Another year; more hay

This cutting of hay business can be quite stressful. This is our second year of closing up three large paddocks and cutting hay. Our first year, we were pretty clueless and the hay was cut a fraction too late (due to bad weather). This year, we decided to analyse the long range forecast and it seemed that December was going to have its fair share of rainy weather.

Here’s the thing. You can cut the hay, no dramas. But then it has to lie in the paddock soaking up the sunshine for a few days so it can dry out. If it’s rained on, well the locals will tell you to do one of two things – turn the hay over, fluff it up and let it dry out; or don’t turn the hay over and let it dry out.

But basically you want to avoid cutting the hay and having it drenched. So you need to be pretty good at forecasting the weather. If you bale up while the hay is still damp – watch out. Two things can happen. The first is that the hay will start to spoil in the field and grow mould. This creates toxins that can kill off horses. You’ll know if a bale is mouldy because there’s a metallic whiff. The second cautionary tale is that if you store the hay in your hay barn whilst it’s still damp, it can produce enough heat to start one heck of a barn fire.

The week before last, I kept hearing sirens going off every other day or so. When there’s an emergency in Oxford, a loud siren is blasted all over the community. I heard later that there were six hay barn fires, including one that had 2000 or more bales. Imagine that BBQ.

Weekend before last we thought we had about four days clear. But then I triple-checked and didn’t like the look of it. Nor did the two local farmers who were going to assist us. Someone told me that friends of theirs went ahead and dropped the hay that weekend, only to find rain hurling down as it was drying in the field.

So we waited. We’d actually closed the paddocks later than normal. In November. Because we felt that December would not be great weather and we’d be better off cutting the hay in January. Good call actually because the grass we dropped was fantastic  – full of red clover and leafy grass. We had none of the stalky grass from last year. We dropped it on Saturday and baled up Wednesday and Thursday. The hay had plenty of time to sunbake. So this year the bales are a sweet-smelling, lovely pale green colour with some bales being pale gold. This is good hay.

I think the difference this year was that we had different animals in the paddocks – horses, sheep, cows and goats. We decided to mix it up and get better at pasture management. The animals kept the twitch and dock (nasty vicious weeds) down to a minimum.

A lot of people came to help store the hay. That’s the thing about rural New Zealand. People you don’t even know turn up to help. A farmer came along and asked what he could do for us – we’d never even met him. But he rolled his sleeves up and started tossing bales of hay into the hay barn. And he was telling me that hay will be cheap this year – around NZ$5.00 or less per bale – and that’s because a lot of dropped hay was rained on. Well, at least this hay cutting business is over for another year.

Zeph and Zsa Zsa haven't been able to run in the paddocks since November. Naturally, they went crazy and ran like mad things.

The grass before it was cut.

Dropping the hay begins.

Stacking the hay.

 

Blue skies

Hubs HATES (with a capital H) Sunday drives, whereas I love them. Growing up, it was the thing to do – get in the car with your parents and go for a Sunday drive. We used to drive north of Sydney and end up at some tea room along the Hawkesbury River. Scoff a Devonshire tea or two. Or we’d head towards Manly and walk along the promenade, enjoying an ice-cream.

Now everyone seems to spend their Sundays in shopping malls. If a shopping mall is new to me, I don’t mind checking out all the shops but, once I know what’s what, I really don’t like hanging around.

Last Sunday, the winds were blowing. The horses didn’t like it. The dogs didn’t like it. It was also a bit too warm to work around the property. So hubs suddenly announced let’s go for a drive. I looked at him quizzically because I know how he steadfastly refuses to get in the car and just drive.

But out we went. We packed up the dogs and headed towards Sheffield. Someone told us that if you take the back roads, there are lovely long-distance views. We also thought we’d stop off at Sheffield’s famous pie shop. We’ve been there before but totally forgot to drop in this time because we were side-tracked by the views.

My Nikon D40 battery wasn’t fired up, so along came the trusty iPhone. In Thailand, I snapped up a 1970s Soviet-era film camera – the Zorki 4k with a Jupiter-12 35mm f/2.8 lens. I like Russian film cameras and already have the Smena 8M. They’re sturdy and oh so Soviet.

