time we cut the grass we invariably lose flaxes because we don’t see them until too late. We’ve planted up around the gate before but escaped cattle ate everything they could find. What was left we let the grass grow up and cover but then our neighbour kindly scrubcut our entrance last summer and we lost the remaining plants.
So the area by the gate is now planted with small flax plants and tall sticks. We’re determined not to lose our plants this time round.
Jeff left at midday and after lunch I continued to plant and Aaron caught some zzz’s on the couch
Couchsurfing
Sunday afternoon Aaron decided we must join the couch surfing phenomenon. I agreed and so we started to create our profile. While it’s going to be difficult for us to travel anytime soon we have decided to open our home to travelling strangers. Who knows what friends we might make and what things we might learn?
An Annoying Itch
11 November 2008
During the week Aaron had complained the rash on his body was frequently itchy and more often than not the patches seem raised and inflamed.
On Wednesday, while looking for something in the medical dictionary on my desk at work, I noticed a photo of a skin condition that looked very similar to Aaron’s. I googled it and came to the conclusion that Aaron actually suffers from a specific type of eczema. It seemed the best solution was to ensure Aaron avoided chemicals and detergents. Aaron is now using products specifically designed for people with eczema. Plus we’re going to up his omega 3 intake and he needs to moisturise to keep his skin hydrated. It’s not a huge change to his life so if it works it won’t be a lifelong hardship.
Friday night Aaron spent the night in Auckland helping to celebrate a family member’s 50th. I would have liked to go as I knew it would be a good evening. However, the drive from Whangarei with a stop to feed animals and walk the dogs was just too much for me to contemplate so Aaron went without me.
Our 'To Do' List Gets Longer
Saturday arrived and I was up and into it at 6:30. Aaron was home before 10am. Finally we had a weekend with no guests, no travel and good weather.
Aaron and I had rewritten our “To Do” list.
When we discussed getting ducks a couple of months back I said to Aaron that I wanted to wait until 2009 as we had a lot of projects to finish and more urgent tasks that needed tackling. Aaron reluctantly agreed.
Last week he ordered our ducks, informing me we should be getting them in the first week of January. What could I say? After all, I had only specified the year. Rather foolishly I had not bothered to specify a month or season.
So now on top of our already huge list of tasks we needed to add to it fencing of the new duck paddock, finish building the dam to create a duck pond, scrubcutting the paddock and building a duck house.
We now have a list of 30+ projects to be done by the end of January. There aren’t that many weekends in which to complete all these tasks. I can see it is going to be an extraordinarily busy spring and summer.
As always, Aaron’s focus is on the animals and potential cashflow and mine is on increasing property value. We need to focus on both but often I find myself sucked into Aaron’s enthusiasm for the new and exciting. So this weekend I decided we should tackle the tasks we considered more important.
Saturday we focused on our usual tasks of cleaning and chipping and compost turning, etc, and in between all that we drove into town to vote. Saturday night we started watching the election news but it was going to be very late before the results came in so I went to bed. Aaron stayed up and watched.
On Sunday National were in power and Helen Clark had resigned from Labour. We were happy with the results. Aaron spent the day ramming in fence posts and scrubcutting a line for the fencing and I scrubcut around the driveway entrance and painted the fence with diesel.
By the end of the weekend we were both exhausted but happy.
More Skin Problems
Come Monday I wanted a sleep in but I had already made other plans. Early morning I was in Whangarei visiting the doctor. I have a spot on my forehead that appeared 2 months ago and won’t go away and since accidentally pouring boiling water on my finger about 2 or 3 months ago, I have a finger that has been dry and cracked and frequently splits and bleeds.
The end result is the spot is pre-cancerous and needs to be removed. I suspected as much.
And I am actually suffering from dermatitis of the hands. This was a surprise, although shouldn’t have been as I have had dermatitis on other parts of my body before. The doctor also told me I have a bacterial infection in my hands and prescribed me antibiotics. I’m not convinced. I suspect what looks like an infection is actually a mixture of dirt and diesel stuck in the creases of my dried and cracked hands. I am very anti antibiotics, so although I picked them up from the chemist I’m hoping I don’t have to use them.
So now I have to stop using soap and harsh detergents and regularly moisturise with a dermatitis friendly moisturiser.
I went straight from the doctor to the optician. My glasses are constantly falling apart and I need new prescription sunglasses. 2 hours later I was $1100 poorer and wondering how the hell it had happened when I’d picked cheap frames and got a 10% discount.
Much to the dogs' relief I was home by lunchtime and they got to spend the rest of the day out of their run. Quite frankly I didn’t feel all that flash. That $1100 was earmarked for other things but now it was gone.
Aaron was even less impressed when I told him.
Last week he ordered our ducks, informing me we should be getting them in the first week of January. What could I say? After all, I had only specified the year. Rather foolishly I had not bothered to specify a month or season.
So now on top of our already huge list of tasks we needed to add to it fencing of the new duck paddock, finish building the dam to create a duck pond, scrubcutting the paddock and building a duck house.
We now have a list of 30+ projects to be done by the end of January. There aren’t that many weekends in which to complete all these tasks. I can see it is going to be an extraordinarily busy spring and summer.
As always, Aaron’s focus is on the animals and potential cashflow and mine is on increasing property value. We need to focus on both but often I find myself sucked into Aaron’s enthusiasm for the new and exciting. So this weekend I decided we should tackle the tasks we considered more important.
Saturday we focused on our usual tasks of cleaning and chipping and compost turning, etc, and in between all that we drove into town to vote. Saturday night we started watching the election news but it was going to be very late before the results came in so I went to bed. Aaron stayed up and watched.
On Sunday National were in power and Helen Clark had resigned from Labour. We were happy with the results. Aaron spent the day ramming in fence posts and scrubcutting a line for the fencing and I scrubcut around the driveway entrance and painted the fence with diesel.
By the end of the weekend we were both exhausted but happy.
More Skin Problems
Come Monday I wanted a sleep in but I had already made other plans. Early morning I was in Whangarei visiting the doctor. I have a spot on my forehead that appeared 2 months ago and won’t go away and since accidentally pouring boiling water on my finger about 2 or 3 months ago, I have a finger that has been dry and cracked and frequently splits and bleeds.
The end result is the spot is pre-cancerous and needs to be removed. I suspected as much.
And I am actually suffering from dermatitis of the hands. This was a surprise, although shouldn’t have been as I have had dermatitis on other parts of my body before. The doctor also told me I have a bacterial infection in my hands and prescribed me antibiotics. I’m not convinced. I suspect what looks like an infection is actually a mixture of dirt and diesel stuck in the creases of my dried and cracked hands. I am very anti antibiotics, so although I picked them up from the chemist I’m hoping I don’t have to use them.
