Follyfarm

The Miraculous Escaping Donkey

2012-02-13T17:09:00.008+13:00

Briar has been on a diet since August. And she's not happy. She had been enjoying freedom in the company of some pet lambs in another paddock where she had stuffed her face to her heart's content but when I went to fetch her for a hoof trim I noticed that she was not so keen on walking back with me. It took me half an hour to move her fifty feet as she was so uncomfortable. She had, in a word, foundered. The farrier told me it was important she be fenced in a small area with limited access to food so I hauled out my electric fence unit which hadn't been used since early 1998 and did a crash course on learning how to work it.

Turned out I was an abject failure at mastering electric fence units. However a friend came round, actually read the instructions, and with a little effort it wasn't long until I was getting a few shocks. At first Briar was extremely pissed off. Before long I began feeling sorry for her so would allow her into my garden area for half an hour's grazing which worked well until I forgot to shut the driveway gate and she made a break for freedom. That saw me chasing one very fat gray ass down the road. Every time I seemed to near her she would kick up a gear and tear past me. Fortunately after a kilometre she developed sore feet and had to seek refuge on the side of the road where I trapped her by a gate, managing to get her halter on before she sped off again. As the road slopes slightly we had an even quicker trip home as by this time I was in a bit of a mood.

Then Briar developed magical powers. In the morning her enclosure would be devoid of donkey and I would go down the road to discover her ensconced in my landlord's parent's front paddock. On one occasion I roped in a friend to help me get her back- it took two of us a good half hour of pushing and pulling her across an incredibly bumpy field before we reached home. Another time it took three frail females, two hauling on her halter, me bringing up the rear pushing her enormous rear, to finally return her to what she now regarded as a prison. Finally though I discovered the secret of her escape method- she would just crawl underneath the electric fence tape not caring if she was zapped or not. The frequent sight of me dragging a reluctant fat donkey back along the road caused many a near accident as neighbouring farmers slowed down their utes in order to have a good laugh.

As a more svelte donkey emerged from beneath three saddlebags of fat so did her previous happy go lucky nature. If Briar managed to escape during the night she would always walk back when I went out first thing in the morning, squeezing under the electric fence tape in order to say hello. She also developed a quasi friendly relationship with Stig the goat. Although there would be a few kicks and bucks while he tried to headbutt her as she attempted to steal his food if I wasn't around they would happily sit near each other chewing the fat and cuds in mutual contentment.

The Phone Phobic Pooch

2012-01-29T11:11:00.004+13:00

When you re home an older dog you automatically take on all their little foibles as well. Joey's previous owners had admitted that he had a slight phone phobia but that it just involved him running constantly from room to room while they were talking. I noticed this the first time someone called me. The phone ringing would stir him into action and he would trot around constantly with his mouth open until I hung up. Then I noticed that he would follow me to the sitting room and watch anxiously to see if I was going to use the phone. This soon developed into running and pushing into me with his front feet before scooting away while I was talking. Then he began barking at me constantly. I tried to make my being on the phone a pleasant experience for him. I bought rawhide treats and would produce them while I was talking so he could take his frustration out them instead of my legs but every so often he would still make a running jump at me. A friend gave me a plastic bottle of stones to shake at him when he barked at me but this just meant he would bark from a distance. In the end if I wanted peace and quiet I would have to put him on his lead which seemed to keep him calm.

But then Joey became sneaky. If the phone rang he would pull it off its holder and remove the handset, often carrying it out onto the lawn where it would be clawed at, scratched and bitten. I began hiding the phone up on an armchair beneath a cushion and a pile of laundry waiting to be ironed. On re-entering the room I'd discover the washing all over the floor and the handset mauled. Not only the phone was at risk but anything sitting nearby which is how a DVD cover and DVD remote control lost their lives.

I was forced to shut the sitting room door whenever I went outside to prevent Joey's phone abuse. But my memory is not as good as it used to be and I would occasionally forget to take precautions which is how my dear black cordless phone had its antennae bitten off. However it still worked.... for a time. Then I forgot the door again and found the handset's corpse proudly laid in state on the dining room carpet. I hauled out the old white cord phone thinking this would be ignored. Within two days the cord was severed in an act of callous and unwarranted violence. I was forced to use a very old Telecom phone that would only work if I plugged it into a jack near the back door which forced me to make all my calls sitting by the kitty litter trays.

I now have a new $4 phone from Trademe. It sits on top of the mantelpiece and instead of ringing it plays Paganini's Variations on a Theme. I don't know what happened to Joey as a young dog that caused his extremely hatred of phones. I only know that any telephone in this house is in mortal danger and that talking to my friends is no longer a joy but is seen as an act of war by a hairy pooch with a phobia.

Gemma & Joey

2011-08-27T19:29:00.010+12:00

In mid June I had a dream. I dreamed that my Dad and I went to the local SPCA and he accidentally let a ginger cat out of its cage. I told him not to worry as it would come home on its own which it did- we managed to sneak it back in before the woman who ran the SPCA came back. Obviously ginger cats had been on my mind since Peaches died three weeks previously but even so the dream felt very real somehow, despite the fact that my Dad died in 2002. I was due for a blood test on the morning of June 13th so my friend Rose and I decided we'd pop into the Waipukurau SPCA afterwards.

On arriving one of the volunteers asked if we'd come to play with the kittens and never being one to let something fluffy go by unpetted we said yes. First she had to make sure that none of them got out so we had to go into a short corridor, shut the door behind us, open another door into the first of the kitten rooms. When I went in a ginger and white kitten marched up to me and put it's little forehead to my forehead while putting its paw on my left cheek. However his name was "Nutbar" which didn't bode well. The volunteer read out the names of all the kitties including "Ivan" who was named after a vet. Rose asked her if Nutbar had been named after a vet as well...

We spent a good ten minutes playing with the kittens who were having a good attempt at eviscerating my hands. We then went through the same rigmarole of getting into a small corridor and having two doors shut before we frolicked with the next room of black and tabby kittens. All kittens are cute but sometimes none "speak" to you. We were just about to leave the SPCA when the volunteer said there was one room left but it was full of older kittens. We entered to see several black young cats careering around so we stayed in there for five minutes before we had to leave for another appointment. Just as we were going out of the room Rose said "Oh look at this one" and reaching up to a high shelf pulled a small black tortoiseshell female cat down. She was an older kitten with a patch of white fur at her neck and white paws with patches of ginger amongst the black. Purring like an engine she rubbed our hands and rolled over which is when I fell for her hook line and sinker.

The volunteer came back into the room and told me the kitten was named "Flossie" and had been with them three months as no one wanted her due to her colour. All this time Rose was saying "You'd be doing a good thing" but I didn't need any encouragement and told the volunteer that I would collect her in a week.

That same day I received an email from someone who had seen my advert in the "Pawprint" (magazine of the Central Shetland Sheepdog Club) asking for an older Sheltie to rehome. She had a six year old male Sheltie called Beaucourt Outta My Dreams aka "Joey" who had just retired from the show ring as a champion. They had four other dogs and he was near the bottom of the pack and she felt that he would benefit from one on one attention from someone who was home most of the time. When I replied to her it turned out that she only lived 45 minutes away from me in Hastings.

Over the week we exchanged emails about Joey as she enquired about my situation, fencing, the other animals I had. I in turn wanted to make sure that he liked cats, was a quiet dog and wouldn't mind a more sedate lifestyle. Then we made arrangements for the owners and Joey to visit that following Saturday (18th July).

It was a cold rainy day when Joey arrived in a blue four wheel drive with his owners. I could see his little fox like face peering out the back window with such a look of Mishka. For the next hour we discussed his likes and dislikes and his routine while Joey wandered around occasionally creeping up to sniff my hand. He seemed a timid dog but it was no wonder when I learned his story.

When he was a six week old puppy his breeder took her 13 dogs including Joey and his siblings to a show in Wellington. On her way home a vehicle forced her van off the road and down a fifty metre bank. In the crash two dogs were killed and the breeder severely injured, ending up in a wheelchair. Many Sheltie owners on hearing this took her dogs into their homes as a temporary measure which is how Joey had many homes in his first two years before arriving to live with his current owners. He showed some behavioural issues including a clingy tendency and a difficulty with the phone, running constantly from room to room when ever someone was speaking on it.

After an hour the owners said they'd leave Joey with me that day. They gave me a small red backpack with his toys, food and little duvet and drove away not knowing that Joey was watching them go. That night he slept on his little duvet next to my bed. For many days he would run repeatedly around the outside of the house although thankfully he never took any interest in the chickens. The cats meanwhile were delighted with the return of a Sheltie back to the house. It took him several days before he began to bark when anyone came to the door which meant that he finally felt at home at last. The only problem I had with Joey was his issues with the telephone but that's another story...

Peaches

2011-05-27T17:30:00.004+12:00

Last week (18th May) my oldest angora rabbit, Cadbury, passed away aged nine years of age. He had been operated on for cancer four years ago but had gone from strength to strength since even flirting with the doe in the cage next to him. Recently he developed a weakness in his hind legs which made it difficult to get up and this worsened to the point that he needed to be upended to get about. When he was at the stage of barely being able to get around (although still eating) I made up my mind to do something but the decision was taken out of my hands as he died one afternoon while I was away. Very peacefully by the look of it.

That was expected. But this afternoon when I came home with a friend to discover my lovely Peaches cat dead on the side of the road I went into a state of shock. Peaches who has always been a gently reserved cat with the loudest purr imaginable. The cat who loved playing with mice, who always wanted to sleep as far up the bed as possible so that she was the first face I saw in the morning. Peachy who, if I was upset, would stand up with her paws on my knee and look intently at me before reaching one arm across towards me as if to say "it's ok. I'm here".

If I went to collect the mail Peaches would rush towards me, arching up on her hind legs to butt my hand with her head or else rolling over in the gravel of the driveway to show off her lovely striped belly. She was invariably polite, always asking permission to jump up on my lap. Always ready to pose for the camera. And when minky blanket came to live here, Peachy bum was the first to take possession of it, wherever it happened to be. On top of the chair, on my bed, on the sofa. She'd be busy needling it to within an inch of its life.

Then there was Gypsy the little black cat she'd been raised with. Smaller than Peach but more dominant she would instigate rather vicious wrestling matches which would result in little ginger roaring and hissing before falling off the bed. The next minute they'd be cuddled up asleep in each others arms. Outside it was Peaches who was the boss and Gypsy would watch entranced as she played with a mouse or else they'd be playing chasey across the lawn.

Peach came to live with me in January 2005 at about three months of age. She brought me comfort at a terrible time and she has been doing so ever since. What a treasure of a cat and how she will be missed.

The Mysterious Disappearance Of The Noodle Rooster

2011-04-13T07:41:00.002+12:00

Recently Noodle had been digging graves in the veggie garden. I was never sure as to whether he was preparing for his own imminent demise or if he had evil intentions to murder the younger rooster who had taken his place as Head Cock. The rest of his time, as befitting an elderly chook, was spent sunning himself in the garden or else eating the acorns that were scattered on the driveway. Occasionally he would take his favourite old white hen for a discreet wander down the paddock away from prying eyes. However a month ago she expired due to.... well I assume exhaustion. Since then Noodle had been spending much of his time alone, just keeping his hand in by digging the occasional grave.

4th April Noodle and a young five month old rooster I called "Cuddly" due to his penchant for smooching with me, didn't turn up at bedtime. Each night Cuddly would snuggle up with his siblings while Noodle had a perch in the hedge since he'd been kicked out of the hen house when he lost the "Battle For Top Rooster". Next morning there was no sign of them either. I checked the road, around the paddocks but there was no sign of feathers, guts, half eaten acorns, anything. Both birds had completely disappeared. Noodle was over ten years old but Cuddly was just five months so it is a mystery fit for Miss Marple. Although I have many roosters I am currently trying to re home these two were guaranteed a forever home here due to their lovable personalities.

In the meantime a couple of my rabbits have been slightly off their pellets. The feed company have changed the recipe and bunnies are quite fussy when it comes to their food. However I kept feeding these two bucks grass to keep them going and they seemed to be drinking and taking an interest in events going on in the rabbitry. However this Monday we had a large 5.1 earthquake at lunchtime and I never thought to go check on the rabbits as I had a meeting to attend early that afternoon. However when I went out later in the day Bumble, my blue three year old buck was prostrate on the cage floor, dying. Now he has never been the best rabbit since I bought him as a baby. Coat a bit dishevelled, very occasionally he would sneeze and have a snotty nose so I would isolate him from the others in case something serious was brewing but it never came to anything. But there was enough doubt there for me to decide not to breed from him and it looks like I was right as Bumble died yesterday afternoon. Always so sad to bury a pet and I also couldn't help wishing that Noodle had been around to help me dig the grave.

The Hen In The Head Saga

2011-02-20T08:10:00.006+13:00

I was hit in the head with a chicken a week ago. Seriously. Kept finding smashed eggs on the concrete floor of the wash house and then a tallish friend discovered Gabriella the Black Hen sitting on one lone egg up on the top of a built out wall. When she tried to reach past her to collect six rotten eggs that had rolled under a shelf said bantam took fright, flew to the window before making a target of my head. Not that I got any sympathy from my friend "Just another day of excitement at the Little House On The Prairie" was her comment.

The unplanned pregnancies of the past year have resulted in a surplus of roosters. This causes terrified hens who are sometimes cornered by young cockerels with gang rape on their mind. So far have put adverts in local free trader magazines and the school newsletter but apparently "Gorgeous colourful bantam roosters" are in plentiful supply as I haven't had any replies.

Meanwhile Stig is mortified at the appearance of firewood in "his" shed so during the daytime I have been tethering him to the fence along the driveway so he can mow the lawn and the trees and make rude faces at the chickens. He still bawls like a stuck pig when he sees his Mummy but otherwise we go minutes at a time without even a maaaah so he is growing up at last. However there is some resentment simmering there as when I am busy undoing his chain from the fence he usually sneaks around behind me and butts me up my backside.

After a few days of 36oC weather in Tikokino the garden looks pretty sad. However there are two new additions. I finally managed to find an upright rosemary bush for just $3, in part due to extreme woodiness. I've planted it between the Margaret Merrill bush rose my friend Jacqueline gave me and the thyme bush plonked on top of Sarah the gray bantam hen. My friend Glenys is forsaking Central Hawkes Bay for Cromwell down Otago way and last Friday her husband and brother delivered a large green container filled with waterlilies which now graces the patio outside the dining room window. Despite its size the cats have managed to completely ignore it until this morning when Peaches decided it made a great drinking bowl. She is nothing if not practically minded.

Another Unplanned Pregnancy, Fire Across Road and Death

2011-02-06T08:21:00.008+13:00

January began with a cluck. A filthy hot day (3rd Jan) I was sitting at the computer when I hear loud cheeping coming from the vicinity of the hen house. Except this was a newly hatched cheeping and my other chicks were a couple of months old at the time. Went out in the scorching sun and discovered Kit sitting next to a tiny black chick. Picked it up and wandered 50 feet into the paddock where I had thought I'd heard cheeping a couple of days before coming from the other side of the woodshed. Sure enough I discovered Lara the black hen sitting under a mess of old bikes. When she saw the chick she called while it ran madly towards her. Thinking that was sorted I went back to the computer. Half an hour later I heard more loud cheeping coming from the hen house. Back out and discovered Kit watching a pale gray chick wandering round. I collected it and took it to Mum. Obviously she'd become thirsty and hungry from sitting on her eggs and gone to tank up at The Big House and the chicks had followed her and got left behind. The next morning Lara appeared with the gray and two black chicks so I put them in a cage to keep them safe from predators.

Meanwhile Ella's eight chicks were growing well although unfortunately a large proportion turned out to be roosters. Very funny to watch her try to brood these huge babies when she could only just manage to cover two with her wings. Even she soon tired of this and in mid January went off the cluck and back to the flock. Meanwhile I became close to one speckled baby who enjoyed sitting on my knee, arm or wherever she could perch. Well I hope it's a she although I did catch her trying to crow one morning. At the moment she's transgender.

The 15th January was another scorcher. My garden had given up and turned brown. It was windy. So was I. Mid afternoon I glanced outside and everywhere was bathed in an eerie orange light. When I went near the windows I could smell smoke so panicked and rushed out to rescue my underwear off the line as there is nothing worse in life than smoky knickers. Stig the goat and I went to the front gate and across the road saw a haze of smoke with four helicopters and monsoon buckets trying to put out a grass fire. My landlord's son rode over on his bike to say that the neighbour had been combine harvesting when the tractor hit a stone and the fire started. All in all 120 acres were burnt and it took the fire brigades of Tikokino, Onga Onga, Waipawa, Waipukurau and Hastings (forty minutes away) to put it out. I spent a nervous night wondering if the high winds would reignite it. Next morning heard the fire sirens again but they were only dampening down smoldering areas.

The same day I'd found a Sheltie dog for free on Trademe. Rang the owner who told me she and her husband were re homing him as they wanted to go out camping more. I said I would take him and she said she would talk to her husband about bringing him across from Wanganui. To say I was excited would be an understatement although his name (Buffy) did give me cause for concern in a household of Demelzas, Baldricks and Stigs. Wednesday morning the owner emailed to say that she had decided to give him to someone else as they didn't want to drive over. Didn't even give me the chance to find another way to get him. This was all the more painful as an hour before I'd learned that my mother had died during the night. So the following week was spent with high emotions as we attempted to give Mum the proper send off.

Monday the 24th January was her funeral in Napier. My cousin Elaine and I drove up on a wet and nasty morning and had lunch with my brother, his wife, birth mother, brother and partner and sister. After the funeral at St John's Cathedral and a quick cup of tea Elaine and I came back down to Central. Next day I was back in Napier for a doctor's appointment which has resulted in an emergency referral to the rheumatology clinic at the Regional Hospital as the GP thinks I have an extremely rare auto immune disorder which only affects two people in Hawkes Bay. Guess that explains why I have felt like crappier than usual for so long. So if I have two rare disorders I guess that just makes me more exclusive. And interesting in a wane, windswept sort of way. Although I really feel as if I've been hit in the head with a frying pan with the events of the past month I try to be grateful for all the good things in life while trying to make sense of all the bad.

Dirty Doings and the Psycho Terrorists

2010-12-31T08:41:00.007+13:00

Suddenly it's New Year's Eve and all this year's resolutions are about to be renewed and ignored. Especially the one about keeping this blog updated regularly. The past couple of months have sped by in a wave of roses and weeds. The garden has looked very pretty in photographs. Beneath those lovely flowers lurks convolvulus that twines its way up stems and strangles everything. And below that is the couch grass that matts itself amongst the root systems. But I keep plodding away. Eventually I'll get on top of the weeds or die trying. Currently thinking about buying one of those DIY coffin kits and using it as a coffee table just in case the garden wins.

In the meantime we all have to contend with the heat and the gale force winds. Tuesday these reached 130 kms here in Tikokino. Plants are now wind burnt and lying sideways on the ground. I meanwhile lay sideways on the sofa, the fan on high, fixed in position so I was doing a reclining Marilyn Monroe with my skirt billowing. No way to work outside as a dirt storm engulfed us. Some silly buggers had ploughed fields which were then lifted into the air and evenly distributed over every surface within a ten mile radius. At one point I looked north and saw what looked like a tornado rising up behind a friend's farm. Usually I can look across towards the mountains but these were obscured with a haze of filth that sped its way across and dumped itself on me.

The chooks didn't care. It saved them all from expending energy on a conventional dust bath. Widget the outside rooster who refuses to live in the hen house since Franz (the dominant cock) beat the crap out of him loves perching on any available fence post and crowing his superiority to anyone who'll listen. Whenever I go outside I am mobbed by a crowd of ravenous hens, chicks, a yelling goat, roaring donkey and an occasional pissed off cat. A friend who often calls this "A Mad House" informed me yesterday that my animals are "psycho terrorists". Couldn't have said it better myself.

