No dogs dying today!

It's been a crazy 24 hours but the good news is that the dogs will not die a slow painful death and the chickens survived their initial neglect. 

Let me tell you the story.

All was going to plan. I came home from work yesterday, went to the chook pen and was shocked to see our last hen suffering from rigor mortis. I fear I may have wished her to death and felt rather nauseous when I saw her. For the past week, I had expected her to die, secretly wanted her to move onto the the next chook life, as I had no place for her with the new flock and she was not well enough to sell. The dilemma was a difficult one. Daryl refused to euthanise her and I didn't have the heart to do her in either, so she roamed peacefully, until she died, right on schedule. So with that sorted, I collected the dead hen and the bucket of rodent bait we left in the hen house to clear out the mice before the introduction of the the new girls. (no, the hen did not eat it as I forgot to put the baits). Rushing to get to the pick-up point, I grabbed the shed keys with every intention of hiding the bait and grabbing a pair of gloves. I grabbed the gloves and promptly left.
The hen pick-up went smoothly and I waited my turn with 30 or so enthusiastic chicken keepers and then with the help of our trusty friends, Zac and Carol, we loaded up 50 birds (30 ISA browns, 10 Rhode Island x New Hampshire (red hens) and 10 Australorp x New Hampshire (black hens).

All was looking good, except the weather, which was looking like a storm was brewing. By the time I got home (one and half hours from leaving) it was just dark and with the light of the quad bike, I saw the storm had hit home. The bucket of rodent bait was open and all the contents were gone. I had no doubt the dogs enjoyed every last crumb. Breaking into an immediate cold sweat I called the vet and explained the situation - the dogs needed to be brought in immediately. The hens needed to get out of the car immediately. Moving faster than imaginable the three of us moved on fast forward unceremoniously landing the hens in their new home and leaving them to fend for themselves. In an effort to move the large, old aluminium feeder (full of layer pellets) out of their reach, I somehow managed to cause it to slam into the side of my face, connecting sharply and causing a few stars to appear before my eyes. Not to be deterred we were on a mission and I was terrified the dogs, who were happily running around, would soon start fitting or something similar and die on me. In a short space of time we were pulling into the vets and thankfully each of us could carry a pup as I had no time to get leads. Being after hours, the clinic was empty and dogs thought it was a blast. At least in the beginning. Quickly determining the dogs needed to get their stomachs emptied, each dog was given a tiny tablet inserted under the eyelid and we then waited for them to vomit. Newspaper strewn across the floor our job was to keep them on it and watch for blue coloured stomach contents. After what seemed like an eternity, the girls started to look green and the purging began. Turns out only two of the three canines ate the poison. Mia (kelpie) and Scooby (border collie cross with who-knows-what) had consumed enough bait to kill a couple of elephants. They chundered over and over again. Stomachs emptied the girls soon regained their spark and wanted to explore the vet clinic. Antidote administered, several hundreds of dollars worth of medication given with instructions and the bank account severely depleted we returned home and the three girls happily ran around in the rain. With the rain now falling hard and the wind blowing cold, we scoured the backyard by torch light picking up any trace of poison left behind and removing the offending substance.

I am now feeling relieved the dogs will be ok, at least they will be in six weeks or so, after the course of medications and then testing (more large dollars) to check if their blood is clotting. Then, and only then, will they be in the clear. The vet did say we were fortunate to find the container and realise what had occurred. He stated that the girls would have been fine for a day or so and then would have died an extruciatingly painful death and we would have not been able to do a thing to help. The thought of such a thing happening still sends a tightening through my chest.
While the dramas where unfolding in the vet clinic, our poor baby hens were disorientated and found themselves alone on a wintery night. We returned to find them huddled together in the rain, in the corner of the yard. Slowly the three of us managed to catch each hen and place her in the roosting shed; Carol carefully guarding the doorway to prevent escapes while Zac and I attempted to catch the pullets. Eventually they were all tucked  up inside, warm and no worse for their adventures.