So now I have to stop using soap and harsh detergents and regularly moisturise with a dermatitis friendly moisturiser.
I went straight from the doctor to the optician. My glasses are constantly falling apart and I need new prescription sunglasses. 2 hours later I was $1100 poorer and wondering how the hell it had happened when I’d picked cheap frames and got a 10% discount.
Much to the dogs' relief I was home by lunchtime and they got to spend the rest of the day out of their run. Quite frankly I didn’t feel all that flash. That $1100 was earmarked for other things but now it was gone.
Aaron was even less impressed when I told him.
New Additions To The Block
5 November 2008
Tuesday evening Aaron arrived home with 2 young Devon heifers. They’re a fiery red colour and quite attractive. They went straight in with the other cattle. Being so small 51 and Baby Red took to bullying them almost straight away.
It’s a strange quirk of cattle that they seem quite intolerant of newcomers. Mind you, 46 seems to be an exception to the rule. I remember when Baby Red first arrived on the block. She was bullied and harassed constantly, day after day until eventually 46 became her protector and boyfriend. But then sometime many months ago 51 ceased his harassment and became somewhat lovestruck. He and Baby Red have been an item ever since.
One of them is going in the freezer at the end of summer. I strongly suspect it will be 51. How he’s survived this long is a mystery. He’s been nothing but a troublemaker since he arrived. So anyway, after a few days on the block the young girls seem to have settled in well. If nothing else they have each other for company.
Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud
Saturday morning we fed out and changed the pig’s hay. Actually, we just added more as they’d either eaten what was there or stuffed it into any draughty corners.
With the girls and Arthur in the shed together we assumed the 3 would snuggle up together. This didn’t happen though. For some reason Arthur decided to sleep in the one patch of mud there is in the back corner of the shed. I suggested we tip several buckets of wood chip onto it to at least absorb the moisture. Aaron didn’t think it would work so I suggested we sit some loose planks of wood on top of the mud and then pile the wood chip on top. Aaron decided it would be better to nail together a wooden platform of sorts but it sat up so high it was a tripping hazard so we pulled it out and just dumped the woodchip straight onto the mud.
Olivia Turns 5
By the time we’d finished mucking around it was 10am and we had to be on the road heading down to Rotorua by 11am at the latest. Scotty’s daughter was turning 5 and we were invited to the party.
It was a good 4 hours drive away and with so much to do around the property I hadn’t wanted to go. However, Aaron had promised several months before and he wasn’t going to let me get out of it.
We took the dogs with us as far as Auckland and dropped them off at Troy’s place for the night. Aaron’s sister-in-law Ilona had agreed to feed the pigs and chooks their dinner and then breakfast the next day.
We arrived in Rotorua about 4:30pm. It had been a long drive and I was quite exhausted. There were about a dozen adults sitting outside drinking and smoking and we sat down and got chatting. Olivia was pretty much by herself. Her parents had hired a bouncy castle for the weekend and initially she spent most of her time on this with a 13 year old boy from nextdoor. He got tired and bored though and so Olivia came and asked me to go on with her. She didn’t know me from a bar of soap so it seemed odd. I wasn’t the youngest there either. However I would have felt bad saying no and so I got on the castle and jumped around on it with Olivia, and I squealed and giggled as I imagined a 5 year old would.
Eventually, after what seemed like a very long time (but I suspect wasn’t), I was exhausted and hoarse and I rolled off it and staggered back to my seat. Olivia carried on bouncing and the boy got back on. About 10 minutes later he got off and Olivia came back to me. I wasn’t keen. I asked the other guests to take my place. None of them would. So I got back on and jumped and squealed and giggled and then collapsed with exhaustion again.
Back on my seat I was struggling to both breathe and talk. The boy got back on with Olivia and then he got tired and Olivia was back at my chair. I demanded one of the other guests take a turn and perhaps it was the alcohol because most of them did, one after the other.
And then there was no one left so Olivia came back to me. I had my 3rd and final go and then Olivia also seemed to tire and the jumping was over. Guests started to leave and then Aaron and Scotty went inside to watch a rugby game on tv. I went to bed.
It was a rough sleep, apart from Olivia, the residents of the house are all chain smokers. I struggled to breathe and several times in the night I stuck my head out an open window just to try catch my breath. My problem as a non-smoker is that breathing in cigarette smoke makes me panic and I start to hyperventilate. In the end it was as much a mental struggle as a physical one. So at 7:30am we left and started the long drive home.
On Being Selfish
It had been an odd trip away and I couldn’t help but think of all the work I should have been doing at home. I was baffled as to why there had been no party and later when Aaron spoke to Scotty he discovered the party had been earlier in the day and we had actually been invited to the piss up at the end of the day.
I told Aaron that I was too old and had too many property commitments to be spending 8 hours on the road just to have a few drinks at someone’s house. The cost of petrol alone is horrendous. I wouldn’t even do that with my own friends and family.
I absolutely admit my life on the block has made me selfish with time and money but the fact is we’re short on both. Our property isn’t just a home, it’s an investment in our future. If we don’t put in the hard yards now we will have no chance of making a living from home or eventually selling our property for enough money to fund our retirement.
I know most of our friends and family see our block as a lot of hard work and probably think we’d be glad of the break but there’s more to it than that. It’s a difficult one. Obviously friends and family are important to us but we effectively have 2 jobs each. One to pay off the mortgage and one to pay off our future. There’s no blobbing out on the couch for us when we get home and an indulgent sleep-in on the weekend is a 7:30 start instead of the usual 6:30. Our lifestyle is virtually a fulltime commitment but to be honest I consider myself one of the luckiest people around.
Of course I’d love to quit my admin job and stay at home and have more balance in my life but my life’s not a hardship. I don’t resent the hard work at all. Yeah there’s the feeding out, the cleaning, the gardening, etc but I also get to take the dogs on bunny hunts. I get to watch lambs frolicking in the paddock. And I get to sit down with the pigs and shoot the breeze and know they enjoy my company as much I do theirs.
I confess, I do worry sometimes that I have a selfish and uncaring attitude. For Scotty, his daughter’s 5th birthday is a highlight and means the world to him. I understand that, but I find myself unable to let go of the fact that time equals money in my world. With so many friends and family to spend time with and only 52 weekends a year in which to do it, giving up one weekend for one person is a lot to ask from me. That’s why I love having people come to stay because it means I can work and play and I don’t feel panicked about my time.
It's Free Range Or Nothing - Doh!
