What the hell happened to the weather? We had a couple of weeks of warm weather to herald the arrival of spring and suddenly winter came back with a vengeance. It seems like it’s rained every day for at least a fortnight. The temperature’s dropped enough that I had to light the fire last week. The southerlies are flying in off the freshly snow capped mountains down south and those 2 new summer tops I bought last week are probably going to be sitting in the wardrobe for a while.
Earning Some Extra Dosh
Our visit to mum’s a couple of weekends ago ended up with us volunteering to be mum’s gardeners. We told mum she had to hire someone who knew what they were doing. The garden hadn’t been touched for 4 years and it was rather overgrown. Then Aaron suggested we could do it the following weekend as Bex and Jay could run the farm in our absence. Mum offered to pay and so we jumped at the opportunity.
Convinced it was too much work for just the 2 of us we roped in Aaron’s stepdad Pete and dad also ended up joining us. I was suffering from the tail end of a headcold after an encounter with an unwell Blake the weekend before, but we only had the one weekend so there was no choice but to get on with it.
We duly arrived Friday evening as mum was leaving for a weekend in the capital. Saturday morning we arose and after breakfast got stuck into it straight away. Pete arrived as we were deciding our plan of attack. The weather was miserable. It was cold and wet nearly the entire weekend but it’s amazing how the motivation kicks in when there’s several people all pitching in at the same time.
All weekend we chopped, pulled, cut, chipped, spread, dragged, dug, etc, etc and by the end of the weekend the place was transformed.
The 20ft pittosporum hedge separating mum and dad’s had caused the most disagreement. “Let’s lop it by a 3rd and trim it to retain mum’s privacy” I said. Aaron agreed.
“It’ll be better if we cut it back completely. It needs a radical prune if it’s to look any good long-term.” Pete said. Aaron agreed.
“It’s way too radical. Mum’ll kill me” I countered
It was 2 against one. We debated, I lost, and the trees were lopped to 5ft bare-branched sticks.
Absolutely they’ll eventually look good again but that might be 12 months away. I felt slightly ill.
Dad didn’t like it. Paul and Phil were speechless when they saw it and Jo’s reaction was “Oh my god!”.
I suspected I would be disowned as soon as mum saw it. I have to say it. Aaron and I did a fantastic job of originally landscaping the place (and no we didn't plant the pittosporum hedge).
For the most part we picked the best plants for the property. Despite some good trimming they still retained much lush, healthy growth. My desire to plant tui friendly trees had also paid off. All weekend at least ½ dozen tui sat in the trees and drank and sang and called to each other. The garden was very close to being the little paradise I had hoped to achieve.
The Australian frangipani that I had bought and planted 12 years ago in memory of colleague and friend Gary Melton was bursting with fragrant yellow flowers that the tui gorged upon.
I think maybe next year I will plant frangipani in Kaiwaka.
Sunday morning Jo called in, I stopped for a while and we talked to dad about Joy. Her condition hasn’t worsened but it hasn’t improved either. She is in a holding pattern. She is existing in a fantasy world of paranoia at the moment and the Joy we know is absent. Dad is spending many hours with her, feeding her, talking to her and just being there. Dad’s optimistic view of her condition has faded considerably since last weekend. Even he wonders if he should tell her to let go.
And I think now we should have kept our opinions to ourselves. Who are we to make judgements on Joy’s health and life expectancy? Is it fair that when dad visits now, instead of walking in with an attitude of cheerful optimism he is more likely to be cloaked in a feeling of sad resignation?
We talked about visiting but Joy is no more coherent than last week and neither Jo nor I can go while we’re sick. Dad and I drifted back to the garden and Jo went in out of the rain to run around with the vacuum cleaner to pick up bits of leaf and bark we'd dropped and whip up a batch of scones for lunch.
Matt and Bron also popped round for a visit but it was raining and we wanted to finish earlier rather than later so we chatted a bit and then they went next door for a while. We were packed up and out of there by 2:30 and then it was a quickish visit to the Mall so I could use up some Westfield vouchers and then home.
Organic Treatment For Hair Loss
36 and 40 have been losing their hair. We never see them scratching but after Bex got close enough to run her hands through their coat she’s pretty sure it’s mites. Bugger.
We’ve got no idea how they got them and it took us a few days to discover that the best organic treatment we can give them is to coat them in vegetable oil mixed with tea tree oil. Thank god we’ve managed to score some free pots of vegetable oil as it would be a very expensive exercise otherwise.
I had hoped daily doses of willow as well as organic drench in the trough might be enough but these are more preventative treatments and we’ve only been using these in the last 3 weeks.
Another preventative treatment is apparently kelp. I believe the large NZ Bladder Kelp is the best stuff but that only grows in the South Island. So instead we will try to find somewhere where we can collect Common Kelp washed upon the beach.
Neighbour Frank’s given me the names of a couple of local beaches to check out so hopefully we’ll strike it lucky. The washing and drying part I don’t think we’ll have a problem with but crushing it into an edible state I haven’t sussed yet. With any luck we might just be able to hand crush it. But whatever the outcome, if it’s no good for the cows then the garden will love it.