Searching For The Enigma That Is Stig

2010-11-29T07:41:00.006+13:00

Mishka has been gone a month now. Hardest part is coming home and not having his pointy little face at the window. Cats have been confused. I've been lonely. Trying to find another Sheltie however is problematic due to cost. I spent nearly $600 in medical fees for Mish so only have $80 birthday money towards a new dog at the moment. Cost of a Sheltie puppy is $900- up $700 from when I bought Mishka in 1997. Inflation has a lot to answer for. I have been looking at other breeds but they're either up there in price or else don't inspire any desire in me to own them. Designer breeds (what we used to call mongrels) are the worst. Weimadoodles, cavoodles, schnoodles- every sort of doodly poodly combo fills Trademe's listings. Have spoken to two Sheltie breeders about finding an older dog needing a loving home so think that may be the best option.

On the 3rd November Ella the hen walked out with eight little chicks. She's a bit of a playgirl so they all seem to have different fathers. I couldn't keep her in the woodshed since Stig is still King in there so put a wire cage in the carport at the back door which has made it easy to take care of them. Ella is a good Mum and once she got over the desire to rip my hand off every time I offered food we started up a pretty good relationship.

Ebony's remaining two babies are big and healthy. I haven't handled them as much as I would like as I was so nervous after the others died that I didn't want to risk passing some nasty bacteria onto them but they now come up and ask to be patted and made a fuss of.

Stig has been my saving grace. Stig the demanding not quite four month old goat who has to be walked three times a day and who has ensured I keep weeding the garden in an effort to feed this demanding maahing spoilt monster. Stig who is learning to shake hands although he can sometimes decide to shake hands with your head when you're bending over. Stig who on occasion runs away so he can dash inside for a quick explore before I catch up with him. Stig who, if he spies a basket of clean washing, grabs a pair of my knickers and runs about shaking them up and down. Stig who wails like a banshee when he's throwing a tanty. I love goats!

Last Journey

2010-10-30T17:47:00.002+13:00

I felt sick when I made the appointment for Mishka to be euthanised yesterday. I rang the local vets to check who would come out and do it for me but their mileage prices were so high that I had to face the fact that we would have to go to the clinic. Vet Services who did the original operation on Mish said that a vet would come to the car to save him the stress of going into the building with all its smells and unpleasant memories.

Every thing I did with Mish I mentally reminded myself that it would be for the last time “This is his last walk outside, this is his last meal, this is the last night”. After a broken night I got up early and fed everyone before I came inside to finish chores. As I was making my bed I kept feeling someone watching and would turn to see Mish lying in the dining room looking at me. Finally I knelt beside him and brushed his coat so he’d look his best for his final journey. I picked him up and cuddled him with his head resting on my shoulder. As he looked into the little hallway by the back door his ears went up and down repeatedly as if something was there but of course there was nothing.

As we sat there a song came on the radio- The Beatles “Golden Slumbers”. The lines “Golden Slumbers guide you to your rest” followed by “Hush little baby don’t you cry/And I will sing you a lullaby” started me off and when the song ended with “And in the end/The love you take/Is equal to the love/You make” that about finished me off.

Finally, just after 9am my friend Rose arrived to take us to the clinic. We put the cat basket and sheepskin Mish had commandeered after his operation on the back seat of the car while I sat illegally with him on my knee in the front. A very long fraught journey into Waipukurau later we arrived a few minutes late for my appointment. Rose went inside and came back with a form I had to sign giving my permission for the procedure. She then opened the hatchback and I settled Mishka into the basket while we waited for the vet to come out. Unfortunately he was running late so it was nearly 10am by the time he appeared by which time we were cold and Mishka stressed.

The nurse told me she had helped the original vet with the cancer operation in August and they’d been sure they’d removed all the cells and it wouldn’t reoccur. She couldn’t get over how aggressively the tumours had re grown. I told them Mishka’s left leg was very sore so they shaved his right one instead but couldn’t get a vein. However when they tried the same with his left leg Mish snapped at the vet so they went back to the right. As the injection went in I began to sob, resting my head on top of Mish’s as his eyes began to close and he went to sleep. Unfortunately for him my face was the last thing he saw in this world.

We drove home with him curled up in the little bed and managed to finish digging the grave I had begun yesterday without crying. When Rose took him out of the car and I touched him he was still warm and looked as if he was just sleeping. I laid him in the grave and put a sprig of jasmine on top of him and at that point we both lost it so I ended up helping filling in the grave with my eyes shut.

After Rose left I wandered around outside for an hour as I couldn’t bear to go into the house. When I finally became too cold the sense of loss was huge but the black and white cats came and sat beside me until I lay down and went to sleep.

So bye Mishka. King of the Egg Eaters. Cat Humper. Total Guts. Best Friend.

Time To Say Goodbye

2010-10-28T08:14:00.003+13:00

When is the right time to let go? Watching Mishka gradually worsen each week I told myself it would be when he could no longer eat or wag his tail. But here we are weeks on and yet he still has an interest in his food (and everyone else's) and always has a wag ready and waiting. But two weeks ago he suddenly developed a limp in his left front leg after a egg search expedition in the shelter belt accompanied by a stray cow. He had trouble touching his paw to the ground but it seemed like the trouble was coming from the shoulder. Gradually each day he has curtailed his perambulations around the garden to the point now that he only wanders twenty feet from the door for a toilet stop or else to the woodshed to steal Stig's milk.

The mouth tumours have grown back and became ulcerated and infected a couple of weeks ago so he's back on antibiotics. The tumour in the lymph node of his neck has doubled so goodness knows what's going on in the rest of his body. Despite eating well and all his supplements and alternative treatments he is beginning to lose a little weight. He looks sad.

Mishka sleeps a lot now although he takes an interest in visitors. Especially one doggy one, Pippi the blue heeler, who was sitting in a truck last Saturday with Mishka whining up at her. Quick as a flash she jumped out of the window and much bum sniffing ensued before Mish began some intensive "wild thang". Distracting him from her wasn't too easy but she didn't seem to mind until she decided to go to the loo and Mish, never being man to let a chance go by, hopped on sideways. At that Pippi took umbrage and began growling so was locked back in the truck leaving a love lorn Romeo whining up at her.

Yesterday I rang the vets and discussed the options for putting Mish to sleep. As bringing them out here is too expensive and Mish is terrified of the clinic they will come out to the car and with me sitting beside him on the back seat they will set him free. He loves going for car rides so hopefully will be unsuspecting of what is about to happen. The last gift you can ever give your pet is unselfishness on your part- to learn when it is time to say goodbye.

Baby Bunny Bother

2010-10-22T08:01:00.007+13:00

What should have been a happy time welcoming new bunnies into the world has turned into a fraught experience. What with the "jelly babies" constantly getting out of their nest box after being fed, to the first death of a seven day old white kit that I didn't discover out of the box since it had wriggled behind it and was hidden from view.

Six beautiful kits made it to two weeks and all opened their eyes. There was some difference in size from large and fat to small and fat but Ebony seemed to be doing a good job looking after her litter.

The only agouti kit (a buck) in particular was huge for its age and doing especially well until Saturday 2nd October when I discovered it sitting in the cage hunched up and looking very miserable. On close examination it had a bad case of green diarrhea which had only appeared that afternoon as it was fine when I checked in the morning. I isolated it from the others and brought it inside and tried to help but within two hours it was dead. This was my first case of kit diarrhea ever.

The following Wednesday I was showing friends the remaining five white kits when we noticed that one was slightly bald on top of its head as well as being (along with another baby) quite a bit smaller than the others. Next morning on the 8th Oct everyone looked fine and I began chores only to have my washing machine which is within ear shot of the rabbitry have a complete breakdown and try to make a break for freedom with all the noise it could muster. Then at 8.30am the lawn mower man arrived unexpectedly and began weed eating nearby. When I went to check on the bunnies an hour later one of the small kits was lying dead with the others sitting on it. I assumed it died of fright. Then the next day little Baldy died. When I examined it there was a huge bluish swelling on its head so that must have been part of the cause of death.

The kits reached three weeks and began hanging out with Mum a lot more although at first they were reluctant to enter the nest box after Baldy's death which made me wonder if he'd had a seizure which scared the hell out of them. They then reached four weeks of age and I began to relax until Sunday 17th Oct when I went out first thing on a warm still Spring morning to find the largest kit dead in the nest box. No signs of injury, the body was still warm and limp. Everyone else seemed fine and happy to see me but I now approach their cage with trepidation. In 24 years of keeping rabbits I have never lost five kits from a litter. Bunny bother. Or bother bunnies.

The Stig

2010-09-27T19:33:00.005+13:00

My four goats Xena, Gretel, Heidi and Hoggle have disappeared off the face of the earth or at least into the depths of a Tikokino farm that is filled with goat-friendly gorges and cliffs. It is unlikely they will ever be caught. The pain of losing these four unbridled wild spirits has meant that I have had great difficulty even saying the word goat. That is until a couple of weeks ago.

My friend Rose's goat Brenda had triplets on 6 August 2010, two girls and a boy. She has been living on a farm so she could have access to a billy who not only sired triplets with Brenda but also with another nanny. Rose offered the male goat to me and I of course accepted. On 18 September we headed north towards Hastings in pouring rain, driving wind, the whole climatic gamut. There was no one around when we arrived at the farm so Rose went to find a farm worker who told us where the baby goats were housed.

Brenda was tied in a shed opposite the farm house near stalls full of bottle fed lambs who thought we were there to provide lunch. Rose had brought along a bag full of chopped apples and fed Brenda by hand until her friends Lesley and Rowan arrived home from shopping. Rowan released the triplets who bounded out and began to help themselves to "Moosli" calf food out of a bag. He grabbed the wether and popped him on my knee which nearly caused the poor little boy to have a serious case of conniptions. Rowan then fitted him with a collar and chain as he felt he needed to be tethered until he was tamed.

After a cup of tea in front of the fire Rose and I prepared to leave, me with the little goat standing on my knee looking out the front window of the car. He was quite disturbed on the way home but then decided to climb down by my feet where he sat quietly for the remainder of the journey.

It was still cold and rainy when we arrived home so we left the little goat standing on the passenger seat looking out across the paddocks while we goat proofed the woodshed where he would be living initially. Rose tipped a large cardboard box on its side for him to sleep in and we spread dry sawdust and the last of my hay on the ground. When I opened the car door to get him out he had christened the car seat. We settled the kid into the woodshed where he stood small and alone and slightly scared. After Rose went home I sat with him for half an hour until I was sure he was settled. However when I went inside the cottage he cried. And cried. And cried. Like a human baby wanting its mother. This continued until darkness fell when he quietened.

Rowan had provided me with a partial bag of Moosli and some milk powder along with a bottle and teat. However to get the little goat to suck on this I had to hold him between my knees and force it into his mouth. This led to some differences of opinion until he managed to bite the teat length ways so it was unusable. However I found that he would drink the milk mixture if I poured it into an ice cream container so it all turned out well in the end.

I had a few suggestions for names but suddenly "Stig" popped into my mind and wouldn't pop out again. Perhaps because he resembled Top Gear's The Stig in that he was white and had large googly eyes. As the week wore on he began to recognise me as the bringer of food and would bellow like a spoilt three year old when I left him alone. After a day I took Stig for a walk on his chain and he trotted happily along so in the end I let him go and he ran after me. He also ran after the roosters which caused some noisy consternation amongst the poultry population. He became so attached to me that he followed me inside the house and I discovered him sizing up the bed in the spare room. Stig was informed that that was not an option.

SOME SAY that he only knows two facts about humans: one is that they're really just funny looking goats, the other is that they're cruel with holders of Moosli. We just know him as The Stig. (With apologies to Jeremy Clarkson who does much funnier introductions on Top Gear).

Flowers and Furries

2010-09-16T08:50:00.008+12:00

Two more smallish lumps have appeared under Mishka's facial hair this week but the main tumour inside his lip doesn't seem to have grown much at all. At the moment he is on 2,000 mgs of chewable Vitamin C every day plus a clove of garlic cut up and hidden in his meat. I also began him on Homeopathic Thuja 30c three times daily. Should be 6x but this is almost impossible to find here in Hawkes Bay. The vet doesn't believe in homeopathy but said to go for it anyway as it "can't hurt". At this stage Mishka is pain free and has his usual appetite although he supplemented his ordinary diet by finding and eating some soft runny sheep manure yesterday. So much for trying to keep his mouth clean and germ free. But he seemed happy.

Mish and I have been spending some time out in the garden while I battle the weeds. The hellebores or winter roses have been amazing. There are at least four colours and variations in between. I try not to disturb them so they'll increase in numbers.

Because there was no drought this year many of the plants that flowered poorly last season have been making a huge effort this year. The red camellia bush that just had one lonely flower last spring is making up for lost time.

The grape hyacinths have spread into the unlikeliest of places popping up in the lawn around the oak tree. Lawn mower man carefully avoided these areas so I will mark them and dig up the bulbs so they can safely be replanted in the garden.

Yesterday Ebony rabbit kindled seven small individuals. Last week I'd decided she was not pregnant but just overweight but after discovering her busy plucking herself at 7am I moved her to the breeding cage with a nest box and by the afternoon she had everything done and dusted. Daddy Goblin had the easiest job, just handing celebratory carrots round to all the other bucks in the rabbitry.

Sarah's Siesta and Mish's Potty Mouth

2010-09-09T08:01:00.006+12:00

Mishka's wound healed beautifully after his operation but two weeks afterwards I noticed his hind foot was pinkish and when I looked in his mouth a new ulcer had appeared to the right of the operation site, inside his mouth and just under his nose. The vet sent antibiotics out with the mailman the next day which cleared up the infection but within two days the lump underneath had increased in size. I spent two stress filled days wringing my hands but then just decided to enjoy having him around while he was happy and energetic. I doubled the amount of Vitamin C tablets I was giving as well as starting him on a clove of raw garlic every day. Needless to say this has to be hidden in his meat. Ringing his breeder she was amazed at how well he was doing at age 13 as she has a dog the same age who is completely blind and deaf. But I could hear in her voice that she thought I only had borrowed time with Mishka. This means he receives some treats he wasn't allowed before like cheese although I still balk at him eating manure- especially as I need to keep his mouth clean. Amazingly his appetite is the same and he is playful and perky so I can't ask for anything more.

Meanwhile we had a funeral for Sarah the hen or "Ugly" as my friend Rose calls her. After raising her two chicks earlier this year she began to develop a lump on her leg which slowly grew larger. Despite this disability she hopped around quite happily, sometimes hitching a ride with me as well as begging me to crack acorns which she fed on from my hand. A friend with an agricultural background was coming out to have a look at her but on Wednesday 25th August she died in a sudden cold snap. I buried her under a thyme bush in the garden with her youngest daughter standing beside me. I tried to think sentimentally that she was saying goodbye to her Mum but the more likely scenario was that she was just waiting for me to dig up worms.

Rats. Again.

2010-08-22T08:52:00.005+12:00

"Rats Rats/ They dig holes into the hen house/ And give the fingers to the cats".
That's my version of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. These aren't the talented tap dancing variety of rats I once lived with but the sneaky, coming out at night and crapping everywhere kind. And I hate them. I even looked at rat traps this week. Large versions of the mouse kind in plastic, wood and metal. But when I learned that you have to nail them down in case the rat takes off with one as a funky kind of necklace I bottled out. I don't mind dealing with corpses but the thought of jewellery wearing punk rats doing their Sid Vicious impressions out on the lawn is just too much.

I have four cats and a dog. They don't like rats either. They like watching them, they'll even sniff them once they're lying in state, but they won't do anything about helping them get to that nice old deceased stage. However I've worked out that if those nasty rodents get a glimpse of Kit "The Terminator" Cat they may just die laughing.

Mishka Of The Opera

2010-08-08T08:24:00.004+12:00

Mish has lost part of the right side of his face. He now needs a mask like the Phantom of the Opera and it all happened so quickly. The abscess that had begun to drain filled up again and he began scratching the outside of his lip until it began to bleed. It didn't stop bleeding and within a week had spread so I made an appointment with the vet who diagnosed a probable tumour. He prescribed antibiotics for seven days to calm the infection and this immediately removed the horrible smell but over the next few days the bleeding increased and the size of the lump inside his lip practically doubled. I had never seen anything so aggressive.

Monday July 26th Mishka returned to the vet who decided to take a chest xray. If the tumour was malignant and cancer had spread to his lungs it was pointless doing anything apart from euthanizing. I went away for awhile feeling sick with worry but fortunately everything was clear so he was booked in for an operation within the hour. The vet was hesitant about doing it as he had to remove 1cm of tissue around the tumour which would take him close to the lacrymal gland (tear duct). There was also the worry about the cancer being in the bone so we agreed that if it was he would let Mishka die under the anaesthetic. He would have preferred Mish to go to Massey University for a specialist to work on but this would have cost well over $1,000 which was beyond me plus I felt time was of the essence due to the aggressive nature of the growth.

I had a distraught afternoon but eventually the call came through that Mish had survived the operation and that no cancer had been found in the bone. Plus he also had three teeth less as they were rotten and removed to keep the mouth as clean and infection free as possible. I was meant to collect Mishka two days later on the Wednesday but he was so homesick (and I suspect made such a fuss) that a nurse drove him back home for me the following afternoon. I admit I got a shock to see half his face gone but Mish was so pleased to be home that I knew I would soon become "accustomed to his face". The next day he came with me to my art group as he was getting used to wearing an Elizabethan collar and I didn't want to leave him home crashing around. Everyone was polite but I am sure his swollen face with its now permanent snarl was a shock. After greeting everyone he just settled down on the floor asleep in front of the gas heater.

I remove his collar twice a day to clean it of dog spit and am waiting till he gets his stitches removed this week so he can be free of it forever. The cats have finally got used to his plastic apparel- Peaches even walked up and gave him a gentle kiss on his nose. However when I received the vet bill of nearly $452 this week I needed more than a kiss to revive me.....

Lippy Dog

2010-07-09T13:19:00.003+12:00

Mishka and I had a wander around the garden the other evening while I took more night photos. Looks like Mish had a few friends hanging around as per usual. The abscess on the inside of his lip has finished draining but he keeps chewing sticks and making it bleed so have begun coating it with hypericum and calendular ointment to stop any further infection. Meanwhile I keep him cosy in front of the fire with the occasional cat for company.

A cold snap has drifted in with the rain and caused some rheumatism in my left hand so typing is now more of a two finger thing. I spend time huddled under a minky blanket with two wheat packs, one of which I have performed surgery on as it ruptured and began leaking. Of course I didn't realise this at first and was picking up and snacking on what I thought were pieces of nut bar only to receive a nasty surprise. As you do when you tend to eat things you find hidden in crevices of a sofa.

Lenin Goes A-wandering

2010-07-03T15:36:00.004+12:00

Lunch time I was sitting munching on crackers and drinking black tea when something moved just to my right which turned out to be Lenin the rooster who was standing in the doorway between the sitting and dining rooms. He had marched right on in the open front door, past the sleeping dog, around an armchair and straight to me. Of course when I started the yelling part he panicked a bit and tried to walk through an unopened window. Realizing that a frightened rooster is a poohing rooster I calmed down and tried to shepherd him outside again. I thought shutting the door was the answer but just now after I had put everyone in the hen house for the night I came in to find Lenin wandering around the kitchen. By this time two cats and the dog were following me in so it was with quite a bit of difficulty that I managed to usher him back outside. Why he's wanting to come in the house all the time is beyond me. What is more disturbing is that he seems very aware of the layout of the cottage. Looks like he's getting some inside information.

Meanwhile Mishka has a large abscess inside his lip. First noticed it a week ago when his face began bulging out to one side. Gave him Homeopathic Silicea 30c which burst it and led to copious amounts of pus and blood being expelled. I then began washing the wound with colloidal silver. Most of the abscess has cleared out now but there's still a little muck still dribbling out and unfortunately Mish's gob still smells like Satan's bum.

Misty Apparition

2010-06-22T08:15:00.005+12:00

So the other night was very still and clear and I decided to take some night photos to see what I could see (mainly orbs). At the front of the property this is what showed up. It wasn't present in the photos taken before or after and I am a field away from the nearest house so no way it was smoke.

Very clearly you can see a face to the left of the photo. This photo was taken about twelve feet away from my other weird photo with the face that showed up a foot off the the ground just by the pine trees. Nothing similar has showed up there since.

