the show must go on

We might be still drought declared, along with around 80% of Queensland, who knows how much of New South Wales, and South Australia too (but they apparently don’t believe in drought in SA, leaving their farmers high and very dry!) but the show, as they say, must still go on. What rain we did get over the “wet season” did amazing things all things considered, and finally a break in the market allowed us to move on anything that was of marketable weight.

Plucked from navel gazing, knee deep in never ending laundry (how does that happen, I am sure they are dumping their clean clothes straight back into the dirty laundry basket) and book work I ignore for as long as possible,I was pressed into service to help muster.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Such a contrast to previous years. The skies are still blue and the country is still big…just a lot dryer and grass is a lot shorter. But still, these little fellas didn’t do so badly, having reasonable feed back in the hills, and the last storms running some water meaning their distance to water was substantially less for a little while.

And then we moved on; another day, another place, another paddock, another mob, moving on what we can. In the lingo, its called “lightning off”. We had an offsider, who was quite happy to combine her patterns – florals and camo are just the thing for paddock wear didn’t you know!!

In this case it wasn’t steers we were sending to south, but empty (non-pregnant) heifers. These heifers are the replacement heifers that normally would go into the main breeding herd, having been nursed along and looked after like royalty in the past 12 months. However the decision had to be made to reduce numbers any way possibly, and these were in a marketable state. Sadly they aren’t sold on to someone else needing breeders – very few people in the state are in that position – so will grace your supermarket shelf in the very near future.

Such is life, and as they say…the show must go on.

Of poddies

Feeling quite momentous – or not – that blessed day came, after six months – that we became Poddy Free. Perhaps only a brief respite, as Lord knows conditions have not improved drought wise,  but poddy free we are indeed are.

We dispatched the Big Kids one weekend morning, after they’d spent the past weeks breaking into feed sheds, and helping themselves, despite all manner of obstacles put in their way. To send them to the poddy calf boarding school, we took them on a little wander down the street to the neighbours loading ramp. There they were persuaded that it really was required of them to hop up into the truck despite initial reluctance. And off they went, to join their other weaner mates and haunt all who went to feed them by meeting them at the gate and being first at the feed trough every time.

That left with just four – The incredibly naughty Harley and mate Heather (who both found themselves locked up for a few days due to their escapades) and new arrivals Averil and Bette. Due to the untrustworthy nature of their Angus heritage (and fence crawling tendencies) these four were restrained to the back yard and nightly feeds instead of going out with the horses. But given little outings out the back street every evening as we went to feed the horses, for a bit of longer grass.

And then, unceremoniously at 530am one morning, they were rattled into the horse float and off they went, to join the rest of the gang.

We find our afternoons suddenly a little more free at feed time, the lawn a little less hazardous to walk on but looking a lot less flea bitten; the blood pressure a little lower.

And the feed shed is looking a loss less like Fort Knox as well.

moving on

Thursday was another day for a marital bonding exercise, when we had to muster and move away our cows that we had on agistment.  We're sad to have to move them as they are doing so well, being first calf heifers and on good feed. But with the season - or lack thereof - shaping up the way it is, the owner of the property is taking steps to protect himself for the year to come.

It wasn't an early start, having to get kids to school and husband other jobs to do, but we finally got to the paddock after morning smoko.

Those black calves, by old Rainbow or some young senagus bulls, are very healthy, and very quiet natured. Nothing was in a rush to go anywhere. Unfortunately, a little faster walking would have been appreciated.

We had a spare critter in the mob too, which at least proved to be distraction on the long walk back to the yards.

Obviously separated from her own herd by dingoes, this little goat was sticking with the cows right or wrong. Mostly the cows weren't bothered by her presence, especially if she were in amongst the calves. Occasionally they would notice her and push her away.

It was a long walk back to the yards, and it was HOT. Not 46 degrees hot, but more of hot and humid-er sort of day. Fun for all parties. Especially riding a bike that even in the husbands words, was "a bit stiff" in the steering. Oh my aching shoulders.

Goat and cow babies (on the wrong side of the fence at this point) alike were feeling it, but with only one short spell on the way, they all made it. Hot and bothered for sure, but without too much stress.

I was feeling a bit hot and bothered myself, possibly not having enough water during the day so was quite happy to have a spell as we had a late lunch in the yards. A very thoughtful and mindful person had planted a raintree in the drafting yard many years ago and it was just beautiful and cool underneath.