So anyway, for the last 2 days Bex and I have been rubbing oil onto 36 and 40. It’s an exercise in patience and quite frankly, when Aaron rang me from home on Friday and told me we’d be oiling the calves up in the paddock when I got home from work, I was pissed off at the thought I was going to be running around the paddock for an hour or 2 chasing calves. Bex had it sussed though.
With several buckets of feed in hand I managed to coax 40 over, the boys distracted the adults and Bex diligently worked with a very skittish 36.
Thank God we asked the HelpXers to spend time getting the calves people friendly because a difficult task would have been impossible otherwise. It’s not the easiest task rubbing oil into very hairy calves and we didn’t have a chance with the adults.
Apparently one of the adult girls has developed a mean kicking technique, which she has already practiced on Bex and Aaron. I wasn’t too keen to experience it myself. A heifer that size could easily smash a shin or kneecap. Guess who’s going in the freezer next?
Saturday morning we repeated the procedure and we can only hope it works. If it doesn’t we either call in the homeopathic vet or resort to drench. Bex spent a good couple of hours on the Internet yesterday trying to discover what type of mites they are and it would appear they’re cattle mange mites. Fortunately, despite the patches of hair loss, the calves don’t appear in too bad condition. The other good news is they’ve got used to the spring pasture growth and the scours seem to have passed. We’re keeping up the willow feeding as well so hopefully they’ll be right as rain soon.
Fowl News
The ducks and chooks are now completely enclosed in their own paddock. Initially none of them were particularly happy with their sudden confinement. The chooks spent at least 4 days running up and down the upper fenceline looking for gaps, and the ducks have certainly walked the perimeter a few times looking of an exit. However, things have calmed down, the fowl have settled down and the chooks and ducks appear to now be quite comfortable in each other’s company. I
’m not saying they're entirely happy with their loss of freedom but to be fair, they must have a good quarter acre to roam in, with plenty of trees, geographical interest and food.
Of course, since closing them in the ducks have quickly discovered that us humans actually rise early in the morning. Not only that but we come out onto the verandah, which means they have the perfect opportunity to run along the fenceline loudly requesting breakfast.
Breakfast feeding was to be a no go affair. Mornings were to be strictly for foraging and dinner for supplement feeding to make up for what might have been lacking in their diet during the day. Of course being the soft touch I am I caved in after the 3rd morning. So now my morning routine is to feed the pigs and then go snail collecting for 15 minutes.
Call me strange, but there is something slightly therapeutic about snail hunting by headlamp in the wee hours of the morning. The road traffic is sparse and I can clearly hear the stream as it wends its way across the front of the property. Then there’s the satisfying ‘plop, hiss’ as each snail lands in the bucket, quickly retracting into the safety of its shell.
I work my way along the driveway, near areas where the grass is short and there’s a bank. I don’t know what it is about banks but the snails seem to like climbing up them. Some mornings it seems like there are hundreds of snails and other mornings there are slim pickings.
This morning for instance I went to my 2 usual spots and I seemed to spend a lot of time searching. After collecting about a litre of snails I thought I’d try somewhere new. I decided to check out the paddock on the other side of the driveway to Arthur’s. Score! There they were in the hundreds.
Into the bucket they went ‘plop, hiss, plop, hiss, plop, hiss’. I must have had close to 3 litres and still there were more snails.
Just how many snails can 10 ducks eat? Certainly not 3 litres in one sitting, but boy it’s hard to stop when they’re all glistening on the grass under the light of the headlamp.
Of course, the most disturbing aspect to it all must be the sheer numbers of snails. It is surely an indication of a snail epidemic that I can collect so many in such a short time? Just how much vegetation are these molluscs consuming? I curse the rabbits I see but are they doing anywhere near the damage these snails are? But rather than panic, I have decided to focus on the positive, and see these snails for what they are, a wonderful source of free food for my ducks.
And what of the 3 litres of snails I collected this morning? I heaved them over the fence and scattered them on the grass. And I mean heave. 3 litres of snails is a fair weight.
The ducks gorged their way through a litre or so and then saw the chickens eating pellets and raced over. Typical! It seems even animals will go for convenience food over pick-your-own if given the opportunity.
The snails that hadn’t been gobbled up lay there seemingly concussed and for the next couple of hours the ducks slowly cleaned them up. Even the chooks seemed to have a go at a couple of them. I suspect after such a huge feed the ducks will be fairly lazy this morning as their tummies work to digest them.
I’ve already collected the day’s eggs though so I think it’s a fair trade. I do wonder though what the property would look like if I could fence it all and let loose a couple of hundred marauding Indian Runner Ducks. The snails wouldn’t stand a chance. How good would my paddocks look then? As for the duck fertiliser on my paddocks…
Of course it isn’t all about ducks. My 2 chickens are looking so happy and healthy and they haven’t even bothered to try flying over the fence yet. Their egg production is now full on and it is glaringly obvious now that Marty cost us more than just chicken food. Sadly we're not missing him.