The Cat Art Of Keeping Warm

2010-06-13T08:28:00.004+12:00

'Tis the season for indoor cats. Suddenly the prospect of long mornings outside aren't proving attractive and Mum's lap (especially if there is a wheat pack on it) is considered the best place to be. Gypsy is proving to be particularly loving at this time of year. I am not fooled- I know she has selfish motives. The most disconcerting part of winter is to go to bed with two or maybe three cats with you, only to turn over in the night and find my face tickled with long black fur as Kit (No 4) has decided to take up residence on my pillow. Thursday morning we had a -5oC frost. It's been a while since I have felt so bone achingly cold. Gypsy practically lived on my lap all day.

The firewood situation has been dire but luckily the cold temperatures didn't hit until this week by which time I had earned enough to buy some. My friend Rose and her husband collected a small truckload of apple wood from Te Papa orchard for me yesterday.

And I have rats apparently. There are holes all over the place so time to get some poison. Yes I have cats who don't catch rats. They're above that sort of thing. Why spend freezing nights outside when you can cuddle up on an electric blanket and play push the human off the bed. No competition really.

The Filthy Part Of Pet Ownership

2010-05-20T08:55:00.006+12:00

'Tis the season of mists and muddy paws. Kit especially is a great one for walking through the garden before coming inside and hopping up on the bed. But you can't be mad with an animal that is so laid back she lies like a dog.

Meanwhile at some point on Sunday Mishka must have found a very very old nest of eggs because by that evening he was suffering from a nasty case of the squitters. Monday I had to wash his backside seven times including in the evening in the dark with just a torch to see by. Tuesday a friend suggested I crutch him so that I didn't have such a task keeping his bushy haunches and hind legs clean. Mishka was mortified at my attempt at a Brazilian and kept rushing away and sitting down so that no one could witness his abject humiliation. The cats of course thought it was hilarious.

Today he is on a fast to try and stop the diarrhoea along with colloidal silver in his water in case he has an infection plus Merc Sol 30c twice a day for three days. If I still can't get this under control it will be a vet visit which is a scary proposition for the pair of us. So here's to prayers that Mish's star sign will soon be out of the house of poo poo.

Things That Orb In The Night

2010-05-11T08:14:00.004+12:00

My friends Marie and Steve invited me to their beautiful home for lunch on Sunday (home made soup, bread and chocolate mousse!) and after a guitar concert from Steve which had us bopping to “Cocaine”, “Sweet Child” and “Stairway To Heaven” we settled in front of their huge TV to watch “Underworld” in surround sound. It was like being in the movies with vampires and werewolves sounding as if they were creeping around you. And when the head vampire’s head slid off diagonally onto the ground it was awesome. Just like being there.

I can watch vamp movies till the cows come home and I’m never nervous. But ghost movies are a different matter. I’ve seen a ghost. My atheist brother has lived with a ghost. So I know they’re out there. Which is why my friends think I’m crazy continuing my paranormal photography hobby. Yet I don’t find snapping orbs in the least scary but oddly comforting. I can’t see them until they appear on my camera screen and then they’re usually hovering near trees and garden beds as if they’re busy doing something with the plants as if they were psychic gardeners.

Then there are the beautiful colours. Some are large and apricot, others small and vivid glowing white. Others are pink like this one which is hovering over a bed of pink roses. No I have never ever seen anything to be scared of.

Until I took this. Near the front gate, by the pine tree shelter belt, amongst some weeds. Immediately I took another snap but there was nothing there and the next morning when I checked there were no reflective surfaces that could account for these images. Not surprisingly since taking this picture I have felt a bit weird when I go past to get my mail as you never know what’s lurking unseen in the foliage.

Demelza's Embryo Modelling Career

2010-05-03T08:40:00.003+12:00

The last of the monarchs hatched over the weekend bringing the complete total to thirty butterflies. Of course as soon as the last one flew away the weather turned cold so hopefully they’re well on their way to a warmer climate.

I am intending to enter Demelza into the New Zealand Top Cat Model competition this year. Fortunately all done over the net otherwise there would be no chance as her eyes turn as big as saucers and she falls off windowsills if she happens to see a strange human in her vicinity. A friend once told me her eyes look as if she’s on “P” (methamphetamines) but I think she looks as if she’s watched one too many horror movies on TV. Anyway I have opened a Twitter account for her so people can read her version of what happens around here- she is a bit judgemental so it will be tough reading for me occasionally.

Briar was due to have her hooves trimmed again but I had to make an urgent appointment as Betty saw she was limping. I couldn’t see as the farm worker here had taken it on himself to move her far far away with the few pet sheep she hangs about with. Betty brought her back with the dogs and I cleaned out her hoof and found a stone stuck there. The farrier couldn’t make it till Saturday morning so I hoped she would be able to stay nearby till her appointment but Friday morning she’d been moved way back over again. I told Betty who went over and got her again with the dogs and told the farm worker to leave her next to me till Monday. Suffice to say that I saw on Saturday she had been moved way over to a paddock at the back of Betty’s.

I had to ring the main house anyway as the water dried up in the cottage at 8.30am but Betty had gone out and wouldn’t be back till lunchtime. It took me a good half hour to go and get Briar who wasn’t limping as badly but it still was quite painful for her to walk back to my place. Then the farrier was an hour late so I waited out in the garden with Briar to keep her company until he arrived. Turned out a small abscess had also burst in her hoof so he cleaned that out and sprayed it plus trimmed her feet. I was too tired to take her all the way back so just popped her out the back gate into the field nearest me where she has been since, complaining loudly when I don’t arrive with the occasional carrot.

The water situation became quite dire as I didn’t have any collected unusually for me and by 3pm I had nothing to drink. I rang the main house again and spoke to an English lady staying with Betty and before I knew it she had walked over with a kettle of water as she hated the fact I couldn’t even have a cup of tea. By 4.30pm the water was back on again so I could feed and water the animals and have a tepid bath before settling down for the evening. However it has reminded me of how important it is to keep water stored at all times in case of emergency as it is the one thing you cannot live without. That and chocolate.

Love Is Like A Monarch Butterfly

2010-04-27T08:19:00.006+12:00

I have a kitchen full of butterflies at the moment. The monarch grubs that I raised on pumpkin after they decimated my three large swan plants have all morphed into chrysalis, some more successfully than others (the casualties shrivel up after the first couple of days). Over the past week these have begun to hatch out into beautiful gaudy monarchs, tame enough that I can let them crawl onto my fingers.

Someone told me last week that the DNA of the caterpillar is completely different to the DNA of the butterfly that emerges from the chrysalis making the whole process even more surreal. I have watched as these greedy little grubs in their colourful striped footie jerseys ate themselves into a stupor before heading northwards to sit in a trance for a couple of days before they shot silk out of their backside, hung in a half hearted J and shed their skins, turning into a hard green shell decorated with golden dots. For a couple of weeks they remained like that before a touch of black at the top of the chrysalis announced something amazing was going on inside. Within a couple of days the whole thing would turn black and orange and suddenly a butterfly would emerge so quickly that it was hard to catch them in the act.

Their wings all crumpled at first they hang from their broken home with a huge body that gradually shrinks as fluid is pumped into their wings making them unfurl in glorious technicolour. At this point I usually leave them a few hours before popping them onto a plant in the sun to dry out a bit further before they take off into the sky and flutter off into the distance. So far I have watched this happen 16 times and each time it seems just as incredible.

The Mean Cat From Next Door

2010-04-08T08:53:00.004+12:00

World War III broke out here an hour ago when next door's mean cat paid a visit. This grey and white bully lives across the paddock in the farm worker's cottage but apparently this is a part time arrangement as every few days she walks a few hundred metres to the shearer's quarters where she spends a few nights with her owner's brother before returning and beginning the whole process over again. She usually take a short cut through my garden and this morning I heard a thump and some serious growling before I saw her sitting calmly on the front path with her ears flattened, standing on tippy toes glaring at Kit who was crouched on the front door step. I let Kit inside and yelled at Mishka to wake up. It took him a while to get his bearings and then realising he was on duty he strutted outside to sort the situation. However the cat went back up enpointe and growled at him so he turned tail and shuffled back inside.

By this time Demelza was in the loop and she sat by the armchair looking out the dining room window with her fur on end ala Adam Lambert. Kit (not a light weight in any shape manner or form) was walking around wailing. I opened the door and did the shoo thing but the cat just growled at me as well. She even let me take her photo to record her vistory. However I discovered her nemesis in the form of Mr Water Jug and hopefully by now she's back on the road to or from home. Now I'm left with three cats on duty in various windows while the dog has calmly gone back to sleep content in the knowledge that he saved the day...

Fowl News

2010-04-05T19:38:00.003+12:00

A flock of Daffies, Donalds and Jemima Puddleducks have been living on one of the back paddocks the past few weeks. The noise of their arguments and chatter intersperse occasional bursts into flight when they take off and do a circuit before landing back down where they started. There surely is a fair amount of gossip going on and I am sure there are some interesting relationships too. When they fly overhead you can imagine what these are by the formations: two ducks are a devoted old married couple, three ducks are a threesome and a group of them are the swingers of the flock.

Gine leaves her babies at night to roost with the rest of the bantams in "the big house". Of her eight chicks five have survived, one male being taken by a rooster and the two white pullets having committed heni kari. Sarah is still taking care of her two offspring although they're nearly three months old. If she were human she'd be the sort of mother who is happy to have her kids living with her when they were in their fifties. Of these Twizel I am still undecided to as whether is a male or female. In the meantime the rest of the fowls are on strike and refusing to lay eggs while they have their annual moult. Threatening them with the pot has no effect as they already know I'm a vegetarian.

The Autumn Garden

2010-03-20T13:26:00.003+13:00

Crocuses have been flowering at the base of the old oak tree by the drive but after just two weeks they've withered and disappeared back into the lawn. Meanwhile the red hollyhocks and roses still look lovely while everything else begins to look tired so that the entire garden resembles a large dried flower arrangement. To be proactive this morning I dug over two of the built up gardens in preparation for planting some winter veggies as well as cutting back the larger sage plants.

The grape vine on the front pergola is laden with fruit. I have encouraged visitors to pick themselves a couple of bunches before they leave while the thrushes have been picking single grapes from high up on the vine. Even the landlord hopped over the fence one morning to help himself to an armful. Whatever is left drops onto the concrete to be picked over by the chooks. There have been a few drunken hens staggering about the place while some others have developed mild cases of the runs.

With all the harvesting going on around the farm there are hundreds of birds feeding in the fields. Most of them roost in the oak tree and a thick layer of guano is forming a nice abstract painting on the driveway. Being severely outnumbered the cats just stare in awe at all the bird life. One negative aspect is a hawk that has decided to hang around in order to feed on the small birds. Unfortunately he took one of Gine's chicks on Tuesday so she is now down to six. He was is cheeky that he flies down into the backyard and scares the hell out of everyone including me. Fortunately this particular bird is too heavy for him to fly off with.

Sunrise, Moonrise

2010-03-14T20:02:00.004+13:00

Gypsy wakes me at 3.30am most mornings by hopping over my head while I'm sleeping. A couple of nights ago she was so bad that I swore at her and put her off the bed only to hear a happy purring from the end of the bed where Peaches was taking great pleasure in seeing her sibling getting told off for once. Eventually I get up only I'm shivering as it is becoming quite chilly in the mornings now. When I open the back door the sun still hasn't risen but is usually just peeping over the eastern hills as I head outside to check on everyone. Within a few minutes the sun has put his hat on and it's all downhill from there.

Last week we had a rad orange moon but by the time I dashed inside to find the camera it had faded to a sickly cream but it was still pretty impressive. So much so that I had to resist the urge to strip off and do some naked tree dancing on the front lawn.

On a sad note- Amber, a cantankerous old golden bantam fell off her perch Wednesday morning. I was just getting over digging the grave in the afternoon when I found one of the white chicks dead with a broken neck. Of course it had to be a pullet as roosters are made of stainless steel and never die. I can look back now and realize that I must have made a fascinating sight sitting on the lawn giving a white chick mouth to beak resuscitation but when you're in shock you don't think straight do you.

Phoenix's Farewell, Goblin's Centrefold and Cat Vacuuming

2010-03-06T20:20:00.005+13:00

A bit of a shock last Sunday when I went out to feed the rabbits and found Phoenix dead in his cage and blue around his mouth. He hadn't been under the weather although he had been a bit picky with his food. Phoenix had lived up to his name when as a young rabbit RHD went through the rabbitry killing his mother but leaving he and his brother alive. He was a pretty good sprayer like his Dad which is why he had to be placed in a cage some distance away from the other rabbits. Even so he occasionally got a runny eye from getting some of his own back. Every afternoon we had a ritual as he waited patiently for me to top up his drinking bottle with fresh water, standing up as I filled it before attacking it with relish.

Meantime his half brother Goblin has got into the new Ashford "Book of Hand Spinning" by Jo Reeve illustrating the section on angora. I received my complimentary copy this week. As a reward I put a young doe in his cage but unfortunately he decided to turn into a SNAR (Sensitive New Age Rabbit) who only wanted to cuddle and snuggle.

And Kit has returned to being a very sucky kitty after watching Mishka getting a quick vacuum. She jumped up on top of a chair and we were back in business, me sucking her tail up the metal hose and she biting it.

A friend told me recently that this is a madhouse. I wonder why?

Saging and Potting

2010-02-22T11:24:00.004+13:00

I miss my Dad when it comes to gardening. Not that he was a great gardener- far from it- he would pull out the flower plants and proudly leave the weeds. No he was in fact a champion picker upper. You could prune and throw any amount of rubbish onto the lawn and within a few minutes the detritus would disappear. Now it's all up to me which is why it all tends to lie on the lawn until the grass begins to turn yellow. Saturday I got stuck into the giant sage plants on the western side of the garden. They've bloomed wonderfully for months but have begun to look a bit worse for wear, rather like Britney Spears after a hard night out. I clipped them back and already they're beginning to spring back into life so maybe I'll get another flowering before winter. However their remains are calmly decomposing on the grass waiting for me to get my act together.

I have also been planting out pots. I've replaced my burgundy violas from the pots on the front table with fresh blue lobelia. A thyme plant I was given is now planted and gray succulents are hidden under the jasmine vine to try and protect them for coming frosts. The rest of the garden is a jungle but I am hoping the piles of rubbish lying on the lawn fool people into imagining that I will get around to weeding all the beds eventually.

The little black and yellow chick has recovered its mojo and is a lot happier now. I now let Sarah and the two older chicks out in the afternoons but Sarah has begun walking over to Gine's cage and attacking her through the wire. Yesterday they had a full out fight, flying at each other and trying to grab each other's head feathers rather like two women grabbing each others extensions during a slap down. Obviously while they're stuck looking after their babies in their adjacent cages they're both indulging in foul/fowl language.

Damp, Drizzle and Dead Hens

2010-02-20T08:42:00.005+13:00

Another four days of drizzly damp weather descended this week and finally it is beginning to take its toll on the animals. One of my younger hens died on Monday the 15th. She'd been fine the night before but when I went to feed them all her wings were drooping and within a couple of hours she'd passed away. I dug a grave in the garden near the back door andMishka and I held a Tangi for her before the rain chased us inside.

Thursday night it was so humid and hot I slept on top of the bedclothes with the cats positioned at the far reaches of the bed. However at 4am it became quite chilly and by the time I got up the wind had turned southerly so it became a pantyhose day. Everyone seemed fine but this morning one of the second family of chicks has droopy wings so I will take her out later and check her over to see if it's anything more than the cold
change responsible. It would have to be the cute black and yellow chick as well!

The mornings dawn in a sea of mist towards the hills in the east. The sheep graze or sleep depending on the temperature until the sun rises high enough to dry everything off. The wheat paddock next to me was harvested recently and the grapes are beginning
to ripen on the vine over my front pergola so it definitely feels as if we're skipping summer and heading into Keat's season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Prosaically it's also the season of toadstools, mould and facial eczema.

Bad and Good Bantam Mums

2010-02-08T20:56:00.005+13:00

Most mothers and daughters have a falling out now and then, even in the chicken world. Sarah and Ella have been living in comparative harmony since they hatched out two chicks together but yesterday I heard shrieking from the woodshed and arrived to find Ella attacking her mother. Roosters are nasty fighters but hens can be even worse and Sarah was terrified so the only solution was to grab Ella and put her back in the big house with the other chooks. I was worried she'd fret at losing her baby but when I let her out today with the others she just wandered off to find a worm and didn't make any attempt to go and see her offspring. A real piece of work and a Jeremy Kyle show in the making.

The other chicks have an overprotective mum in Gine who loves to fly up and attack my hand when I attempt to put their feed dish in their cage. Then she clucks and fusses, breaking up bread for them or else crumbling their mash into even smaller pieces. And yet she treads on them without looking or else gets so excited when I put their feed in that when she scratches in the dish she sends chicks flying in all directions. However the babies soon learn to stand out of the way of their mother's wayward feet. For such small fragile creatures they have a remarkable sense of self preservation.

Gypsy squealed at the front door this morning and thinking she wanted in I opened it to find a wet half dead waxeye lying on the doormat. I scooped it up, put it in a box and shut in the dark and warm healing safety of the hot water cupboard. An hour later I was able to release it back outside where it flew away hopefully wiser about the perfidity and unscrupulousness of cats.

Diary Of A Mad Chicken Farmer

2010-02-04T20:16:00.005+13:00

January 18th 2010

Sarah the grey hen and her daughter Ella have been fighting over who gets to sit on some manky looking eggs in the corner of the hen house. When I went to feed the chooks this morning I heard cheeping and lo a small brown bumblebee had appeared. Collected both hens, chick and remaining eggs and put them in a hay lined cage in the woodshed. The two hens proceeded to argue over who got custody of the chick for the rest of the day.

January 21st 2010

Went out early to feed the chick and discovered another egg was hatching and a small wet black creature was struggling to emerge. Four hours later and it was lying stretched out on its side puffing. Didn't expect it to live but by the end of the day it was all fluffed up and looking perkily out of its small dark eyes. Sarah and Ella are delighted as they now have a chick each.

January 22nd 2010

Gine the bantam has been steadfastly sitting on some eggs next to the hen house. This morning four chicks hatched including one fluffy yellow one. By lunchtime the sky was turning black and threatening thunder so prepared another cage in the woodshed and transferred Gine, two eggs and the now eight chicks (four brown, two yellow, one black and one black and yellow). Just as well as within half an hour a torrential rainstorm struck and the nest was flooded out. Overnight 110 mls of rain fell in Tikokino.

January 24th 2010

Friends came to see the chicks and I discovered the two oldest ones loose around the shed and a little brown one from the other clutch hiding beneath its cage. Every day from this point on the same thing happened although the two older ones soon learned to go back in with their mothers when I opened the cage door to put their feed dish in. I cannot for the life of me work out how the other one escaped but assumed it jumped on Mum's back and shimmied through the wider cage mesh higher up.

Over the next few days we had several more unseasonable heavy rainstorms often accompanied with thunder and lightning. The remaining eggs in both clutches didn't hatch which made me wonder about the old wives' tale that thunder kills the young chicks before they can emerge.

1st February 2010

Poor chicks. It has rained so much I think they will be terrified when the sun eventually reappears and will probably run around thinking the world is ending- or the sky is falling...

Demelza At War

2010-01-14T14:06:00.003+13:00

Poor Demelza's tail attacked her again last night. As per usual she was sitting minding her own business when the tip flicked and before she could yowl "catnip mouse" she was at war. She cornered her tail sitting on the edge of the bath but after nearly falling in she ran behind the bathroom door to try and beat it into submission. However the rival attraction of a dry piece of kitty litter got the better of her and she ended up batting this madly across the lino. When the kitty litter finally surrendered she did one half hearted circle just to show her tail who was boss and calmly walked away to torture the dog. It's so amazing what you get to see while you're just sitting on the loo...

