Angel Goes To Hospital

After a week and a half of intensive petting Angel had calmed down enough for me to examine her coat which proved to be knots upon knots with a side order of tangles. When I rang the vet to book her in for a full South American (all over shave) the receptionist was certain a "brush out on top with a shave on the tummy) would suffice. My main concern was lifting Angel into the carry cage to transport her to the vet. Visions of me ending up in emergency did run through my mind but in the end I just picked her up and popped her inside without one growl or hiss. Angel was quiet as well.

Angel wearing her coat of many tangles.

When I dropped Angel in for her appointment I explained that she needed to be shaved right down to the skin as the knots were so bad although the vet nurse was more concerned with how I would react when I saw my cat again as apparently some owners do not react well to seeing their pets denuded. However I consider that aesthetics aren't important when it comes to the comfort of an animal. Especially a cat who has been wearing a bad weave the entire seven years she was away from home. The great team at Vet Services of Waipukurau assured me that she would be a different cat when I saw her again. They weren't kidding...

Angel still in her happy place after her experience.

When she arrived home later that day Angel immediately jumped out of her cage and ran over for a smooch. For the rest of the afternoon she was slightly Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds as the anaesthetic hadn't worn off completely. With her fluffy tail and ugg boots still intact she rolled around on the carpet while I scratched places she hadn't been scratched in years.

The Lion Of The House.

The vet staff said her coat was so badly matted that now it was gone her personality would change. This was after a nurse came out and said "Boy she's in a grumpy mood" when she fought to get her back in the carry cage. Although Angel was pleased to see her human friends again Joey the dog received a few punches when he tried to sniff her rear end. And as for the other cats... well with them she's lost all her street cred.

The Return Of Angel

It is six and a half years since I moved to the Tikokino area and during that time I've often wondered what happened to Angel- my wandering cat who disappeared again a few months before I moved from Maraetuna Farm. My landlady's Dad was moving into my old place so I left a notice complete with Angel's photo and my contact details. When winter came I heard that she had returned, he'd let her in, fed her porterhouse steak, and let her go again. What we didn't realise was that the old man was doing this every time she returned from one of her jaunts away even letting her sleep on his bed. I of course had assumed she'd disappeared permanently.

A week ago my sister in law (who works for my now ex landlady Sandy) rang to say that Angel had started hanging around the old place but that the old man had moved to town and would soon be going into a home. As the cat was now quite wild and ran from everyone else Sandy suggested that she take her Dad back to the farm to try and catch her. It took two trips last Saturday but he finally managed to entice Angel and lift her back into a cage. By the following day Angel had been returned to me.

Angel really delighted to see me again.

Despite my fears she hadn't wasted away to a skeleton, in fact when I weighed her she was nearly 6kgs although her beautiful coat was completely matted right down to the skin. I left the top of the cage open and after an hour she jumped out and went to hide under the sofa where she remained for the next few days. However one evening she did make an appearance even coming up and smooching my hand. Then suddenly it was as if something clicked in her mind and Angel began snuggling like she used to although one false move would result in a hissy fit.

Demelza and Gypsy grew up with Angel and don't take too much notice of her although they steer wide of her grumpiness. Kit and Gemma however are mortified and spend most of their time on my bed. I am delighted to have her back after all these nearly seven years as I was certain she'd died a long time ago. Now that we're friends again I have to break her trust again as she needs to go to the vet to be shaved since she won't even allow me to touch her tangles. Hopefully when she's allowed outside again she will lose her wandering ways and enjoy her retirement as Queen of the Cottage.

ANZAC Day at Pendle Hill

When I was a kid ANZAC Day was when TV stations would repeat a black and white war movie and ten old soldiers would meet at the local cenotaph to remember their fallen comrades. However in the past few years it has become a more popular event in New Zealand with thousands of people turning out to commemorate those young men and women who died serving their country. This year I took a trip with the occasional Stud Muffin to Pendle Hill, the old farm of his ancestors the Fletcher Family which also contains the family burial plot.

Pendle Hill on Wakarara Road 

The cemetery lies on a hill overlooking the farm and has graves dating back to the 19th century. Mike laid poppies on the graves of returned soldiers while I looked at the headstones. One poignant one was of Mike's grandmother who died when she was only 38 years old. There were pioneers who lived to ripe old ages and sadly one of a baby who only survived to seven months.

Pendle Hill Woolshed

The original homestead has been removed from the field where it used to stand although part of it now houses the Department Of Conservation office in Onga Onga village. The rest was too rotten to restore. However the wool shed still stands near the original house site along with a couple of old sheds and many totara trees.