And then there’s the 3rd chicken. We moved Phyllis into the bush paddock last week, with a narrow wired off corridor down to the driveway fenceline. She comes down to the fence for breakfast and dinner.
For the first day the wild chicken wandered around her old paddock looking for her. The following day, as she fed out, Bex (bless her little cotton socks) stood and called the chicken until she ran up through the bush and down to Phyllis. Now the chicken appears at the troughs with Phyllis every evening.
And yesterday it became very obvious that Phyllis now has a pet chicken. Whereas the chicken used to run around looking for accidentally dropped scraps of cheese, it now perches on the edge of the trough next to Phyllis and they share the meal together. It’s fair to say I was shocked to see it. Cheese is without a doubt a pig’s favourite food and they don’t like to share.
With one very quick turn of the head the chicken could easily lose its head to Phyllis and yet she moved over for it so they could both share. Not that the chicken can consume that much and obviously Phyllis realises that.
I do also wonder if Phyllis has also discovered that the chicken lays eggs because a couple of weeks ago there was broken egg shell in Phyllis’ trough. No one had fed Phyllis egg so there was only one possible explanation. It is entirely possible the hen lays eggs in Phyllis’ paddock and Phyllis consumes them as she finds them. This is not a bad thing. Egg is apparently good for a pig’s diet. It is entirely possible that Phyllis has worked out, just as I have, that a happy, well fed chicken results in the occasional eggy treat.
Sheep Update
The young sheep have been gone a few weeks now and although I missed them for a week or so, once Aaron described their new lifestyle and how happy the new owners are with them, I no longer mind their absence. It has also put an end to the sheep escapes.
The 3 adults and 3 lambs we have left now seem content to roam our land without thought of escape. Putting them in one of the pig paddocks no longer seems necessary. Instead we’re happy for them to keep doing what they’re doing.
Tulip still has a limp. We’ve had her in the yards twice and checked her feet but cannot find the source of the problem. She seems to get better once we check her over and trim her hooves and then she starts to go lame again. Footrot has been our biggest concern but we cannot see any obvious traces of it. Still, we will get her in the yards again to have another look. It’s a bastard. She’s at least 6 weeks away from going in the freezer so if we can’t sort the problem ourselves we may just end up having to call the vet in.
Tree Planting
After the weekend of gardening at mum’s, we returned with a bucket full of baby flax and cabbage tree plants as well as cuttings from various other plants. We have had Bex planting them all over the place. I do love free plants!
Next year we will return to mum’s and collect more. Despite only spending about $200 on plants this year we seem to have planted hundreds of plants. A good third of them were freebies though. Of course we’ve already lost a bunch of plants. We planted around the base of Naniwha hill back in June and July but a series of break-ins from lambs and piglets has resulted in virtually all the plants being eaten. So we’re back to square one on that particular patch. We will have to wait until next winter to target that area again.
A Weekend in the City
30 September 2009
I cannot believe daylight savings is here already. I am looking forward to those long, light evenings but am not enjoying driving to work in the dark again.
With Jay and Bex here for a couple more weeks Aaron and I decided to head to Auckland for a relaxing weekend. We arrived Friday evening, delivering meat packs to friends and family and then we had dinner with mum in her new home. It was a strange experience being in my old house. Although I have popped in a few times since leaving Auckland, my old home had become an unloved and uncared for flat. What had once been warm and inviting had become dirty and unwelcoming and I had no desire to ever step in the place again.
And then we arrived on Friday and the place has been transformed into a home once more. There’s new furniture, new ornaments and a new feel. I recognise the place but I have no emotional connection to it. It is a lovely place though. I think if mum were to put it on the market now it would be easy to sell. However, that’s not her current intention and I guess I’m secretly glad.
The garden, despite having become an overgrown jungle, looks amazing. Overall, Aaron and I did a really good job. Yes, there are trees planted that are far too big for the property but good regular pruning will keep them in line. It’s all about bonsai on a medium scale. If you let the trees reach their full potential then of course they’re in the wrong spot.
So anyway, we suggested to mum she hire an arborist who knows what they’re doing as the place needs a skilful hand. We talked about it and then it became apparent – we should do it. We know what we’re doing and we need the money. The only issue is that we can only do it next weekend as we need someone to farmsit.
Mum jumped at the idea and so Aaron has roped in the father-in-law Pete to help us. We can’t possibly get it all done by ourselves and Pete’s gardening skills are probably better than ours. So we’ve booked ourselves in and we’ll be back in Auckland next weekend.
As we ate dinner on Friday night Aaron kept topping up mum’s wine glass until she became very ill and headed to the bathroom. Aaron then went nextdoor for a night with the boys and I went to bed. The next morning mum was doing better but Aaron was quite ill. There was no time for sympathy, we had stuff to do. Matt and Bron picked us up and we made a flying visit to Paul and Nicky’s and then headed into the city to Auckland Hospital.
Roadworks had cut off the normal route and so we came in the back way via Newmarket. I’m glad Matt was driving as I was lost and more roadworks and congestion had us in a slow moving queue of cars, and then we passed the turnoff and had to turn into a side street at the next set of lights.