Messy Animals

2010-01-11T20:44:00.006+13:00

The cats are currently having a competition to see who can get the most cleavers (sticky weed) seeds stuck in their fur. So far Kit has been winning as she has managed to get into such a mess that I've had to cut chunks of her fur leaving her looking like an overweight moth eaten cuddly toy. Today however Demelza arrived inside with small green sticky round balls hanging off the backs of her legs. When I tried to prise them off I was only rewarded by her usual expression of shocked disapproval so I left her to pull them off by herself before she fell asleep exhausted on the armchair. However I have to announce that the competition was won by Mishka the dog who, in the process of sneaking into a shelter belt in search of bantam nests, managed to decorate himself with seed heads, grass and a few dead leaves for good measure so that he resembled a hairy walking Christmas tree. Didn't have the heart to tell him that he's over 300 days too early.

Wet Dogs and Exploding Bantams

2010-01-02T15:51:00.004+13:00

I'm currently experiencing an explosion of broody bantams. Frightened the hell out of myself the other day while gardening when an unearthly screech emanated from the middle of some day lilies where an irate hen had ensconced herself. A fluffy white hen went missing just before Christmas and I was certain she was sitting as she hadn't been sick but Wednesday afternoon I found her mummified corpse underneath a hedge. I planted her near the day lily patch so she can keep the other hen company.

I am a person who has to set deadlines so I get things done and New Year's Eve was "Wash The Dog Day". I spent a good half hour brushing all the under hair out from Mish's coat but before I had time to wash him the lawn mower man and his offsider arrived. Needless to say I was relieved I'd discovered the dead hen the day before otherwise we'd have had chicken chop suey everywhere. The men spent an hour waging war on the grass, one on a mower and the other on a weed eater and knocked the place into some sort of shape although it does resemble a hay field now. After lunch I took Mish outside and gave him a good wash with flea shampoo before he shook most of the water over me. He loves water despite the expression on his face post bath. Since then I have had to keep him nearby so he doesn't roly poly in the grassy arssy.

Crazy Cocksfoot and Confused Cats

2009-12-29T19:29:00.003+13:00

The lawn mowing man called in again late this afternoon but fortunately this time I had my clothes on. He is coming to knock back the half of the lawn we couldn't complete either this week or next with promises of weed eating the edges as well. Ever the country girl I just think it's a terrible waste of good grazing.

The garden is morphing from late Spring into early Summer which means most areas are looking a bit tatty/weedy. However there are still quite a few poppies blooming and the hollyhocks are beginning to show. The slight rain we've had over the past couple of days has made for wonderfully easy weeding which makes for easily overdoing it. I have been hauling out cocks foot from the corner garden and throwing it out into the paddock for the sheep before replacing them with a few wilted cosmos seedlings and delphiniums.

My furry helpers keep watchful eyes on me from the overgrowth with the occasional helping paw. They've been excited by some unexpected visitors to the garden. A female pheasant has been sending the blood pressure of the roosters sky high while two magpies have been taking their morning perambulations about the front lawn. Demelza and Kit sit in rapt admiration, especially when they up and fly away. I was a bit confused as to why until this morning when I realised that these two black and white cats think the magpies are kindred spirits who are in fact flying cats.

And the poppies and orbs go on

2009-12-26T14:49:00.008+13:00

One day we broil, the next morning there is a frost. Such is December in Central Hawkes Bay. But the poppies continue to amaze including a wonderful fluffy pink individual behind the hen house. I have taken so many shots of this I can see a series of very cliche paintings. Meanwhile the lawn had grown and grown as I waited to see if I can get extra money to get it knocked back. The quote I was given was $100 which at Christmas was too much to cobble together but I was lucky that Glenys and her husband came down a week ago and mowed half, the part you can see from the road thankfully. Arthur took half an hour to ride the mower down the road from their house while Glenys looking pretty snappy in t-shirt and shorts pulled up in a quad bike pulling a trailer containing rakes and wheelbarrow. While Arthur spent two hours trying to tame the grass Glenys and I raked before she threw it over the fence. By the time lunchtime had arrived we had turned into three grease spots. Poor Arthur was then faced with a weary and extremely slow trip back home.

I continue to go outside some nights orb hunting. One evening I followed Mishka up the drive photographing all the way and in each shot there was a white orb floating in the air just above the fence before settling beside Mish. I wonder if it's a dog lover? My paranormal photography adventures inspired my brother to try taking photos at the end of his garden. After a particularly spectacular shot of a white orb which turned out to be some one's soccer ball he managed to capture a couple of large ones in a photo. My friend John however had no luck whatsoever until his wife photographed him with his two grandchildren outside during the day and the resulting photo showed a large grey cloud coming out of his head. Unfortunately he's now convinced himself that this means he's going to die. So if you're wandering around Napier at night and see bright flashes coming from various gardens you'll know what's happening. There is a whole lot of orbing going on.

Paranormal Photography

2009-12-13T10:50:00.006+13:00

Being brought up in a family of mixed Anglican/Spiritualists there has always been some interesting conversations regarding the afterlife, ghosts, spirits, and all the other ephemera of New Age philosophies. However having a brother and friends who are Atheists I always try to have a slightly sceptical attitude to some areas of spirituality. I want to be open minded but not the extent that my mind is downright draughty. Trips to the library always begin at the "Spirituality/Metaphysical" section where I usually find a couple of books to keep me going. Last month I discovered "How To Photograph the Paranormal" by Leonore Sweet PhD which contained some pretty startling photos of orbs that she had taken. I decided to have a go myself since I now have a digital camera and am not wasting valuable (and expensive) film.

First night I turned off my bedside lamp and shot blindly around the room. At first there were just some photos of startled cats but out of ten pictures there were three showing unexplained round "things". I could see where the flash was reflecting and this was nowhere near the round orbs. Second night Mishka and I went outside and I blindly shot around the garden before my camera batteries went flat after just a few photos. This picture shows a large gold orb hovering just over the fence and following Mishka. There was also another later on of an orb following him back up the driveway.

One evening I turned off the lights inside and then hung my arm way out of the window facing away from the house shooting into the darkness. There was no moonlight that night and I wasn't near any reflective surfaces so this picture came as quite a surprise.

I have spoken of what I have been doing the last few nights with several friends. One, an Atheist, does not believe "in that sort of thing", one was bemused and one tried to work out what these objects are, whether they're energy forms or spirits. As for myself I have ruled out bugs as they show up as white flecks, I don't photograph in the rain and the atmosphere is calm so there wasn't any dust. I am now encouraging everyone I know with digital cameras to try photograph around their own homes to see what shows up.

Poppies

2009-12-10T20:23:00.002+13:00

There are triffids growing in the garden. Well humongous sized weeds and I have the allergic welts to prove it. With all the rain we've had recently everything has sprung away and as soon as I finish one patch of garden I turn round to see a jungle behind. It would be quite depressing if it weren't for all the beauty about me. A friend told me today that it must be the year for poppies. Certainly I have a surfeit of rumpled gorgeousness from the common old red Soldiers' poppy to ruffled pink jobbies to PINK and purple artists' dreams that I have photographed to distraction. Now I just have to get the lawn mowed before there is a fire and I will be halfway towards a sort of paradise.

Cat Training aka How To Train A Human

2009-11-28T11:12:00.005+13:00

The recession has finally hit the cats. When I went grocery shopping with Rose this week I noticed their usual cat food "Gourmet" had gone up by 30c a tin which makes a price rise of 50c over the past year making it much too expensive. But I am pretty fussy what I feed my animals so spent some time with a can of Gourmet, comparing ingredients with other brands. Some had too much fat, not enough protein, others I am sure were composed of pure horse. Rose stood by patiently while I did this until in exasperation she said "You spend more time looking at what's in your cats' food rather than in your own. It's disgusting!"

I have to explain that Rose doesn't "get" the whole owning cats thing as she has a dog. However she is about to take ownership of a SPCA kitten within the next two weeks so a whole new world is about to open up to her. But she's certain that there are going to be rules with her new pet, it'll eat what it's given, no special brands, it won't sleep on the bed, it'll have to fit in with her life rather than the other way around. I have tried to explain that within a week of arriving her kitten will have her fully trained, seeing to its every whim and fitting her life around its existence. She just looked at me as if I was really just an eccentric cat lady.

So after five minutes of intense scrutiny I settled on good old Chef cat food but then had to choose what flavours to buy. I know my cats aren't too fond of fish so settled on chicken, lamb as well as a couple of cans of Chef classic. Rose shook her head in disbelief but never said a word. When we arrived home I began unpacking the groceries while we did some last minute chatting. Just as she was walking out the door Rose turned to me and said "I'm going to town again on Friday so if the cats don't like their new food give me a ring and I'll buy them something else".

I just hope her new kitten appreciates the training I have put into it's new pet when it finally arrives at its new home.

Roses All The Way

2009-11-24T19:55:00.003+13:00

Suddenly there are roses everywhere including a beautiful pink climber that is clambering up the northern wall of my bedroom. This was the only one I couldn't reach to prune so not surprisingly it's the most rampant. The rose is truly the Queen of Flowers in all its variations. I just wish I knew the names of all of the ones in the garden here but perhaps it is more fun to name them myself in which case I'll call this one "Fred".

The Big Flight

2009-11-16T19:35:00.003+13:00

The cats are still pretty jumpy from weeks of being dive bombed by irate swallow parents. I managed to get a great shot of the babies a week ago by holding the camera over my head and snapping in their general direction. When a friend offered to get even closer we were startled by the four babies taking wing and flying out across the paddock. They each sat on a fence post while the parents flew from one to another before they all took to the sky again wheeling about in ever increasing circles. We were so worried that we'd frightened them away permanently but at 7.30pm that night and every night since the family arrive in a blast of excited chattering, the babies settling in the nest and the parents perching on the coat hooks on the opposite side of the back door. By morning they've all left for the day, only flying in under the carport every few hours or so.

From what I have been told swallows hatch two or three clutches per season and already Mr and Mrs have begun reinforcing the mud nest with dried grass, most of which is dropped around the door in amongst the piles of bird do do like some natural abstract sculpture. Perhaps I can enter it for some prestigious art award next year.

Briar's Pedicure

2009-10-26T20:19:00.005+13:00

Briar had a pedicure this morning. Her beautician is called Mike. Soon as I put the halter on Briar went into Eyeore mode- her head drooped, her ears flipped back and her eyes filled with tears (well not quite but she looked pretty pissed off). She made a few desultory attempts to kick Mike's hand away before giving into the inevitable. Mishka loved Briar being tied up (not for any kinky reasons) and spent time darting between her legs in order to snatch little hoof shavings. Mike threw him a few larger hoof curls but Mish believes in take away (or steal away in his case) so only ate what he could snatch for himself. Of course we're all suffering the after effects of this feast tonight.

Meanwhile in cat world the cottage felines are under attack by the swallow parents whose offspring hatched over the weekend. I hear lots of bird swearing and open the back door to find Gypsy or Kit cowering near the house while swallows dive bomb them. Even this evening while Peaches crouched on the kitchen window sill an extremely irate bird kept swooping by the glass clacking some extreme obscenities. However Peachy Bum and I were both rewarded by the sight of two tiny beaks reaching up over the edge of the mud nest while the parents vomited up some goodies. Made Stargate Atlantis seem quite tame by comparison. I need to get a life...

Balls

2009-10-24T19:30:00.003+13:00

Everything is springing away including the weeds. I have been trying to keep up with the garden but unless I spend at least an hour a day out there the weeds begin to win. This is the view in the evening from the sitting room window looking towards the Ruahine Ranges. The tidy bit of the garden...

So far I have unearthed 13 balls left by previous tenants including several sad deflated tennis balls and a rugby ball that looks as if Jonah Lomu sat on it. Mishka is terribly excited with each new discovery- probably because he was castrated as a pup.

Gathering Lilacs In The Spring

2009-10-15T20:27:00.002+13:00

I have been enjoying lilacs for weeks now; photographing the flowers, picking bunches and bringing them inside, and gazing at them from my bedroom window.Obviously I've led a deprived life as I've never had a lilac bush in the garden before although when I lived at home my mother planted one which never flowered. She read in a magazine that if you hit the trunk with a hammer and then swore at it there would be a plethora of flowers the next season. Obviously someone was having a case of the funnies as the tree sulked even more after being beaten up by a seriously deranged senior citizen.

The garden here is bursting into life which means bursting into weeds. I am trying to do at least an hour's work each day but this isn't making much headway. Today I spent two hours weeding before planting a cutting on the burgundy Iceberg rose amongst the lavender. I also planted eight different coloured alyssum plants so I can begin making pressed flower cards again.

Gardening is as mystic as I get and whenever I see a new flower a verse from Dorothy Frances Blomfield Gurney's poem comes to mind:

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,--
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

Two Swallows Don't Make The Spring

2009-10-10T13:46:00.003+13:00

When I first moved in here last March there was a disused swallows nest situated above the back door. The day after moving "someone" removed it (not me) but for the past couple of weeks Mr and Mrs Swallow have been busy rebuilding it. It is an amazing edifice constructed of straw, dirt and bird spit. Now it has been lined with feathers and the female is sitting on some eggs while the husband keeps watch sitting on a coat hook on the other side of the door, carefully building up a pile of guano on the ground underneath.

The cats spend hours perched on the window sill above the kitchen sink watching all the goings on. Safer there than outside where they're dive bombed by the irate parents to be. Warmer too since we are having yet another cold snap with snow falling down on the foothills.

I have had several visitors this week. Rose helped out Monday, Tuesday we went down to Waipukurau and in the afternoon friends brought me out some much needed firewood. After art at Otane on Wednesday Gine visited for a couple of hours with little Moses. We sat chatting in front of the fire, trying to control Mishka who was certain he'd be very helpful cleaning Moses, especially while he had his nappy changed. Mish is a dog on a mission where pooh is concerned.

Peanut

2009-09-26T14:22:00.004+12:00

There are some chooks that stick in your mind like- well like chicken poo. Peanut hatched on 2nd November 1994. Her mother "Squidgey" was an Old English Game Fowl, a tiny but feisty hen who was addicted to walnuts. One day she went missing and a few weeks later arrived outside the hen house with three tiny bumblebee chicks. Peanut took on her mother's colouring but was twice her size plus she inherited her grandmother Becky's tufted feather head dress. Over time Peanut has had a couple of clutches and lived to see her grand, great grand and even great great grand chicks. Not only that but she has moved six times as I had to move home.

Lately Peanut has begun to look a bit shabby but still was bolshie enough to beat up a young rooster who got a bit amorous a couple of weeks ago. A few days ago when a cold snap swept in her wings began to look a bit droopy and yesterday morning she died only one month out from her 15th birthday. I buried her in the flower garden and planted a lavender dentata cutting on her grave. Another superannuitant chicken has gone to the big chook house in the sky.

A Woman Who Stares At Goats

2009-09-21T21:28:00.003+12:00

Friday was a beautiful yellow day. After going to portraiture class in Otane in the morning I came home to lunch and discovered that Tikokino School had rerun two of my advertisements I'd placed the previous week in their newsletter. I had vowed that this would be my last attempt to advertise for my missing goats as I had exhausted every avenue I could think of.

In the middle of the afternoon I found a phone message from someone at Gwavas Station saying that four goats were living on a cliff. I spoke to a manager who said that there were two white and two fawn goats and they'd been living there for two to three months. He had been going to shoot them but one of his friends said he'd read somewhere that someone was looking for their pets but couldn't remember where he'd seen it. Of course then my ad was rerun in the newsletter and the rest is history.

Saturday morning it was pouring with rain. Rose and her husband Matthew arrived in their four wheel drive and we made our way down State Highway 50 to Gwavas Station. We were met by a very nice guy on a motorbike with a fox terrier riding pillion. We followed him across the road and into a bumpy paddock then through a gate into another bumpy paddock. By this stage we were overlooking a steep gorse covered cliff to the east. We waited while Casey drove his motorbike down a hill in order to scare the goats out of cover and up into view.

I saw four fat hairy goats break out from the trees and start to run vertically up the cliff face. I tried to look at them through some small binoculars but couldn't make out any collars although one of the fawn goats seemed to resemble Xena. Rose and I were sure it was too much of a coincidence that four long haired goats should be there a few months after mine went missing but I was at a loss as to why two had changed colour.

Casey came back and asked where I used to live. I told him and we worked out that Xena must have gradually brought the herd along the river, under the bridge (or even across the highway) before finding shelter on the cliff. She was probably only 10 kms from where I now live so I try to fool myself she was trying to find me. He said he would ring the neighbour whose farm abutted Gwavas and ask him to help muster them down and into the sheep yards so I could collect them. I thanked him and thanked him again, unable to believe that after nine months I'd finally found them again. Note to self: make offering to the guardian angel of goats who looked after them all these months.

Furry Washing

2009-09-03T19:55:00.005+12:00

I don't know what it is about clean washing that attracts cats. If I leave clothes on the bed I will come back to find Kit sprawled on top, happily moulting black hair everywhere. Peaches has a particular liking for linen and towels and on occasion decides to use the clothes airer as a hammock...

Hellebores and Lavender

2009-08-29T14:04:00.004+12:00

I dreamed about my goats again last night. I have this recurring dream that someone actually returns them to me. It is now eight months since they disappeared and despite adverts in the local newspaper, school newsletter and a flier delivered by the mailman I have had no response as to what has happened to them since they disappeared from the last place I lived in late December. For a while they were seen wandering on a neighbouring farm and I kept asking the farm manager if he would help round them up. However by the time I moved here they had completely disappeared. My cousin has even suggested that my previous landlord may have had them shot. All I know is that I really miss them and can hardly bear to talk about them.

Today it is warm and the garden is slowly springing to life. We seem to be later than most places- my daffodils are only just beginning to flower and the tulip leaves are just poking out of the soil whereas they're flowering further down the road. However the winter hellebores have been blooming for weeks and are just lovely.

Rose and I went to Mitre 10 and were drawn towards the specials table like rats towards walnuts. Everything was a bit worse for wear but marked down by 50%. I got a Pukehou lavender for just $7 and six Lady Lavender plants for only $5. I have planted these by the brick path at the front of the cottage so I will eventually have a fragrant hedge growing under my bedroom window. Going shopping with Rose is always dangerous but as she says we're doing a good thing by supporting the local economy...

In the Dumps

2009-08-18T21:03:00.005+12:00

Rose and I went to the dump (sorry "transfer station") this morning. I had been putting it off for a while but two months worth of rubbish and an old plastic dog bed I have been trying to ditch for the past three years finally got to me.

I've never been to the Waipukurau dump (Transfer Station) before but we paid the $9 fee for a carload of stuff and made our way past the sewage treatment pond with accompanying hungry seagulls towards Nirvana. Around were piles of treasures including a near perfect ladder, a hot water cylinder Rose wanted to take for drain water, piles of tyres we reckoned would be perfect for growing potatoes, and a few extremely interesting items we couldn't recognise but figured could come in handy.

Unfortunately you can't steal from the dump like you could in the good old days when my brother found a lawnmower with petrol in it, took it home and mowed the lawn. Rose was particularly distraught at all the useful things she could make something of if given half the chance. For me as a Longshaw, a family known for never throwing away ANYTHING as it might come in useful for something in the coming millennium I was breaking all known family rules by throwing out a dog bed that was perfectly good except for being half eaten from when Mishka had been a pup twelve years ago. Even Rose said it was hurting her to have to ditch it. Then as we drove away she sighed and said "Tonight I will be dreaming of this paradise".

Demelza is still punishing me for puppy sitting Molly. I have washed the sheepskin from her bed but despite getting rid of the doggy smell she sits by it gazing stonily out the window in disgust. However Gypsy is thrilled with this unexpected outcome and has taken it over for her evening nap. Cats are ever opportunists.

Witty Post On A Wet Day

2009-08-16T13:24:00.003+12:00

I am sitting on the sofa and this is what I am looking at. I call it the tidy area of the room. As I pan left and clockwise everything goes downhill: there is a chair covered with art materials, drawings on top of the piano, the big mess that is me on the sofa, my unravelling knitting on the armchair, Kit on another chair and Peaches and Gypsy asleep on the small sofa with my wheat packs in front of the window.

I have been so busy all week cleaning wire rabbit cages. Today is my first rest day which is just as well as the Fibro is so bad I can barely move. Great excuse to delay the dusting.

I really wanted this to be a terribly witty post so I will end by saying something funny: hippopotamus.

