Death In The Afternoon

Farmers say, if you've got livestock, you've got dead stock. You can't be sentimental if you farm.

I'm used to stock dying; I'm even used to killing animals for meat. But today we killed Mrs T. She was over eleven years old, and for seven of those years she lived here on our farm. She was a fine old lady who was gradually worn down by age and weather. Over the last couple of days she couldn't get up, though she ate the pellets and drank the water Farmdoc brought her. In the end we thought it would be kinder to kill her than to let her waste away in misery, lying in her own faeces.

When we first moved here, we tried tethering her along the driveway to eat down the sycamore and blackberry, but she had other ideas. She got herself in such a mess that we got sick of untangling her, and after a short time we gave up and returned her to the paddocks, where she reared a number of kids and ruled in imperious fashion, queen of the goats. She was a lady of dignity and self-possession who always did things in her own way.

Mrs T spent her last year as the matriarch of Home Paddock, living with last year's kids, looking like Gulliver amongst the Lilliputians while she taught the youngsters how to behave.

Then, this afternoon as we fed out to the stock, we came across this aborted kid, abandoned near the trough next to the hay shed: a little doe.

And a little later, about 100 metres away, we saw this second miscarried foetus, this time a little buck.

Were they twins, or did two nannies miscarry today? We won't ever know, probably, but today was a very sad day here at Onemilebridge.

Full Charge Ahead

Last Monday our solar system reached full charge for only the third time for the month of September. Last September we were fully charged three times for the entire month, but as there is another week to go we may beat this target this year. Last August we got to full charge on 14 days; this August we didn't make it once.

It's been a long cold wet winter, and so far a wet spring. Tonight again we were happy to tuck into a bowl of vegetable soup.

Sadly, we only managed to keep two of the kids that were born in early August. And today Mrs T, an elderly and much loved Toggenburg goat, lay down and had to be helped to her feet. In our experience goats really don't deal well with rain.

Today there was snow on the Great Western Tiers. No wonder we can hardly remember our recent holiday in northern Queensland. Still, there's new growth in the paddocks, and we've begun to cut down the quantity of hay we're feeding out. The cold weather can't last forever; soon we'll be complaining about the heat and the lack of rain.

Sunday, Early Spring

I love days like today. The sort of day where we light the kitchen stove to make the breakfast porridge and keep it lit all day. As much for warmth and keeping the house cosy as for cooking.

I made a pot of soup and left that simmering for a few hours. I also made a lamb stew for later in the week when we have guests for dinner. And then there are the herbs - sage and rosemary - that are drying on the rack above the stove.

Farmdoc was anxious to try out a new recipe for fruit loaf. We were expecting friends for afternoon tea so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

While the dough proved and the soup and stew simmered, we fed out hay to the stock. As soon as they heard the engine of the four-wheel drive bike the goats came running, though the sheep thought the pickings were better elsewhere.

This time of the year the hay in the hay shed is at about the halfway mark, but we have only another two or three weeks of feeding out to go before the spring growth in the paddock takes over, and we can take it a bit easier.

I don't mind feeding out, unless it's pouring. The farm is beautiful and it's nice to be out in the fresh air. This year is a good one for wattles.

Farmdoc says I look like a dinkum Aussie in my wet weather gear.

For me the best part is hanging it up

and coming inside for afternoon tea of freshly baked fruit bun.

Kids Will Be Kids

Here is one little kid watching the video of another little kid from the post below:

Meanwhile, the goat kid is thriving and has been joined by several new playmates.

The cold weather doesn't seem to be bothering them at all.

Just kidding

When we fed out hay to the stock this morning

We found the kid we'd seen yesterday

plus this little brown one being guarded by its mother

Standing around in the cold we heard bleating coming from the bushes. Up amongst the rocks I found this new litttle chum:

I watched it as it struggled to its feet:

It wobbled slightly:

and then stood firm:

New Kid on the Block

Look what we found when we were feeding out hay to the goats this afternoon!

The first kid of the year!

These are not great photos but the first kid of the year is always an exciting moment. You can't tell from the picture, but she's a girl.

This is very early for us. We normally don't start kidding here until late October or early November, but this year we're trying something different. It's cold and wet in Mole Creek still so I hope this new little one does well.

Lost Goats Found

'Leave them alone and they'll come home, wagging their tails behind them.' Isn't that the advice offered to Little Bo Peep when she lost her sheep?

Well, it must work for goats too because the lost goats are now safely returned to their paddock. Our share farmer found them today at the top eastern corner of Truck Paddock. Using feed pellets, she then easily enticed them to follow her down our driveway and through the gate into Hayshed Paddock.

Just in time too, because we'll putting a billy in with the does this month. Maybe they knew. Or maybe they just missed the comforts of home. Who knows. Anyway, the lost goats are found.

For now.

Shepherds' Lunch

Since we've been sheep and goat farmers we've stopped buying meat. We used to swap lamb for beef with a local farmer, but these days we don't even do that. We know our animals graze on grass, that we don't overstock and that they live good lives. They have the run of several large paddocks - and sometimes, as in the case of the lost goats, they range far and wide.

The main reason we keep animals is weed control. Goats relish the weed species we have here - blackberry and sycamore especially. And thanks to the sheep we have no ragwort.

When the time comes we kill them ourselves as quickly and humanely as possible. We do our own butchering too. I can't say I love that part, but if we're going to eat meat at least we shouldn't be in denial about it.

Today for lunch I made a shepherd's pie, using minced goat meat and our own potatoes.

I think the secret is in long slow cooking of the mince. Yesterday I chopped an onion and some garlic into a splash of olive oil, and then added the meat, a handful of chopped herbs, some water and a dollop each of Worcestershire sauce and tomato sauce. I thickened it with a little flour and then simmered it for hours. This morning I mashed some potato and spread it on top and cooked it some more. Deelicious!

Add some share farmers, some guests who'd travelled an hour to be with us, sunny autumn weather after a day of rain, and you have the recipe for a perfect shepherds' lunch.

Desperately Seeking Goats

Well, we still haven't found the lost goats though we have seen evidence of where they've been - walking in single file along the outside of the Truck Paddock fence and wandering down our driveway to the front gate.

Yesterday morning we walked our share farmer neighbour's boundary to see how the goats escaped in the first place. The fence between her and her neighbour on the other side is in pretty poor shape so that's the answer.

We'll get them sometime in the next couple of weeks and meanwhile we've seen some pretty autumn sights.
Cobwebs shimmering in the sun on the grass of the Truck Paddock,

unusual fungi,

and vistas that after more than six years living here still bring me joy each time I see them:

After the search Farmdoc and I continued on down to the village to the post office and to the Laurel Berry for fish and chips. Ho hum, another hard day's work in Mole Creek.

In Search of Lost Goats

Goats are such escape artists. They find all the weak spots in your fences, or simply jump them, and then look surprised when they land on the other side. How did I get here? they say.

And when they've gone missing and you find them - or they find you - they look so innocent. Who me? they say.

Yesterday we went in search of a mob of fifteen that had breached the fence between our share-farmer neighbour and her neighbour, and then made their way via another neighbour's property in a long loop back into our sycamore forest.

We haven't really been panicked about them; this time of year when the leaves turn and fall there's plenty of feed in the forest for goats.

We didn't find them, but there can't be too many nicer ways to spend an autumn afternoon than tramping through paddocks, bush and forest with your fellow farmers. And we didn't come home empty handed: one of our neighbours has a laden pear tree he was happy to share with us. As for the goats, they're holidaying somewhere on our land and we'll look for them again later in the week.