Except we couldn’t as people kept blocking the intersection. By the 2nd set of greens with no movement I completely blew a fuse. I was stuck in the back of a coupe with no door or window to give me access to the outside. “Lean on the horn Matt! Lean on the ******* horn Matt” I was wild and started screaming out the driver’s window “You wankers! You arrogant ******* wankers! Are you ******* idiots? Get out of the ******* way!” and on and on and on until eventually people moved forward enough to let us through.
I suspect it was the 2 drivers in front of us beeping their horns that made them move but I reckon if I’d had the chance to get out of the car it might have helped. To be fair, Aaron did offer to get out of the car and vomit on the bonnet of one of the offenders. He was green enough to do it but despite my encouragement “Go on! Go on! Yeah do it!” he remained seated.
The drive to the hospital had been filled with a series of “Oh my god. How bad is that person’s driving?!” incidents. I had even started up my old game of “Guess the nationality of that driver” and by the time we got to the hospital it became quite clear to me that Auckland is not a good place for me to be in.
We arrived at Auckland Hospital and I was stunned at how huge the place is now. We felt like we were in an international airport when we arrived. Eventually we found Joy’s room and despite Jo’s advice that we should brace ourselves I wasn’t prepared to see such frailty. Aaron got to the bed and then turned and walked out.
Joy opened her eyes and started to panic. There seemed to be tubes running everywhere and she wanted them off. I sent Bron to find a nurse. Matt and I stood there trying to have a conversation but Joy was so spaced out on medication she didn’t recognise us. She drifted in and out of sleep and we were left to look at her pale, emaciated body and it struck me that at 94 she did not have the reserves of energy necessary to heal 2 fractured ribs.
I held her hand and wept and felt completely useless. As Joy gets older and more incapacitated her life becomes less of a life and more of an existence. I wondered if she’d had enough. I wanted to say “It’s okay, you can let go if you want to” but she wouldn’t hear me and she wouldn’t understand. At that age you can choose to die but not if medication prevents you from thinking.
If she’s fractured her ribs she could be in pain and on medication for months. Matt fractured his ribs 2 months ago and in peak physical condition he is still experiencing discomfort. I cannot fathom how she can get out of bed in the next 6 months. I cannot fathom how she can survive. I fear for her quality of life.
We were there maybe only 15 minutes and left. Aaron clearly didn’t want to be there. He had seen Joy’s frailty and had seen death standing at her shoulder and wanted to leave. And I hoped upon hope that this would not be my last memory of Joy but I struggled to see an alternative ending.
We drove back to mum’s. I Took Aaron down to Troy’s then did a bit of shopping and ended up at Jo’s for the afternoon.
In the evening we all headed to Milford where we caught up with friends for dinner at Kashmir. Sunday was fairly laidback. We slept in, picked flaxes and daisies out of mum’s garden path to take home with us and then headed to Troy’s to pick stuff up and drop stuff off and then to Jo’s to do the same. We were home in the afternoon, feeling very relaxed.
The Ducks Leave Home
We arrived back to discover the ducks had been gone since Friday dinnertime. “Yeah they did that the other day” Aaron said “and then Lisa went outside and called them and suddenly they came home” It was true, purely coincidental of course so I went outside again and walked to the end of the verandah. The ducks suddenly came running up the hill quacking excitedly.
“Hey guys, the ducks are back” Jay and Bex looked slightly perplexed
“But they’ve been gone all weekend. Honest!”
The ducks were definitely back but now there were 2 missing. It was surely only a matter of time before our ducks left home for good. I couldn’t see we had any choice but to lock them all in once there were 10, ducklings or no ducklings.
I text Frank. “We’re missing 2 ducks. Have you seen them or their remains?” He text back to say 2 had gone broody. I told Frank to let me know when his paddock was next clear of deer so we could come over and look for them.
Embarrassingly he cleared the deer out within ½ an hour and invited us over. We took a net and the 4 of us climbed the fence and looked and looked but could find no trace of ducks or eggs. And then Frank walked up and suggested they might be one paddock over. We walked through the gate and found ourselves in the most stunningly beautiful paddock.
My heart sank. It was duck utopia. If I was a duck it would be my idea of paradise. I had seen this paddock often from afar but never realised just how beautiful it is. There is a sea of gently rolling, green pasture that disappears up into the bush. In the middle of the green, as the land slopes upwards toward the mountain, there are large islands of irises. In the middle of the irises is a rustic, rusting corrugated iron shed. Behind that a magnificent Moreton Bay Fig with huge roots like serpents rising out of the paddock. At that point the land flattens out and slopes down a bit, and there, just before the encroaching forest there is pond after pond surrounded by masses of calla lilies. Further back still is the beginning of the bush, kauris tower over rotting logs covered in moss, juvenile manuka trees appear in mass clumps, there are rocks and stumps and reeds and grasses and well quite frankly I was ready to pitch a tent and move in myself.