Daryl arrived home from work just as the last of the hens were put to bed and I was happy to say that all will be ok.
This is one chapter I would prefer never to repeat, baiting will be done differently now and fingers crossed we will confine the dramas to the novels I read or the silly shows on tv.

Until next time,

N

Bidding begets a Barnevelder

New beauties

Checking out their new home

It's quarter to five and I have finally sat down to have a break. Starting early this morning, I intended to stop into the poultry auctions held in Maffra, just for a look, and then whip home and delve into the study I need to do for work. I'd never been to the poultry auctions and Daryl was very encouraging yesterday, suggesting it would be good to see what was there, as we have often talked about it. It wasn't hard to twist my arm. Racing around this morning, I did some basic house tasks, ironed all the work clothes and even polished my boots along with checking cows and letting out the hens. As I did a quick scan of the paddock I noticed one of our cows looking suspiciously like she might calve soon. Leaving her to the birthing business I grabbed the cheque book, just in case, and headed for the poultry auction. As the sun broke through the clouds the day was looking sharp, and I was enjoying some time out on my own.
The poultry  auction was noisy, both with people and all manner of feathered varieties from fancy bantams, designer ducks, a handsome goose or two, table turkeys and  an amazing array of hens and roosters (each one trying to out-crow the other). Some breeders were there sprooking their knowledge and guiding the beginner poultry keepers, while others seemed to just enjoy the hot chips on offer. The narrow corridors with cages high, soon had the crowds gathered in on the auctioneer (who could benefit from a microphone) and the bidding began. Quick, without any hesitation, he went from cage to cage calling the crowd to bid. It was obvious who were long time bidders and knew how the game was played; I quickly learnt to stand my ground and not let the front rowers push me back when it

Rhode Island Red

came to the cages I wanted. Barnevelders and Rhode Island Reds were on my radar and I was not going to miss out. With my research done, I was ready to win and I did. I came home with four beautiful Barnevelder hens and two Rhody pullets, far cheaper than I had seen online. The easy bit done, I quickly realised my plans for study were evaporating as the "old pen" was going to have a makeover for its newest inhabitants. With a dozen of our older layers still waiting to be sold, I didn't want them to mix. These new ladies are a bit special and will hopefully be good mums in time. My

What a mess

other hens are purely for laying and a new batch will be arriving in two weeks. Now back in farm clothes I started the big clean up and two and half hours later the girls are happily scratching around their new home, with new laying boxes, roosting area and fresh pellets. Initially, they were not so thrilled and one quickly discovered she could fly onto the railing. After the unenviable task of catching her from an open area, on my own, I had no choice but clip her wings and that of her buddies. For a couple of weeks, the ladies will be confined to their home pen before being allowed to free range through the paddocks, this will teach them where they live and lay, but also allow them to get used to us. The foxes will know we have new

More mess

stock and will be snooping around. These pens are fox proof, so at night, they will be safe. With unseasonably warm temperatures it did not take long to work up a sweat, combine this with old straw, cob webs and general dust and soon I was covered in grime. It's amazing where dirt and feathers can end up as I discovered when I finally hit the shower and saw what my bra had collected! If all goes to plan our remaining layers will go to in a new home tonight, after the initial buyer failed to turn up last night. Now, a new buyer is set to be here later. Facebook is great in the freedom and low cost to advertise stock and all manner of treasure and trinkets, but I have found over time that people can be unreliable and very poor communicators. Our trusty smart phones do not leave us any excuses for poor communication and it is frustrating to be left waiting. If the last of the Isa's are picked up we will have no eggs for a couple of weeks. This is disappointing for us and the people we sell eggs to, but nonetheless we will make up for it very soon, with 40 layers ordered.

