what are they all going to eat when farmers give up?

the latest brilliant idea from the cunning rats who run our state is to make farmers pay for water used from farm dams.
it's already impossible to make a living from a small-holding such as ours [470 acres] without working off the farm, unless of course you don't mind working 24/7 doing every single task yourself so as not to have to pay someone else.
at 52 that kind of back-breaking labour is getting well beyond me. which is one of the reasons why i wander about the whirled telling anyone who will listen how to get pretty colours out of leaves.

but back to the story.

farmers [and other landholders] already pay water tax. it's called "rates" and these rates are based on the value of the land. this may seem a mere coincidence, but observation shows [quite consistently] that the more rain falls on your property [in South Australia] the more highly it is valued and [consequently] the higher the council rates paid.

installing meters [at farmers' expense] on dams to make us pay for water used [bearing in mind we've already paid for the construction of the dam and all the infrastructure, unlike our city cousins who have it provided for them] is outrageous.

if i'm fortunate enough to inherit the family farm [and this is not a "given", my parents have every right to sell up and go live in luxury on the Queen Mary if they wish] then frankly "farming" is not going to be high on the agenda. i'm thoroughly sick of having to tag each animal with an electronically readable plastic tag. i'm tired of hearing farmers being accused of pillaging the land and emitting excessive rates of carbon [what about all the other industry emissions? the tricky chemicals the politicians can't spell?]
we've just been advised that as stock-owners we'll are required to pay an annual "epidemic tax" [in case some blight descends upon the herd/flock] and i'm not looking forward to the day when we are made to individually weigh our stock and pay methane emissions tax based on their possible gas output [and probably calculated on the basis of feed-lotting as opposed to paddock grazing]. we also had a letter from the MLA telling us that we've been chosen at random to have our "books inspected" to make sure we're not feeding meat products to our stock. what the? if i were stupid enough to feed meat products to ruminants [and unlike the idiots who fed scrapie-infected sheep carcasses to cattle and kicked of the BSE plague i don't], do they really think i'd be writing it all down in a book?

so i'm extremely unhappy about having to pay a water tax on top of maintaining pipes and pumps and associated paraphernalia.


after a cup of tea and a bit of thought, here's the development plan for 'Hope Springs', assuming i have anything to say in the matter.

* discontinue meat production [let the old cows retire in peace for the rest of their days] and only keep a flock of pet sheep [none of whose children will be sent to market]. plant lots more trees and let most of the place become a wild forest, keeping a bit of clear space around the houses so there's a chance of eluding the inevitable fires. [there are plenty of kangaroos to graze under the trees.]

* grow enough fruit and vegetables to feed the family and trade with the neighbours. carrying the water in buckets from the dam should keep us all quite fit, no need to go to the gym so there's another saving [not that i go anyway, he he]

* compose a lovely "nyah nyah i told you so" song to sing when the government starts bleating about food shortages because nobody wants to be a farmer any more


oh and while i'm having a food and farm rant - the next semi-vegetarian who tells me they don't eat meat on principle but DO eat kangaroo because it's a soft-footed native animal that doesn't damage the country might like to have a little think about how that soft-footed animal is "harvested".  these gentle creatures are chased at night by men in 4WD vehicles with spotlights and guns. they die in agony [very rare to knock an animal out with a clean shot to the head] and in terror.
don't tell me that's sustainable meat production.

sorry about the rant folks, but had to get it off my chest. time for a coffee and then back to the sewing room...

one more thing, as my friend from Soewnearth has kindly reminded me [see comments]....the other item on the grand plan is to consider the installation of meters on our rainwater tanks and charge us for usage as well... i may spontaneously combust at some point.

those cloud-draped islands on the horizon again

oh yes!

i love going to New Zealand. i've met so many nice people there
and had wonderful times
and i love it when the cute guy at the airport says
'KaiOra, is it a welcome home?'

so i'm thrilled to bits to be booking tickets to that wonderful country again
a visit to Nelson in November this year
with some forest wandering after the communal cauldron cools

and a revisiting of Waiuku February 2 - 7 next year
we're calling the class  'return to fields'
which is followed by some time at Dairy Flat [10-14 February]

you don't know where that is either? it's north of Auckland
in what is [for me] as yet unexplored territory
we'll be working on feltquilts
and it will be a splendid time...


ps i haven't forgotten the other nice people who have invited me to teach in Aotearoa
it's just that i'm doing it a little bit at a time
[like eating an elephant. s l o w l y. but of course i wouldn't be nibbling on an elephant because they're far too nice and i'd rather eat vegetables and fishes]
pps that image above? is from a tea bag tag...

shear delight

remember a little while ago i told you about my lovely friend Rae? i had an email from her a few days ago telling me that they were off and away on an excursion to a farm and that she was intending to try her hand at shearing.

i giggled and rushed off to tell my Three that this was on the cards and hazarded a guess that Rae would be tackling said activity dressed in something gorgeous, wearing red lippy and probably fabulous shoes as well. 

as you can see i was right! 

here we have the latest woolshed fashions...plant-dyed silk [dress coloured, designed and sewn by Rae] worn with matching sandals and of course cherryred lippy and nail varnish.