So anyway, Sunday morning we drove home. We stopped in Tirau for breakfast. We had scrambled eggs on toast and fresh coffee. The resident cat joined us. Cat hair ended up in my coffee and my eggs. I asked Aaron if he thought I could get away with complaining that I’d found cat hair in my breakfast. He suggested this might be difficult as the cat had been sitting on my lap the entire time we’d been there.
Of course it wasn’t until the eggs were put on the table in front of us that we realised we’d just committed the cardinal sin of ordering non free range eggs. We eat out so rarely that despite ensuring we didn’t order anything with ham, bacon or chicken in it we’d completely forgotten about the eggs.
Breakfast sat a little heavy in our stomachs as we got back in the car and headed for Auckland. When we stopped to pick up the boys they were sitting at the gate lapping up the attention of a bunch of kids hanging around outside. Any doubts I had about our boys being miserable were completely unfounded.
Turns out Troy had had his own party the night before and there’d been about 6 dogs all up. Our dogs would have had an absolute blast with all that company.
From Troy’s we made a quick stop at Jo and Phil’s to fill a couple of large sacks with garden waste. They have a small garden but generate a lot of grass and leaf litter, which they just pile up in a corner for want of a better place. A few weeks ago I was moaning to my sister about the lack of grass and leaf mulch for our compost and hey presto, both our problems were solved. With grass packed into the boot we headed back on the road. Finally home we made ourselves lunch. We were both absolutely shattered and Sunday became as much of a right off as Saturday.
Makin' Bacon
After a couple of hours lying on the sofa we got the bacon down from the carport and sliced a piece off. We stuck it in the fry pan. When it was nicely cooked we both tried it. Wahhh! It was unpalatably salty. We unwrapped all the bacon and stuck it in a large container of water for several hours and then we rewrapped it and hung it back up in the carport. Phyllis The Pocket Rocket Returns
Monday I spent the day doing housework and catching up on writing. Aaron came home from work mid afternoon. The homeopathic vet arrived about 4. One of Aaron’s colleagues had given us her details after a not particularly reassuring phone call to our standard veterinary practice regarding Phyllis.
Phyllis and Joy were on the hill above their shed. We went in and Phyllis came down to see us. Joy on the other hand just sat up. With pregnancy Joy has decided that it’s too much effort to stand when we come into the paddock so now she just raises herself into a sitting position.
The vet observed Phyllis for a while and we explained the circumstances of Phyllis’ miscarriage. In the end the vet was quite sure that our fear of a bacterial infection was unfounded. In her opinion the most likely cause was the electric shocks received when she had become entangled in the fence. I felt absolutely awful.
That weekend of moving pigs had been a complete disaster from start to finish and we now had to accept that our actions had played a role in this tragedy. Despite Phyllis’s spirits having been a little brighter in the last couple of days the vet believed Phyllis was still suffering and that her energies were blocked. She asked if she could perform acupuncture on Phyllis.
I’ll admit I was a little surprised. Acupuncture on a pig? It’s not something I would have ever imagined one might do to a pig.
“Go for it” we said.
I sat next to Phyllis and rubbed her tummy. She rolled on her side and let me rub away. Meanwhile the vet placed several needles either side of her spine.
Phyllis lay there for a few minutes but then decided she’d had enough and stood. The vet removed the needles and we all just stood there for about 30 seconds.
And then Phyllis just went completely crazy. It was if she had just been plugged into some high voltage unit. She started racing up and down and spinning around and then started ripping huge chunks of turf out of the ground and shaking them madly. Aaron and I were gobsmacked. The vet wanted to give Phyllis a couple of homeopathic pills. I told her I’d get some cheese from the shed to make sure she ate them.
I raced up the hill and as I walked away Phyllis raced up to the vet and walloped her with her head and then raced off. It was most unlike Phyllis and I suspect both Aaron and vet were surprised. I returned with cheese and the pigs slurped it all up with great enthusiasm.
We left the paddock and chatted to the vet a bit more and Phyllis eventually returned to normal.
Tuesday evening after work we took the bacon down from the carport again. We cooked another slice and again the salt packed too much of a punch. This time we filled a large container with water and a cup full of honey. The meat soaked overnight and then Aaron hung it the next morning. Friday night we removed the bacon once more and fried another slice. This time it was a lot more palatable, although by no means perfect. We sliced all 5 pieces of meat and then we vacuum sealed them into 200g packets and put them in the freezer.
In the end we had picked pieces of pork that were just too fatty for bacon and we ended up with just over 3kg worth of bacon but also 2.9kg of fat to throw out. Oh well, we’ll do better next time I expect.
The Boys Reunite
29 October 2008
Labour weekend arrived. Saturday was sunny but not particularly warm. Aaron had decided that Joy and Phyllis were too big for the van and they needed to be moved to the pond. That would leave Arthur by himself so we decided to reunite the boys. After all, Arthur and Spotty had been great mates just a few months back. After breakfast we got Joy and Phyllis out and they happily trotted down the drive with us. Easy peasy!
We got Spotty and Stanley out and they just as happily trotted up the drive. Spotty went straight to the gate and Stanley headed toward the shed. I went after Stanley and called back to Aaron that maybe we should get the boys to greet each other through the gate before opening it.
Too late. I turned Stanley around as Spotty was walking through the opened gate.
We threw crumbled camembert on the ground and the boys feasted happily. The whole thing was very pleasant, no fighting for cheese, just everyone getting his share. The cheese quickly disappeared and the boys looked up towards us to see if there was more.
And then all hell broke loose. Arthur and Spotty, started grunting and gnashing jaws and then slamming heads.
Shit!
With both boys close to 200kg each we were in no position to separate them. With sharp, tusk-like teeth they could easily slice human flesh to the bone. We watched and waited for them to recognize each other and… I dunno… shake trotters or something.
It didn’t happen. They fought and they fought and they fought. For 2 stressful hours we watched as they inflicted wounds on each other as we tried desperately to reason with them. We threw bucket after bucket of water over them but this just seemed to inflame the situation. At one point Spotty screamed and unholy scream and collapsed. I was beside myself with panic as Arthur stood next to him gasping for breath. Aaron had left the paddock to check on the girls and I didn’t know how to get Arthur away from Spotty. For about 30 seconds everything seemed to stop and then Spotty staggered to his feet and Arthur launched another attack. Again they fought, until eventually they were down the hill next to the swampy gully. I feared one would end up drowning in the mud but I could do nothing but stand and watch.
They both entered the swamp, the cool mud creeping up their legs. Spotty tried to run. He got a few feet away and collapsed. Arthur did the same. There they lay, unable to move for nearly an hour.