Back Road Up Near the Ruahines

We drove up Look Out Road which is aptly named for the views and for the fact you need to look out that you don't get blown away. As it is near the Ruahines it receives much more rain than other areas which also meant we had to stop our trip because the weather became too rough.

I think of the young men and women who returned from war to continue taming this country, sometimes living a harsh isolated life in the back country of Hawkes Bay. There was no counseling in those days, you didn't share your nightmares with all and sundry but kept a stiff upper lip although you'd hear the stories of quiet suicides. Then there were the men who would never shoot a rabbit because they'd killed enough in the war. I wonder what they'd make of our poor sad country today? The celebrated selfishness and the lack of compassion which once marked the worst of the regimes they fought against. We do remember them but we must also remember that they tried to make the world a better safer place and that we are heirs to that legacy.

The Optimistic Gardener

I have had a run of bad luck in the garden recently. Firstly we had the cold wet summer of 2012 followed by a winter where sheep, cows and various possums decimated my plants. Although I have wire cages over my veg plants to protect them from the chooks this didn't stop a possum from tipping them over at night and eating every single lettuce, broccoli and silver beet plant. As it was winter it was too cold to replace them so I had to wait until the livestock were under control before I could get anything planted. Then the drought arrived.

Scarlet Runner Beans

This meant that if you intended to plant veggies you had to be prepared to water them by hand and even then growth was slow. A built up bed by the chook house has been unloved since I moved in here four years ago but a few hours of laboriously digging out bindweed left extremely friable soil which is where I planted several scarlet runner bean plants. Originally there were 10 plants but a psychotic fence lifting ewe and her scrofulous half grown lamb made daily raids chewing down all but four. These were copiously watered and have since rewarded me with the occasional meal. The cost of the seeds? 50c from an Op Shop.

Various types of lettuce

Since I discovered there was more to lettuce than a limp leaf of Iceberg I've become a salad fan and every fortnight buy a few more plants to add to my garden in the hope of having a staggered supply across Autumn and Winter. These also had a tough time until I mulched the plants with bunny manure and untreated sawdust and now I'm getting several harvests per week.

Autumn Sedum

Now that the ravaged garden is beginning to freshen with heavy nightly dews it is possible to enjoy those plants that have survived the drought such as a the Autumn Sedum which blooms in the corner of the garden by a weeping cherry tree. In time its flowers will turn black and I will cut the branches right down to the ground where they'll hibernate until Spring which hopefully will herald a better year for the ever optimistic gardener.

Picnic At Hanging Mangleton

With the prospect of the warmest Easter in several years looming the OSM (Occasional Stud Muffin) thought it would be nice to go for a Good Friday drive north west to Mangleton which lies right under the mountains near the small country settlement of Kereru. I knew this area fairly well as my mother's eldest sister Eva (known in the family as "Boofy") and her husband had drawn a soldiers' settlement farm there after WWII. It was originally part of Poporangi Station which was subdivided into smaller farms and then allocated to returned servicemen. Not that Uncle Jack got much of a bargain as his piece of land was riddled with rabbit holes every two feet. He would sit on a tree stump and fire his gun until it became to hot to hold. In this fashion he eventually cleared his farm of rabbits (mostly). He and Aunty Eva then lived in a Nissan Hut until their homestead was built and farmed there until Uncle Jack died in his 60s after which my aunt remained there alone while her son, who built a house next door, ran the farm.

So you'd think I'd have a good idea where the farm actually was situated. I mean my parents and I visited there enough times including the one memorable holiday there when Aunty Eva and my mother decided to mow the lawns except neither of them had used a motor mower before. I'll never forget hearing screams before seeing the mower calmly making its way across the lawn with two middle aged women in pursuit.

I was really looking forward to seeing the farm again and was sure I knew where we were going. We headed out through the Gwavas Forest reaching a height of 553 metres above sea level before dropping down slightly when we passed through Kereru. Which is where it all went wrong really. Firstly Mike remembered a lovely picnic area but the first big dip we came to didn't have one so we had to drive further up Mangleton Road until we found it down a bumpy farm track. There was a picnic table but we decided to venture nearer the creek which meant Joey the dog had a wonderful time sniffing the overgrown grass and blackberry.

Joey surrounded by a paradise of scents

 

Nearby was a lovely mountain stream which had been dammed to create a swimming hole although it wasn't hot enough to tempt us to have a dip. A sheer cliff rose up from the far side rising up towards more trees. There was just the sound of the water and birds singing, a peaceful oasis in a drought area.