Mother's club

The cow I mentioned earlier did calve, but I am yet to go near her to see what she had. The Angus cows are good mums, very protective and generally it's best to leave them alone for a day or so. We still have a number to calve and this is turning out to be a strange calving season.  It was good to see a bit of rain during this past week and the sounds of it on the roof last night, when I couldn't sleep, was a welcome distraction. The paddocks are quickly turning a fresh shade of green, and with the sun presto, we will have growth. Having lost the afternoon revitalising the hen house, I needed to feed the poddy calves, who have now been reduced down to one feed a day, every second day. They are growing magnificently and chowing down their muesli and hay, not to mention the fresh grass in their paddock. They still come running anytime you are near them, especially if you have the quad bike. They associate the bike with milk. Study is taking a very strong second place to anything farm

So much nicer

orientated today and yesterday it was not on the schedule at all. Yesterday, Daryl and I enjoyed a clearing sale at Denison and came home with a few feed barrels and two chicken runs, fully enclosed. This is where our newest babies will learn to roam, hopefully we will have baby chickens in the

Much better

future, once we get equipped with an incubator and heated chick box. During the auction we bid, as usual, on a few different items, but there always seems to be someone willing to pay just a bit more and common sense tells you to stop but the auction momentum encourages you to keep bidding. It can be such fun! We managed to fit in a visit to my father and discovered the nursing home has a kleptomaniac lady who thinks everything is hers and anyone (who is male) is her husband. This is creating more drama than a day time soap and it seems dad is not too impressed. His crocheted blanket and papers have gone missing, replaced with unwelcome advances from the lady in question. We managed to soothe his concerns with coffee and hot apple pie from Maccas and convinced him the nursing home would be back to normal as soon as the staff could return all the borrowed goods! He is finally using a walking frame and is able to move around the centre more confidently, although he is quick to remind us that he doesn't need it and only uses it sometimes, a bit like he only rarely sleeps during the day - but anytime anyone visits he tends to be snoring.
I can smell the silverside cooking and the room is darkening. Outside the clouds are sparse and there is a pink tinge to the sky. It's time to close up the house, crank up the fires and maybe, just maybe,  open up these folders and do some study.

Until next time

N

Making progress

Steel rods and an auger, the only way to break through the ground

It's been a productive period of time here at Rivergum. While the winter chill is causing frosty damage to many plants, it has not deterred us from getting outdoors and getting busy.

The little bulls have graduated to the big paddock and they are now contendedly munching on hay and 'crunchies' plus enjoying warm milk twice a day. It took some convincing for the boys to realise that the calf muesli, otherwise known as 'crunchies' is very tasty. After some helpful advice from our neighbour, Daryl shoved some of the muesli down their throats and in no time at all they got it happening all by themselves. Growing at a rapid pace, the boys are demanding and vocal if we don't get down to their paddock to feed them when it suits them, and when we do its a battle to keep the feeders on the fence without getting covered in milk, as it is thrown everywhere with a couple of bucks of their hard heads. Despite their impatience we are thrilled to see them thriving.
Since I last wrote we have only had one more calf born to our herd, another bull. We have 17 cows ready to calve and a six week gap is most unusual. Hopefully the girls get a move on very soon.
As mentioned earlier the harsh frosts this season have hurt our new fruit trees and we have lost a number of them now. Some of our native saplings are burnt on the top, but hopefully they will hang in there. We spent some time planting 21 native tree seedlings down the driveway and it is finally starting to look new and improved. At the end of our planting session Carol and I were so thankful we have a small auger to dig the holes. The ground is so hard we managed to bend two steel rods

The beginning of our new front entry

used to create holes, so the bamboo sticks could support the tree guards.  Daryl and Zac had their own challenges getting the ripper to drop deep enough to rip the trenches ready for the pipe and after much adjusting and perseverance the pipe was in the ground, perfectly.