We found a duck in one of the ponds and Aaron chased her home. We found her nest in a rotting tree stump with its clutch of warm eggs. She wouldn’t be going back to it. We removed the eggs and hoped they weren’t too close to hatching as they had no chance now.
The light was fading and so we called it a day and I asked if I could return in the morning. Monday morning Bex and I returned. Marge and her 4 grandchildren helped in the hunt.
Both Marge and Frank made it clear they had wanted the ducks to stay to be free to hatch their ducklings. It was a difficult situation. I was embarrassed that our livestock had moved onto their land and set up home. I was also upset that we hadn’t had a single duck egg in nearly 4 weeks and despite the fact we were continuing to feed the ducks most nights. I wanted our ducks back so as not to annoy the neighbours, only to discover that the act of taking the ducks back is what annoyed them most.
Frank especially seems to have become quite attached to them. Eventually I gave up looking and told Marge and Frank I was happy to leave the duck there but the others would now be permanently locked into our place. Then I asked Marge if I could pinch some of her irises. Amazingly she agreed and I went home with 6 iris plants, which I planted just above the duck pond.
After lunch Bex and I decided to make 2 smaller ponds for the ducks. We dug out great big mounds of mud and clay to create 2 small ponds that filter into the large pond.
We dammed Bex pond and surveyed our work and felt quite pleased with ourselves. It was rough looking but the ducks would soon trample it all down and dig out extra bits if they wanted.
When Aaron arrived home I explained about the duck still at Frank’s. Aaron stood on the verandah. “Honey, there’s 10 ducks”
“What?”
“There’s 10 ducks”
“No way. I counted them 3 times this morning and there were only 9”
“Well there’s 10 now” Quickly we raced around gathering staples, wire, wire cutters, etc and Aaron, Jay and I spent the next ½ hour closing the gap in the fence. The boys checked the fenceline and found that the duck must have wandered up to the back of Frank’s deer paddock, come through the fence and then through the back gate to the duck paddock, which had not been covered in netting. The boys closed that gap off and that was that. The ducks were now fenced in.
Bex suggested we plant calla lillies around our duck pond. I agreed and Bex spent most of Tuesday beautifying the duck paddock. It looks great.
The ducks haven’t seemed overly bothered about their lack of freedom. There is in fact a large gap of no wire by Stanley’s paddock that they could walk through. The chickens walk through it every day. The ducks however seem content to sit at the top of the hill by their feed bowls, laying eggs, sleeping and preening. I have agreed that at this stage that we just collect eggs that have been layed randomly. We will leave the 2 girls to go broody if they want. I am just as keen to see ducklings as anyone else.
Happy Hens
It is now a couple of weeks since Marty ended up simmering gently on the stove top. We haven’t missed the incessant early morning crowing or the hen and dog bullying. In fact we haven’t missed him at all. How is that?
Perhaps it is because the hens are now so content. They wander around, a happy duo, never fighting over food and never shitting in the hen house. I can’t believe it, after all this time I’ve finally discovered that it was Marty who had no qualms using the hen house as a toilet. The girls haven’t soiled the straw once. Not only that but they’re laying almost on a daily basis.
Had we got rid of Marty 6 months ago I’ve no doubt we would have had a lot more eggs this year. The only thing we have to do now is clip their wings and put them in the duck paddock permanently. While I have no problem with them scratching for food around the house, they will insist on using the verandah as a toilet. We’re all mightily sick of it so they have given us no option.
I cannot believe daylight savings is here already. I am looking forward to those long, light evenings but am not enjoying driving to work in the dark again.
With Jay and Bex here for a couple more weeks Aaron and I decided to head to Auckland for a relaxing weekend. We arrived Friday evening, delivering meat packs to friends and family and then we had dinner with mum in her new home. It was a strange experience being in my old house. Although I have popped in a few times since leaving Auckland, my old home had become an unloved and uncared for flat. What had once been warm and inviting had become dirty and unwelcoming and I had no desire to ever step in the place again.
And then we arrived on Friday and the place has been transformed into a home once more. There’s new furniture, new ornaments and a new feel. I recognise the place but I have no emotional connection to it. It is a lovely place though. I think if mum were to put it on the market now it would be easy to sell. However, that’s not her current intention and I guess I’m secretly glad.
The garden, despite having become an overgrown jungle, looks amazing. Overall, Aaron and I did a really good job. Yes, there are trees planted that are far too big for the property but good regular pruning will keep them in line. It’s all about bonsai on a medium scale. If you let the trees reach their full potential then of course they’re in the wrong spot.
So anyway, we suggested to mum she hire an arborist who knows what they’re doing as the place needs a skilful hand. We talked about it and then it became apparent – we should do it. We know what we’re doing and we need the money. The only issue is that we can only do it next weekend as we need someone to farmsit.
Mum jumped at the idea and so Aaron has roped in the father-in-law Pete to help us. We can’t possibly get it all done by ourselves and Pete’s gardening skills are probably better than ours. So we’ve booked ourselves in and we’ll be back in Auckland next weekend.