As soon as the boys collapsed in the mud Stanley went up to Arthur and the little sod decided that Arthur’s submissive position must mean he was a girl. He mounted Arthur. I waded through the mud and tried dragging off the 60kg worth of humping pork. He remounted and I dragged him off again. Consumed by utter exhaustion Arthur could do nothing but grunt furiously.
Over and over Stanley harassed Arthur and Aaron and I struggled to drag him away.
Eventually Aaron managed to divert Stanley’s attention but not before he was blue in the face from yelling and name calling.
And then I heard continual screaming from down the drive in the girl’s paddock. One of the girls was in serious pain. I sprinted up the hill, through the gate and down the drive. One of the fencing standards by the electric unit was out of the ground and part of the electric wire was on the ground. Joy ran up to me, grunting furiously. I stroked her and talked to her until she eventually calmed down and then I reerected the fence and went back to the boys.
Meanwhile Spotty had recovered enough to get out of the swamp and stagger over to the other side of the blackberry covered hill on the other side of the gully.
I checked their many wounds. Amazingly they were all superficial. The bruising however would have been tremendous.
We sat and waited, desperate for a chance to get one of the boys out of the paddock. Eventually they both got to their feet but they would not walk in the direction we wanted. Instead Arthur walked over to Spotty and the fighting started once again. It went on and on and I felt sure that it would not stop until one was killed or mortally wounded.
And then Arthur started screaming. He screamed and screamed and wouldn’t stop and so I started screaming “What do we do?! What do we do?!”
And then the screaming stopped and Arthur ran back to the mud and collapsed. Spotty collapsed on the spot.
We waited and waited. Every 10 minutes or so Arthur would get up and stagger a few more feet away. Spotty did the same in a bizarre game of pursuit that neither could fully participate in.
Stanley launched another assault on Arthur. This time he wanted to fight. Arthur managed to land a few bites but Stanley was confident of winning. Aaron lost it. His anger erupted into a tirade of abuse as he pushed and shoved at Stanley’s small but very strong frame.
I ran and fetched some cheese. Stanley’s desire for food over powered him and he ran up the hill after me and out the gate.
Aaron and I were exhausted. Arthur was struggling to breathe and Spotty could barely keep his eyes open. I tried to calm Arthur down but eventually it was clear he wanted to be left alone. Aaron and I returned to the house and watched them from the verandah.
After about 30 minutes Spotty got up again and started to walk very slowly up to the gate. Aaron sprinted down the hill and let him out.
A Shocking Event
Finally it was over. We took Spotty down to the stockyards where Stanley was waiting. As we shut the gate Aaron turned around and noticed an entire section of electric fencing on the corner of the drive had been pulled out of the ground and was tangled in the manuka trees. It was then I realized why Joy had screamed. She must have become completely entangled in the wire and been unable to free herself for a good 20 – 30 seconds.
We decided to move the girls up to the shed and the boys back to their pond.
I opened the new gate to the shed and lifted the electric wire. Joy quickly trotted out and up to the shed. Phyllis on the other hand refused to move. That’s when I realized it hadn’t been Joy caught in the fence but Phyllis. Unfortunately both Spotty and now Phyllis have had bad experiences with electric wire and fear it so much they do not want to go anywhere near. Even held high above my head it is a source of fear for the pigs. In the end the only option is to free a large length of wire from the standards and quickly move the wire over and past the pigs so that they are automatically on the other side of the wire and too scared to move backwards.
This is exactly what we did with Phyllis and she hurriedly walked over the drive and into the paddock with Joy.
Spotty & Stanley Return Home...Eventually
We then let Stanley and Spotty out of the stockyard. Stanley quickly crossed the drive and walked under the wire to his old paddock. Spotty on the other hand shot along the fenceline to talk to his sisters. For the next 15 minutes we did everything we could to persuade him back to the pond. He was still mentally wound up though and totally opposed to going anywhere near the wire. I was close to tears with frustration and Aaron blew a fuse again, telling Spotty in no uncertain terms that he was very close to joining Belle as ham and bacon.
Eventually we managed to get him far enough onto the driveway for me to rush the wire over him and just the touch of it had him running over to Stanley.
We were now well into the early afternoon with absolutely none of our usual chores achieved. In fact nothing had changed except the girls were in the shed and all the pigs were now mentally and or physically scarred from the day’s events.
I told Aaron I didn’t think I was capable of doing anything for the rest of the day. Aaron felt the same, and so we trudged up to the house and collapsed on the sofa.
What Exactly Does Bacon Look Like?
After a sufficient period of time doing nothing but reflecting regretfully on the error of our ways we decided we had better start sorting through the pork pieces we had defrosted overnight. Some of it was to become bacon and the rest of it salamis.
Quite frankly, despite our photographic guide to pork cuts we looked and looked and decided we hadn’t a clue what were looking at. A couple of pieces looked vaguely like they could be streaky bacon and 1 piece possibly like middle bacon but quite frankly we weren’t convinced. Eventually Aaron decided it didn’t matter and we had to make a decision so he now deemed them bacon. I protested but Aaron’s patience had worn thin from the day’s events and he was in no mood to argue. Either they were bacon and we would cure them together or they weren’t and I could forget about his helping.
I agreed they were bacon.
We mixed up a container of bacon cure – salt, brown sugar and a small amount of the sodium nitrate cure. We massaged this into all 3 bacon chunks and then shut them in a large plastic container and put the container in a cool spot for 24 hours.
Troy, Jacqui and Frit turned up for dinner with Chas. I had asked them to buy burger buns so I could make burgers but by the time they arrived I was so knackered I’d already thrown the mince into a pan with beans and chilli sauce. We had nachos instead.
Whisky was thrilled to see Chas. Coppa was not. Being both unneutered males as soon as a bitch comes on the property tempers often flare and fights ensue. Several times during the weekend we had to separate them.
The only other thing that had to be done that night was to dice the remaining thawed pork cuts. Frit chopped up one, then Aaron the other and I was left with a piece that was so awkward in shape it took me an hour to chop it up.
In the end we had something like 11 kilos of diced pork and a large amount of fat. All ready for the next day’s salami making mission.
Phyllis Is Unwell
It was our usual early start to Sunday morning. We got the pig food ready. Arthur was waiting by the gate. We took the opportunity and walked him down the drive and up into the girls paddock.
We fed all the pigs and then I noticed something disturbing. Phyllis appeared to have what I could only assume was afterbirth hanging from her rear. We checked the shed. Nothing. It started to rain heavily. While I watched Phyllis Aaron raced around the paddock looking for and signs that Phyllis might have given birth. He found nothing and so we left, both of us acutely aware that the situation did not look good.