Thanks to the efforts of our friends,  Daryl's dad, sister and brother-in-law, we have managed to complete more fencing, plant trees, oil the fence posts and new front feature fence, lay new pipework for the troughs and hook up the bore pump. Daryl has worked relentlessly on his days off, making huge improvements and still managing to keep fixing and sorting everything else that breaks down or collapses - like the morass fence line. In the gale force winds of Sunday we were left with no choice but to sort the cattle back out after the fence fell down allowing our pregnant mumma cows to walk into the morass - a big no-no at this stage. The cows did not appreciate our efforts and our efforts were thwarted by the howling winds and frayed tempers. The quad bike got a severe workout, as did my legs trying to hold on everytime I had to go back and round the beasts back up. In the end we won but it really was hard yakka.
With no rain in sight and the grass unable to grow we have had to make the decision to buy more hay. The cattle will need to be fed for longer and we have little to offer them on the ground. Soon we will endeavour to fatten up the steers and move them on to market. Keeping them, as we would prefer, is not looking  possible without a major injection of feed. We will be sad to see them leave us early, but I'm not sure we have any other choice.

Growing boys

In amongst all this productivity we have spent considerable time working with aged care staff to transition my father to a more suitable facility where he can receive higher level care. Despite anticipated challenges the move went well and he is slowly settling into his new surrounds. The location is closer to our home and this makes it easier for us to support him and drop in for a quick hello. His health continues to decline however, his stubbornness and negative tongue does not. Growing old with dementia is not dignified. It does not afford you quality of life in your twilight years and it challenges family and friends around you in ways you can never imagine, unless you have, or are, experiencing it yourself. The system is under-resourced, like so many others where dollars are more important than people. In an industry which is supposed to be about care and dignity, its a shambles. It is only thanks to certain individuals, who care for the residents, that make the process even a little palatable.
On a brighter note, Daryl and I were fortunate enough to spend an evening attending a fundraising event to raise money for a friend who is struggling with cancer. What a wonderful way to raise people's spirits and generosity and support someone in such a difficult position. The trivia night was fun (we came third place) and there was lots of reminiscing, on Daryl's part anyway, as they were mainly from his school days, laughter and fun. Who knew so many gold coins could add up to so much. I don't personally know the lady suffering but I am so thankful she has friends around her who have rallied us all to help. It was indeed a grand gesture and while it may not cure her it will alleviate some financial woes and hopefully allow her and her family to enjoy life as much as possible.
This weekend we are leaving Rivergum for some much needed rest and relaxation and leaving the farm in the hands of my daughter and her partner. I hope they enjoy a little country life and we are so grateful to have people we can call on when we need a hand. We are indeed blessed.

I hope you enjoy the following photos.

Every bit of help makes a huge difference

Teamwork at its best!

Farmer in training. Fantastic daughter.

Looking and feeling weary

Oiled up

Our handiwork

Before and after oiling - what a difference.

The ripper didn't want to play at the beginning

Ever helpful, Carol.

Chooks enjoying the newly ripped trench

Problem solving

Too many mornings like this one

Until next time,
N

Welcome Nudge..then Sam,Ted, Jack and Spot

New boys on the block

The baby theme continues at Rivergum, with the addition of nine new calves.
Five of these babies have been born here, four are happily frolicking with their mother's in the paddock, while one is being hand-raised, after his mother rejected him, and four have been purchased to keep the rejected one company. Nudge (the rejected one) has had a rough start to life. Born on a frosty winter's morning, his mother was less than nurturing from the moment his lanky legs hit the icy ground. Pushing him, kicking him, head butting him and generally tossing him around, were the welcoming gestures he received. Noticing her unusual behaviour and her disinclination to let him feed from her, we had little choice but to lock them in the yards and get her in the crush, force feeding Nudge onto her. With persistence and help from our trusty neighbour, Nudge drank hungrily from his mother, but unfortunately she would not let him feed independently. After a few days of trying to get her to change her mind, we decided Nudge would end up hurt and very hungry if we left him with her. Decision was made to send mum back to the paddock where she will stay until she is ready for market and Nudge will be raised like an orphan.

This way Spot!