As we ate dinner on Friday night Aaron kept topping up mum’s wine glass until she became very ill and headed to the bathroom. Aaron then went nextdoor for a night with the boys and I went to bed. The next morning mum was doing better but Aaron was quite ill. There was no time for sympathy, we had stuff to do. Matt and Bron picked us up and we made a flying visit to Paul and Nicky’s and then headed into the city to Auckland Hospital.
Roadworks had cut off the normal route and so we came in the back way via Newmarket. I’m glad Matt was driving as I was lost and more roadworks and congestion had us in a slow moving queue of cars, and then we passed the turnoff and had to turn into a side street at the next set of lights.
Except we couldn’t as people kept blocking the intersection. By the 2nd set of greens with no movement I completely blew a fuse. I was stuck in the back of a coupe with no door or window to give me access to the outside. “Lean on the horn Matt! Lean on the ******* horn Matt” I was wild and started screaming out the driver’s window “You wankers! You arrogant ******* wankers! Are you ******* idiots? Get out of the ******* way!” and on and on and on until eventually people moved forward enough to let us through.
I suspect it was the 2 drivers in front of us beeping their horns that made them move but I reckon if I’d had the chance to get out of the car it might have helped. To be fair, Aaron did offer to get out of the car and vomit on the bonnet of one of the offenders. He was green enough to do it but despite my encouragement “Go on! Go on! Yeah do it!” he remained seated.
The drive to the hospital had been filled with a series of “Oh my god. How bad is that person’s driving?!” incidents. I had even started up my old game of “Guess the nationality of that driver” and by the time we got to the hospital it became quite clear to me that Auckland is not a good place for me to be in.
We arrived at Auckland Hospital and I was stunned at how huge the place is now. We felt like we were in an international airport when we arrived. Eventually we found Joy’s room and despite Jo’s advice that we should brace ourselves I wasn’t prepared to see such frailty. Aaron got to the bed and then turned and walked out.
Joy opened her eyes and started to panic. There seemed to be tubes running everywhere and she wanted them off. I sent Bron to find a nurse. Matt and I stood there trying to have a conversation but Joy was so spaced out on medication she didn’t recognise us. She drifted in and out of sleep and we were left to look at her pale, emaciated body and it struck me that at 94 she did not have the reserves of energy necessary to heal 2 fractured ribs.
I held her hand and wept and felt completely useless. As Joy gets older and more incapacitated her life becomes less of a life and more of an existence. I wondered if she’d had enough. I wanted to say “It’s okay, you can let go if you want to” but she wouldn’t hear me and she wouldn’t understand. At that age you can choose to die but not if medication prevents you from thinking.
If she’s fractured her ribs she could be in pain and on medication for months. Matt fractured his ribs 2 months ago and in peak physical condition he is still experiencing discomfort. I cannot fathom how she can get out of bed in the next 6 months. I cannot fathom how she can survive. I fear for her quality of life.
We were there maybe only 15 minutes and left. Aaron clearly didn’t want to be there. He had seen Joy’s frailty and had seen death standing at her shoulder and wanted to leave. And I hoped upon hope that this would not be my last memory of Joy but I struggled to see an alternative ending.
We drove back to mum’s. I Took Aaron down to Troy’s then did a bit of shopping and ended up at Jo’s for the afternoon.
In the evening we all headed to Milford where we caught up with friends for dinner at Kashmir. Sunday was fairly laidback. We slept in, picked flaxes and daisies out of mum’s garden path to take home with us and then headed to Troy’s to pick stuff up and drop stuff off and then to Jo’s to do the same. We were home in the afternoon, feeling very relaxed.
The Ducks Leave Home
We arrived back to discover the ducks had been gone since Friday dinnertime. “Yeah they did that the other day” Aaron said “and then Lisa went outside and called them and suddenly they came home” It was true, purely coincidental of course so I went outside again and walked to the end of the verandah. The ducks suddenly came running up the hill quacking excitedly.
“Hey guys, the ducks are back” Jay and Bex looked slightly perplexed
“But they’ve been gone all weekend. Honest!”
The ducks were definitely back but now there were 2 missing. It was surely only a matter of time before our ducks left home for good. I couldn’t see we had any choice but to lock them all in once there were 10, ducklings or no ducklings.
I text Frank. “We’re missing 2 ducks. Have you seen them or their remains?” He text back to say 2 had gone broody. I told Frank to let me know when his paddock was next clear of deer so we could come over and look for them.
Embarrassingly he cleared the deer out within ½ an hour and invited us over. We took a net and the 4 of us climbed the fence and looked and looked but could find no trace of ducks or eggs. And then Frank walked up and suggested they might be one paddock over. We walked through the gate and found ourselves in the most stunningly beautiful paddock.
My heart sank. It was duck utopia. If I was a duck it would be my idea of paradise. I had seen this paddock often from afar but never realised just how beautiful it is. There is a sea of gently rolling, green pasture that disappears up into the bush. In the middle of the green, as the land slopes upwards toward the mountain, there are large islands of irises. In the middle of the irises is a rustic, rusting corrugated iron shed. Behind that a magnificent Moreton Bay Fig with huge roots like serpents rising out of the paddock. At that point the land flattens out and slopes down a bit, and there, just before the encroaching forest there is pond after pond surrounded by masses of calla lilies. Further back still is the beginning of the bush, kauris tower over rotting logs covered in moss, juvenile manuka trees appear in mass clumps, there are rocks and stumps and reeds and grasses and well quite frankly I was ready to pitch a tent and move in myself.
