Milking matters

Learning how to milk our three Dexter cows has been a labour of love. Their teats are so much smaller than a dairy cow and it can be quite frustrating for someone with big hands. A few weeks into milking the girls, we bought a second-hand milking machine. Apart from being very noisy, it hasn’t been very useful with the Dexter’s. A fact, had we known we may not have bought the machine. You see the suction cups weren’t made for the parts of a Dexter. Be that as it may we put it down to part of the learning. Johnny assures me it will come in use some day in the future. Now that Daisy, our Jersey heifer is here I can see that we will use it again. In the old barn Johnny set about building a milking ramp. Watching him from distance I smiled as I saw the feeding trough go in, the bars to contain the cow and then the last piece to go in was the removable bar across the back to hold any such cow. It was nothing fancy but it would do the job. It was another hot sweaty day but it was sweet success in the end and I found myself eager to put our newly constructed milking unit to use. I could hardly sleep that night for excitement. I finally drifted off into a deep sleep dreaming of the adventures of tomorrow. The following day we had warm fresh milk in the fridge however little it was. Being extra vigilant about hygiene, and rather uncertain about all the bad press on drinking raw milk, I was pleasantly surprised at how the whole process went rather effortlessly. In the months to come, I would have to deal with buckets being kicked over; sand papery licks to the side of my head when I was to slow at replenishing the grain I was feeding Crystal. My fingers began deft as holding onto Crystal’s teats and I would complete a milking session in less than half an hour from start to finish. Milking time was early in the morning and late at night and so the routine began. Johnny would do the morning and I would do the evening milking. We fell into a smooth pattern and our confidence grew. Every day I faced a new three to four litre of fresh farm milk. I also discovered that the whole milk wasn’t too good for my tummy. It was far too rich for me and the cream needed to be separated. I started getting tummy aches every time I used it. Apart from me everybody else was okay and managed to make the transition easily to whole milk. I started baking furiously to use up the milk and everybody including Spot our dog enjoyed the abundance of milk being supplied each day. The milking sessions became times of reflection and planning. As my finger got to work, my mind would wander to all my dreams and plans I had. It was so rewarding this lifestyle. It’s what I dreamed and what we’ve wanted for so long. Teaching the children to milk was such an opportunity, watching the expressions as they tasted the warm squirt of milk in their mouths for the first time was priceless. When I think back on that period of learning, it brings a warm fuzzy feeling to my heart. Back then that milking learning curve was just about the best thing since sliced cheese. Today we are gearing up to having a cheese making outbuilding and planning to turn our raw product into a marketable food item. When we started milking, all I could think off was how fun it was. Somewhere along the line the fantasy faded and the reality set it. I still enjoy the experience immensely but my focus has changed somewhat. As Jimmy would say if your farm doesn’t make money then it’s just a hobby. My passion has altered a fair bit. I realise that I don’t want just a hobby but a marketable product. It’s going to take a lot more learning I guess and probably many mistakes along the way but that’s what makes the experience worth it.