Worried that he is isolated from the rest of herd and would have no friends, we made the journey to Yinnar South yesterday and bought four brothers for him to play with on the farm. The four Friesian cross bulls are cute as ever and have quickly become very friendly. Daryl had the joy of getting them onto the trailer without the aid of a race or ramp and after successfully carrying one to the trailer, found the others too heavy. Instead navigating them with their tail and walking them to the trailer was the next option. So, in the freezing cold (very chilly in Yinnar South) one by one, each calf was walked to the trailer (with some resistance) and loaded on. So now Jack, Ted, Spot and Sam have joined Nudge. Finally tonight they are all feeding off the fence and despite some appalling manners they are working out the system. Which is just as well, because when I am trying to feed them, before heading off to work, it is still dark and cold, and generally a shower is required afterward. The dank smell of warm calf milk lingers! Fingers crossed none of them will suffer with scours and our first effort at calf raising will be successful.

Ready for feeding 

As for mumma cow, well her days are numbered. It is a tragedy that comes with the realities of farming. She is an experienced cow, having birthed calves in previous years. It is not possible to know what has happened to her this time and unfortunately we cannot keep her here, eating the minimal feed we have, if she is unable to produce and nurture a healthy calf.

Nudge, enjoying a human cuddle

Soon it is hoped the grandkids, godchildren and great nieces and nephews will visit and enjoy the experience of petting pint size cattle and seeing them feed.
For now we will persist, despite the winter chill and keep nurturing them human style.



Until next time,

N

Looking for a dash of old-man wisdom.

There is nothing more effective to get you to back to basics than spending time with the little people in your life. 

Simplicity, beauty and wonder is reignited through the eyes of a toddler or infant. We had the pleasure of entertaining our two grandchildren this weekend, farm style. The world through the eyes of a two-year-old is sweet and new and full of adventures. She is excited by the hens, pecking wheat from her pudgy little hands and gets equally frustrated when they won’t come and get food, when she calls them. She squeals with delight when the cows, 10 times her size, wrap their tongue around her fingers, trying to grab the bread she is holding and meant to be throwing to them to eat. She finds the bread soft and squishy and inevitably it ends up in her mouth, instead of theirs. She is learning to ‘ride a bike’ and delights with being pushed down the bumpy driveway. It’s like four-wheel driving, toddler style. In her element, she revels in feeding a new calf, nearly as big as she is, perfect cuddle size. She is learning to call him Nudge and confidently runs her hands over his thick, velvety coat. For her, a weekend on the farm, is full of new opportunities and when we take the time to see it through her eyes, it is indeed, very special. Our youngest grandson, at eight months old, is new to the world of Rivergum, just starting to notice the sights and sounds around him. Rugged up for the winter cold, he giggled his way along as he walked on the laying boxes and looked quizzically as the hens milled around his feet looking for more food. Sitting comfortably in his pram, also successfully traversing the rugged road, he seemed fascinated by the three dogs around him and the strange noises the mother cow was making, while confined into the cattle crush. It is easy to let life get complicated. I know it is of late, and maybe a weekend back to the basics is what the doctor ordered. 

In contrast, only last weekend, we celebrated my father-in-law’s 90^th birthday. Once again, surrounded by relatives and friends to mark the occasion, I could not help but see some similarities with the needs of our little people. Love, laughter, warmth, comfort and appreciation for the simple things in life were the common threads. 

My father-in law is an amazing man. He lives

independently, still cooks for his large brood and all their off spring, plays bowls, helps out on the farm and enjoys nothing more than a trip up bush to relax. He does not dwell on the complicated anymore, he has had his share of celebrations and tragedies in his long life, and now seems to exude a sense of peace and contentment, enjoying the most important things in his life – his family.
So, I am now left to learn from my grandchildren and my father in-law and take lessons from those that have lived wisely and those still to navigate this amazing journey we call life.

Some days I think we do remarkably well, relishing in the joys and challenges the farm, our own large brood and the many connections we have made in our lifetime present to us, but I must confess, in this past week I am feeling particularly bombarded with complications and the need to make decisions. Some days I crave for the simplicity of childhood where decisions are the issues of the grown-ups, or the days of retirement where people have learnt not to give a hoot about some issues or what other people might think. There is freedom in both ages at the beginning and the end of the life circle.

