Sunday Afternoon Scare

There is much more bird life here than at the last cottage. The other day I saw four fantails sitting on my front fence and four tuis flew up and sat in the macrocarpa shelter belt to the right of the house. Fortunately my cats are too lazy to take advantage of this avian abundance.

However the brutal reality of country life is never very far away. Yesterday afternoon two women knocked at the door saying that a dog was chasing sheep in a paddock near the road. I told them to go to the farm manager's house but it turned out he wasn't there. Two more people had got out of the car by this time and we all went round the hedge to the paddock in time to see a heading dog rounding the flock into the corner. Three sheep were already down, one covered with blood and its legs twitching. I showed the women where the gate was and one went and grabbed the dog by its collar. It was then that I realised it belonged to Irenie, the 88 year old lady who works here on the farm.

I told them that I would find some rope to tie it up but before I could do this Irenie pulled up on her four wheeler motorbike and called the dog who jumped up behind her. One of the ladies managed to lift two sheep back up on their feet and get them back to the flock. The bleeding ewe had to have its throat cut.

You're never very far away from death when you live amongst animals. I think to cope it's a matter of just enjoying the moment and trying not to worry about what may or may not happen tomorrow. I wish I could tell Briar that. She has made up her mind that Tobermory has gone back to the old place and spends alot of her time standing by the back fence looking over there and braying. I must remember to go out and bribe her with carrots tomorrow to try and get back in her good graces.

Tobermory

I've been offline for five days since my nine year old computer finally expired. It had been having a few hissy fits since I moved here, not turning on in the morning usually. This time there was no response to me unplugging it or jiggling its ram and other wiggly bits accompanied by brutal swearing. As usual I was rescued by my brother who bought a computer from Trademe for $50. He brought this out on Wednesday and six hours and nine cigarettes later had it up and running. It's slightly faster than my old girl but I have no idea how long it will last so fingers crossed. Note: when Rich took my old machine home and plugged it in it turned on immediately....


Tobermory has been slowly going downhill this past week. I have had to pull him upright on several occasions even having to make a half hour trek to find him amongst some cabbage trees at the end of the paddock, leading him home with a "I Love My German Shepherd" leash attached to his collar much to the amusement of the farm staff.

This morning he was lying down again but when I tried to help him stand there was no strength in his legs. His breathing was laboured and even his appetite had gone (he even refused a strawberry jam sandwich which is his favourite treat). I rang the farm manager who came over, looked at him and gave me the news I was dreading- that Toby had reached the end of the road. He brought over a trailer and loaded him into it after I said goodbye, taking him away so I wouldn't hear the sound of the shot. He is now buried in the farm cemetary alongside a loved horse and various sheep dogs.

Briar has been inconsolable. She hasn't eaten, she wanders around braying looking for him. Other times she stands by his little house with her head down. I have spoken to a farming friend who is going to try and find another companion or two for her to bond with. As for me I have cried myself into a massive headache. Toby had a long life (he would have turned seventeen in September) and he saw me through some great trials and difficult moments. He was one of the greatest animal characters I ever met and he will be missed.

Hooray Hodgie

There was a death today. However it wasn't the one I was expecting as for the past couple of weeks Tobermory goat has been having trouble getting up. A week ago I looked out early morning and could not see him in the paddock. When I got out there I saw a white lump in the grass and immediately thought he'd died during the night. However he'd just laid down and couldn't get up again. Signs of his struggle were obvious as he had crushed the grass down in a circle around him.

Although not as bulky as he once was Toby still was quite a weight to lift and it took me several attempts to get him upright. When I tried to lead him however he fell and I realised that his back legs had gone to sleep. I stood him up once more and tried to massage these but after a kick was aimed in my direction decided to let him take matters at his own pace.

A couple of hours later he was still standing there but the sun thawed him out and he wandered down the paddock and stood beneath some pine trees. Later that day I gave him some pellets and a carrot and prayed he'd be alright the next morning. The following day he was lying beneath the trees but was not such a problem to lift this time. I put him back on his three disprin a day routine to help ease his arthritis. Never have a problem dosing him as I hide the pills in strawberry jam on wheatmeal bread and it's gobbled down in one piece. Next day I noticed Toby was able to get up on his own and although he hasn't done so since he is still much better than a week ago.