Molly

2009-08-09T20:01:00.007+12:00

Late Friday afternoon my landlord arrived unexpectedly. Landlords turning up on my doorstep are generally not good news so I felt quite nervous when I opened the front door. My relief was palpable when he said that he was leaving for Australia for a week the following day and as his parents were still in the South Island would I please mind his Jack Russell puppy Molly until the following night? I said yes and within ten minutes Molly had arrived.

Mishka was in heaven. For the first two hours he obsessively followed Molly alternatively sniffing her rear end before humping her hopefully. When she jumped up on an armchair to have a rest he stared at her and whimpered until she woke up again. By the end of the evening they were both exhausted from all the activity so Molly curled up to sleep in a cat basket (much to Demelza's horror as she likes to take the occasional nap in there) and we had a quiet night.

Next morning I had an early start as my friend Gay was driving me to Waipawa to collect some angora rabbits a friend was bringing through from Auckland. By 8.32am Gay and I were shivering in the Waipawa Museum car park while my friend Pauline and the secretary of the RCNZ unpacked a ute full of bunnies and unloaded the eight angoras that were coming home with me. I didn't have enough carry cages so had placed cardboard dividers in two of them. These soon fell over so Pauline repacked the cages with buck/doe combinations. Of course nature took its course and on the trip home there was the sound of vigorous scuffling. Appropriate that it all took place on the back seat of the car.

At home Gay and I carried the cages into the office temporarily so I could arrange some temporary isolation system. I then took Molly and Mish outside for a breath of fresh air only to have Molly take off through the fence into the paddock. All I saw was a white flash as she sped away until she found a freshly produced sheep afterbirth. By the time I puffed onto the scene she had nearly finished the tasty morsel. I managed to grab her and brought her back inside but had to wash her feet in the bath as they were caked with mud. I tried to dry them with paper towels but she squirmed so much that I didn't make much headway.

Most of the afternoon I spent arranging cages and cleaning out manure before I brought Molly outside again for another comfort stop. Her memory was pretty acute as she went straight back through the fence and back out to the afterbirth. Off I went again to retrieve the terrible terrier. This time she knew what I was trying to do and I had to chase her about while she did her best to gobble down the most revolting cream and red mess I'd ever seen. Back across the paddock we went, me holding Molly close while she wiggled and squirmed around on my chest. By the time we reached the house we were both exhausted.

Toward evening after a soak in a hot bath I took Molly outside again. Off she sped into the darkness towards the mecca of all afterbirths. As I rushed off after her I saw Briar the donkey began galloping towards her, head down and ears back with her best "kill dog" expression on. In a complete panic I called to Molly but she completely ignored me. With visions of squished dog in my mind I screamed her name again and again. Finally realising the danger she was in she took one horrified look at the grey blur bearing down on her and began yapping. Each time she tried to run towards me Briar would dart between us. Finally Molly managed to get near enough for me to scoop her up in my arms but Briar galloped in circles around me while trying to bite the little dog. I began to head backwards across the dark field, all the while hoping I wouldn't fall into a hole. Briar repeatedly circled desperately trying to get at Molly. Finally I reached the safety of the back gate and managed to squeeze through and lock it. Not surprisingly I slept most of the evening away until 10.30 when I took Molly outside again, hand hovering over her until she'd finished her business when I snatched her up and took her back inside.

After a quiet night Molly was in a terribly playful mood. Even Mishka was played out by now and the cats were severely traumatised. Demelza was particularly miffed from the time Molly crawled towards her on all fours before lying on her back with all four feet in the air. At 8am the landlord's Mum Betty (my neighbour) knocked on the back door and was amused when I opened it and without saying hello thrust a wriggling pup with one hand and Molly's food bag with the other towards her.

But the puppy love doesn't end there. This morning I was busy outside when I heard Mishka begin to bark. I found Molly in the driveway. I looked around but she was on her own so I took her inside and tried to ring next door. The number was engaged so I went outside and saw someone way over the other side of the paddock. Waving my arms wildly in what I hoped was my best "your puppy is over here" manner I was relieved to see Betty walk across towards me. I came in and grabbed Molly and was just in time to hand her back across the fence to her "grandmother". I think I am too old for all this puppy business...old foul mouthed Shetland Sheepdogs are so much easier to cope with.

Attitudenal Animals

2009-07-27T20:41:00.005+12:00

I have a bunch of Woosie Cats but it's not their fault- I'm the one who insists they come inside at 3pm and stay there until 7.30 the next morning. They punish me by pinning me sideways in bed, one behind, one in front and another perched on my right hip ramming my left one down into the mattress. They don't understand it's for their own protection. I don't want them outside at night roaming the roads, taking up with disreputable toms and getting stoned on cat nip.

Last night I heard Demelza whining and growling. When I peeped out from behind the curtains I saw the startled face of a brown tabby cat by the front door. It appeared to me extremely friendly, sleek and well fed- the very epitomy of the type of cat I would like my girls to take up with. However they were having none of it as one by one they took turns to hiss and swear through the glass. When I finally let Mish out to water the lawn it took off. Shortly afterwards it returned to the front patio where Kit and it had staring/snarling session from their positions on either side of the glass. How long this stand off lasted I have no idea as I fell asleep.

Next morning after a quick trip outside in the frost in order to read her pmail Kit took up residence on my unmade bed. We've had a couple of stand offs this past week. If I lift her off she tends to turn on me and become extremely stroppy. Several times I have had to leave the bed unmade for most of the day until the call of the litter tray becomes too strong for her to resist.

Rain and Dusting Pain

2009-07-18T16:12:00.003+12:00

Nothing sadder to behold than a wet sheep except perhaps a wet donkey. Two more lambs were born overnight but one died. Whenever I went outside to collect some firewood Mishka would stand at the fence looking longingly at the afterbirths. His mind never strays far from food.

Stuck inside I was driven to dust which is very disturbing in itself. It's worse when you know you're only moving dead skin from one place to another and that it'll all be back tomorrow. Whoever invented dusting was a sadist of the first water. I must say that following some of Flylady's hints on housework have really helped me. Firstly to make sure your kitchen bench is cleared of dishes every evening so you don't face them first thing in the morning. Secondly to target "hot spots" in each room for five minutes for a spot of dedicated sorting. Swooping down for brief tidying blitzs takes much of the fear out of tidying as you don't feel so overwhelmed when you know you only have a few minutes to work and can leave the remainder for another day.

Heard a wise woman say that an untidy house full to the ceiling with clutter is indicative of how the person living there is feeling about themselves. Living in total chaos can mean you feel out of control of your own life. On the other hand a layer of dust on the mantlepiece doesn't mean you're a bad housekeeper- it could mean you're too busy enjoying life and doing more important things to be bothered shifting the dead skin around.

Winter Arrival

2009-07-16T15:29:00.003+12:00

Just when you think the winter can't get any more dreary a reminder of the coming Spring appears. This morning a black faced ewe lambed right next to my boundary fence. Briar the donkey has taken on the role of nanny donkey and general protector. Not that the ewe needs any help- she's already has charged Mishka who had decided to roam the paddock in search of the afterbirth as well as Gypsy who thought she'd come and say hello to the new arrival. However the sheep was quite happy for me to come within a few feet and snap away. I was even allowed to pat the baby. Perhaps I am a latent sheep whisperer.

The Baking Monster Strikes Again

2009-07-06T20:59:00.004+12:00

I ran out of chocolate biscuits this morning. Probably for anyone else this would be no big problem but if I go without something with cocoa in it for even a few short hours I am prone to blow up. Therefore I decided to ignore the mocking I usually receive when I mention to anyone that I intend cooking something and actually baked. I decided to make a slice with weetbix and coconut in it that usually turns out half edible, even for me. It didn't take long to cobble together and only 20 minutes to cook but then I remembered the reason I don't like cooking- having to do the dishes afterwards.

Not only am I out of biscuits but dried cat food as well. However I have a small stash of spare food for them. Whenever friends lose a pet cat they bequeath me its beds, its electric blanket (yes really) as well as any leftover cat food. I pulled out a packet that wasn't past its used by date and quelling any qualms that it was sold by The Warehouse I doled it out to Kit and Gypsy. Gyps turned her delicate black nose up at first smell but Kit gamely tucked in. Within a minute though she bomited it up. She then had a few more "bomiting" episodes. I blamed the cat food but later realised that I'd left the slice cooling on the stove top within feline reach. Perhaps Kits greed had finally got the better of her and she was paying for it with my cooking which rates as a weapon of mass destruction. She has been determinedly dieting since.

Flu, Pooh and Moulting Balls

2009-07-04T17:05:00.003+12:00

Peaches got all frisky in the middle of the night, got off the bed, pulled all the cat toys out and began batting a polystyrene ball around the house. The next morning there were little pieces of dead ball lying around the dining room but Peaches had put the it back where she'd found it so she got a B for tidiness.

My brother was rushed to hospital by ambulance a few days ago with flu that developed into pnuemonia. He was placed in isolation for a day while being tested for Swine Flu but turned out he just had the ordinary human variety. After being given a nebulizer three times and oxygen throughout his stay he was released home. The worrying part of all this is that he has emphysema and even though he had his flu shots he still got sick.

The sun actually came out today so got a few outside chores done. Dug out more couch grass and cleaned out the chook house which is not a job for the faint hearted or anyone with a sensitive nose. Which reminds me- heard about a man in Papua New Guinea who tried to commit suicide by throwing himself down a long drop toilet. A woman who went in heard someone calling for help but ran off thinking it was evil spirits. The man was eventually rescued but I'm sure he found himself in more s**t with his wife who had to do his laundry.

Two Reasons For Not Making The Bed

2009-06-28T12:59:00.006+12:00

Woke up to a steely sky and drizzle this morning. The cats went outside, after half an hour one by one they came back in. Kit disappeared behind the sofa, Demelza just disappeared. However Peaches and Gypsy decided to return to bed, only turning to give a look of disapproval at the dog for daring to wake them up.

Gradually they begin to get sleepy again and head off to dream about cheese flavoured mice. I hang around hoping they'll get the hint to get off so I can make the bed but in the end I don't have the heart to move them. It's pouring with rain, it's really a day for vegging out and being lazy.

So in the end I climb into bed fully dressed and have a cat nap of my own. After all if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Winter Bites

2009-06-22T19:50:00.002+12:00

The weather is only suitable for polar bears at the moment so over the weekend I rearranged the dining table using it to paint on so I could sit in front of the fire. I wasn't the only one- Demelza and Mishka lay roasting on the carpet for the duration.

Everywhere there seems to be more and more concern about the Swine Flu. It seems ironic that all the precautions the Health Department are recommending are just plain commonsense such as covering your mouth when you cough and washing hands thoroughly. I am trying to build up my immune system with an echinacea/garlic/zinc supplement. Even the chickens have been getting the treatment with some garlic paste that was past its used by date. The smell in their house was so potent for a couple of days that none of them were too keen to sit close to each other. If only I could encourage Mishka to eat some- anything would be an improvement over his scrofulous breath.

Grey Skies

2009-06-16T19:59:00.005+12:00

Marg and John arrived early this morning with a uteload of firewood. Just in the nick of time as I was down to my last few pieces. It was quite warm while Marg and I unloaded (my Dad would have a fit if he could have seen how we just threw everything in the woodshed rather than neatly stacking it) but by the time we all had a cup of tea and a chat the sky to the south looked like a smacked bum. Thankfully Sue Bradford wasn't in close proximity.

By lunchtime the mountains were shrouded by rain but some of the bantams bravely ventured onto the driveway to pick at any squashed acorns. Within half an hour they were congregating on the patio and crowing through the windows trying to encourage me to put them to bed early.

The early winter encouraged me to become uncharacteristically domesticated on Saturday- I made a pot of homemade soup. I cooked enough for several meals, freezing the surplus for the nights when I'm too lazy to make anything. When I told a friend I'd made soup she asked "And was it edible?" I was mortified by her suspicion, after all my culinary skills are legion!

Jack Frost Moves In

2009-06-04T19:47:00.004+12:00

If the poem is right and you're "nearer God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth" then parts of mine are nearer Satan's backside. I think couch grass is a devilish invention designed to drive gardeners round the bend. When I first moved here it had grown to three feet high in places out the front but gradually I've been digging it out with the occasional assistance of Rose who now admits couch is her most hated weed.

Last week I sidelined gardening to concentrate on helping organise the Otane Painter's exhibition. On the third day I was there on duty watching the sky darken outside the old schoolhouse's windows as the day wore on. Glenys and I left soon after 4pm and by the time we neared Tikokino the temperature had fallen to 1oC. By the time I got out of the car it was snowing.

All that evening I kept opening the dining room curtains and turning on the outside light so that I could watch the snow falling. The next morning it was still lying on the grass outside and across the Argyll hills to the east. Since then we've had some killer frosts which have frozen the chooks' water dishes, killed part of my money plant by the front door and made the cats burrow under the bedclothes at night. I just wish it would kill the couch grass.

A Lost Stitch

2009-05-17T09:05:00.002+12:00

I have begun knitting again. No really I have begun knitting again for the first time in {cough} years. I saw some purple feathery yarn in Waipukurau and decided to "create" a scarf for a friend's birthday in July.

Knitting is a bit like riding a bike- soon as you start you remember how to do it. However I will admit that it took me two hours to cast on and complete three rows that first evening and there was quite alot of swearing involved. Then they don't tell you that if you drop a stitch with this slippery shiny stuff you can't find it again and have to unravel what you've done and start again. Three times! However I am proud to report that I have now knitted about six inches of scarf and that the swearing has diminished to a faint muttering.

Napier Siege

2009-05-11T17:21:00.002+12:00

I grew up in and spent many years living in or near Napier so it was a surreal experience to watch it being terrorized by one disturbed man last week. Three policemen went to a house on a routine drug bust but instead one ended up shot dead and the other two wounded along with a civilian who tried to wrestle the gun off the killer. The murdered policeman is someone I'd met a few times when I lived in a semi rural and semi criminal area near Taradale. Len Snee was a good cop who tried to help instead of just saying "move". He was the epitomy of the community policeman who cared about what happened on his patch.

For two days Len's body lay near the house in Carlyle Road. Even when the army came in with their armoured trucks they were still unable to remove his remains. Meanwhile another policeman's German Shepherd waited quietly in a van for two days, the usually vocal dog never barking despite the intermittent shooting throughout the days and nights of the siege.

It was strange to watch places I'd biked past flashed on the TV news. To hear of schools I'd attended in lock down for a couple of days, to see people unable to go back to their homes due to being within the range of the killer's rifle. When his identity became known then it was realised that we were in for a prolonged seige as this man had a complete arsenal of guns as well as bombs and night vision equipment. He was also known to grow cannabis and was extremely paranoid due to ongoing tension with the Mongrel Mob gang.

Finally on Saturday the police stormed the house to find the killer dead in his bedroom. His body still lies there now as his house is carefully combed for booby traps. It is difficult to comprehend that such a crazy incident could happen in sleepy Napier. It feels as if the city will be forever tainted by the memory.

Airini

2009-04-25T17:18:00.004+12:00

My friend Airini has died.

Over the two years I knew her she was always popping by with magazines for me to read. We'd have a chat with her sitting on her motorbike wrapped up in wet weather gear, woollen gloves, scarves and a cap perched on top even in the heat of summer. She'd pull an old hessian sack over her knees to keep the chill off and carry a stick to wave at Lil if she got up to mischief. She took a great interest in my cats, especially Kit who she called the most beautiful cat she'd ever seen (Kit was forever rolling over showing her tummy and generally behaving like a tart). Often Airini would bring photos to show me of the cats her family owned when she was young, then more recent pictures of the middle aged version of herself with kid goats climbing over her farmbike back in the 80s. Often she'd cut the conversation short before rushing home to watch a rugby match or else the cricket on Sky while she did crosswords to keep her mind sharp as a tack.

Earlier this year she began driving down to the farm dump with bags of photos and memorabilia to burn. She said she was having a clear out so her niece wouldn't have to do it after she was gone. It was only weeks later that I heard she'd been diagnosed with Leukaemia. She no longer rode her four wheeler motorbike but instead drove her car down to do her few farm chores with her dog Lil still running beside her. There were no more conversations at the front fence but she'd always hold her hand up in greeting as she drove by.

I never got to say goodbye before I left the farm but two weeks ago when I heard she'd had an accident I rang the farm manager's wife who told me that Airini had gone to open a gate and fainted. Turned out she was dehyrdated and her family, fearing she wasn't looking after herself, put her in a home. I sent her a card over a week ago never expecting that she'd die suddenly a few days later. Her heart must have broken from having to leave the land. She was in her 89th year.

The Big Shift- Again.

2009-04-18T14:59:00.001+12:00

I thought it would never happen but I've finally shifted. After being surrounded by boxes for months I am in a new home- surrounded by boxes.
The day before I was due to move on the 24th March I felt I was running out of stream. Gay arrived late morning and took a carload of breakables to the new place while I schlepped from room to room putting the last bits and pieces into whatever I could find. In the afternoon Gine arrived for a couple of hours and we packed my winter clothes, the last of the ornaments from the dining room and the remainder of the office stuff. Diane and Richard were also busy taking my old henhouse and reassembling it on the front lawn plus trailer loads of cages, plants and outside dross.

Tuesday dawned grey and drizzly but later turned sunny which was an immense relief. The truck driver wasn't due until 4pm which meant it would be a late night for us all. Rich and Di arrived early to take more stuff down and at 3pm my new helper and friend Rose as well as Marie and Gay turned up with cars to transport fragiles. However the truck didn't arrive until 4.30pm with only one man instead of two so everyone had to help take things outside, even Charlotte with daughters Georgia and Ella. Finally we had it all loaded at 6.30 so I piled into Rose's car with Mishka on my knee and we drove to the new house.

It took another two hours to unload the truck but fortunately this time the driver's son had arrived to help. In the end we just piled things into the sitting room so that I couldn't even get in there. Marie, Gay and Rose left while the truck was finally being cleared. Another problem was that I had no water so Betty next door rang her son and he turned it on when he arrived home an hour later. Then we discovered that the telephone didn't work but by then it was getting really late so Diane and Richard said they would return the next day and we would sort everything else out then.

When I released the cats they all disappeared beneath the spare bed. After a while though they began exploring which ended in a crash and Gypsy racing out of the sitting room. I then discovered she'd upended a box of china so carefully transported by Gay and broken three pieces of antique china. I was too tired to even cry. By this time the water was back on so I ran a bath but someone had turned the hot water cylinder off so it was more of a hurried wash as the cold water was combined with the bathroom window being open as it was broken and couldn't be closed.

I clambered into bed about 10.30pm but began to freeze as there was a broken window in my bedroom. At 2am I got up and stuffed a rubbish bag in the cracks before crawling back to bed. Demelza had a particularly rough night becoming so stressed that she ripped holes in my sheets. Peaches was forever jumping up on my knee and Kit decided to spend the night sleeping on my head for comfort. Gypsy was being ignored due to the china breaking incident.

I slept in until 7am the next morning. I managed to persuade the dog to go outside although he wanted to come back in immediately. I made a cup of tea and fed the cats but later forgot to feed myself. My cousin Elaine arrived just after 9am followed by Rose and Gay and we began getting the kitchen organised. Then Rose left to clean the other house while the three of us began to shift boxes out of the sitting room so that we could change the furniture around. By midday you could actually sit down on a comfortable chair.

By then Lorraine (one of my brother's friends) turned up followed shortly afterwards by Diane and Rich who began covering in the carport with tarps and wirenetting to make a secure shelter for the rabbits. Mid afternoon the others had left so we decided to head down to the old house to collect the bunnies. Diane was going with Rich's friend and myself with Rich but Lorraine's car wouldn't start as the battery was flat. This had to be only time Richard didn't have his jump leads in the car so we had to drive into Tikokino village to collect a pair from his sister in law. By the time we arrived back and managed to get Lorraine's car started it was 5.30pm and the sun was beginning to set.

At the old house the others went around the back with Lorraine's two dogs while I put the rabbit's in carry cages and put them in Rich's car. While he took down their cages Diane and I rolled up the polythene with its wet sawdust and manure and bundled it into bags. While Rich and I drove back Lorraine and Di sluiced out the garage with hot water.