A lovely little mountain stream in Mangleton

And that was what really shocked us. We thought the drought was bad enough in Central Hawkes Bay but at least the heavy dewy nights have left to a slight dusting of green across the countryside. In Mangleton everywhere was brown and decidedly crispy. As we drove down roads trying to find my aunt's old farm we saw fewer and fewer animals, more and more barren paddocks. Yet sometimes you would sweep down a hill and there would be a vestige of native bush huddled in a ravine.

A patch of bush huddling under the ranges

There was no mobile reception so attempts to ring a cousin to find our the name of the road my Aunt had lived on were doomed to fail. After spending ages going down dusty shingle roads we admitted defeat as for the life of me I could not remember where my aunt's farm used to be. And of course as we drove out of Mangleton I think I recognized the road as it was the only one we hadn't bothered to drive down. Sometimes I should really stick to my motto of never going back to places. Or else get some more memory added to my brain's hard drive.

One Fine Day And Then Another

The other day after six weeks with no rain at all we finally had a downpour here in Tikokino. Well two inches of the wet stuff anyway. The next day you could see the fields practically green up before your eyes. But since then there has been nothing more but annoying beautiful mellow fine Autumn day after beautiful mellow fine Autumn day. Most farmers try to feed their animals with precious winter hay stores but there are others who leave their animals on dirt with nothing but mouldy black pea straw to eat.

This paddock has no shelter belts to shade the cattle from the sun as they pick their way through their own manure.

It's not unusual to see more and more empty paddocks as farmers downsize their stock numbers to try and cope with the lack of feed. Even areas that usually have a more constant rainfall are beginning to feel the effects of the drought. Smedley Road runs up towards the Ruahine Ranges and is renown for its rolling green hills covered with old Totara trees. It's now a paradise for artists with a surfeit of yellow ochre paint.

An old Totara coping with the driest summer in years.

As nights draw in and temperatures drop overnight it's becoming too late for the countryside to recover before the winter arrives. Even if rain arrived tomorrow the cooler days will mean the soil temperature drops to a level where grass practically hibernates. Great news for anyone who hates mowing lawns but not so great for those trying to carry sheep and other stock through the winter months.

The view from just before Smedley Station looking towards the Ruahine Ranges.

The flow on effect of a drought also impacts on small country towns as farmers have less money to spend on anything but the bare necessities.Stressful events such as a drought, often coupled with banks applying pressure to repay loans, has caused many suicides amongst the rural community in the past and unless people offer a helping hand it will happen again.

As I cart water around the animals by hand (usually because my own water supply is off due to repairs) I realize how precious a commodity the liquid stuff actually is. I lay hose ends in empty buckets which collect every last drop that leaks out before it's carried to water struggling plants. Nothing is wasted.

So it is with a sense of deep irony that I write of my excitement on receiving an unexpected gift yesterday. It is attached to a plank of wood threaded through a fence where Stig the Goat headbutts it in frustration. Each time I go past I touch it in awe and gaze at it longingly waiting for the day I can finally use it. It is a rain gauge.

Things That Go Spew In The Night

I regard myself as a patient person when it comes to the cats. Even when they insist in waking me at stupid o'clock in the morning to have their breakfast I figure I needed to get up for a "pit stop" anyway. If I do attempt to sleep in Gypsy will begin jumping over my head leaping from side to side and if that doesn't work she'll start batting objects off the dressing table. If I'm still sleeping Demelza will start her percussion practise by banging the wardrobe door repeatedly. Gemma and Kit meanwhile will sleep on till I'm ready.

So there I was at 3.15am this morning after seeing to everyone, sitting up in bed with tea and a gingernut reading my library book which was propped up on my knees. As it's getting chilly these days Gemma likes to burrow under the covers to curl up under my knees until I snuggle down again. But this morning she made a hasty exit and it wasn't until I grabbed the side of the bed that I put my hand in something wet. Lifting up the sheet in horror I saw that she managed to silently regurgitate most of her breakfast underneath me.

Gemma in her pre-Exorcist days

So that was how at 4am I was changing sheets only to find when I got back in that the residue must have permeated the wool rest beneath. I therefore spent the remainder of the night sleeping on a towel. Gemma just cuddled up with me again. We were both too tired to have a discussion about the incident.

Hawkes Bay Drought 2013

We've had a great summer this year just like the ones I remember as a kid. Days and days of blinding heat, sometimes up to 40oC, followed by nights where you took the electric fan to bed for relief. Unfortunately with six months of below average rainfall has come "The Drought".

Over my back fence this was six weeks ago.

Despite being hand watered every alternate day my garden is dying. I've lost my "French Lace" rose, "Apple Blossom Flower Carpet" wants to turn up her roots and "Margaret Merrill" is looking pretty seedy. The only advantage to the drought it that the garden has never been so weed free. But it's the animals who are really suffering. Good farmers are feeding out good hay but the couldn't care less variety are leaving their stock in tree free paddocks filled with nothing but manure occasionally throwing out some black pea straw.