Age is a peculiar concept. It is naturally the chronological record of how long we are alive, it sets the parameters for when we can achieve certain things such as school entry, driver’s licenses, voting and when we retire. We make judgements according to people’s age – he is too young for that, she is too old for this, she can’t wear that at her age, he should know better at his age. We celebrate the collection of years with gifts, parties and cake, it is a tradition passed down from ages gone by and one I suspect will continue for generations yet to be. However, it seems there are few guidelines for the middle years. It has been long accepted that by the time you reach your forties you are less inclined to be influenced by others or fashions or social expectations, there is sense of , I’m nearing fifty therefore, I need to do what I want, in the time I have left. Essentially half my life is already over and I’m not wasting anymore on people who really don’t rate that highly in my world – anymore. Problem is, that has not quite happened to me, and I find myself battling with anxiety because I know my actions will impact on other people and that bothers me.

Try as I may, neither my day job nor the farm, my children or my husband can distract me for too long. My mind has a terrible habit of churning over troubles, whether I am busy or idle. It follows me into my dreams and sets itself into the crevices of my mind without invitation. My mind is in turmoil. I think I’m tired of thinking too much, the inability to let go, the subconscious need to be considerate of others, the conscious knowing of being used and tossed aside. 

Right now, I need a little more toddler-time with a dash of old-man wisdom.

Until next time,

N

Bonfire beauty

The winter chill is certainly setting in and the Autumn wind is crisp and cool, however the required rainfall is a rare sight at Rivergum. While these are perfect conditions for a bonfire they are not conducive to grass growth. So, as we couldn't make the rain fall, we did have a rather large bonfire. Two years in the making, this bonfire was mammoth. Sparks flew hundreds of metres onto the air and the glow of fiery orange could be seen from miles away. It was indeed a beauty. Providing us with another opportunity to invite family and friends  to share our evening, we waited until dark to set the pile on fire and it soon turned a very chilly evening into our own personal outdoor heater. Earlier in the day we lit the fire in the spit and got some rolled pork sizzling. Prepared by our local butcher with a pig from our neighbour's property, this free-range hog was succulent with a crunchy salted crackle  - perfect.

During the afternoon, the smaller visitors to our farm enjoyed some egg gathering, possum hunting and cattle feeding. It's such a treat to have everyone over and seeing them enjoy the farm.  We have enjoyed a number of guests and visitors to the farm in recent weeks and the bonfire event took place soon after Easter where we had the family plus a few friends join us for some festivities. Easter egg hunts, lots of home cooked food and fine wine along with fabulous company made it a another of many great day.

The home renovations are finished for the moment and I am delighted to have our combustion stove back in action in the kitchen. After removing the brickwork, which was originally put as a heat barrier between the stove and the wall, we have painted a feature wall in a rich red wine colour.  It has added depth and warmth to the room and I must admit, despite hating the painting process, it was worth the five coats!

On the farming front we have started counting bales and have worked out we have enough to feed the stock through winter if the season doesn't provide us with enough pasture. We recently bought some silage bales to supplement the feed and the cattle are very happy with our choice.

As calving is about to begin we have brought the herd up from the morass and hopefully we will soon have some new babies running around the paddock. The fencing contractor is due to start the new fence line in the next fortnight and two 22,500 litre poly water tanks will arrive this week. Another 104,000 litre zincalume water tank is on order. A new bore will be sunk this week and the ripper is also due to arrive any day and so the workload has increased substantially. On a recent trip to Farmworld we bought 100 native trees to plant along the boundary fence lines and the driveway. We have also expanded our orchard and have planted a range of fruit trees.

It is so nice to be building things rather than always pulling things down. However, the clean up has not ended (I'm not sure if it ever will!) and Daryl has off loaded a ute full of copper, which paid surprisingly well, and continues to cleanup old  timber railings, fallen trees, concrete and metal.

On this very cold evening, it is time to rest in front of the wood fire. The familiar smell of woodsmoke and occasional crackle of the timber is more comforting than any blanket and I am thoroughly enjoying this moment.  This is my kind of meditation.

Until next time, keep warm.

N