Back at the house we had breakfast and then started grinding and mixing meat. We had 2 salami mixes - 1 Genoa style and 1 Italian style. I made the first salami with Troy and then donned raincoat and boots and headed down the drive to see Phyllis.
I walked into the shed and there was an explosion of noise. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur rushed at me grunting madly, and then I saw that Phyllis had miscarried. The pigs turned and stood over the tiny, stillborn piglets. Joy grunted madly at Arthur and pushed him away and then she cuddled up to Phyllis and grunted soothingly.
I knelt down and hugged Phyllis. I made a move to pick up the piglets and afterbirth and Phyllis quickly blocked my path. She was clearly very upset. And so I sat by her head and stroked and hugged her and talked. Not that I knew what to say. What does one say to a first time mum who’s lost her babies? It didn’t matter. She leant into me and seemed to calm. Eventually she lay down and I removed the piglets and soiled hay and put them to one side.
I walked back up to the shed for more hay, a bucket and gloves. When I came down Joy and Phyllis were cuddled up together and Arthur lay in the doorway keeping guard.
I put the piglets and hay into the bucket and then sat down next to Phyllis. I cried as I hugged and stroked my darling, red-haired, pocket rocket.
Eventually Phyllis drifted off to sleep and I walked back up to the house.
The salami making continued and a couple of hours later I went back to see Phyllis. She’d miscarried more piglets. Despite being only weeks old the tiny piglets were perfectly formed. It broke my heart. Phyllis let me take them.
The weather was miserable. It rained persistently and the bitter southerly slammed into the shed, finding its way though every gap. Phyllis was shivering. Joy snuggled into one side and I lay down on the other and covered her with hay.
As the shivering subsided I got up and left.
Aaron took Coppa for a drive down to Warkworth orchard.
When he returned we started making the 2nd lot of salamis.
I went and visited Phyllis. There were more piglets and placentas to clean up and Phyllis was clearly exhausted.
I had stopped feeling sad but I felt emotionally exhausted. Cleaning up had been unpleasant so I hadn’t counted piglets. I guessed there had been 8 – 10 in total, about the right amount for a first time mother. I stayed a while but the salamis needed to be finished and interest was waning at the house. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur slept. It was pig dinnertime but they were all too tired to realize.
We fed out 2 hours late. Phyllis got up to eat. It was a good sign.
Troy and co left late afternoon.
We Hear A Bang
Monday morning arrived and after breakfast we headed down the drive to clean the troughs and clean the pig housing. We finished cleaning in the pond area and walked towards the girls paddock.
There was a loud bang outside the property. I recognized the sound instantly.
“I think someone’s blown a…” my words were drowned out by a squealing of tyres and a loud crash.
Shit.
Aaron and I sprinted back up the drive. Aaron raced across the paddock and over the stream and I carried up the drive with the dogs. I could hear cars pulling up on the highway. I climbed to the top of Naniwha hill and saw a campervan lying on its side in the middle of the highway. A middle aged couple climbed slowly out the driver’s passenger window. They appeared unhurt, although I suspect they were suffering from shock and bruising. I went back down the drive and carried on cleaning. Aaron stayed on the highway directing traffic for the next half hour until someone else offered to take over.
The couple were very lucky to have been travelling when they did. By lunchtime the highway would be heavy with traffic returning home after the long weekend. The accident could very easily have been a lot worse.
The rest of the day passed by relatively smoothly. It was a sunny day and perfect for getting stuff done. We cleaned, we chipped and we turned the compost.
The Chickens Leave the Coop
Now the chickens have been free ranging for the last 2 or 3 months cleaning the chicken coop is a breeze.
Every morning we open the door to the coop and half fill a bowl with pellets. The chooks eat and then when there’s sufficient light in the day they let themselves out and start exploring and scratching around. Interestingly enough the dog’s boundary around the house has also become the chickens boundary. They walk all around the outside of the house looking for food and entertainment but never stray very far. They appear to have become quite attached to myself and Aaron, for reasons we don’t quite understand, and follow us around much like the dogs.
The only real issue we have with the chickens is that they no longer use their own water bowls, preferring to instead share the dogs’ water bowl. The dogs’ bowl is located on the verandah outside the living room doors. The chickens like to stand around the bowl a lot, as though it were a bar at the local pub. 
Occasionally the dogs push them out of the way to relieve their own thirst. And if we should be sitting inside and the dogs are lounging either inside or out the chooks will occasionally wander up to the door and just stand there and watch, observing, somehow making themselves part of the family unit. So now, despite having cursed there very beings not so long ago we find ourselves occasionally including them in conversation and treating them as we do the rest of our menagerie of animals. They seem to like being included.
The unfortunate downside of their new found freedom is that they shit anywhere and everywhere. The verandah is now covered in great big gobs of chicken shit.
Initially I didn’t think it would be a problem – just wait for it to dry and brush it off. It would seem not. The stuff sets like concrete and has to be scraped off, even then it does its best to stay put. So now it seems we will need to invest in our own water blaster. (I can see this becoming another weekly chore to add to our list.)
It was Aaron’s idea to set the chickens free. I was sure with the dog’s penchant for attacking anything with feathers that we would soon be chickenless. But Aaron said “It’ll be fine. I’ve told the dogs to leave the chickens alone”.
Oddly enough I was not reassured by this comment.
In all honesty I think maybe Aaron was secretly hoping we would become chickenless. I suspect he let them out in the hope they’d move onto greener pastures.
It seems the chickens have no desire to leave though and in fact are so well trained that without any prompting from us they actually put themselves to bed at night (in the coop).
As for the dogs, for the most part they let the chickens do their own thing and there has been no territorial behaviour as far as the water bowl goes. Even when the chickens venture into the dog run the dogs just watch them and leave them to it. However, just occasionally the dogs will very casually, as if almost accidentally, chase the chickens around the patio. And every now and then Marty will be on the receiving end of a paw tap as the dogs remind the chickens of the pecking order (as it were).
When the dogs do step over the boundary a firm “Be nice!” quickly pulls them back into line.
Of course I’m under no illusions that there isn’t potential for carnage in the future. Especially with Marty’s habit of crowing or squawking loudly when you least expect it. A sudden loud crow in the ear of a peacefully sleeping dog could easily cause an unsavoury reaction.
But in the meantime there is relative peace and harmony and so things will carry on as they are for the time being. There is the possibility that when we’ve finished fencing the new duck area the chickens will be moved into there, if only to stop the mess on the verandah, but nothing’s decided.
It was our usual early start to Sunday morning. We got the pig food ready. Arthur was waiting by the gate. We took the opportunity and walked him down the drive and up into the girls paddock.