The old farmhouse

It was a stinking hot day when I brought my family to this small country suburb. We knew not what awaited us apart from a lot of work. The garden was so overgrown one could not see the house from the bush. Products of suburbia, my children took one look at the house and said, I like the city better! There were no functioning toilets, no council water and no insulation. We had our work cut out for us. At least Eagle boys, Woolworths and a number of other recognisable places were only about ten minutes away. I tried to convince them that living here we had the best of both worlds. The looks I got told me they didn’t believe me. When I was a little girl, my brother worked on a farm. It was a massive farm situated in a small remote village in Zululand, South Africa – the village was called “Babanango”. My Dad would take us to see him regularly and I loved it. I loved the peacefulness and sparseness of the countryside. It had a small well-known pub in the tiny town; apart from this I can’t remember much else. You could blink and probably miss the town if you weren’t careful. I think that is where my love of the country was birthed.
On that first night at our run down, old farmhouse, I looked up at the sky littered with stars, took a deep breath and sighed. What ever happened in the future I knew that this is where I was supposed to be. It took a while but I got here as fast as my dream could go. This crossroads I found myself in was the start of living our dream. It could only get better from here.
Now three years down the line, the openness of the sky and country life is the norm. We have a fully restored septic system which does not cost an extra cent, a garden we are gloriously proud of and a partially renovated but liveable clean home. No longer do the children pine for the city. We have everything we need just a short way away. If there is something we need to get from the city we do a day trip and make it fun. Over the years, the children have filled their days with things that one could not possibly do in the city. Fun has changed its direction 180 degrees. Collecting tad poles in the crisp early mornings, walking the bush trails, imagining hideouts in the forest, taking rides in the small tinny on the dams, building tree houses and enjoying campouts and bonfires. These are the things my children have done. Grass skiing and hay rides not to mention the animals that have filled our every day. We have grown and learnt so much from them. We came to the country to live life as it’s meant too for us and we sure have done that. To know the soil and the pains it takes to grow your own food. To enjoy the rewards of that hard labour and to learn that patience is a virtue. We were all pampered city slickers before we took this path. My; how we have changed.
Today the children are grown and have bloomed like sunflowers. The old farmhouse has had a face lift somewhat but the work is never done. I know that without a shadow of a doubt, we did the right thing. we couldn’t have given them a better experience.

28th March 2012

The 28th March was a significant day for our family. It was the culmination of five years of journey. It meant the end of a season. It meant the end of a title. It meant that Australia is our home now. We became citizens of Australia on the 28th March 2012. No longer do we regard ourselves as immigrants. No longer do we watch the voting days from a distant. Now and forever more we are Australians by choice. What a walk it’s been. It’s not something that’s easy to explain this immigration journey. It’s been exceptionally hard and challengingly. Numerous times it’s been easy to toss in the towel but pure determination and dreams of a future to come have securely held me back. The emotions that a person faces – the desolation, the fears, the euphoria of passing so many tests that are required, the doubting and anxiety that’s constantly present for the first few weeks. The paper work, the cost, the information needed is challenging to say the least. The excitement of the trip, the first car and rental, new schools for the children, exploring the surrounding countryside. New jobs, new words, new friends. Everything takes time to develop all the while you are struggling with the new. Time has a way of healing oodles of things and coping is part of the daily routine for a while but then it passes. Knowing that because today is not a good day it doesn’t mean tomorrow won’t be. One learns to carry on despite disappointments, despite hurting and feeling lost. Someone told me it takes two years to settle in a new country. I think that it takes some two years and some more. We have tumbled into the more category I think. Standing in the middle of the 103 new citizens’, I looked around me. I wondered what their passage was like. What did they face and how long has it taken to get to this point for them. 35 nations were represented that night. An amazing amount of skill and diversity stood under that roof.

An interesting conversation

Yesterday while I was trying to find a good bull for my girls, I spoke to a lady who has quality stock. Most of her herd are descendants from SA genes or UK genes. She is very knowledgeable and has years of experience in the Dexter game. I shared with her the dilemma I had recently faced with the chrono gene. She felt that the test was not necessary and there was no problem in Queensland with this issue. Apparently NSW is a different story. As long as a short legged female is not mated with a short legged bull, you will have no problems but if you do that is when the so called bull dog calves will result. The more I search the internet the more I find about this test being done though. I still have mixed emotions about it and am still in doubt. When we bought the girls we had no intention of showing them. Our aim was to breed and that was it. Today I realise why a lot of people show there cattle. It adds so much value to your breeding stock. If you win first, second prize and have ribbons to prove it, well it just adds a bit more credibility to your stock I guess. Not to mention you are surrounded with Dexter owners who know all the in’s and outs of what is required for showing and breeding too. I still am not that eager to do the shows as it involves a lot of work. Halter trained cows, washing the animals and not to mention shaving and oiling and who knows what else then there is to do. The transporting and travelling all over the countryside to the various shows most weekends does not appeal to me although I imagine once the bug bites its addictive. Interestingly on the series Farmers life for me, Jimmy says the same about resulting medals adding value to the breeding stock. I guess at the close of the day if you are paying your bills from the sale of your calves then maximum dollars is the aim.