The problem I’m finding is that what with horses, dogs, cows, sheep and goats plus being in Rome for months last year – well, I just haven’t kicked these cameras into action. It’s also difficult finding film although there is a camera shop in Rangiora that I’m pretty sure has 35mm and 120mm black and white film and can cross-process. I must get the Zorki into action – I’ve even found an old instruction manual for it.

Meanwhile, I know these photos aren’t fantastic but they’ll give you some idea of the wonderful blue skies and scenery that New Zealand enjoys in the Summertime.

 

Zeph’s identity crisis

Poor old Zeph. He’s not sure if he’s an English Pointer; a horse; or a baby goat. Zsa Zsa is far more certain – she knows she’s a canine Princess and that’s that.

Zeph is a major personality on the property. He’s THE most active dog I’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing my life with (and he’s my eighth dog). And this means he’s always out and about – running, barking, sniffing, exploring.

Since we have horses, sheep, cows, goats and chickens, it’s very important that everyone lives together harmoniously. I don’t want Zeph or Zsa Zsa afraid of a larger animal or acting in a silly manner with the horses or cows. This hasn’t taken much training as both dogs seem to have horse sense, especially around the stallion, Muff.

Zeph and Rosie get on very well and I often find Zeph hanging around her. No doubt that’s because Pointers LOVE horse crap but I regularly see them touching noses or sniffing things together. Although Muff’s a stallion, he’s a little scared of his own shadow sometimes so occasionally he gets a fright if Zeph rushes past him. But then they sniff each other and things return to normal. Karma takes the dogs in her stride; they don’t faze her at all.

The other day, I found Zeph sniffing the horse’s hay and even trying to eat some. Rosie looked on curiously. Then I found him hanging out with Cocoa and Latte. He often plays with the baby goats. At first, they were dead scared of him and RAN. Now, Rupert rushes forward when he sees Zeph and they play together.

I’ve always had animals but it’s not until I moved to New Zealand that I’ve had so many. And taken on NEW animals at that – horses, cows, sheep and goats – without knowing what I was getting myself into. But I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Each day, the animals bring me great joy and I learn so much from them. Because I’m still relatively new to horses, I have to watch their body language very carefully. I’m sure this has increased my intuitive abilities for I can now just look at Rosie or Karma and sense their mood.

 

I can’t get up

The dedicated reader (are there any?) will know that Karma is expecting a foal VERY SOON. Gulp. We’re pretty good now at delivering baby goats. Well, hubs is – but a foal? The vet visited recently and was very pleased with Karma’s progress. I was worried that Karma is basically about to explode.

It’s very important that the mare isn’t too rotund shall we say. Especially, maiden mares. Because if they are too big, the birth could be difficult. I’ve had Karma on a broodmare regime and the vet said all looks good. But I think Karma is just about ready to drop the foal because carrying that foal around is getting to her.

The other day, she was flat out, sleeping on the ground in the warm sun with Rosie and Muff. She decided to get up but found it pretty hard going! After several goes at it, she finally made it upright.

I tell you Rosie, lying down is fantastic. I feel slim again.

This sun is too strong for me Karma. I'm getting up.

Wait Rosie: me too, I'm getting up. I've had enough rest.

Er...hang on. Rosie, can you give me a hand. I seem to have rolled back over. This foal weighs a ton!

Ok let me try again....one, two, three.

Phwar...this is tough work but I think I can get up. Just one or two more heaves.

Ok. I made it. Oh oh: is that a camera? Do I look fat?

 

Zeph meets Latte

Mabel’s kids are one week old now and doing very well. Who knew that tiny baby goats could be soooooooo lively – springing up and down, running all over the place, inquisitively sniffing here, there and everywhere.

Zeph has been totally intrigued by this whole goat business but is a little scared of Mabel. After all, Mabel has head-butted him at least twice as he attempted to sniff the baby goats. I’m sure that Zeph and Zsa Zsa think the kids are play toys. They approach gently and lean forward to sniff – but Mabel usually rushes forward to protect her babies.

But today, we saw the second born kid, Latte, move boldly forward towards Zeph and Mabel stood quietly and watched as they touched noses. Too cute! Latte was the baby we were worried about because she didn’t seem to be drinking much and was a little thinner than Cocoa and Rupert. Over the last few days though, she has perked up and is drinking from mum every chance she gets. Cocoa has turned out to be the quietest and shyest of the three kids.