We fed all the pigs and then I noticed something disturbing. Phyllis appeared to have what I could only assume was afterbirth hanging from her rear. We checked the shed. Nothing. It started to rain heavily. While I watched Phyllis Aaron raced around the paddock looking for and signs that Phyllis might have given birth. He found nothing and so we left, both of us acutely aware that the situation did not look good.
Back at the house we had breakfast and then started grinding and mixing meat. We had 2 salami mixes - 1 Genoa style and 1 Italian style. I made the first salami with Troy and then donned raincoat and boots and headed down the drive to see Phyllis.
I walked into the shed and there was an explosion of noise. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur rushed at me grunting madly, and then I saw that Phyllis had miscarried. The pigs turned and stood over the tiny, stillborn piglets. Joy grunted madly at Arthur and pushed him away and then she cuddled up to Phyllis and grunted soothingly.
I knelt down and hugged Phyllis. I made a move to pick up the piglets and afterbirth and Phyllis quickly blocked my path. She was clearly very upset. And so I sat by her head and stroked and hugged her and talked. Not that I knew what to say. What does one say to a first time mum who’s lost her babies? It didn’t matter. She leant into me and seemed to calm. Eventually she lay down and I removed the piglets and soiled hay and put them to one side.
I walked back up to the shed for more hay, a bucket and gloves. When I came down Joy and Phyllis were cuddled up together and Arthur lay in the doorway keeping guard.
I put the piglets and hay into the bucket and then sat down next to Phyllis. I cried as I hugged and stroked my darling, red-haired, pocket rocket.
Eventually Phyllis drifted off to sleep and I walked back up to the house.
The salami making continued and a couple of hours later I went back to see Phyllis. She’d miscarried more piglets. Despite being only weeks old the tiny piglets were perfectly formed. It broke my heart. Phyllis let me take them.
The weather was miserable. It rained persistently and the bitter southerly slammed into the shed, finding its way though every gap. Phyllis was shivering. Joy snuggled into one side and I lay down on the other and covered her with hay.
As the shivering subsided I got up and left.
Aaron took Coppa for a drive down to Warkworth orchard.
When he returned we started making the 2nd lot of salamis.
I went and visited Phyllis. There were more piglets and placentas to clean up and Phyllis was clearly exhausted.
I had stopped feeling sad but I felt emotionally exhausted. Cleaning up had been unpleasant so I hadn’t counted piglets. I guessed there had been 8 – 10 in total, about the right amount for a first time mother. I stayed a while but the salamis needed to be finished and interest was waning at the house. Phyllis, Joy and Arthur slept. It was pig dinnertime but they were all too tired to realize.
We fed out 2 hours late. Phyllis got up to eat. It was a good sign.
Troy and co left late afternoon.
We Hear A Bang
Monday morning arrived and after breakfast we headed down the drive to clean the troughs and clean the pig housing. We finished cleaning in the pond area and walked towards the girls paddock.
There was a loud bang outside the property. I recognized the sound instantly.
“I think someone’s blown a…” my words were drowned out by a squealing of tyres and a loud crash.
Shit.
Aaron and I sprinted back up the drive. Aaron raced across the paddock and over the stream and I carried up the drive with the dogs. I could hear cars pulling up on the highway. I climbed to the top of Naniwha hill and saw a campervan lying on its side in the middle of the highway. A middle aged couple climbed slowly out the driver’s passenger window. They appeared unhurt, although I suspect they were suffering from shock and bruising. I went back down the drive and carried on cleaning. Aaron stayed on the highway directing traffic for the next half hour until someone else offered to take over.
The couple were very lucky to have been travelling when they did. By lunchtime the highway would be heavy with traffic returning home after the long weekend. The accident could very easily have been a lot worse.
The rest of the day passed by relatively smoothly. It was a sunny day and perfect for getting stuff done. We cleaned, we chipped and we turned the compost.
The Chickens Leave the Coop
Now the chickens have been free ranging for the last 2 or 3 months cleaning the chicken coop is a breeze.
Every morning we open the door to the coop and half fill a bowl with pellets. The chooks eat and then when there’s sufficient light in the day they let themselves out and start exploring and scratching around. Interestingly enough the dog’s boundary around the house has also become the chickens boundary. They walk all around the outside of the house looking for food and entertainment but never stray very far. They appear to have become quite attached to myself and Aaron, for reasons we don’t quite understand, and follow us around much like the dogs.
The only real issue we have with the chickens is that they no longer use their own water bowls, preferring to instead share the dogs’ water bowl. The dogs’ bowl is located on the verandah outside the living room doors. The chickens like to stand around the bowl a lot, as though it were a bar at the local pub. 
Occasionally the dogs push them out of the way to relieve their own thirst. And if we should be sitting inside and the dogs are lounging either inside or out the chooks will occasionally wander up to the door and just stand there and watch, observing, somehow making themselves part of the family unit. So now, despite having cursed there very beings not so long ago we find ourselves occasionally including them in conversation and treating them as we do the rest of our menagerie of animals. They seem to like being included.
The unfortunate downside of their new found freedom is that they shit anywhere and everywhere. The verandah is now covered in great big gobs of chicken shit.
Initially I didn’t think it would be a problem – just wait for it to dry and brush it off. It would seem not. The stuff sets like concrete and has to be scraped off, even then it does its best to stay put. So now it seems we will need to invest in our own water blaster. (I can see this becoming another weekly chore to add to our list.)
It was Aaron’s idea to set the chickens free. I was sure with the dog’s penchant for attacking anything with feathers that we would soon be chickenless. But Aaron said “It’ll be fine. I’ve told the dogs to leave the chickens alone”.
Oddly enough I was not reassured by this comment.
In all honesty I think maybe Aaron was secretly hoping we would become chickenless. I suspect he let them out in the hope they’d move onto greener pastures.
It seems the chickens have no desire to leave though and in fact are so well trained that without any prompting from us they actually put themselves to bed at night (in the coop).
As for the dogs, for the most part they let the chickens do their own thing and there has been no territorial behaviour as far as the water bowl goes. Even when the chickens venture into the dog run the dogs just watch them and leave them to it. However, just occasionally the dogs will very casually, as if almost accidentally, chase the chickens around the patio. And every now and then Marty will be on the receiving end of a paw tap as the dogs remind the chickens of the pecking order (as it were).
When the dogs do step over the boundary a firm “Be nice!” quickly pulls them back into line.
Of course I’m under no illusions that there isn’t potential for carnage in the future. Especially with Marty’s habit of crowing or squawking loudly when you least expect it. A sudden loud crow in the ear of a peacefully sleeping dog could easily cause an unsavoury reaction.