And it made the process of drafting SO much more pleasant.

It was late in the afternoon/evening before we got to the calves, which had to be tagged with a NLIS ear tag from their property of birth, to comply with the National Livestock Identification Scheme (which quite frankly, is a pain in the butt). After a couple of trials it was identified that the easiest and fastest was to undertake this was to squeeze a heap of calves into the crush and The Husband would one by one, working from the back and pushing the tagged calves out behind him, tag the calves in the crush with them. One thing we've noticed about these cross bred calves, different to more Brahman or Droughtmaster types, is they are SO placid, and rarely kick! So they job of tagging was fairly event free, although I wouldn't have wanted to be the one wrestling with the sappy little suckers.

It was about 730 pm before we let the calves back with their mothers and chained the gate shut. I attempted to round up the little goat, thinking I'd bring her home, but she wasn't that silly. She was quite happy to be left with the cows! (cows were trucked away the next day and the little goat went off with a mob of the property owners cattle that we let out of the yards). We got to see the moon rising as we drove home, and by the time we collected the kids from granny and grandad's and got home, it was 10pm.

I would call that a long day.

dashing 'cross the downs

No rest for the wicked in these parts, no lazing around sunny beaches, or even laying around at home. There hasn't been any rain to speak of yet (well at least in our little patch of the world) and it is all business as usual.

We went to my mum's place for a quiet BBQ with the neighbours on Thursday evening, and stayed the night in anticipation of a very early start The Husband and I had planned the next day. And because it was my birthday and we were all clean and showered I made the kids have a photo with mum, wearing what could be best described as post a Christmas day too-much-food tunic and tights ensemble. Comfortable if not flattering.

The early start the next morning involved being slapped on the bum at 4am and told to get out of bed. I dragged my self out and into work clothes and off we went, leaving the kids at Granma's.  You may recall that we took some cows to a lovely downs paddock back in winter. They've really done well there and had started to calve, when unfortunately in November a lightning strike caused a fire in the paddock and burnt about 2/3 of the grass. I know. We can't get away from the stuff.

The owner of the paddock had been keeping an eye on the grass situation and the time had come to move the cows to another paddock (to allow the burnt grass to regenerate without being eaten off by hungry mouths). And being summer, a daylight start was required to get the cows and small calves moving before the heat of the day, and let them rest during the hottest part of the day.

The very full moon was just setting in the west as we arrived at the paddock. I tried in vain to take a photo, but this was the best I could do....

I know. Dismal effort.

The edge of the burnt country...

Getting the cows moving as the sun rises. It was a lovely morning, the air was fresh and as we moved the cows and their babies the smell of warm bodies and fresh milk (breakfast time for babies) rose in the air. I had forgotten how high up the downs ridges were, and we could see for miles and miles, as the rolling grass hills spread out before us.

That little black fellow with the white face was my friend on the tail...his size belying his age, the poor little bloke plodded along, his dutiful mama staying with him.

We tipped the cows out into a laneway at around 7am, and then then headed back to mum's place for a coffee, shower and change before heading to town for a funeral. A quick lunch, running some errands and picking up some milk from the supermarket, before heading home to my place to feed the poor neglected poddy calves waiting there. Aircon on full, we managed a quick nanna nap, before completing the driving-in-circles operation of the day, returning to the cows in the laneway. The cows didn't get the memo about resting at the water trough, so had to be fetched from almost the starting point, then continued on their way to the fresh paddock. It was hot, but as we meandered on our way (one does not rush a cow and baby calf) the storms started to roll in around the downs and our high vantage point gave us a great view. I wish I had taken my camera but was a little concerned it may have gotten wet (didn't happen).

At 6.55pm we shut the gate on the cows, and loaded up the bikes, watching a rather dark looking storm come between us and my parents place. Never letting the threat of a bit of precipitation slow us down, and possibly reliving our misspent youth ;-) we ran into some very wet and muddy road on the way home. The negotiation of which made extra interesting by the fact we were towing a rather large trailer behind us, leaving a bit of a mess in our wake. At one point I thought we may have had to abandon ship and ride our bikes home but the old Toyota persevered and we made it. Home to find not only the kids wide eyed but adults too, about the wild wind storm that had just passed, 90 points in the gauge but not an accurate measurement as the rain had come in sideways, as evidenced by water blown in under the eaves everywhere, and tales of the hay and machinery shed rooves flapping and wobbling about alarmingly.