We found a duck in one of the ponds and Aaron chased her home. We found her nest in a rotting tree stump with its clutch of warm eggs. She wouldn’t be going back to it. We removed the eggs and hoped they weren’t too close to hatching as they had no chance now.
The light was fading and so we called it a day and I asked if I could return in the morning. Monday morning Bex and I returned. Marge and her 4 grandchildren helped in the hunt.
Both Marge and Frank made it clear they had wanted the ducks to stay to be free to hatch their ducklings. It was a difficult situation. I was embarrassed that our livestock had moved onto their land and set up home. I was also upset that we hadn’t had a single duck egg in nearly 4 weeks and despite the fact we were continuing to feed the ducks most nights. I wanted our ducks back so as not to annoy the neighbours, only to discover that the act of taking the ducks back is what annoyed them most.
Frank especially seems to have become quite attached to them. Eventually I gave up looking and told Marge and Frank I was happy to leave the duck there but the others would now be permanently locked into our place. Then I asked Marge if I could pinch some of her irises. Amazingly she agreed and I went home with 6 iris plants, which I planted just above the duck pond.
After lunch Bex and I decided to make 2 smaller ponds for the ducks. We dug out great big mounds of mud and clay to create 2 small ponds that filter into the large pond.
We dammed Bex pond and surveyed our work and felt quite pleased with ourselves. It was rough looking but the ducks would soon trample it all down and dig out extra bits if they wanted.
When Aaron arrived home I explained about the duck still at Frank’s. Aaron stood on the verandah. “Honey, there’s 10 ducks”
“What?”
“There’s 10 ducks”
“No way. I counted them 3 times this morning and there were only 9”
“Well there’s 10 now” Quickly we raced around gathering staples, wire, wire cutters, etc and Aaron, Jay and I spent the next ½ hour closing the gap in the fence. The boys checked the fenceline and found that the duck must have wandered up to the back of Frank’s deer paddock, come through the fence and then through the back gate to the duck paddock, which had not been covered in netting. The boys closed that gap off and that was that. The ducks were now fenced in.
Bex suggested we plant calla lillies around our duck pond. I agreed and Bex spent most of Tuesday beautifying the duck paddock. It looks great.
The ducks haven’t seemed overly bothered about their lack of freedom. There is in fact a large gap of no wire by Stanley’s paddock that they could walk through. The chickens walk through it every day. The ducks however seem content to sit at the top of the hill by their feed bowls, laying eggs, sleeping and preening. I have agreed that at this stage that we just collect eggs that have been layed randomly. We will leave the 2 girls to go broody if they want. I am just as keen to see ducklings as anyone else. Happy Hens
It is now a couple of weeks since Marty ended up simmering gently on the stove top. We haven’t missed the incessant early morning crowing or the hen and dog bullying. In fact we haven’t missed him at all. How is that?
Perhaps it is because the hens are now so content. They wander around, a happy duo, never fighting over food and never shitting in the hen house. I can’t believe it, after all this time I’ve finally discovered that it was Marty who had no qualms using the hen house as a toilet. The girls haven’t soiled the straw once. Not only that but they’re laying almost on a daily basis.
Had we got rid of Marty 6 months ago I’ve no doubt we would have had a lot more eggs this year. The only thing we have to do now is clip their wings and put them in the duck paddock permanently. While I have no problem with them scratching for food around the house, they will insist on using the verandah as a toilet. We’re all mightily sick of it so they have given us no option.
A Turning Point
22 September 2009
This weekend Aaron and I did the budget for the last 2 months. A number of unexpected expenses had cropped up and we needed to see whether we could afford to pay for another couple of projects.
Budgets and forecasts can be scary things but the constant balancing of the books is the only way to stop ourselves landing in hot water. As it is, we’re sailing pretty close to the wind at the moment. $4000 for building stockyards and related fences blew the July budget out of the water. Since then there’s been new tyres on the ute, 200m of fencing for ducks, 2 Devon calves and numerous guests to feed and suddenly the bank account looks a little empty.
On Sunday I spent several hours analysing all our grocery receipts for the last 3 months. We needed to find out just how much all these guests are costing us. It was a tedious but none-the-less interesting exercise.
It would seem that each guest costs us roughly $75 a week for food, power and incidentals. In return we get 28+ hours work per person per week. I think it’s a fair trade. Our property has progressed in leaps and bounds in 3 months. While we’ve had a couple of weeks guest free, all those guest double ups has meant that we have easily had 60 hours work a week done on not only general chores but also on projects Aaron and I had little hope of achieving ourselves.
That time has also freed up our time to spend on more leisurely pursuits like reading and sleeping in. I finally read my first novel in about 3 years, and have read several in the last few months.