But in the meantime there is relative peace and harmony and so things will carry on as they are for the time being. There is the possibility that when we’ve finished fencing the new duck area the chickens will be moved into there, if only to stop the mess on the verandah, but nothing’s decided.
A Weekend Away
20 October 2008
Friday evening Matt and Bron arrive to look after our place for the weekend. Saturday morning we gave them the run down of what to feed to who and when and then we packed the car and left.
Our first stop for the day was to visit Joy in Auckland. We arrived to discover her in her room feeling extremely fatigued and not up for visitors. We ignored her protests of tiredness and put her in a wheelchair and went exploring.
We were only there for a couple of hours and unfortunately the weather was crappy so we didn’t make it outside. However there are some lovely communal areas in her resthome and we hunted some of them out. We moved from area to area, staying a short time in each.
The more we talked the more it became obvious that Joy’s tiredness wasn’t a physical problem so much as a mental one. She started to open up and voice concerns and it all slotted into place. I explained to Joy that she was suffering from stress, caused by a number of factors, including her inability to accept the change.
When we made our way back to the 3rd floor and parked ourselves in the lounge overlooking the pond Aaron and I started some straight talking. In essence we told Joy she needed to snap out of it and accept that the change was inevitable and wasn’t going to be reversed. We told her to stop treating her room as a prison cell and to start getting out and having fun and making friends.
She listened, as grandmothers do, and even managed the odd smile. It was a start. After nearly 2 months of sitting in her room and hating her circumstances we told her it was no longer acceptable. She protested. She told us her room needed to be reorganized and until someone could help her with that she felt unable to leave it.
I had Tuesday off work so Aaron volunteered my services. I’ll be honest, my initial thought was “How the hell do I get out of this?” but the deal was done and I accepted that it was pure selfishness for my own time that made me want to say “No I can’t”.
I told Joy I would definitely be back on Tuesday morning.
An Evening Wedding
We said goodbye to Joy early afternoon and made our way back over the bridge to Jo & Phil’s. After a quick catch up we got ready to attend Aaron’s cousin’s wedding at Allely House in Kumeu. It was a formal event so meant dressing up. Aaron borrowed Phil’s wedding suit again and I fortunately still fit the one formal winter outfit I own.
It was a wet and windy day, which turned out to be not so conducive to an outdoor ceremony. As the bride was about to make her first step up the garden aisle the heavens opened up and proceedings automatically halted until someone made the decision to move everyone indoors. The men in suits were willing to brave it but the women in summery outfits weren’t so keen.
Despite the sudden change of plans the ceremony proceeded indoors quite well and overall the wedding was a very pleasant affair and Aaron and I stayed until the very end. Around 1:30am we arrived back at Jo and Phil’s and crashed for the night. We left the next morning after breakfast.
A Morning With Joy
Tuesday morning my alarm went off at 2:45am. I got up and had a shower and got dressed. Aaron went and fed out and then we drove to Aaron’s work. It was a chilly 4am start and I was not looking forward to my drive into Auckland. It’s been 2 years since I braved the Auckland motorway and the thought of fighting my way through lanes of peak time traffic to get to Remuera created a knot in the pit of my stomach.
Aaron gave me a tour of his work, not that it was operating that early but that was fine, and then I left for Auckland. Obviously I was way too early to visit Joy so I had pre-arranged for Phil to leave his front door open so I could drive straight to Glenfield and then crash on the couch for an hour or 2.
Jo and Phil got up after 7am and so I made myself breakfast and hung around until 9am before leaving.
The drive to Joy’s was long and slow. Interestingly I reverted to instant road rage when 3 cars pushed in in front of me on the merging lane as I attempted to get onto the motorway. You can take the girl out of the city…
When I made it to Joy’s she was still waiting for a nurse to come and shower her. She wanted me to wait as well but I explained that I only had the morning and as we weren’t leaving her room I thought we should get stuck in.
She reluctantly relented and set to helping me. However, I insisted she sit down and just fire instructions at me and I would do all the work. So, for the next 2 hours I removed virtually every piece of clothing from her 2 huge dressers and her wardrobe and Joy categorized her collection. My parents tell me she has only taken a fraction of her clothing from her house and yet she must have had at least a hundred outfits.
Each outfit had to be sorted by season, colour and personal preference and placed in drawer or on hanger in a particular order.
It was a long process but despite reports to the contrary, Joy was very switched on mentally and made the process relatively painless.
Numerous times we were interrupted by staff. It irritated me in the extreme but I understand it’s necessary in that environment. Perhaps it wasn’t so much the interruptions themselves so much as the way the staff spoke to Joy. Why is it people automatically adopt a different tone of voice when speaking to old people? It’s that simple, child-like tone full of false sentiment that just makes me want to scream “For f*** sakes she’s old not retarded!”
With clothes finally sorted and put away I reiterated to Joy that she wasn’t living in a cell and was running out of excuses not to leave her room. “You have to get out and enjoy yourself Joy” I told her. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear me.
In the end it wasn’t a long visit and all a bit business-like really, but as always I had other stuff to do.
I needed to get to Dunninghams to buy some more butchering knives. I rang Aaron and he gave me instructions on how to get there but in the end I took a right too early and ended up on the motorway heading north.
I got off the motorway at Khyber Pass and made my way to Atomic Coffee in Kingsland.
I’d arranged to pick up some more Hessian sacks. I ended up with 31 in total and then had to make my way through the top of the city to Pitt Street. After about half an hour of endless traffic light stops I eventually made it back on to the motorway and eventually ended up in Puhoi about 15 minutes late.
We Divide The Sheep Herd
15 October 2008
We seem to have reached the end of what seemed to be a week of bitter southerlies. Spring is never easy with its fluctuating temperatures. I’m either overdressed or underdressed and never quite right.
Saturday morning we had to split the sheep herd in 2 again. We wanted the 2 older lambs to be separated from their mothers so their mothers will hopefully be in lamb again for an autumn birth. Last year we didn’t separate them and the lambs took over 6 months to stop feeding. Spike was the worst. He eventually gave up the udder at 7 months of age. By then he was already as big as his mum and had a decent set of horns to boot. So we got them into the yards with a minimum of fuss but then we had to split the group in 2.
Aaron decided it would be best if he stood outside the yards and operated the gate while I got in the yards and attempted to direct the flow of traffic. I wasn’t too keen. Both Herb and Spike have big sets of horns, and while they couldn’t gore me they could easily smash my kneecaps.