Hard to tell what condition these sheep are in under their wool

Those in favour of the Ruataniwha Water Project (the immensely expensive dam proposed for Tikokino) are citing this drought as a great reason for building Central Hawkes Bay's very own Think Big Project. Yet the small farmer would not gain much from this since the cost of paying water rights has been suggested at ranging from $5,000 to $30,000 a day. This could mean only the big boys could afford to pay for accessing it- the same farmers who irrigate in the heat of the day so that 70% of the water evaporates. The same farmers who have pulled out all the shelter belts and trees on their farms to allow the massive irrigation booms to move across an increasingly barren landscape. 

The view from my back door at sunrise

Lets not forget that there will be an increase in dairy farms in the area leading to more pollution being poured into Central Hawkes Bay rivers. Considering it is not safe to swim in the TukiTuki River now it is easy to imagine what will happen with increased run off making its way down into our once pristine waterways. Building smaller dams around the district would be much more likely to help the small farmers who are struggling to survive in this drought. One which looks like it will not be ending soon.

Joey's Big Day Out

I haven't seen Joey's previous owners since they gave him to me in July 2011 so when I learned they'd be showing their dogs at an event in Waipawa today it was too good an opportunity to miss. Soon as he got out of the car and heard the other dogs barking Joey was in the zone. He sauntered along beside me while we tried to find his owners amongst so many tents, umbrellas and crates. Fortunately Lyn saw me first and walked over to say hi when Joey suddenly developed amnesia and became very shy. Then suddenly something clicked and he grinned and jumped up very excited to see her again. We went to Lyn and David's set up next to one of the rings where they had Joey's second cousin all prepped ready to be shown.

Joey's thinking "I'm not too sure about you"

Joey wasn't too sure at first although he definitely remembered Max their Affenpinscher as they had a mutual quick sniff and growl. Apparently they had a history as Joey used to force the other dog to the ground on occasion when they lived together. Who knew as he's always been such a big chook with me.

"Oh you're special like me!"

I also had a chance to catch up with Mishka's breeder Shirley Campbell. We reminisced about his puppyhood and obsession with water. It brought back memories of all his funny little quirks and how different two Shelties can be. She had some really kind things to say about Joey and it turns out once owned one of his relatives.

When we left I was worried Joey would want to stay behind in the world he knew and although he did steal one look back at his previous owners he seemed happy enough to trot off with me although he had one wobbly moment when he passed a great dane the size of a small South American country. And when we arrived home I knew he was in a good mood as he celebrated by raiding the kitty litter tray.

The Septic Tank Wars

It started with a hole. I had put the chooks to bed and came inside for a little while at 5pm. When I went out again it had appeared- a one foot wide hole beneath the clothes line. When I peered into the darkness I could see liquid and a flotilla of panty liners floating by. I left a message for my landlord begging for an urgent visit. Twelve hours went by so in desperation I spoke to his Mum who lives across the paddock from my cottage. Lying down with her head down the hole she announced "Yuk it stinks" which was when we all knew we were truly in the middle of a shitty situation.

Amazing what people will flush. Not me I hasten to add!

The following morning I got a call to say the septic tank cleaner was coming over and to move the donkey and goat from around the back gate area. Just as I was moving Briar the landlord's parents arrived to lift the rotary clothes line off its pole. Unfortunately Stig the goat happened to be near as he sleeps in the woodshed so he managed to get in everyone's way before I moved him. I was asked how it had happened but when I explained the sudden appearance of The Hole I was told that there was no way it could have happened like that. That was shortly before I was told that it was my fault the soil had collapsed because I had been wandering across it (which I had to in order to hang out my washing), cars were driving over it (they weren't) and the goat had looked at it funny.

By the time I'd come out an hour later the landlord's Dad was busy making the hole even bigger which is when we discovered that the concrete cap on the septic tank had cracked. No wonder as it was constructed from home made concrete with no reinforcing and laid on a few skinny metal fence standards. By this stage there was serious fuming going on as the tank was full of panty liners, masses of plastic sheeting and used syringes. I received a hefty lecture on having a rubbish bin in my bathroom and putting my plastic rubbish in there. My attempts at explaining that I don't use syringes and having lived in the country most of my life I only flush what's meant to go down a toilet went unheard as the old sod is deaf. Except apparently he's not deaf, everyone else is mumbling.