Mabel has always liked Zeph and Zsa Zsa but obviously she is being very protective of her babies. We want all of them to get along though so we’re happy to see that the touching of noses has occurred and Mabel seems more relaxed. Zsa Zsa, however, sees Mabel as some scary object and tends to run away but she too is getting bolder.

I’ve been in touch with a wonderful woman who breeds goats and she gave me some great advice on how to care for Mabel now that she’s a mum.

Latte boldly goes where no baby goat has gone before - to sniff Zeph, up close and personal.

Nearly, nearly....

Zeph wonders if Cocoa is a baby goat or a new play toy.

Zsa Zsa's not to sure about being surrounded by baby goats!

 

Cocoa, Latte and Rupert

We were a little worried about Mabel’s second born, Latte, over the weekend. We’d seen both Rupert and Cocoa having good drinks from mum but not Latte. A local farmer visited to check his sheep and he also was a bit worried. Like us, he tried to coax Latte by expressing some of Mabel’s milk and rubbing it on Latte’s nose. Didn’t seem to work.

A few hours later, I found Zeph outside staring at the baby goats, glanced across, and there was Latte feeding. She is nowhere near as robust on the teat as Rupert, who is one huge drinker of mum’s milk. Cocoa seems to be the quiet one and Latte is now very playful and energetic. So I’m hopeful she will be okay. She’s thinner than the other two though.

Meanwhile, Mabel has found her calling in life. She has learnt fast how to be a mum to three baby goats and herds them protectively towards the goat house if she feels uncomfortable. The goat house was built by the local farmer and is a triangular construction with a corrugated iron roof. We’re about to get some bad weather, so I’m pleased the baby goats already call this construction their home. All three curl up together to keep warm. Baby goats need a lot of warmth and protection from bad weather.

I often see Latte jumping up and down. She's now the energetic one and is the boldest of the three kids.

They are now starting to explore their world.

 

Mabel’s family

Finally. Mabel dropped her bundle. Seems this was the world’s longest goat pregnancy. It probably wasn’t but because we never really pinned down the actual day that Rupert had his way with Mabel – we weren’t quite sure when she was going to have her kids.

In early November, Mabel was looking, well, FAT. And she just kept getting bigger and bigger. I started reading up on what to do at the birth and was somewhat relieved to find out that a doe generally has one or two kids. I read up on what to do if the doe is having trouble birthing or if the kid is ignored by the doe, how to shove the kid under the mum’s nose so she begins licking immediately.

All that went out the window because it wasn’t me who presided at the birth. It was hubs (who can now claim a new career as goat midwife). December 1 in the morning – we noticed that Mabel was more restless than usual, a sure sign that she might be on her way to giving birth. We watched her during the day. She seemed to want to create a nest so we provided her with plenty of hay. She sat on this and then, around 9.00pm (which due to daylight saving in NZ is thankfully still light), hubs rushed inside to say he just pulled Mabel’s first born out because it was in breech position. WTF?

Imagine my surprise dear reader. Here I was, on the couch, enjoying a hot cup of tea. I thought hubs was out fixing a fence! I told him to put the kid under Mabel’s nose so she’d begin the bonding process and warned him to expect another one. By the time he rushed back out, there were two more baby goats bleating away. Hubs cleaned up the placenta and shoved all kids Mabel’s way. I fainted on the couch in an attack of the vapours. Well, not quite but I was so surprised. We both rushed out and there they were, three beautiful goat babies.

We are slightly worried about the middle born one. She doesn’t seem to feed as much as the other two who are frankly, greedy gutses and always hanging off Mabel’s teats. So we have two females and one male. I’ve named the male, Rupert, in honour of his father (or Rupert Jnr). The brown one is named Cocoa after my favourite hot, night-time drink, Cadbury’s Bournville Cocoa. I was toying around with the idea of naming her Cadbury but nah. The second one is Latte given she looks a bit like a cafe latte dusted with cinnamon. We’re just hoping she’ll be okay.

Mabel doesn’t quite know what she is doing as a mother. She was a pet goat before she was given to us by a local farmer, so she’s never really been around lots of goats, let alone her own mother. There is no reference point for her as a mother and she does seem to be a bit clueless. We are spending time teaching her how to be a mum but not interfering too much as she needs to bond with her bubs.

