Psycho Hen.

Bantam hens are renown for being great mothers to the point the will try to brood anything if they're in the mood- other hen's chicks, baby rabbits, even golf balls. When they first hatch out a clutch they tend to be over protective giving a half hearted peck when fresh water or food is put in their vicinity but after a couple of days they'll realize no harm in meant and will allow any sort of activity around their babies.

Most of my hens are pretty easy going.

It was my luck that three weeks ago a two year old hen walked out with two small day old chicks resulting from an unplanned pregnancy. I grabbed an unused possum cage to catch them in and with some help from a visitor managed to get the babies in before enticing Mum with food.

Mother love can hurt 

That was my last non violent encounter with her. From that day onward she would scream abuse whenever I put my hand near her and I ended up with a mass of red beak wounds on my hands and arms. A week and a half later she leaped up and sunk her beak into the fleshy part of my forearm leaving a sizeable wound which bled on and off for two days.

My wound straight after the attack.

I never considered chicken keeping a dangerous activity apart from the occasional hit on the head with an over enthusiastic rooster at breakfast time. But I now approach Psycho Hen as I call her with a healthy dose of respect. Perhaps Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" is not so far fetched as I used to think.

Season Of The Chicks Part Two

28^th July, 2014- Friend gave me four brown shaver hens from her giant flock. 

15^th August- one of my new shaver hens died after having a slight cold when she arrived.

18^th August- new replacement brown shaver hen to replace dead one.

24^th August- another of my new brown shavers died from respiratory illness.

"Millie" shaver hen

7^th September-Gina Lollabridgida hen had a fight Thursday ending up with a swollen black eye. That healed up but today I found her feet up in the paddock. Gina Lollabridgida hen had a fight Thursday ending up with a swollen black eye. That healed up but today I found her feet up in the paddock.

15^th September- Gretchen pullet who has not grown at the same rate as her siblings passed away.

26^th November- Gabriella turned up with one day old chick. Now ensconsed in woodshed.

11^th December 2014- Lara the black bantam hen I was given seven years ago dies. Buried by the foxgloves.

9^th January- Gabriella turned up in the middle of the garden with seven chicks.

16^th January- one of Gabriella's chicks missing. Cat looking guilty.

31^st January- Widget the Midget rooster passes away. No idea how old he was but he was ancient. Had recently lost his status as top “outside” rooster.

Widget the Midget Rooster

8^th February- Gabriella's sister arrives with seven new chicks.

16^th February- at 3.30 am heard loud cheeping from the woodshed. Discovered Gabriella's twin sister's chicks out of the cage. Inside was the hen pecking at a hedgehog which had already killed two of her chicks. Rolled hedgehog round to the veggie garden before blocking up any spaces in the cage where it could have got in.

18^th February- someone ran over and killed Twizzle rooster out front.

3^rd March- friend gives me a Rhode Island cross pair. Rooster is called “Jock” and I've named the hen “Isabelle Willis” after a woman my mother once worked for.

21^st March- -heard anguished cheeping at 4am from woodshed. Hedgehog back in the cage straddling a chick. Managed to catch it and put it in a cat carry cage (later sent to live at another property). Found Gabriella in a bad way in the broodie cage. Covered with blood and missing feathers.

22^nd March- Gabriella died in the night from her hedgehog related injuries and shock.

Jock the Gentleman Rooster.

2^nd April- hawk took another of Gabriella's chicks.

12^th April- drop in temperature & one of Gabriella's sister's chicks dies.

13^th April- hawk took another of the now deceased Gabriella's chicks. Down to five- all males.

14^th April- Gabriella's sister loses a chick with another looking seedy.

19^th April- Molly the brown shaver dies after being repeatedly pecked in the face by a fellow hen.

30^th April- my favourite chick of Gabriella's (a little gold female) died during the night.

21^st May 2015- find a pile of black feathers near the fence. Suspect hawk killed a hen.

25^th May 2015- Another of Gabriella's chicks dies.

26^th May 2015- Gabriella's last two chicks die from cold (snow).

6^th June 2015- cold weather killed white bantam pullet (the one addicted to eating grapes).

21^st June 2015- old white fluffy bantam hen Georgia dies.

Season Of The Chicks Part One

Between early October 2013 and May 2014 I had a chicken explosion. At first there was the usual broody hen who came out of the bushes with a few chicks but then my landlord spread the remains of his silos across the home paddock next to me which resulted in the hens feeding freely and not returning to the hen house at night. This in turn led to them hiding away and hatching clutches of chicks. At one point I was feeding ten broody hens and their assorted offspring which saw my flock get up to numbers in the high sixties. This is the diary of those hectic times.

4^th October, 2013-Gwendolyn the crowing hen arrived out from the bushes with five day old chicks this afternoon.

30^th October- Just had to bury one of Gwendolyn's chicks which has died from the cold snap we had during the last 24 hours.Gwendolyn's other chick passed away after lunch. Bloody weather. This happened to a clutch last Autumn as well.

16^th November- Another of Gwendolyn's chicks on its way out this morning. Alright late yesterday so assuming it was too chilly for it last night.