My poor clothes line- alone and palely loitering

I hid in the cottage until the septic tank cleaner arrived. I was so intent explaining to him that I was a good person who doesn't flush tarps and plastic forks I ended up helping him hitch up my garden hose and watching in admiration as "The Motion Mover" as he's known sucked the crap out of my old tank. The tank was six feet deep with four feet and sixty years worth of sewage stewing away right beneath my feet. According to Motion Man it hadn't been cleaned out for years, perhaps not since it was put in sixty years ago.

A temporary plywood covering over "The Hole"

As it was a weekend a new concrete cap couldn't be made so a plywood lid was laid down the hole and I lived with the whiff of poo until the following Thursday when the new cap was lowered in place by tractor and buried. As the landlord's Daddy threw grass seed over the bomb site he told me Stig had burrowed through the dirt and wrecked the backyard by spreading bark and kindling across the front of the woodshed (which was actually there when I moved in) so he was never allowed back but had to be tethered in the paddock. Plus I had to water the grass seed every day, not just one day and then let it wilt and die. So every day through the heat I have watered the dirt and said a prayer of thanks that the hole hadn't opened up when I was hanging out the washing as I would have literally ended up in the....manure.

Kit Cat

Kit cat is finding this hot summer rather taxing. To avoid the heat she either digs herself under a rhododendron bush in the front yard, hides under the sofa or drapes herself across the top of an armchair to avail herself of the updraft from the fan.

When the weather cools down somewhat she'll walk behind the other cats and swat them on the back of their hind legs which causes them to launch into orbit. Otherwise she can be found admiring herself in mirrors.

She is so laid back that she didn't even mind having "Ratty" an eco rat made from recycled plastic bottles, snuggle up to her one evening. Lets face it to get rid of him would have involved moving a few inches sideways and she was too exhausted from sleeping to do that.

I always feel a bit of a fraud having such a glamour puss in my house as I tend to have quirky and mentally disturbed felines but Kit was gifted to me nearly six years ago when her owners returned to live in the Netherlands. Despite my common ways Kit manages to tolerate me. Mostly.

Hot Summer Days

It has been an incredibly hot summer in Hawkes Bay so far. Two days ago it was 40oC in the carport at the back of my cottage which really stressed the animals. I made sure Stig the goat and Briar donkey were tethered under the old oak tree in my garden with fresh water for the day while the baby bunnies snuggled next to a container of ice that I keep in my freezer for such heatwaves.

At three weeks of age Ivory's six remaining babies were still spending a certain amount of time in their nest box although they made forays out into the cage to chase their mother round for milk. You'd see them upended with fluffy feet in the air trying to sneak a milk shake before she was alerted to what was going on and hopped away.

At four weeks they were really getting stuck into pellets which took some strain off their poor mother. This also meant they were growing at a great rate. Already personalities are beginning to shine through with the white kits being slightly more shy than their siblings.

There are a couple of cheeky individuals who like posing for a photo so I'm hoping they grow up into good woolers as well. At this stage though I just enjoy watching their interactions with each other and am amazed at how quickly they've learned that I am "food woman".

A Tale of Two Broodies

New Year's Eve a visiting friend walked in and said "Do you know that there's a hen and chicks out there?" I immediately thought of Mohawk and her two month old offspring but no, Gabriella, a black hen with a stubborn streak had arrived with a fresh clutch of many small fluffies. We counted nine with her plus two brownish ones further up the drive which Gwendolyn, the descendent of Squidgey my Old English Game Fowl, promptly stole and sat on. We managed to fill a bucket with babies before clearing a cage to keep them safe in. Gabriella was easy to wrangle as she was hungry after three weeks brooding.

The next morning I went outside to find one small brown chick outside the cage and the other small browny bumblebee down the drive. Threw them back in with Gabriella but later that day she became aggressive and chased them out again while Gwendolyn took them into the garden. Which is when I realised that they were actually Gwen's chickens. I had had two broodies walk out the same day which led to all the confusion.

Later that day one of Gabriella's chicks escaped and a visitor, not sure of what went where, threw it in with Gwendolyn who promptly sat down on it. As Gabby had eight still with her I decided to let Gwen keep her adopted baby and she has done a beautiful job raising it.

Meanwhile Mohawk's chicks arrived at their two month birthday without many problems although the one she had stepped on at a week of age was still struggling with walking. However she began hopping about on one leg quite happily and would peck visitor's toes to try and get them to feed her. All was going well until I found her dead in the cage one morning with her mother standing on her. The five remaining chicks are now ranging around the garden on their own and their mother has returned to the hen house.

I have spoken to the remainder of the flock quite sternly about constantly going broody which has succeeded in frightening three eggs out of them. I am hopeful that I may yet get enough for a fresh summer omelet.