I think that Mabel is a Saanen goat and Rupert is a Boer goat. Rupert is currently on loan. Around here, people lend their animals for servicing purposes, as they say. So he’s off having fun with female goats and we currently have a bull on our property who is, shall we say, very interested in our Splash. If all goes well, we are hoping for a Spring 2012 calf. Splash will then become our house cow, the term people use here for a dairy cow that provides the household with fresh milk.

This coming week, a local farmer is teaching me how to milk Mabel. I’m sure this is an easy process but since I’m a clueless former city girl, it’s advisable for me to get some lessons. I plan to freeze some of the milk and then make goat milk soap. I’ve always wanted to handmill soaps. Should I end up creating a goat milk soap commercial empire, I am calling the business Mabel’s Own. You heard it here first!

Mabel, the proud mother, with Latte - her second born.

Close-up of Latte.

Mabel with Cocoa and Rupert (on right).

Cocoa, who is obviously the brown one, with Rupert.

 

Wintery blast

Whilst I’m sweltering in Rome, my beloved New Zealand has been hit by a wintery blast. It seems to be a rare snowstorm and bollocks – I’ve missed it! Apparently, a strong Antarctic front pushed northwards causing havoc, bringing power lines down, closing airports and disrupting traffic. Snow even fell over Wellington – that hasn’t happened since the 1970s – and for the first time in 72 years, Auckland saw snow fall.

The snowstorm has been described as a once in a lifetime event. And of course I had to be out of the country when it happened. But my riding instructor sent me photos of the property and some of the horses. Because I follow natural horsemanship, I don’t cover the horses in winter. Horses have the ability to regulate their internal temperature and, when it’s cold, they raise the hairs on their coat to create an insulating layer. Horses also grow a wonderful woolly coat to keep themselves warm – Muff and Rosie are like woolly mammoths. So if you cover your horse with a rug or blanket, it makes it impossible for the horse to raise their hairs and create that insulating layer.

All my horses enjoyed the snow apparently, as did the three horses boarding with us for a short time. I can’t believe so much snow fell on the property – about 26 cm/10 inches.

Entrance to property. The farm is called Aroona, which is Aboriginal for "flowing waters" or "place of running water".

Coming down the drive - stables and round yard on the right.

The three horses that were boarding with us during the snowstorm.

Danny waiting to get some hay. The grass, of course, was covered by the snow - so the horses had to be fed hay twice a day.

Muff finding it a little deep in the snow.

 

Eat your greens

I do feel a tad ridiculous showing you a photo of my dinner salad. But dear reader, the salad is made of greens entirely from my vege patch. Now, to a former city girl used to buying insipid fruit and vege from supermarkets, this is exciting, heady stuff worthy of a photo.

The horses are really coming in handy because they supply the manure for the vege patch. Since I’ve been using horse manure, the vege patch has really been going well and the lettuce, particularly, seem to grow in abundance. The taste dear reader: well, there is actually a taste! Knowing that I’m eating something fresh, and grown with no nasty chemical fertilizers, is enormously satisfying.

I’m dreaming of sacrificing one of the paddocks for an enormous vege garden. Hubs is planning it out and thinking of a greenhouse. Whilst he’s planning, I’m also considering bees. Yes, bees. Why not? How fab would it be to produce my own honey. I have no idea if this is practical or not but plan to look into it. There are plenty of farmers around here who I know either have bees or used to have bees. It’s simply a matter of chatting to them.

 

Silver moon

It’s a funny thing. When I was in Oz, I always wanted to land international consulting gigs. I did get a few – to Thailand, Singapore, Taiwan, Hong Kong. But since moving to New Zealand, I’ve managed to land a few international gigs, the latest being 5 days training of KM practitioners in Malaysia later this year. I’m also in line for a few months of consulting in Rome – fingers crossed on that one. I’ve mentioned before how much I love Rome and, should I be reborn, let me be reborn Italian thanks.

When I look around the property though and spend time with all my animals, I’m thinking I don’t want to leave. It’s such a different life from the corporate world I used to inhabit. Just the other day, I was walking in one of the larger paddocks with Zeph and Zsa Zsa and glanced up to see the faint silver orb that is the moon, hanging low in the late afternoon sky.

I’ve never really had the time in my working career to just stop, stand and stare at the moon. We take so many things for granted as we rush around in our daily lives. I’m very thankful to now have the time to stop and sniff the roses as they say. It’s a privilege to be living in the glorious landscape that is Aotearoa.

You can see the moon to the upper left of the middle tree.