By the time we returned it was dark so with the aid of Rich's torch I got into the hen house and managed to catch all the bantams. As I caught each one Rich would bundle it into a bank of cages which were strapped to the trailer. After I finished we covered this with a tarp and drove home where I put them into their original hen house Rich had erected on the front lawn.

In the middle of all this a ute drove over to the fence and someone jumped out. This was my first meeting with my new landlord who wrote down the name of the electricity company he had the cottage with and which I needed to shift over to. What he must have thought with three dogs running around I don't like to think but we were too tired to explain what was happening.

Everyone left soon after that so I fed the rabbits in their carry cages as we hadn't had time to hang their own ones and then went inside to feed the cats, have a cup of tea, a hot bath and then crawl to bed by midnight.

Thursday Richard arrived early morning saying that he was going to collect my firewood. He did this in two loads and I helped him to unload the wood into the small shed at the back. In the middle of this Gay rang to say that Gareth and Gine had found a horse float and she'd be down at 4.30 to collect me so I could help load Briar and bring her back. Mid morning Telecom arrived to fix something on the roadside so I could finally get my phone working. Mid afternoon Rich arrived back with Diane and we had to decide where to hang the cages which wasn't easy as the roof was over 12 feet high. Finally deciding on where a couple should go I was able to leave with Gay thinking I would only be half an hour away. Instead of which another adventure was in store.

We stopped to collect Gareth and the trailer before heading back down the road for the last time. Briar was excited to see us as she must have been lonely for company. I got the halter on her easily but soon as she was walked towards the ramp of the horse float she put her brakes on. We pulled, I pushed her bottom, I tried to place one hoof at a time on the ramp and by this manner we actually got her to the top before she'd had enough and jumped off sideways scratching just above her eye in the process.

Next I got inside the horse float and tried to pull her in while Gay and Gareth pushed from the other end. I suggested Gay head over to the manager's house and ask if Andrew could lend up a hand and a rope but Charlotte said he wasn't there. However Gay waved down two men who were heading home after working on the cow shed. One bearded guy with a paunch stuck his head round the door and said "Gidday. Is she a kicker?" I assured him she was an angel with anything but floats. By this time his opposite (a tall skinny man) arrived. They sized up the situation, grabbed a synthetic rope from their truck, stood on either side behind her with the rope between them and told us to pull. The shock of having a yellow donkey thong up her rear end was enough to startle Briar into rushing up the ramp which meant to had to move smartly out of the way while Gareth tied her up before she could back up again. Our two hairy angels were very bemused by the whole situation "When anyone asks what I did today I can say I installed a ***** and got a donkey into a float" the skinny one said with a grin.

By 6.30pm we were home. Gareth backed the float into the driveway and opened the door. Briar backed out, covered with sweat and stressed. I walked her round the back and put her out into the paddock. Gay and Gareth left shortly afterwards, no doubt wondering what they'd done to deserve such an experience!

I went inside to check the cats only to hear Diane yell out. By the time I got outside they were racing across the paddock in the car. Briar apparently had seen some cattle and trotted over braying hello. Next thing the cattle all chased her back. She led them a merry chase around two paddocks before doubling behind them and following Rich's car back over to the gate. We were all a bit shaken by this time. Rich finished hanging most of the cages by 8 pm and they both left soon afterwards. I transferred the buns back into their cages, fed and watered them. On heading back inside I had my first evening meal for three days consisting of two Cruskitts and chocolate icecream to follow before falling asleep on the sofa for two hours.

Friday morning the 27th was my first day on my own. I woke at 7am again but got out and checked that everyone was ok including Briar who came over to say hello. However she disappeared during the day and later Betty arrived on her pushbike to say that Briar had been over by the other farm cottage and become convinced I was inside and brayed all day for me to come out. She had chased her back but suggested that I call out to her to let her know where I was. I did this over the next day and Briar soon became accustomed to her new home. Now just to get the goats back!

At Last!

2009-03-19T08:13:00.004+13:00

I have been to see three houses in the past two weeks. Two were very old and pretty run down plus not in areas I want to live in, the third was in good order and still in the Tikokino area. Yesterday Gine, Gay and I went to see it on the way home from a surprise baby shower for Gine at a friend's house in Onga Onga. It is situated behind a large hedge which shelters it on the west side and surrounded by a large garden which is overgrown at the moment as the previous tenant vacated a while back.

The house is painted a lavender/blue shade and has a concrete patio at the front with a pergola covered in a grape vine. This looks to get all day sun which will be a bonus in the harsh winters here. There was a large outside room at the back door painted neon green with navy trimmings. Gine thought this would make a great art studio. Inside there were three bedrooms as well as a kitchen/dining room and sitting room facing north. The girls laughed when I bent down and kissed the Lady Kitchener stove in the kitchen. I have missed my one at the last place SOOOOO much. The carpet throughout is in excellent condition and a soft moss green colour while most of the walls are a pale peach. Walls- well there are more windows than walls which will make for creative furniture arranging.

At the back there is a large carport open on two sides which will have to be adapted for the buns. Also a good sized woodshed plus a small sort of implement shed attached to the outside room. I rang the landlord to ask more questions that evening and he offered the use of three small paddocks for grazing plus a chookhouse which is quite a distance from the house but will be good temporarily. Hopefully I will be able to move in the next four or five days- two days before "The Deadline".
Now to finish my packing. The yellow spare room is unrecognizable as it is full of packed and empty boxes. Hopefully I will be more settled in a week and can pick up my life again as I have been in a terrible limbo these past weeks. Added to all this I learned my aunt died a week ago. Her funeral was yesterday in Wellington so I couldn't go. She was only 54 and such a lovely gentle person. I wish I had known her all my life instead of just the past twenty years but that's adoption for you.

The Three Bad Things

2009-03-13T08:35:00.005+13:00

This week has been like a journey down a dark hallway- much like the one here. Firstly on Tuesday morning I went out to feed the chooks only to find a pile of feathers near the shed. On further investigation I discovered a demolished bantam that I recognised as being Little Gay, one of the chicks born in December 2007. I remembered the previous evening that Briar had been acting disturbed, running around and snorting. Just then Peanut, the farm manager's little fox terrier ran out and along the fence out of this place so it looks like he was responsible for killing the hen.

Then I received an email from my aunt to say her older sister who was diagnosed with cancer a year ago is very ill and bedridden. Karen was the first person from my birth family that I ever met and she had always been very kind to me so this news is a great blow, especially as she is still so young.

I was still reeling from that news when late yesterday morning a message was left that the property manager was coming out to see me at 12.30pm. I had a bad feeling about this as a tenant is meant to be given 24 hours notice when an inspection is due. I rang my friend Gay from down the road and she came to keep me company.

At 12.50pm there was a knock at the door and my landlord was standing there. The first thing he said was that I better not lie about things as he would think very little of me and I better not go the "Tenancy Tribunal way" either. This was referring to the fact that he has never put it in writing that I need to leave here which legally means I don't have to although I have never stated this to him. He said the property manager was bringing a letter which I was to sign in front of them stating that he had told me to leave in October "and you better not lie and say I didn't say that". He went on to say that he had been "very good" to me yet further on he stated that he had not fixed the broken window or done any other repairs while I was here as he was going to renovate the place for the new resident anyway and didn't want to waste the money. He also said he had given glowing references to three different people about me but when I asked him who he stuck his chin in the air and said he wasn't going to tell me. However he was now "over it" and over feeling sorry for me.

The property manager then told me the landlord had not put anything in writing as he was trying to be a gentleman. She handed me the letter which I tried to read although my hand was shaking so much I could barely see the writing. I asked if I could read it on my own and she said she would send me a copy so I was made to sign my own eviction notice with them both standing over me. The landlord told me to move into town if I couldn't find somewhere suitable. There was alot more that he said and fortunately Gay was behind me listening so I have a witness as to the illegal behaviour that took place by my front door.

By the time I shut the door and went through to the kitchen I was a crying mess. I cried solidly for two hours. It never ceases to amaze me how callous and cruel people can be and how they think they can bend the law to suit their own ends.

Little Boxes

2009-03-05T18:15:00.003+13:00

Kit loves the fact that I am packing as much as I dislike doing it. She loves boxes, empty or half packed, big or small, if you lose sight of that rotund hairy body you'll soon find it ensconsed in cardboard. I finished packing all my books today. No mean feat considering they are one of my addictions. I truly think that I actually will have enough boxes this time. Third time's the charm.

I have an appointment to see a property on Saturday which was once lived in by a friend of mine. I have no idea what state it will be in as it is as old as this place but hopefully this will reflect in the rent. It's a bit nearer civilisation than I would hope but still not in town. Hopefully the wiring is a bit safer than here and the landlord a bit more honest.

The Witch, the Switch and the Weird Landlords

2009-03-02T09:47:00.004+13:00

Thursday morning there was a message for me to ring the property manager. Worried that perhaps my rent hadn't gone through I rang straight away only to have an extremely unpleasant conversation with her. Apparently my landlord had left a message that he had given me till October 2008 to get out of here but I'd dragged it out to November, December and so on. Of course this isn't true as he had told me late January but mid March at the latest. She mentioned that he had gone about it the wrong way (ie. hadn't written me a formal notice to quit) but that he'd only done that "to be kind". Her entire attitude was that he'd been this wonderful landlord who had taken me on when no one else would have wanted to. I brought up the broken window which thirteen weeks on has still not been fixed but there was no answer.

I put it back into her court and asked what properties she'd found for me. She only had one but said I would not be able to afford the rent. Just to make sure that I realised how low I rate in the scheme of things she told me that she'd never be able to find me a place, especially with my dog. She said he disturbed work on the farm. This is news to me as Mishka is usually at my side and will only bark if people come onto the property or too near to it. He never chases stock or is aggressive.

I came off the phone totally demoralized and confused as to why my landlord had changed his story. In desperation I rang the last number I had been given while searching for a place to live. I had not wanted to ring this particular farmer as he had a reputation. I can see why. He asked me the most personal questions. He was most reluctant to have a donkey on his property, in fact he didn't even want me but did say he would be in touch before the end of the day. At 5.30pm just after I had got into the bath the phone rang, then rang again, then someone began banging on the front door. Two hours later this man rang to say that he'd come to see me as he wanted to catch me unprepared so he could see how I live! He then went onto say he was considering my proposal seriously but wasn't sure about the donkey etc.

I spent much of Thursday crying. It really hurts to be talked down to, especially when you talk to other tenants and hear that they have not had similar experiences. I rang the Tenancy Advice Centre and spoke to a lovely lady who was actually a landlord. She told me my rights and generally bucked me up a great deal. However even now I am afraid and feel totally trapped as I know I may end up somewhere I do not want to be.

A huge downpour began Saturday night and by Sunday morning it had really set in. After I came in from my morning wander I turned on the kettle to boil a cup of tea and left the room. A minute later I heard the strangest buzzing and popping sound and saw Gypsy tear out of the room. By the time I got to the kitchen doorway I could see sparks and smoke billowing out of the power point. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before the wall caught fire so leant across the bench, reached my hand through the sparks and switched the kettle off before pulling the plug out. The power point was fried, black scorch marks around the switch and partially up the wall. I was shaking like a leaf.

The first night after I moved in not quite a year ago my brother pointed out green "stuff" coming out of the power point in the hallway and warned me not to use it. Likewise in my bedroom. All the power points affected look to have been installed in the 1980s and I think they may have been put in by an amateur. I always turn appliances off at the wall to save on electricity but now I will do so for safety as well.

I want my sense of hope as well as my sense of humour to return soon as it is hard to cope with life when they're both lacking. I stress then pack before falling asleep and waking to the same old situation. I need a miracle.

Limbo

2009-02-07T11:31:00.003+13:00

Purgatory is, I believe, some sort of waiting room where souls hangs about for an appointment that never comes. That's how I'm feeling at the moment as I have yet to find somewhere to live. I cannot make plans for the future, I have nightmares whenever I sleep, I live in a kind of limbo where you're surrounded by half packed boxes and dread whenever anyone asks "Have you found somewhere yet?" Probably much of this is due to the fact that this is the third move in two years. I for one will never believe a landlord when he says "long term rental" ever again.

Added to which I have rats which can be very painful and make your eyes water. They scratch in the walls at night and leave little long black reminders absolutely everywhere outside. The cats did their best and caught three smaller grey individuals but I lock them inside at night for their safety (and to give the local bird life a chance) so they don't get an opportunity to hunt the larger rodents. Of course this doesn't deter Peaches who currently spends all day in the garage looking at a wall from which she expects a mighty feast to emerge.

Mitre 10 in Hastings (one of my favourite shops) has a great range of poisons. I bought one that resembled a green block of chocolate (and smelt the same) which you break up and hide in various nooks and crannies. Within a couple of days I discovered a large brown rat RIP-ing in the shed plus a terrible stench began to emanate from the wash house wall where obviously one had died looking for water. Then a couple of days ago a small grey rat was floating in a bucket of water outside.

I feel bad about having to kill them but on the other hand the thought of the diseases they carry helps me quash my vegetarian tree huggy tendencies. I know pet rats are terribly intelligent and affectionate but they're one animal I prefer to see with all four paws pointing skywards.

Then there's the heat- last weekend I noticed it was 36oC under the veranda at 9am and I'm sure it crept up to 40oC (100oF) in the sun. I brought Briar nearer the house to eat down some of the grass out the back before it becomes a fire hazzard. She thinks this is wonderful and has been having great fun chasing chickens and staring malevolently through the hen house window just to let them know who's boss.

The Return of the Egg Man and Other Idiots

2009-01-24T08:48:00.003+13:00

I am distinctly nervous when I haven't seen Mishka for at least ten minutes. This usually signals he's sneakily egg hunting. Last weekend I noticed him lying beneath a tree on the lawn panting away. Thinking he was suffering from the summer heat I just left him alone until he made his way inside at lunch time. Immediately the most pungent aroma filled the house and I realised he'd gorged himself on a nest of rotten hens' eggs. How he finds these is a mystery, he seems to have been born with an innate ability to discover nests hidden away in remote areas that he never usually goes.

That night the smell was so potent I made him sleep in the hallway, grateful for the fact that I am not addicted to cigarettes as one struck match could have ignited the foul stench and blown the whole house away. In desperation I lifted up his tail and saw the remnants of various effusions so spent ten minutes "dagging" (cutting the messy hair) from around his rear end which frankly is a job I should receive danger money for.

Monday I received a call from my brother to say that Fungus the Bogey Car (my car left at his place) had been vandalized and the two right doors kicked in. This is the second time in three years that some idiot has had a go at it which infuriates me as anyone could tell it's a very old car that belongs to a financially challenged person. Rich too it to a panel beater who quoted repairs costing $800. As the car is only insured for $1000 and really only worth $300 we were both worried that the insurance company would write it off which would leave me without a car at all as you cannot buy anything roadworthy for a thousand these days. We both visited the insurance company who promised to do their best but since then I have been too frightened to ring and learn their decision.

Wednesday morning before I went to my art group I discovered "Limpy" a very old bantam hen had died in her sleep so there was a burial at 7am. Despite this sad start I had a pleasant day and came home late afternoon to confirm an advert I have placed in the accommodation wanted section of the local paper. At 8.45pm however I received a phone call from The Landlord who told me that despite telling me I had till mid March to find a place he wants me out yesterday as he has builders lined up to do alterations to the house. He asked if I had a Plan B which of course I haven't so he has told me to double my efforts to find somewhere to live. Obviously he thinks I just sit around eating bon bons and not doing anything. I was too gobsmacked to even ask when he was going to fix the broken window which has been left now for eight weeks.Add all this to relatives ringing to say my mother is dying it has not been a good start to the year.

The Gang Of Five

2009-01-14T08:06:00.005+13:00

After last week's heatwave we've been lucky to have several days of gentle rain up here. Before it began on Saturday I rushed out and cut down the eight feet tall dried foxglove stalks, gently lying them in newspaper before bringing them inside to harvest. And that's when all the fun started. I spent hours sitting on the floor gently prising unopened pods and emptying the tiny brown seeds into an old honey container. This process literally took hours with me intermittedly screaming as very weird looking spiders ran up my arms. I am not good with creepy crawlies and by the time I'd finished harvesting I was itching all over. Result: I ended up with half a honey container full of tiny brown seeds plus a sore bum.

The wire fence between my place and the big paddock is just a joke these days. It is actually just a roll of wire netting that's held to the main fence by a single strand of rusty wire. I tried to improve it by threading wooden standards through to add stability but it still wobbles first to one side then the other. So it wasn't surprising one morning to meet a black faced ram in the back yard when I went out to feed the chooks. He calmly gazed back at me before returning to the fence and hopping delicately over.

For several days "Boris" as I named him would come in for a few minutes before the sight of me sent him walking back to his own field. But then he began bringing four of his friends along with him for the adventure. They were always the four same animals- one with curly horns "Horny", another black faced ram "Horatio", "Limpy" and "Sid". Initially I was worried about the garden but since I'm not going to be here much longer I gave up worrying and just hoped they would make a good job of mowing the lawn. If I went outside Boris would lead the gang back to the fence and they'd jump over. Who says sheep aren't smart? But yesterday Andrew's dogs rounded them up and took them away much to Briar's distress (she ran up and down the fence braying abuse at him). I thought they were all gone but this morning poor Horny was lying in the field stone dead. I guess the excitement just got too much for him.

Furballs Rule OK

2009-01-08T08:10:00.004+13:00

Kit is one very constipated cat. I noticed her making frequent trips to her litter box where she squeezed her full rotundedness into the small space, staring up at me with big soulful yellow eyes. I figured being long haired she must have an obstruction so yesterday began giving her "Cat Lax" which is meant to solve the hairball problem. Totally offended at having an inch of dark brown goo squished onto her nice clean white paw Kit now turns her back on me while "in situ" so that I can only see a humungous black fluffy tail hanging over the edge of the tray. Some creatures just don't appreciate being helped. Very few supermarkets seem to stock the anti hairball formulated dry food she's meant to eat so often I have to substitute the weight watcher's version instead. It doesn't look any different and still costs a tail and a paw but obviously it's not doing the job as Kit still wobbles about like a black furry basketball with legs.

I had a tough start to the year when one of my new does suddenly died on New Year's Day. Initially I thought she was being affected by the heat so treated her accordingly but was completely shocked when I went to feed her in the afternoon and found her lying stone dead on the cage floor. Two days later her litter sister went the same way with no preceding symptoms. I was completely devastated as I could not work out what the problem was and after nearly a week it is still a mystery as everyone else is fine.

I was meant to go see a house on Tuesday. Sounded ideal and the landlady seemed keen but the next morning there was a message on the phone from her husband saying he wanted a man who could take over farm work when they went on holiday. I rang another number only to be told they'd just leased out their land and there was only a house available. So it looks like I shall have to advertise in the local newspaper when it starts up again.

After reading about the Law Of Attraction (thinking positive) I sat down and made a "vision board" with pictures and words of everything I want to attract into my life. I stuck a photo of my ideal house with the words "own your own piece of paradise" beneath just to give the universe a hint. And ok there was a picture of Johnny Depp on the page as well but you just never know.....

Goodbye 2008

2008-12-31T19:28:00.002+13:00

Airini rode her motorbike over the other day and offered to supply a few 50kg feedbags to put my extra rubbish in which she would dump in "the gorge" which apparently is the repository for all the farm refuse. How she knew that I was beginning to sort through all my clutter is probably another good example of female intuition. Ever since I left Havelock North in March 2007 I have been intending to sort through my papers and get these into order. I also intended to do this when I shifted from next door in March 2008. Perhaps I will finally get the task completed before March 2009!

And yesterday was a big day for Bumble my blue angora because it was the day to pass the buck. I clipped Giselle's fibre from her rear and introduced them through the wire of the cage, popped her inside and it was fireworks, streamers and a carrot for afters.

Christmas 2008

2008-12-27T08:26:00.004+13:00

'Tis the season for TV repeats. What's worse is that the powers that be show the same films every year and ones that seem to have nothing to do with Christmas. "The Man Who Lost His Head" (how that's meant to get you into the holiday spirit is beyond my comprehension), "Maid In Manhatten" again, "The World's Fastest Indian" again, and cruellest of all "Daydream Believers: The Monkee's Story". I mean the world is in the worst economic recession since The Great Depression- aren't we suffering enough?