Rae has now set a new woolshed standard...we'd better not show these pictures to our sheep otherwise they'll be expecting something other than a torn pair of jeans, old Blundstone boots and a blue cotton singlet...

how do you bury a cow?

our lovely if slightly mad Jersey GinGin breathed her nembutal-assisted last yesterday afternoon, after a ten-day long battle to survive being bitten by a brown snake.

we'd been hopeful, given seven out of ten large animals have been known to overcome the venom. our vet administered intravenous vitamin C (considered best practice for cattle) and we lugged honey-water and food to her a couple of times a day.

but yesterday morning she gave me a sad weary look that indicated she'd had enough. drinking was becoming a struggle and she couldn't even get a wad of cud up to chew.

so rather than leave her to gradually fade away covered in a million insidious flies, we called for help.

if i'm ever struck with the big C (not the vitamin) or other debilitating condition and if it comes the time when there's no hope for recovery and everything is ghastly...i hope somebody calls the vet to me too. intravenous nembutal seems a fairly gentle way to depart on the next big adventure.

later that evening all the other cows gathered around, singing a low and mournful song. this morning i buried her. so i can tell you now how a cow is buried. one spade-full of dry earth at a time. it took me an hour and a bit. mounding up, as opposed to digging down, given the bone-dry state of the land.

worst of it is, the next big wind we get will probably undo my work...dry dusty soil doesn't have a lot of staying power.   

spring has sprung

spring has sprung and brought with it various firmly grounding farming duties, such as the crutching of sheep and the marking of lambs.

crutching is pretty much like being given a Brazilian but is achieved with clippers rather than wax. it's necessary before the ewes lamb, ensuring a cleaner arrival for the lamb as well as more aromatic access to the milk bar. and before any PETA members leap in with howls of outrage, no, the process is not painful (merely a trifle undignified). if sheep kept their posteriors pristine it wouldn't be necessary. as it is, humans have been intervening in sheep breeding for over 4000 years in order to coax them to grow soft fluffy wool rather than hard hairy stuff.

this makes it tricky to keep the rear end clean and so regular trimming is necessary. uncrutched sheep are far more likely to become flyblown in warmer weather. and don't confuse the process with mulesing. this is trimming of fluff, mulesing involves removal of skin. erk.

crutching is also required before shearing as is saves having to pick the stained wool out of the fleece. that same stained wool was used in the manufacture of the naturally dyed "berber" carpets so popular in the 70s. those lovely brown flecks in your otherwise oatmeal coloured floor covering were dyed on the sheep with poo, using urine as a co-mordant. enjoy.

marking of lambs means the docking of tails and in the case of ram lambs, also the removal of their gentlemens vegetables. the tail removal, though admittedly not an attractive thought does help prevent flystrike in later life (see crutching, above). a slow death on the paddock while being eaten alive by maggots is not pleasant.

and why are ram lambs neutered? simple. if the sheep are being kept for wool, then that grown on wethers tends to be more even in style and quality. ewes wool can exhibit the stresses of pregnancy and nursing; rams wool tends to be much stronger and comes with a unique perfume, reminiscent of the billy-goat leather handbag i once innocently purchased at a market in Spain. nasty, especially on warm days. (note to self, never purchase bag without doing sniff test.)

this perfume can also be tasted in the meat in the event the sheep is destined for the table and while some cultures and religions specify the consumption of entires it's not a flavour i would actively pursue in my cooking. mind you, having assisted at sheep births over the years i won't eat the stuff anyway, roasting lamb smells too much like freshly born lamblet and i'm no baby eater.

selling the lambs to someone else at 6 months when they've turned into monsters that destroy fences for fun and beat up their mothers for the last drop of milk is an easier proposition.

and now i can pootle off to my next two teaching engagements (Geelong, Victoria later this month; and Mandya, India in October) with a clear conscience. fingers crossed they'll all still have nice clean bums when in comes to shearing time when the weather warms up later this spring.