25^th November- Landlord dumped a truckload of reject grain next door which the chickens have been feasting on. Result-no one wants to go to bed #HyperChickens

7^th December- One of my missing hens (Gabriella) turned up this afternoon with four chicks... *sigh* They're a bunch of sex maniacs round here.

15^th December- Found a white pullet Amy (last season's chick) with two new borns near the hen house. Hell of a job catching her.

27^th December- One of my missing bantams has turned up- with nine chicks that I can count. Because what I really need is more chicks. What a job catching them with their mother & Widget rooster trying to attack me. Rearranged chick homes to accommodate them.

29^th December- Just found two hens sitting on a pile of stinky eggs & when I lifted them off six had already hatched. #PsychoChookyMothers

31^st December- One of Gabriella's three week old chicks died during the night. Nature is very harsh without rhyme or reason.

1^st January, 2014- Went to let the chooks out of the big house & there was one of my missing bantam hens! With four yellow chicks.... Wrangling them was no fun. Now have six broodies with 25 chicks between them with two hens still missing somewhere in the pine trees or wilder areas of the garden.

6^th January- Thought I'd seen a missing bantam hen yesterday near the shelter belt. Today she turned up again- complete with three chicks.

8^th January- Another hen just arrived with one day old chick. Heaven knows where she'd been sitting all this time.

10^th January- Just found one of Booffy's nine chicks dead. What looks like a haematoma on it's side so Mum must have stood on it. It's a rough upbringing.

13^th January-Another hen has turned up with 10 chicks & is hiding in the garden under my bedroom window.Have put them in a cage in the woodshed with two of the other broods.

15^th January- Have decided that 40 bantam chicks are equivalent to half a human baby- the bottom half. Same amount of poo to be cleaned up.

18^th January-Murder! Just found Spike the rooster's corpse outside the hen house, beaten to a pulp. Bloody young cocks ganged up on him. A first in 23 years of chicken keeping.

21^st January- Lovely rainy morning but unfortunately the youngest white chick in the woodshed had died in the early hours. The 6.2 quake last night may have been too much.

30^th January- Gwendolyn hatched her last clutch on Oct 3rd 2013, raised them then immediately went clucky. Found three tiny (by little I mean just out of the egg) chicks in with Amy (bantam hen with two chicks of her own). Gwendolyn's a Mum again.

5^th February- a chick killed by another broodie hen leaping about.

6^th February- Just went to feed the chicks & found Boofy's smallest black one dead. I assume this cold snap did it as it was fine this morning.

10^th February- One of Boofy hen's chicks not looking at all well. Quite chilled in this cooler weather. Brought it in & sat a container with it on a hottie. Chick was fraught & cheeping for Mum so wrapped it in an old hand towel, plonked it on my chest & we both went to sleep. Result- poo in bra.

11^th February- Came home from shopping to find yesterday's sickly chick poorly again. Couldn't save it this time though. Just buried the chick and brought one of its siblings inside. Looks like it's on its way out as well. Poor hen has lost her three smallest.

13^th February- Yet another burial first thing this morning as one more of Boofy's chicks passes away during the night.Just a mystery to me as it was eating.

7^th March- Woke at 2am with Gwendolyn hen screaming in the carport & her babies upset. Today I find my white rooster dead headless in the shed #Ferret

9^th March-A five month old pullet gone this morning.Not long dead when I found her- head gone.Leaving her body in the hen house with the traps for day. Mike found a tunnel near the hen house so he's setting up a trap (baited with bantam egg) in it. (The ferret was caught the following night and Mike shot it).

15^th March- Yesterday Gwendolyn hen lost her black chick from the cold. Then while we were out a farm dog came in & dug up the ferret attack pullet.

16^th March- Worst easterly I can remember in five years. Was out in the carport at 9.30pm trying to put more covers on the broody cages. This morning the hen house door had been forced open so chooks running loose.Gabriella hen hast walked out from underneath a flax bush with 10 chicks. Then went back under the flax so I had to do a chase & collection.

17^th March- Trying to match the right chick with the right hen after all the various clutches have "mingled" is a nightmare.

29^th March- One of Gabriella's little chicks (a black one) died after a cold snap. Another older chick was passing blood but turned out to be grapejuice.

30^th March-Went out to feed the chooks & discovered Bessie & only five of her chicks sitting in her cage not wanting to come out at all. Saw a young white pullet way out in the paddock & called her back but her grey boofy headed sister has completely disappeared #Hawk

4^th April-Bessie must have taken her six remaining chicks way out in the paddock where a hawk floating about this morning as she now has five. Gabriella's little chick I'd managed to save last week just expired. At that age when if Mum isn't sitting on them they chill.

5^th April- A chilly night took out another of Gabriella's young chicks. Hawk scoping my place as well. Chicken apocalypse.

12^th April- harrier hawk sitting out in the field on a pile of white feathers. One of my lot! Also another of Gabriella's chicks dying from the wet weather.

14^th April- hawk took took third chick out of this clutch.

17^th April- One of Gwendolyn's chicks dying from the storm. Brought her inside but not hopeful. Tried to shore up the hen house & goat shelter from easterly wind .