The death that came this afternoon was another old animal but one who had showed no signs of slowing down. Hodgie hedgehog had been slighty off his food the past couple of days which I attributed to the cooling weather which was putting him into early hibernation. When I went to clean out his cage this afternoon however I was appalled to see he'd died while trying to stand up to say hello. I can only assume he had a heart attack. Even so he looked very peaceful and for an animal of well over five years he was in pretty good condition. He will be missed.

Heat Seeking Chooks and The Big Mouse Massacre

Where have the weeks gone? Already I have nearly been here one month and very little blog writing done. I feel guilty doing creative things when so much mess is sitting around but I have unpacked as many boxes as I'm ever going to and am now trying to find interesting and unobtrusive places to hide the remainder. As my linen cupboard is twice the size as at the previous place I have managed to cram a myriad of bags containing different fleeces amongst the sheets and towels. The spare bed is nearly lifting off the floor with boxes of S.T.U.F.F.-Several Totally Useless Fluff Farms- jammed beneath to be left until the next move.

We are also three chickens up with Franz's "wife" Sarah and his two offspring arriving just over two weeks ago before their previous owners left New Zealand to live in Switzerland. Sarah is a pale grey fluffy bantam of as yet unknown breed with an identical son and a fluffy white daughter. We got off to a rocky start when the white pullet managed to squeeze out of a hole in the hen house the first morning here. I had to sit outside in the pouring rain for 45 minutes until she came close enough for me to catch. Then her sibling made a break for it at lunchtime so I just opened the house and left everyone to it. When I went to feed them in the late afternoon Sarah was sitting in a corner of the house with a baby under each wing so I didn't have to do a big round up.

Rounding up the chooks to put them to bed is not such a hassle as it was at the cottage. In fact half the time the fowls come looking for me for they're still able to roam about the homestead as there is no back fence. Recently I was surprised while talking on the phone in the kitchen when mother hen and her five nearly grown chicks appeared at the doorway before making a beeline for the bathroom where they made a couple of deposits. The rule with chickens as with most livestock is- never rush or frighten an animal if you don't want to have to clean up after them. I put on an insincere welcoming tone before encouraging them out the bathroom, along the hall and out onto the veranda. After that they followed me onto the lawn, around the house, along the backyard, through the long grass to the chook mansion where I hurriedly shut them in. However after mulling the experience for a while I realised that I may have a potential goldmine in my poultry. Perhaps they could replace the pukekos in the next energy conservation TV advertisement. After all they love working indoors.


My main problem since arriving has been the mice. After having the cupboards and drawers cleaned out for me on moving day I have watched in horror as many and varied black droppings have mysteriously appeared overnight. And what's worse is the culprit turned out to be a chocoholic and gnawed through a brand new packet of chocolate biscuits before guzzling three! One night as I turned off the kitchen light before going to bed I heard a wicked squeaky giggling from the wall where I assume the mice were having their chocolate biscuit supper while watching a Danger Mouse DVD. In disgust I left all the cupboards open during the night and miraculously a week ago Gypsy caught said mouse thief before demolishing it in the bathroom watched by Peaches (pictured napping in the kitchen window).

I thought this was the end of the matter but no. Glenys had put my opened boxes of cat biscuits in a wooden bin thinking that this would be mouse proof. Last Friday I put the cats' dishes on my knee and began to pour biscats into them only to have one surprised grey mouse fall out into my lap! I yelled which frightened Jerry (well he looked like a Jerry) who jumped onto the floor before running under Mishka. Mish being a sheepdog didn't know whether he should guard the mouse or try to round it up. The mouse realising its mistake made a dash underneath the fridge while three cats were casually looking in every direction but the one they should have.

I had a nervous night thinking about vermin wandering round the house. At 2am Gypsy woke me standing looking down behind the glory box. I shone a torch there but could only see two little signs Jerry had been there- literally. Next morning Demelza was sitting in the bathroom gazing vacantly at the corner of the room as she's prone to do before neatly hooking her paw under the floor and pulling out the mouse. Being a good girl when I yelled "Take him outside" she ran out to the veranda and swiftly dispatched him to the great mouse hole in the sky. This totally disproves my friend John's assertion that my cats are only useful as decoration.