There are plenty of other projects planned for the block but the fact is we’ve spent this year’s project budget already. There is money enough for paint for painting the baseboards of the house but that is it. If we are to increase our mortgage payments as well then there is no money left for having guests until the end of the year.
Aaron and I feel we need a bit of space anyway. Jay and Bex and Bren and Sydney have been good company this last week but when they spent the weekend tiki-touring Aaron and I really enjoyed having an empty household.
The great thing is, we’ve had so much work done that we can now spend the next couple of months just doing basic maintenance type work and taking it easy for a bit. We have a number of projects lined up for next year and I think if we have HelpXers for one month every quarter, then we will achieve our 10-year plan a lot sooner than anticipated. As far as projects go now, most of it will be focused on adding value to the property.
Two Super Powers Battle It Out
With Jay and Bex waving the flag for the United Kingdom and Bren and Sydney waving the flag for the United States it has been a week of constant battles for supremacy.
There have been constant digs at language and accents which have caused much laughter.
It has been an interesting week for us as several battles have had to be resolved based on the Kiwi version of a word. It has certainly brought home to me how much the NZ vocabulary is influenced by both England and America.
Aaron and I chose to remain as neutral as possible. There’s no need to defend our own country. After all, we’re the country of destination for both couples so clearly that makes us the winner.
Perhaps the best thing for me has been meeting Americans and being pleasantly surprised that they are neither loud nor obnoxious. I had been warned of lazy attitudes and arrogance but these 2 do not fit that stereotype. Patriotism and flag waving was absent and in fact, when they bought us a thank you gift it was a very healthy NZ cabbage tree. 
Mind you, they gave it an American name – ‘W’ (pronounced doubleya) as in George W Bush. W has been planted on the side of the drive, close to the pond. The enormous Kahikatea Bex and Jay gave us has been planted close to the pond to mark the grave of Baby Girl. These trees will be appreciated and admired for years to come.
This weekend Aaron and I did the budget for the last 2 months. A number of unexpected expenses had cropped up and we needed to see whether we could afford to pay for another couple of projects.
Budgets and forecasts can be scary things but the constant balancing of the books is the only way to stop ourselves landing in hot water. As it is, we’re sailing pretty close to the wind at the moment. $4000 for building stockyards and related fences blew the July budget out of the water. Since then there’s been new tyres on the ute, 200m of fencing for ducks, 2 Devon calves and numerous guests to feed and suddenly the bank account looks a little empty.
On Sunday I spent several hours analysing all our grocery receipts for the last 3 months. We needed to find out just how much all these guests are costing us. It was a tedious but none-the-less interesting exercise.
It would seem that each guest costs us roughly $75 a week for food, power and incidentals. In return we get 28+ hours work per person per week. I think it’s a fair trade. Our property has progressed in leaps and bounds in 3 months. While we’ve had a couple of weeks guest free, all those guest double ups has meant that we have easily had 60 hours work a week done on not only general chores but also on projects Aaron and I had little hope of achieving ourselves.
That time has also freed up our time to spend on more leisurely pursuits like reading and sleeping in. I finally read my first novel in about 3 years, and have read several in the last few months.
There are plenty of other projects planned for the block but the fact is we’ve spent this year’s project budget already. There is money enough for paint for painting the baseboards of the house but that is it. If we are to increase our mortgage payments as well then there is no money left for having guests until the end of the year.
Aaron and I feel we need a bit of space anyway. Jay and Bex and Bren and Sydney have been good company this last week but when they spent the weekend tiki-touring Aaron and I really enjoyed having an empty household.
The great thing is, we’ve had so much work done that we can now spend the next couple of months just doing basic maintenance type work and taking it easy for a bit. We have a number of projects lined up for next year and I think if we have HelpXers for one month every quarter, then we will achieve our 10-year plan a lot sooner than anticipated. As far as projects go now, most of it will be focused on adding value to the property.
Two Super Powers Battle It Out
With Jay and Bex waving the flag for the United Kingdom and Bren and Sydney waving the flag for the United States it has been a week of constant battles for supremacy.
There have been constant digs at language and accents which have caused much laughter. It has been an interesting week for us as several battles have had to be resolved based on the Kiwi version of a word. It has certainly brought home to me how much the NZ vocabulary is influenced by both England and America.
Aaron and I chose to remain as neutral as possible. There’s no need to defend our own country. After all, we’re the country of destination for both couples so clearly that makes us the winner.
Perhaps the best thing for me has been meeting Americans and being pleasantly surprised that they are neither loud nor obnoxious. I had been warned of lazy attitudes and arrogance but these 2 do not fit that stereotype. Patriotism and flag waving was absent and in fact, when they bought us a thank you gift it was a very healthy NZ cabbage tree. 
Mind you, they gave it an American name – ‘W’ (pronounced doubleya) as in George W Bush. W has been planted on the side of the drive, close to the pond. The enormous Kahikatea Bex and Jay gave us has been planted close to the pond to mark the grave of Baby Girl. These trees will be appreciated and admired for years to come.
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