19^th April- Sun at last but this morning one of Gabriella's chicks succumbed to the weather with two more looking seedy. Have them on a hottie on my bed.

20^th April- another Gabriella chick dead from a cold night.

27^th April- nippy morning took out another Gabriella chick.

29^th April- cold took out the smallest of Gabriella's chicks. Down to two from ten.

12^th May- Poor Billy died, Should have left him in a cage on his own.

19^th May- Gwendolyn turned up without her little white daughter. Hawk again.

23^rd May- Gwendolyn the bantam still missing.

31^st May- Cold killed Gabriella's ninth chick.

6^th June- Went to put Gabriella and her last chick in bed and it had disappeared. Hawk?

 

 

Kit Cat

Over the past few months of summer as the temperatures rose  Kit began to suffer from the heat taking refuge on window sills or near the door where a crack would allow colder draughts in to cool her. Then she began eating less. After years of watching her weight I began to watch it for the opposite reason as she slowly began to waste away. For a while she would eat a little and often so I would put her food away and bring it out again when she asked for it. Mike would arrive with sachets of "Dine" or little tins of "Gourmet" cat food, even bringing her freshly cut ham which she would tuck into.

Always a big girl Kit began losing weight

A week ago she was sitting on the back of an arm chair when I noticed she was drooling. Immediately I thought teeth as she was fourteen years old. The next morning we saw the vet who remarked that although there was a little inflammation there wasn't enough to warrant her loss of appetite. I knew her usual weight was six kilos but when she was weighed this time she was only just over two kilos. In a short time she had lost two thirds of her body weight. The young vet took bloods and gave her an antibiotic for her slight temperature before we took her home.

Later that afternoon he rang with the news that her blood results were all over the place and showed quite severe liver damage. He suggested that I try and get as much food into her as possible over the weekend and we would review the case on the following Monday. Meanwhile Kit acted the same as always, sometimes eating, always friendly, going about her usual business. Apart from her lack of appetite and weight loss she didn't behave like a sick cat.

Kit and I taking a selfie. Her last photo.

On the Monday Kit returned to the vet hospital and was put on an IV to pump fluids into her while she was also force fed to try and stop her liver eating her alive. While she was there the vet did one more test and rang me later in the afternoon to tell me that she had FIV (the feline equivalent of AIDS in a human). He said most of the cat population in New Zealand carry this awful virus but it can lay dormant and never activate. As Kit had lived the life of a couch potato with me and had never fought with other cats I couldn't understand how she would have contracted it but he explained she might have carried it since she was a kitten. As she came to live with me aged six years in 2007 she could have contracted it before I even knew her. The prognosis was grim- if they gave her antibiotics she might live another month or two but there would be no miracle cure. I made the hard decision to have her euthanised but asked they wait until I could get in the next day so I could be with her at the last.

Mike was coming with me to the vets at 10am on the 3rd March but was running late as he was trying to round up bulls to send to market. By the time we got to Vet Services in Waipukurau it was 10.20am and we were both pretty stressed. The vet who had been handling the case wasn't available so another one whom I had dealings with before brought us into an office where a nurse had Kit in a little bed with her IV attached.

In just one day Kit had gone downhill so quickly. Yet when I touched her and said her name she brightened up and began purring. Mike bent down and she raised her head up as she always did when he kissed her. The vet just put the anaesthetic straight into her IV and as it made its way down the tube Kit sat up before making a little growl and laying her head down on my hand passed away.

I cried. Mike cried. Even the vet looked unhappy but then he did have a broken collarbone. Later they brought her body out in a small white box with a blue dove stenciled on the lid and a bunch of dentata lavender sellotaped to the top. Later that day I buried Kit near Mishka my dog out near the big oak tree she loved to lie beneath.

Thank you dear Kit for your gentleness and your sense of humour. It was an honour to be your vacuumer.

RIP KIT 2001-2015

Angel Goes To Hospital

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

Angel wearing her coat of many tangles.

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

Angel still in her happy place after her experience.

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

The Lion Of The House.

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

The Return Of Angel

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

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

Angel really delighted to see me again.

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

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

ANZAC Day at Pendle Hill

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

Pendle Hill on Wakarara Road 

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

Pendle Hill Woolshed

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

Back Road Up Near the Ruahines

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

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

The Optimistic Gardener

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

Scarlet Runner Beans

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

Various types of lettuce

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

Autumn Sedum

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

Picnic At Hanging Mangleton

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

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

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

Joey surrounded by a paradise of scents

 

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

A lovely little mountain stream in Mangleton

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

A patch of bush huddling under the ranges

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

One Fine Day And Then Another

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

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

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

An old Totara coping with the driest summer in years.

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

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

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

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

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

Things That Go Spew In The Night

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

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

Gemma in her pre-Exorcist days

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

Hawkes Bay Drought 2013

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

Over my back fence this was six weeks ago.

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

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

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

The view from my back door at sunrise

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

Joey's Big Day Out

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

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

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

"Oh you're special like me!"

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

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

The Septic Tank Wars

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

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

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

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

My poor clothes line- alone and palely loitering

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

A temporary plywood covering over "The Hole"

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