I was fraught with worry since I was making most of my presents this year and was concerned that people wouldn't like them or else assume I was a Scrooge. Christmas morning I was finishing wrapping the last of them when my brother and his wife paid a short visit before going to lunch in Tikokino. Gareth arrived just before noon to take me up the road to his mother's for the rest of the day. There were quite a few people there and so alot of hugging which I was not used to before coming to live here as our family is not so touchy feely- more slappy hitty. Gine had two friends staying from Germany and they also joined the party. It is so strange to feel part of a family that you're not related to by law or blood but it just confirms for me that my friends are my family (plus some of my family are my friends).

We had lunch outside in the garden before heading inside for present opening. Gine gave me a lovely fine bone china mug with black and white chickens on it which I intend to have my evening cup of tea in from now on. Late afternoon we went back to the garden for tea and Christmas cake while Gine and a local Tikokinonite (Cedric) played music on violin, accordian and guitar with Raphael and Dawn (Gine's friends) sometimes singing along as well. By 6pm I reluctantly realised it was time to go as I needed to feed everyone and have a rest. For the rest of the evening I lay on the sofa and watched "My Family and Other Animals" another adaptation of Gerald Durrell's classic book although, disappointingly, nowhere as good as the TV series that was made in the early 90s.

Peachy Poo, Hoggle's "Bits" and More Delinquancy

2008-12-21T08:53:00.003+13:00

Peaches is a wonderfully soft caring cuddly cat who has one serious defect- she loves rolling in sheep manure. It's not noticeable until you pick her up and bury your nose into her silky fur only to have your nostrils singed by the pungent aroma. Mishka is even worse as he enjoys eating rotten eggs he finds hidden in the long grass plus he views the cats' litter trays as canine buffet tables. Enough reason not to allow my pets to lick my face- you never know where that tongue has been!

Three weeks ago today I heard a smashing sound and discovered one pane of the window here in the office broken. I have no idea what happened, whether a bird tried to fly through the glass, whether it was an act of God or an act of Goat, or else the rotten putty finally gave up the ghost. From past experience here I knew I would have trouble getting it repaired so I first rang my insurance company but because I only rent and don't own this house I am not covered. The following morning I called the property manager who said she'd ring the landlord and tell him which made my stomach sink. By Friday I had heard nothing more so I rang her again and she said she would leave another message. Two more days passed before I saw the landlord walking out the gate. He said he would ask a builder working on the big new cow shed if he would fix it for some beer- needless to say it is now three weeks and I still don't have a window. I am just so grateful it isn't winter.

A week ago Hoggle's wedding tackle finally dropped off and what a miserable little boy he was. He shivered and looked so sad, hiding in the dog kennels or else under the old wash house where he remained for three days. I finally pushed some grass under there and saw him eating and when he heard me come with pellets for the others he rushed out to join them. I blocked his access to under the shed and later saw him out the back grazing with Gretel and Heidi. Unfortunately Xena Warrior Goat couldn't join them and sometime during the night she broke her tether and took them away back down the gorge. I rang the next door neighbour who is keeping an eye out for them and will send them back home. Meanwhile it's time to buy Xena a thick chain...

The Great Carrot Heist and Other Stories

2008-11-28T17:40:00.004+13:00

Had a phone call from my landlord the other night to ask if I had "actually made any effort to find a place to live". I was totally gobsmacked that he should come up with such a statement, especially as I am still way off the deadline for moving out. I have signs in all the local food stores, adverts in the two school newsletters plus everyone I know round here is asking everyone they know so in no way am I sitting back and doing nothing. Considering this guy hasn't fulfilled any of his promises (to fix two doors that either won't lock or won't open, to repair the back fence which allows stock to wander into the garden plus to paint a very grotty bathroom) I think he had a major cheek!

Rant over- I have been very pleased with the foxgloves I brought from the last cottage which are currently rear seven feet tall in front of the sitting room's bay window. I chucked Peaches up on the windowsill the other day to get a few photos. I still have two undeveloped films sitting on a kitchen shelf which I must get done soon as I've forgotten what's on them.

My vegetable garden took a beating when Heidi and Hoggle worked out they could move the cages I had protecting my precious plants and helped themselves to spinach and chard. Not to be left out Gretel just stood on the lettuces and pulverised them. The broccoli near the house escaped their notice and as too many came ready at the same time I cut them up, blanched and then froze them to eat later. More florets are forming so I should be able to get quite a harvest off them which is not too bad for $2.95!

This afternoon the animals lived up to their reputation for crazy behaviour when Mishka the dog faced off with Gretel Goat over a carrot. It actually was her dinner but Mish has an obsession with food and carrots in particular and his attitude was if she was going to leave a perfectly good carrot lying around she deserved to lose it! Gretel just blocked his way out through the gate and tried to outstare him. Mish actually curled his lips back and snarled at her which I've never seen him do before. In the end he grabbed the carrot and made a break for it, leaving Gretel folorn and carrotless!

The Unkindest Pinch Of All

2008-11-07T08:43:00.002+13:00

Poor Hoggle was "itted" this week. A couple of months ago I had asked Andrew the farm manager if he could help and he promised to come over once he had time from other farm work. On Monday I was in the midst of moving Xena Warrior Goat into the shade when I saw Andrew hop the front fence walking towards me waving an elastigator in his hand. One sight of him was enough for Xena who broke away and ran towards the hen house with the others. I went back and caught Hoggle but when Andrew came near the girls panicked and jumped the fence into the paddock, hiding beneath the trees.

"She hates me" Andrew remarked.

I replied the Xena seemed to hate all men for some reason but he then explained that she really hated him because when he tried to round them up the previous week to bring them home she "was a right bitch" so he set the dogs on her.

He told me to hold Hoggle tightly by the head before swinging him upside down and sticking him between his legs. With one slight click the deed was done and a rubber ring was inserted at the base of Hog's family jewels. Not a sound until Andrew let him go when he wailed "Maaaaaaah look what they've done!" and ran off to find the others. It took me a full hour to catch Xena again and then that was only by rattling the pellet container. I tied her in the shade and Hoggle spent the next two hours sitting with her, periodically checking between his hind legs, stamping his feet and wagging his tail.

The next morning he seemed really miserable. He wouldn't eat, hiding beneath the old wash house which drove Xena to distraction. By Wednesday he was eating pellets again although his attempts at running were limited to a "hop, skip and jump" gait. This is the first morning he seems really relaxed and back to his old self although I'm still persona non goata. Who can blame him! The girls though are very happy since they don't have to excape Hoggle's many attempts at doing the wild thing.

A week ago I lost dear Sherbet at only three years of age from a heart attack. He seemed to rally for a couple of days before passing away in his sleep. He was a real character as a baby. Forever getting out of the nest box I once found him seemingly dead. However on observing a slight movement I rushed him inside the house, immersed him up to the neck in warm water which revived him before shoving him in my bra returning him to the nest box where I piled his siblings on top. Within an hour he was toasty warm and wiggling around like the rest. He was always the smallest in the litter though so perhaps there was always a weakness there I didn't know about. He now joins Grandfather Pip and Dad Frodo in that big carrot patch in the sky.

Delinquency Amongst the Livestock

2008-10-23T18:40:00.008+13:00

I lost my goats! Two weeks ago we had a terrific storm which caused the dining room windows to leak, lifted up Toby's old goat house from its position in the paddock and threw it through the fence into the backyard (no mean feat as it's really heavy) as well as lifting off the rubbish bin lid and smashing it into a sculpture I'm working on (it improved it). Branches crashed down, the rain fell sideways and sheep were nearly blown up into the hills. So then Xena Warrior Goat decided to go walkabout.

At first she would march across the lawn, hop over the front fence with the others trotting behind. They would frequently graze up on the road and Airini and Andrew would shoo them back. However every day they would return for their pellets and a pat. Until nearly two weeks ago when I tried to tie Xena up in the small paddock to stop her wandering. She managed to get off her rope and took the others away.

For nearly a week I had no news. I asked Airini to keep an eye out, the mailman (who thought it a huge joke), I even rang a next door neighbour I hadn't yet met in case they'd wandered into their garden. It wasn't until a week ago while I was looking for them near the farm shed that I got some news when I came upon Andrew tinkering with a tractor.
"Lost yer goats?" he laughed. Yes well I had sort of mislaid them. Turned out they were grazing in a gully filled with blackberry on the farm next door. He assured me they would come home, wagging their tails behind them. More likely with an irate farmer on their trail threatening to shoot them I thought.

By this week I was really worried so I rang Andrew's wife Charlotte who suggested I ring the neighbours again. This time I was lucky as they had definitely been seen on their farm and the owner offered to round them up and shut them in a small paddock where I could collect them. However this morning I heard Andrew swearing at his dogs out the front and sure enough he had brought my delinquent kids home.

Soon as he left they jumped the fence and began heading up the drive until I rattled their pellet pot which brought them running. I tied Xena back near the woodshed with three knots this time and gave them food as they seemed to be very thin, wet and shivery. Late this afternoon I sat with them for half an hour, petting Gretel and trying to stop Hoggle headbutting very relieved they were home at last.

Progress is a word that strikes me with fear. It usually means noise, trouble plus the cutting down of large trees. Centerlines have been working along the road for a couple of weeks cutting trees in the way of power lines. This week several ancient macrocarpa trees to the right of the house were chopped down. To enable this Andrew pulled down the fence which meant Briar got out so I have had her grazing in here all week (the garden has had a nervous breakdown. Now a series of stark grey powerlines are marching across her paddock to where I assume the cowshed will be built. I guess I am more the greenie treehugger than I thought I was as a tree is much more valuable to me than the sight of a concrete pole. It reminds me of the poem which I think goes
"I guess that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree
In fact unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all!"

Rigid Heddle Loom

2008-10-02T18:52:00.003+13:00

Each time I have gone to the library I have been looking for a book to help me learn how to use my small loom. I couldn't find anything vaguely resembling what I'd bought so googled looms and discovered that I hadn't bought a table loom at all but rather a table top rigid heddle loom. The good news though was that these are easy to use which with my fibro raddled mind is comforting to know.

I put a request out on an email list I'm subscribed to and had several answers as to good instruction books. The one that was most mentioned was "Weaving With The Rigid Heddle Loom" by Anne Field. I checked Trademe and sure enough there was a copy for sale there so I hurriedly bought it. What proved the greatest piece of luck s that the loom she demonstrates on is the very same make as mine. The book was published in 1980 so the pictures are a little old fashioned but as Anne Field is extremely well respected in the fibre field I am certain it will prove invaluable.

Xena has become such a naughty nanny goat, jumping the front fence into the field and even taking the others across the cattle stop out onto the road. Late yesterday afternoon Andrew arrived at my front door to tell me his wife was very unhappy as Xena had been in her veggie garden. How she made her way over there I have no idea but I was pretty mortified. I told Andrew that the landlord had promised me to repair the fences at the back of this place but hadn't done anything so he said he would come across with some standards and fix it up for me. That should stop Gretel pushing the netting over and letting the others across. I feel like a mother with delinquent children making a nuisance of themselves with the neighbours!

On The Road Again

2008-09-26T19:28:00.007+12:00

It's been quite a week. Firstly losing Pip last Saturday, then his son Frodo had some sort of stroke the same day. He became extremely weak on his left side but I treated him with some fresh grass to tempt his appetite and by Monday he was sitting up again and eating on his pellets . Tuesday he seemed a bit weak and when I came home from my art class on Wednesday afternoon he was dead. Obviously he had had another fit as his water bottle was knocked off the cage. He and his Dad are buried side by side now in the garden.

Thursday 25th September was destined to be a life changing day. Just before lunchtime my landlord knocked on my front door and told me he had bad news. Although he had told me this rental was long term he had decided to convert the farm to dairy and would need my house for his new staff. He had known he would ask me to leave for five weeks as did nearly every one else here on the farm although they were told not to say anything. He has given me until the end of January 2009 to find somewhere else to live, mid March at the latest.

Shocked and slightly devastated I rang my brother, then my friend John and then finally my friend Glenys who drove here and sat with me for a couple of hours. She has already put the word out for another place for me with her brother and neighbours. All last night I kept waking up and wondering if this was just a nightmare. The third move in two years and this time with absolutely no cash. I guess I can never say life is boring!

Toodle Pip

2008-09-21T17:49:00.005+12:00

Pip the angora bunny came to me about eight years ago through a friend who heard that he and his mother were looking for a new home. I got quite a shock when I first saw him as he had a hairy "bobble" hanging off his nose which apparently was the result of a fight with a mini lop when he was younger. Knowing Pip as I do now he would have started it.

Pip was a very quiet calm rabbit who took life as it came without any fuss. He sired two litters of which I still have three sons, plus his three grandsons and granddaughter. A few years ago he had one testicle removed as it was enlarged and the vet thought it could be cancer. I perhaps cruelly nicknamed him "One Hung Lo" after his operation. A year later the same thing had to be done so that he was fully castrated.

Over the past few months Pip has had times when he didn't want to eat his pellets but I always enticed him again. However when I recently took his coat off I discovered he'd developed many small cancerous lumps so assumed that he was near the end of his days. A friend promised that when it was needed he would put Pip down. In the end though I didn't need to make that decision because when I went out to see him yesterday morning he was lying on his side in a coma and passed away shortly afterwards. He must have been well over ten years old.

I wish I had a better photo of him but he always scrunched himself down when I went to take a picture as if he already knew he was not the most photogenic bunny in the shed. However what he didn't have in looks he made up for with personality.

Briar's PDS Moment

2008-09-13T13:54:00.003+12:00

In the past few weeks since I posted lambs have been born, the days are lighter and Gretel has become a jumper. During the Olympics I convinced myself that she was practising as a gymnast when she jumped up onto the top of the wooden fence by her paddock and pirouetted and tripped along the one inch of wood as if she was performing a routine on the beam. Then there was the time she decided to become a marathon runner and I found her way out on the side of the road. When I called her she galloped back, jumping the cattle stop in one single bound and boinged her way across the grass. She also discovered where the pellets were kept on the veranda so I had to move them into the wash house except it only took her one day to discover their whereabouts and I would find her trying to open the top of the bag before exploding out of the door when she realised she'd been sprung.

Then Hoggle discovered he could squeeze between the gate and the gatepost and he would join Gretel on her adventures leaving his mother to call out to him in frustration along with Heidi whose legs are too short to make the jump over the fence. But now Gretel has shown Xena Warrior Goat how to jump and every morning I look out to find they're in the big paddock with Briar or in the back yard or worse, in my garden. Poor Heidi runs up and down the fence crying until she loses her voice and the little goat becomes a little hoarse.

I am having a bad day that no amount of chocolate could put right even if I hadn't just run out. The goats were grazing the backyard as per usual when Briar realised that she knew how to push her gate open. She made a break for the paddock in front of my place chasing the ewes in order to steal their lambs before heading up the winding drive towards the road. Putting on the brakes by the cattle stop when she worked out she was too fat to jump over it and hearing my call she trotted back down the track to me. However seeing that I had left the front gate open she seizied her big opportunity and rushed onto my lawn sending chickens flying in all directions.

Hearing all the commotion the goats arrived on the lawn only to be chased by Briar who was becoming more and more wound up. She chased the cats, she chased the dog, she raced around the back of the house out to the hen house and chased the chooks. Round and round she galloped tearing up the grass, braying, sending frightened animals scampering to safety.

Finally Briar ended up in the orchard field so I shut the gate before she could escape again. When she walked towards me I slipped her halter on and attempted to lead her out of the gate. She pushed me impatiently in the chest and snorted so I let her calm down for ten minutes before leading her back into her field.

I was at a loss to know what had caused her behaviour until I remembered it was three weeks since she previously chased the ewes and tried to take their babies away. Obviously she is in season again and this afternoon was just another PDS (Premenstrual Donkey Syndrome) moment. Unfortunately donkeys can't be placated by chocolate like human females can and it's difficult to find a handsome jack in her immediate vicinity so it looks like she's just going to have to take up a hobby and watch Johnny Depp DVDs like the rest of us...

A Winter Not So Wonderland

2008-08-22T19:21:00.004+12:00

It was bitterly cold Monday evening but nothing prepared me for waking Tuesday morning to find the house surrounded by snow! It was piled on the trees, on the lawn, it iced the bare black berry branches and lay across the fields and hills all pure and white as you'd expect. I rushed out at 7.30am with my camera and took some shots of Demelza trying to walk across it and acting as if she was being shot at with every cautious pawstep and one of Briar bellowing to me that she was starving and cold from the paddock. Everything ordinary seemed transformed into something amazing.

By lunchtime the snow had nearly all melted although there was still quite a dusting on the Wakararas at the back of my place. As the day drew to a close the air grew colder and colder. Even with the fire going I still had to wrap up in a blanket on the sofa before giving up and heading for the security of the electric blanket and four cats. Next morning there was the mother of all frosts. I knew it was bad as the inside of my bedroom window was iced. All the water pipes had frozen so I had to take some water from the container I keep in the garage for the bunnies. Fortunately I was heading out and about so didn't have to shiver up here through the rest of the morning.

It feels like Spring will never come despite seeing all the lambs and the wattles flowering in the fields. This would have to count as one of the toughest winters I can ever remember surviving. I swear I will never complain about the heat ever again!

Storms and Soggy Creatures

2008-08-10T14:16:00.005+12:00

I was without any internet connection for five days which caused serious withdrawal symptoms although my house has never looked tidier! In the week between the 26th July to the 3rd August we had three storms, two of which were particularly severe. The second hit on Tuesday afternoon 29th July and by the next morning the relentless rain coupled with a very strong wind had blown into the front verandah and soaked everything stored there as well as blowing the garage door open drenching the bunnies nearest the entrance. Being determined (i.e. crazy) Gay, Gine and I decided to make our way to art in Otane. On the trip in we were amazed at how quickly the water was spreading across the paddocks and all morning our minds were distracted by the rain thudding on the roof of the old schoolhouse. We were meant to spend some of the afternoon painting but at 2pm the six people brave enough to stay all looked at each other, packed up their gear and left hurriedly as we suddenly realised we might not make it home at all.

When we left Otane a couple of houses on State Highway 2 were surrounded by flood water. On entering Waipawa we had to drive through quite deep water to get to the shopping centre. A policeman was redirecting traffic down an alternative route and we stopped to ask him if the Tikokino Road was open and he replied that last he heard it was. After a quick shop we left the town and headed out into the countryside. It was amazing how quickly the water had spread. There were new waterfalls cascading out over paddocks, the river was about to burst its banks and in several areas the water was across the tar seal and we had to drive on the wrong side of the road. The most distressing part was seeing all the new born lambs lying dead in the fields. At one farm a pile of small woolly corpses had been left at the gate for the slinky man.

I was not looking forward to seeing to everyone- especially when I saw several mini lakes formed on the grass at the front of my place. It was as bad behind the house with three ponds on the path to the hen shed with one deep one right in front of the door. When I opened this the concrete floor was flooded and the hens all sitting on their perches. However by the next morning all the water had soaked away.

Hoggle has doubled in size since this photo of him (aged 48 hours) was taken. He has taken to squeezing himself out through the gap between the gate and the fence so that he can munch on the garden. Xena runs around crying out for him while he gets up to mischief.

Gretel though is the naughtiest goat in the herd. She has discovered that she can jump any fence on the farm and delights in going out exploring. If I growl at her she jumps back to where she should be. However she knows that if she walks up to me and lays her head on my knee, looking up with her big yellow/black eyes I am more likely to scratch her head and give her a cuddle so I am definitely sending mixed messages when I should in fact be sending her to sit on the naughty step!

New Goats Learning New Tricks

2008-07-28T19:19:00.003+12:00

Gypsy decided to wake me up at 3am this morning. She began by wailing like a banshee and walking up anything she thought resembled a sleeping human. When this didn't get me out of bed she jumped up onto the dressing table hoping that any tinkling and smashing sounds as she knocked everything sideways would do the trick. Who needs an alarm clock when you have a hungry cat...