Given the mess we'd already made of the road, we decided to have a sleepover at Granma's as well, and returned home (sans kids "we're staying at Granma's") without incident the next morning.

And you know what? I have no idea of where I was going with this post, other than a recount of our misadventures. And wondering just when it might feel like holidays here...After it rains?!

And one more sunrise photo, just cause it was pretty, and as my husband says, I don't get up to photograph them very often! (he's so funny. But in this case, right, I don't spring out before daylight unless I REALLY have to!)

 

This one, a Dorothea McKellar shot....

Hooroo!

sale-oh

Its that time of year, when we sell the bigger male cattle, for a host of reasons that I won't go into, but basically because 1. the money is good and 2. they aren't going to get any fatter from now on in and 3. money is required to keep the rest of the cattle enterprise chugging along. Bills to pay. You know the drill.

You may remember, the last steer mustering operation earlier in the year did not go as smoothly as one would hope. So this time around it was greeted with a little apprehension and worry. We booked our mate the chopper pilot in advance (last time we had hoped to not require his services) to flush the rascally steers out of the thick timber. Bigger steers, a bit like milking cows, seem to get rather opinionated about what they want to do (or not) but this time things went like clockwork. Our chopper pilot, an experienced cattle man, had the steers poking out of the woodworks very nicely, and advised the men on the ground to park up and let him do the work, and before they knew it, the steers were in the holding paddock, barely an hour after the chopper took to air. The men on the motorbikes then took control and and hour and a bit later the steers were in the yards. All well before smoko, my arrival on the scene half way home was hardly even warranted. I could have SLEPT IN!

I made this terribly exciting little video from the back of the mob. Just imagine this scene over a few hours in the hot sun, and that pretty much covers a morning or afternoon walking cattle in. Of course, things can get a little bit more hurried from time to time, however this is how you WANT it to be! Nice and steady.

We had time for a most leisurely smoko before the drafting and weighing commenced. My job was hardly taxing.

Sitting in the shade, reading and recording the weights. Occasionally I had to get off my bum and open and shut a gate, or persuade a reluctant customer to enter my office. It was hard work, I can tell you.

Not all as big as the fellow in the crush, but still not too shabby.

Four decks (two double decked trailers) were loaded this morning (I would have taken photos, but I was permitted to stay home, and sleeping in trumps taking photos any day!) and at some stage this evening these boys will board a southbound train, landing in Fiona's neck of the woods.

And I look forward to seeing the cheque in the mail :)

live export - the other side of the story.

I can't sit quietly any longer.  This hasn't ever really been a forum for current affairs or controversial matters, but the ban on live export effects our livelihood in so many different ways and on so many different levels....and whilst I in no way support the practises that were shown on the 4Corners show, there are ways and means around this problem (cynically, we have high suspicions that quite a lot of it was set up) without causing such damage to our industry.

In case you didn't know: we own a cattle property. And whilst we don't cater for the live export market, the flow on affect from this ban has a hugely significant impact on our own markets AND our other business, which is supported by the beef industry.

I can't put it any better than this post from a fellow blogger and rural living mother like myself. I've borrowed some of her words, however PLEASE CLICK THIS LINK TO HER BLOG and read the full story.

"As most of you will be aware Angie and I live on cattle properties in Central Western Queensland. Like many others we were shocked with the 4 corners report on the slaughter of Australian cattle in Indonesia. Shocking images of animal cruelty but we wonder why 'the other side of the story' was not shown. It is very easy to sit back on the couch and watch stories such as the 4 corners broadcast but do you really know ALL the facts? 

The other side of the story is the hardworking Australian families who will suffer from this decision to suspend live export.  As a friend of ours, Kylie,  put in her story -  "There will be stories of despair, heartbreak, death, bankruptcy and loss. They will be stories of people who have been forsaken by their nation."

Please do go to Kirsty's blog, there is much much more to read and to digest.

I thank you for taking the time to read this, and please, please, follow the links. We are all everyday families, living the same lives as you - kids, family life, just in a different part of the country.Paying bills - which all of a sudden, we very well not be able to pay in a short period of time. We look after our animals, we look after the land that we guard for our children, and theirs after. And we are feeling very scared, and very forgotten.

I hope you can help support us by spreading "the other side of the story".