A farmer’s life for me

Recently I’ve been thoroughly enjoying a series on the telly called “A farmers life for me”. Nine couples are given the opportunity to win a 25 acre farm in England. All of them are as green as the grass about farming but all have the passion and gusto to win a farm. Jimmy, a well-known friend of Jamie Oliver and who is a pig farmer himself is the judge and the jury on who to send home each week. The couples are to turn their farming experience through a series of challenges into a business to pay the bill at the end of the month. The thing he stressed the most was that farming was not so much about farming but about running a business. One of the things I took out of it was a simple statement Jimmy made at the beginning. If your farm does not pay your bills then you are only a hobby farmer. Making your farm earn money is a hard full time job and it’s been the aged old question to us here at pine haven. I can supplement our income which I am doing through the Farmstays, calve sales and eggs sales but could I survive on it? Definitely not, which brings me to thinking about how I could change that? Turning the raw products you produce into a marketable item in an unsaturated area is the goal. Sounds much more easily said than done. That is my challenge to try. Someday in the future I will be making cheese. We will have a cheese making outbuilding. Maybe then I will be able to change the title I have as a hobby farmer. Until then I plan to continue learning and growing.
This series is good viewing and I whole heartily recommend the BBC production.

Well blow me down!

Sunday afternoon we had some visitors to Pine Haven and we all took a stroll down after some lunch to see the cattle and guess what I saw? There Zulu was, suckling on Crystal. After all the effort I went through to get him extra drinks not to mention the rejection time and again and then the run to the stores for the replacement milk. Just goes to show you, nature knows best. I sighed with relief and smiled as I watched the two of them. Crystal seems content as ever and Zulu was latching on as tight as can be. So I guess the fact that we are here is actually because of the use of the weaning ring on Daisy and for no other reason. My concerns for her being upset about the thing on the end of her nose were unfounded. She still has no problem eating and has quickly adapted to having it on her face. Once again I’m reminded about how less assistance and interfering by humans, the better outcome you get. Observation and then if necessary intervention.

Snake alert – thanks spot.

Okay this season has truly been popular with snakes. The most we have seen since moving into Pine Haven. Wednesday evening while we were sitting down to eat dinner, Spot started barking hysterically. I have gotten to know that pitch and that pitch means – snake. As it was dark already I switched on the spot lights and I expected another one of the tree snakes we have seen earlier on this month but instead Spot had found a different one this time. I was almost positive it’s was a brown but I turned out to be wrong. It has a white belly and was real brown. It looks nothing like the other one. It was slow and it looked quite an old snake. According to the snake catcher it was either a keel snake (fresh water snake – harmless, or a rough scaled snake – very venomous but shy. Both been seen in Queensland. I’m leaning on the first option after I looked up both on the net for pictures. The keel back does a lot of good in fact. They seem to eat the pesky toads and seem to survive. They like moist areas and feed on rat, mice, frogs etc. With all the wet weather we have been having latterly it makes sense he would be around. When all was settled and the snake was long gone, I patted my dog and gave him the reward he so duly deserved. He was our protector more than we knew. I went to bed that night knowing we were safe from any potential harm caused by snakes as long as Spotty was around. He would alert us time and time again. I even think he would take a bite for us too. I really hope that doesn’t ever happen but it makes me feel better knowing someone is watching out for snakes for us. I’m going to have my annual pest spray next Thursday; I’m very overdue and am hoping the smell will keep the rest of the snakes at bay not to mention the toads, spiders and rest of the creepy crawlies. This summer season has been full of snake sighting.