The hairy foursome are going from strength to strength. Xena has proved to be an exceptional mother who is prone to headbutting any creature that comes within two feet of her baby including cats, dogs and chickens. For some reason I am allowed to pick him up for cuddles and since she is no longer a lady in waiting I am also allowed to pat Xena and even touch her stomach without getting gored which is always a good thing.

There have been a steady stream of visitors to see the baby. When he was two days old Glenys came with her digital camera and although the others ran and hid under the trees I managed to grab the boy and he posed sleepily for photos on my knee. At seven days Gay and Gine got to hold him which apparently didn't faze him one little bit as he followed behind us later bleating. Typical male- he loved the attention.

I have taken several photos but the weather became so foul over the weekend I was unable to get more as I had hoped. I shifted everyone to the orchard field as there is shelter there but Xena marched beneath the trees and stood there stubbornly as the rain pelted down. After a freezing cold Saturday where the temperature never reached above 4oC I had a restless night imagining a dead wet kid lying abandoned because his mother was too stubborn to seek shelter. The next morning when I went to check on them Heidi and Gretel were balancing delicately on the firewood in the shed. I called out to Xena and a big head and a smaller one appeared round the corner of an abandoned dog kennel. One thing I did learn- all the goats have hair that curls in the rain. The baby looked positively permed.

Gretel is proving a jumper. She jumps over the fences into the sheep paddocks, she jumps over gates, amd today she learned she could lean on my girlie fence and jump over that too. This means she can go anywhere she chooses. However the herding instinct is so strong with Gretel that her breaks for freedom are short as she soon wants to get back to the others.

Oh and today I finally came up with a name for the kid. He is called Hoggle.

Kiddy Talk

2008-07-17T18:44:00.003+12:00

At first light I headed out to check how the goats had coped with sleeping in a different place. Gretel and Heidi ran up to say hello and then Xena appeared as well to check for goodies. I discovered the kid cuddled up under a tree branch, obviously asleep although when it woke and realised Mum had disappeared there was much maaing and wailing.

Cold temperature and rain were forecast for the afternoon so at 11am I headed out to collect kindling from under the big macrocarpa tree out the front. I then loaded the wheelbarrow with firewood and about burst my foo foo valve trying to get it up on the front verandah. I then tried to get under the ripped chicken netting of the old veggie garden enclosure out back in order to reach the kid. My plan was to carry it to the small orchard paddock next to the old wash house where there are old dog kennels and a woodshed where Xena and her goatling could shelter when the rain started. Rain is one of the biggest killers of new born animals, especially lambs and kids. I made my way between rusty netting and an ancient grape vine that was hanging all over the place but at the last moment the kid stood up and wandered off.

I collected some pellets and then made my way behind the chook shed, dodging the low tree branches and several old stumps. Xena was up for more feed and the kid began to wail and cry when it was left alone. It decided to come up to investigate me so I quietly picked it up and slowly made my way back to the orchard. Xena followed closely, bleating in response to her baby's calls. There was a massive and emotional reunion when I put the kid on the ground plus Xena butted Gretel and Heidi for good measure.

Late afternoon it began to rain so I went out again to check on the girls. This time I was able to pick the kid up and give it a good old cuddle while Mum snatched a late lunch. I feel honoured that Xena is so trusting of me and allows me to handle her baby whereas everyone else is headbutted if they get within ten feet of her. At one point today I looked out the window to see a terrified Kit Cat racing through the paddock with one angry nanny just a couple of feet behind.

I am so relieved I have finally finished one of my pressing tasks when I finally finished pruning all the (eight) roses earlier this week. They hadn't been pruned in many years so it was quite a task to wrestle them into shape, especially the old bush in front of the original wash house out the back. This turned out to be lethal with both large and small thorns that caught me unawares. My hands look as if I was involved in a major cat fight.

Also I weeded the veggie garden and planted nine spinach and nine broccoli plants. As there are so many wandering chooks, rabbits and other livestock here I had to put more bottomless cages over them. You can tell this garden belongs to an animal lover as the plants are caged and the pets roam free.

Pitter Patter Of Little Feet

2008-07-16T18:59:00.004+12:00

The past few days I've noticed Xena Warrior Goat has become rounder and rounder and her udder hanging lower and lower. This morning she wasn't standing near the front fence as she usually does and she didn't run over to meet me when I opened the gate to her paddock but I managed to entice her out with some pellets and shut her and the two others in the hen house field for the day.

On arriving home from Otane in the mid afternoon I busied myself lighting the fire and feeding the bunnies before I headed out to see what the goats were up to. Gretel and Heidi were waiting by the fence but there was no sign of Xena. However when I went to feed the chooks I saw a flash of white under the macrocarpa shelter belt and there she was with a little kid drinking from her.

I was sooo excited that I rushed to put the others into the orchard field and took Xena some pellets to entice her out. I didn't need to however as she brought her new offspring over to say hello. The baby was wobbly on its feet and still wet so obviously only newly born but it bravely came towards me and allowed me to touch its tiny face. On dark I went out again to check on mother and child and had to make my way through the undergrowth and under the trees to find them. Xena got up and wandered over and her kid began bleating before walking over to me and saying hello again. Once again I was allowed to touch it without Xena becoming aggressive which was so thrilling considering how wild she was just a few weeks ago (the photo to the left shows Xena, Gretel and Heidi their first day here). She is such a proud Mum, licking the baby constantly and standing patiently while it suckles.

Since then I have been on the phone ringing my friends and leaving messages for those I can't contact to tell them I'm a proud grandmother.

Mad Cow, Widget and the Escaping Kids

2008-07-11T19:08:00.006+12:00

I have seen snow falling for the first time in my life. Saturday morning I went out early to feed the chooks with Mishka and Kit Cat when little flakes of ice began falling and settling onto their long coats. It wasn't terribly cold but even so I rushed back inside in time to see a whole lot of white stuff begin falling. Mesmerised I spent most of the morning peering through the kitchen and dining room windows at this sea of flakes drifting down around the house. Very excited I rang a friend in order to tell her that it was snowing at Tikokino and "it looks just like it does on TV!" After all the drama nothing settled on the lawn but snow lay on the foothills for most of the week.

Gine helped me with hanging the rest of the curtains in the dining room and already I can feel that it's much cosier in there now the heat isn't escaping out of the windows. The cats are miffed though that they can no longer sit staring out into the night pulling faces at any rabbits that might be passing by.

The biggest excitement of the week however was yesterday morning when Andrew decided to move some steers out of the paddock next door. One recalcitrant individual decided to make a break for freedom and ran in the opposite direction along the stock route with one naughty donkey in pursuit. Next thing it came running back with Andrew behind and one worried donkey in pursuit. The steer decided it wasn't going anywhere it didn't want to and leapt the back fence into my yard. Next it jumped over my temporary "girlie" fence into the hen house area. Andrew also jumped the fence and I heard some noise, a clatter, some metal clanging, and then the steer running around the house and past the dining room window. A minute later Andrew casually wandered past the same way with a wave, a grin and a "Hi Jen".

Also Widget Rooster disappeared. Two days ago he was looking a bit dishevelled and discombobulated and that was the last I saw of him. He was an old cockeral so he may have just gone the same way as Artemis and Suki. Locals are saying this is one of the coldest winters in the area for many years so it's going to take casualties I suppose.

When I arrived home after portrait class today I couldn't see the goats at all. When I went to let the chooks out for a scratch Xena Warrior Goat was standing by the house looking concerned. Next I heard a desperate "Maaaaah" and saw that Gretel and Heidi had managed to get themselves over the fence into the shelter belt area. I couldn't get them over the barbed wire so went into the orchard field and pulled John's cleverly constructed goat proof fence down only to find that Gretel had managed to squeeze back under the side fence and was now dancing around on the top of the netting in the grape area. Heidi who is too small and too naive to plan such naughtiness came towards me fence I had lowered and ran into the woodshed in relief. It wasn't too long before the others joined her although only after I had bribed them with some pellets. By the time I got inside I was in great need of a cuppa.

Artemis Fowl

2008-07-04T17:51:00.003+12:00

I love the brown shaver breed of hen as they're such friendly souls. When friends bought several pullets from a poultry farm many years ago I took four of these to add to my flock. Over time one by one they went to the big hen house in the sky except one very determined chook I named Artemis Fowl. The friendliest of the four she would follow me everywhere, even inside the house on occasion. Even if she saw me in the driveway she would frantically run up and down the fence in a panic that she might be missing out on something important.

Recently Artemis had become even more affectionate, allowing me to pick her up and tuck her under my arm while she talked to me and pecked at her reflection in my sunglasses. She also began making long treks into the paddocks along with the young chooklettes to see what she could scavenge.

This afternoon I let the chooks out mid afternoon for a brief run as it was so cold and windy. After an hour they asked to be put to bed but Artemis was nowhere to be found. I whistled her (all my animals come to the whistle) and called her name but there was no sign of her brown form wobbling towards me. However when I went into the hen house to pour out the mash I saw her curled up asleep in a nest box. But when I touched her feathers they were cold and I realised Artemis had died in her sleep.

I knew she was very very old (nearly ten I think) but there was no sign of her slowing down. However this is exactly the way to go, no illness or trauma but just an old hen peacefully drifting off to sleep.

Girlie Farming

2008-06-30T17:50:00.004+12:00

This morning Marg and John arrived out in their ute with some very welcome firewood from one of their trees. They also brought along a chainsaw and John went out into Briar's paddock and began cutting up pine branches that had been piled in the middle years ago and which now had blackberry entwined throughout it. He got a fair amount of wood cut before lunch. Marg carried all of it across and threw it over the fence while I loaded the wheelbarrow. Andrew the farm manager wandered over while this was going on and suggested that there was some better wood to cut up out the front of my place under some trees before offering some old totara fence battens that were only going to waste and would make good kindling.

After lunch John did a bit more woodcutting but suggested he needed to return in a fortnight with a smaller chainsaw which wasn't so heavy and hard on his joints. Although he was in pain he did find some amusement in how I organise things round here. The highlight of his day seemed to be when he laid eyes on the temporary fence that I had erected along the back to keep the goats in around the hen house. After he'd stopped laughing he found some of my electric fence standards and stabilised the wire netting a bit more. Honestly you'd have thought no one had ever seen a fence held up by large garden forks with bows tied on the top before!

Catnip Controversy

2008-06-22T17:32:00.004+12:00

My cats have their own collection of toys stored in the "round house" a disused carpet-clad-sleeping-hideyhole-come-scratching post which was given to me after someone's cat died. My girls never use it so instead I keep their toys there. The only problem is that they never play with them, preferring instead the simple joys of batting pieces of kitty litter about the kitchen. Demelza's other game is stealing whatever items of mine she can lay her paws on. Just this week I found one of my heart pills underneath a mat where she'd stashed it.

However this week Demelza rediscovered a moth eaten catnip mouse that belonged to my sister's cat for the couple of years she deigned to live with me. The first I knew about it was when I unexpectedly put my foot on something wet and white and nearly went through the roof. Later that evening I saw Demelza carrying the same poor hairy lump around the kitchen before she batted it into submission.

For two hours each evening she plays with it, one night she even woke me up at 3am playing mouse hockey. But then Peaches decided to get into the act and began stealing the mouse. Then Kit began taking an interest. Now we have no peace at all as cat wars over the nip mouse has broken out in the dining room.

To escape the silliness I go outside and talk to the goats. They have eaten down the orchard paddock and as I still haven't got a fence across the field at the back every day I let them out and they feed on the blackberry and long grass. The first time I was concerned that I'd never get them back, especially after all the shennanigans I had with Xena Warrior Goat when she first arrived. However I discovered that she follows me if I go out of view and that all I need to do is hold a maragarine container in my hand and she'll come running. Well she does associate it with goat pellets so I always make sure I have a few to coax her back into her field. Gretel and Heidi are never too far behind.

Suki

2008-06-17T18:15:00.003+12:00

One of my favourite hens died this morning. I was expecting it as Suki had been slowing down the past few days and although still eating was looking a bit wobbly. Well she was twelve years old so it wasn't surprising. I've been searching for photos of her but none were really good- it was difficult to get a close up shot as she was always so busy scratching and generally doing chook things. However her speckled gene has passed down the line and hopefully will continue to pop out in the occasion descendant.

Suki had three lots of chicks over the years. The first family was when she was only five months old which either makes her precocious or else a total slut. However she proved an excellent Mum and when she hatched another clutch six months later she did another great job. Her last time was several years ago and although she would periodically go broody she never stayed on the next long enough for her eggs to amount to anything. I will miss her as will her Mum "Peanut" who will be fourteen years old in November this year.

It's been a dreary wet day and everyone is miserable outside. Briar has hung her head and barely eaten while the goats stood shivering in the woodshed. I only went outside twice to feed everyone and bury Suki in the garden.

On a positive note though I finally received my loom last week. The friend who had collected it from Helensville had kept it at her place in Auckland until her brother and mother visited and they brought it back to Napier. My brother then delivered it last week. It came with a great collection of hammers and pieces of wood which I have no idea what to do with. It sits in state on a table in the dining room and Kit Cat curls up in it as decoration. Now I just have to learn how to use it.

Noodle's Sunday Afternoon Ramble

2008-06-15T19:23:00.005+12:00

It was a stunning golden day today so after lunch I decided to take my camera and get a few photos of the beautiful trees along the side of the road with the sun shining through their leaves. When Mishka and I were halfway along the drive I happened to glance back and saw Noodle Rooster running after us. I thought he'd give up by the time we reached the cattle stop but he kept following even when I made it up to the road (and the drive from my place is about a quarter of a mile long so that's some way to go for a fowl).

I made it along the middle of the road without meeting any traffic and got some fantastic shots of the sun filtering through the trees and blazing on the creamy plumes of the toi toi bushes. By the time I returned to the cattle stop I was sure Noodle would have run home but he was waiting patiently for us under a tree near the gate. He then ran behind us all the way home again. Now that's devotion!

The Great Escape Attempt

2008-06-08T15:17:00.004+12:00

The new farm manager came in to introduce himself last Monday afternoon while walking his dog and his baby daughter in a stroller. He said to give him a ring if I needed any help and he would try to get over inbetween farm work. I was so surprised at his kind offer that after he left I realised that I couldn't remember his name although his dog was called Peanut. Probably gives a good idea where my priorities usually lie.

I didn't realise how soon I would need his help but on arriving home late after painting group and visiting a sick friend on Wednesday I discovered that Xena Warrior Goat had gone beneath the old wash house and managed to wind her rope tether round a wooden pile. I sat on the muddy ground and tried to reach her only to get head butted for my trouble. Grabbing a garden fork I tried to pull the rope near me so I could untangle it but this caused Xena to pull further underneath the building. I finally tried to cut the rope with a pair of loppers but couldn't get the blades round it. Finally in desperation at 5.45pm I rang the farm manager's house.

The phone was answered by his wife Charlotte who on hearing my predicament said she would be right over once she'd settled the baby down for a sleep. A few minutes later she arrived with Peanut the dog, her two and a half year old daughter Georgia and a baby monitor. By this time it was completely dark but we both had torches so Charlotte was able to see the nanny clearly but couldn't reach over to untangle her. A rusty old fridge was blocking the way so she tipped out of the way and tried to crawl under the shed but Xena felt threatened and tried to butt her. Realising that girl power just wasn't going to cut it this time Charlotte said she'd send Andrew over after he'd finished feeding the farm dogs.

It was after 6pm by this time and very cold. I shut Mishka inside and collected a rose branch and some pellets and fed these to Xena. She was starving but as she was in a bit of an IRM (Intensely Ratty Mood) she tried to gore my hands after she'd finished eating.

In the darkness I saw a torch coming towards the orchard as Andrew, his little girl and Peanut came to the rescue. He lay in the dirt and untangled the rope before dragging one very angry nanny out. Taking no nonsense from her he told me to pat her before tying her to a dog kennel further along the orchard. Fortunately for me he loves goats having just come off a farm in Wairoa where they were raising them for the Middle East market. Grabbing Xena he shone a torch in her mouth and told me she was probably at least four years old and not the youngster we'd been told she was which accounts for her cunning and stubborness I guess.

When I came back inside the house was freezing cold and although I lit the fire it didn't warm up before I went to bed a few hours later. I spent the evening trying to work out why I like goats. The next morning I cautiously checked outside and saw Xena was still tied up with Gretel and Heidi beside her.

A big breakthrough though came on Friday when I put some pellets in my hand and both Xena and Gretel ate from it. Yesterday Xena managed to get off her rope but when she saw me she came up immediately and again was happy to hand feed. Gretel also loves to sniff for treats and runs up to me when I go to the gate. After just three weeks I think this is a major step forward.

Meanwhile the weather gets colder and colder. There is snow on the ranges, not a bit unlike my painting to the left. I have come to the realisation that my kent log fire may need art lessons- it's not drawing properly. I spend quite a bit of the day on my knees blowing ash all over the place as I try to get it to catch. Roll on Spring.

Charlotte Lovers Beware!

2008-06-02T17:37:00.006+12:00

Anyone who knows me well can state with certainty that I'm not very good with creepy crawlies. At primary school my nickname was "Daddy Long Legs" due to my arachnophobia heightened by the stories my mother told me of the giant spiders who lived in our woodshed in the back yard and the ones that came out at night from under my bed at my grandparent's old house and apparently ran over my face while I was asleep.

I have been really good lately. I don't scream when I'm divebombed by anything leggy falling from the ceiling. I even managed to go past an eight inch long stick insect that has taken up residence in an old rose bush out the front the other day. However a few mornings ago my heart almost stopped when I went into the loo and saw the mother of all spiders lying in wait near the door. I do not exaggerate so when I say that its body was a good 1 cm in length and its legs 8 cms in diametre you can be pretty certain that this was no ordinary breed of spider but a mutant strain sent to exterminate mankind. I rushed for the fly spray and let rip till it was iced white but the monster just sat there and did nothing but stare up at me with all eight beady little eyes. I then took a rolled up newspaper and bashed the living daylights out of it until it rolled up in self defence and limped away under the outside door.

When I told my friend John about this he was incredibly shocked that I could do such a thing since I say I'm an animal lover. I did tell him that I wished it a happy rebirth but he remained pretty appalled and told me that I've probably killed the last of a rare strain of NZ native arachnae. I ended up feeling so guilty that I realised that instead I should have carried it outside to the woodshed and provided it was a nice new cobweb and a friendly talking pig as a companion.......

Goat Wrangling

2008-05-23T11:43:00.005+12:00

The first morning of the goats' arrival I was worried how they survived the night. The kids were hidden beneath the eastern shelter belt while Xena Warrior Doe had wandered back and was watching them through the fence at the front of my place before disappearing when she saw me. My landlord called in just after 8am to say he'd found her near the woolshed and corralled her in a small field until they could bring her back to me as she was a "bit frisky" (ie. stubborn and pig headed). I had to head out to a workshop in Hastings so didn't see the performance when they mustered her into a holding paddock next to me. I went in hopefully near dusk armed with a horse halter and long rope but ended up watching a white goat boinging into the distance followed by one mad sheep who was with her. At one point I actually cornered the goat up on a pile of fence posts and tentatively moved towards her during the next 30 minutes while she looked from me to the sheep trying to decide who would be the better company. The sheep won.

When I got home late Tuesday there was a message from my landlord saying that if I needed help catching the goat to give him a call. I was too shattered to do anything that day so waited until Wednesday when I managed to get in touch with the landlord's son who promised to help one frazzled damsel in distress. Late afternoon I went out to see two shepherds laughing with one straddling an irate nanny. While they held her I put on a stronger leather collar which my friend's rottweiller had outgrown and tied a rope securely to this. When they released her the doe bounded away with two shepherds in hot pursuit before one held her and walked her towards the woodshed, tying her firmly to a warratah so that she couldn't escape.

Next morning I found the kids out feeding on the long grass in the orchard while the nanny made a determined effort to strangle herself when she saw me. I went out a couple more times that day and sat quietly nearby while the nanny stood atop the pile of wood in the shed giving me the evil eye. The kids couldn't make up their minds what to do so stood stock still with long grass hanging out of their mouths. I took apples and bread for them but these were left untouched for the chickens to finish as apparently my reputation as a goat poisoner had preceded me. Now I just have to convince them I am actually a goat whisperer.