Last year when Spike was just a wee fella he rammed me just below my knees with a force I wasn’t expecting. It hurt like hell. I protested. “You’ll be fine” said Aaron in a tone that suggested I was being silly. I got in and moved toward the flock, they bolted past me, I leapt up the fence. I got down and we repeated the process.
After several more attempts, which resulted in little more than my improving my fence climbing skills, Aaron sighed heavily with frustration. My skills and bravado were clearly lacking. Aaron stood outside the yards giving me instructions. I ignored him. As far as I was concerned this task was going to be more about luck than skilful maneuvering.
Eventually I had 2 of the girls where I wanted them, and then suddenly they turned and one leapt in the air, kicking out as she shot past me and a hoof connected with my thigh. I immediately expressed my displeasure and frustration in no uncertain terms. Aaron sighed again. I was time wasting and he wasn’t impressed.
Eventually we managed to separate sheep one by one until we had all the young ones in the southern paddock and Herb, Thyme, Hazel and Tulip back on the flood plain.
The next day all lambs but one seemed fine. Aaron and I knew it was Thyme’s lamb who was moping because she was doing the same thing. She’s the best mother of the lot but she just doesn’t want to let go. I felt bad and tried to explain to her it was for the best but to be honest I don’t think she was listening, instead she just glared at me from the other side of the paddock. Who can blame her? It can be a harsh world for animals.
As for the fate of her lamb, well, I think that’s information best not shared with her, I suspect she wouldn’t appreciate it.
Jacinda, Quinn and the Boys
Jacinda, Quinn and their boys graced us with their presence Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning. As always the company was a pleasure. It’s a shame distance and commitments mean visits are only ever on an annual basis.
Lockie (3) and Tama (1) appeared to have great fun on the block despite both being unwell. Tama wanted to spend most of his time in the chicken coop playing in the chicken’s water bowl. The chickens meanwhile kept their distance outside the coop.
While the dogs were quite taken with Lockie and vice versa they found Tama altogether too scary. The fast, unpredictable movements of a small child can be quite unnerving.
Amazingly the dogs were incredibly well behaved. I fully expected both children to be licked and jumped on unmercilessly. However, it would seem that Whisky and Coppa have matured somewhat and reserve that pleasure solely for the grown ups now.
Sunday morning Aaron took off down to Troy’s for Bathurst. Jacinda, Quinn and boys stayed for a couple of hours after Aaron had left. At one stage Quinn took the boys back down to revisit the pigs. Upon returning I was informed that Spotty and Stanley had been renamed. They were now called Spot and Stripe. Good call Lockie. Trust a kid to notice the obvious!
Despite our house lacking obvious child friendliness, with its lack of toys and children’s entertainment, it would seem that some children still have the ability to entertain themselves and find fun in simple things. Lockie made a point of telling me I have a great place and he’d like to come back if that was okay. Ahhh bless! Any time Lockie, we’d love to have you back. Oh, and you can bring your parents too if you want.
We seem to have reached the end of what seemed to be a week of bitter southerlies. Spring is never easy with its fluctuating temperatures. I’m either overdressed or underdressed and never quite right.
Saturday morning we had to split the sheep herd in 2 again. We wanted the 2 older lambs to be separated from their mothers so their mothers will hopefully be in lamb again for an autumn birth. Last year we didn’t separate them and the lambs took over 6 months to stop feeding. Spike was the worst. He eventually gave up the udder at 7 months of age. By then he was already as big as his mum and had a decent set of horns to boot. So we got them into the yards with a minimum of fuss but then we had to split the group in 2.
Aaron decided it would be best if he stood outside the yards and operated the gate while I got in the yards and attempted to direct the flow of traffic. I wasn’t too keen. Both Herb and Spike have big sets of horns, and while they couldn’t gore me they could easily smash my kneecaps.
Last year when Spike was just a wee fella he rammed me just below my knees with a force I wasn’t expecting. It hurt like hell. I protested. “You’ll be fine” said Aaron in a tone that suggested I was being silly. I got in and moved toward the flock, they bolted past me, I leapt up the fence. I got down and we repeated the process.
After several more attempts, which resulted in little more than my improving my fence climbing skills, Aaron sighed heavily with frustration. My skills and bravado were clearly lacking. Aaron stood outside the yards giving me instructions. I ignored him. As far as I was concerned this task was going to be more about luck than skilful maneuvering.
Eventually I had 2 of the girls where I wanted them, and then suddenly they turned and one leapt in the air, kicking out as she shot past me and a hoof connected with my thigh. I immediately expressed my displeasure and frustration in no uncertain terms. Aaron sighed again. I was time wasting and he wasn’t impressed.
Eventually we managed to separate sheep one by one until we had all the young ones in the southern paddock and Herb, Thyme, Hazel and Tulip back on the flood plain.
The next day all lambs but one seemed fine. Aaron and I knew it was Thyme’s lamb who was moping because she was doing the same thing. She’s the best mother of the lot but she just doesn’t want to let go. I felt bad and tried to explain to her it was for the best but to be honest I don’t think she was listening, instead she just glared at me from the other side of the paddock. Who can blame her? It can be a harsh world for animals.
As for the fate of her lamb, well, I think that’s information best not shared with her, I suspect she wouldn’t appreciate it.
Jacinda, Quinn and the Boys
Jacinda, Quinn and their boys graced us with their presence Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning. As always the company was a pleasure. It’s a shame distance and commitments mean visits are only ever on an annual basis.
Lockie (3) and Tama (1) appeared to have great fun on the block despite both being unwell. Tama wanted to spend most of his time in the chicken coop playing in the chicken’s water bowl. The chickens meanwhile kept their distance outside the coop.
While the dogs were quite taken with Lockie and vice versa they found Tama altogether too scary. The fast, unpredictable movements of a small child can be quite unnerving. Amazingly the dogs were incredibly well behaved. I fully expected both children to be licked and jumped on unmercilessly. However, it would seem that Whisky and Coppa have matured somewhat and reserve that pleasure solely for the grown ups now.
Sunday morning Aaron took off down to Troy’s for Bathurst. Jacinda, Quinn and boys stayed for a couple of hours after Aaron had left. At one stage Quinn took the boys back down to revisit the pigs. Upon returning I was informed that Spotty and Stanley had been renamed. They were now called Spot and Stripe. Good call Lockie. Trust a kid to notice the obvious!
Despite our house lacking obvious child friendliness, with its lack of toys and children’s entertainment, it would seem that some children still have the ability to entertain themselves and find fun in simple things. Lockie made a point of telling me I have a great place and he’d like to come back if that was okay. Ahhh bless! Any time Lockie, we’d love to have you back. Oh, and you can bring your parents too if you want.
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