Cowboy Boots & Broken Fingers

A bit of excitement in the bottom paddock

August 6, 2015chrissyb 12 Comments

This is the sort of excitement that will appeal mainly to the permaculturists among us [that’s you Helen and Steve!]. Those who prefer their blog posts without mention of dung and photos of horse poo had best stop reading now.

So, there I was, happy in my newly populated horse paddock and thinking it about time I did some poo pick-up (most of it having been done by Forbearing Husband and Favorite Stepson during the time I was in Auckland). I donned my pick-up gloves, took up my trusty poo bucket and was about to dive (yes, of course metaphorically, you really have to ask?) into the first dung pile when. Lo! What is this?

You’ll be happy to see I’ve cropped this photo to give you only a minimal view of dung.

Earthworks

This my friends is the work of a dung beetle. A fact I’ve confirmed with the NZ Dung Beetle Organisation who suggest it is most likely this little friend, whose ancestors were deliberately introduced into the Whangarei area in 1956 and have successfully naturalised.

Well, I rushed over to Very Forbearing Husband to share the excitement, and, good man that he is, he oohed and aahed and christened our beetle Doug (I had sighted Doug, but he was a bit shy and by the time I got back with the camera he was nowhere to be seen).

A full examination of the dung piles in the paddock revealed there are quite a few little Dougs out there at work. This makes me extremely happy since dung beetles improve the soil by creating tunnels full of little balls of animal droppings (well I did warn you sensitive types to stop reading) which simultaneously aerate and fertilise the pasture. Their activity also breaks parasite cycles by moving dung underground, neatly foiling the parasite larvae’s trick of climbing onto a blade of grass to be eaten by the host animal. Are you feeling the excitement yet!

This is not even to mention the claim by entomologist and dung beetle enthusiast Dr Shaun Forgie that dung beetles are “the most charismatic of all the beetles, and have such perfect personalities”. Doug didn’t hang around long enough for me to get to know him, but I’m looking forward to a bit of sparkling conversation down in the bottom paddock on my next visit.

Go Doug!

For non-horsy readers unfamiliar with poo pick-up this task involves moving horse droppings into compost piles to help reduce parasite activity and encourage horses to eat in all areas of their paddock. By nature ponies will (very sensibly) avoid eating grass in areas where they have left dung and by clearing it the diligent horse owner can make more grass available for them. Poo pick-up is a horse’s gift of fitness to her owner.

Welcoming the horses

August 3, 2015chrissyb 1 Comment

[This post was scheduled for last Monday, but lack of internet in town has caused a few delays.]

When I woke up on Saturday morning I could see horses from my bedroom window. My horses!

Bless their little cotton socks, they walked onto the Majestic truck at 7am on Friday as if they do it every day of their lives (for those readers who don’t own horses, this is the equine equivalent of your car flying through its WOF on the first pass). Kerry, the driver, exuding the calm competent energy that is the signature of an experienced horseman, buckled them in (so to speak) and off they went. I believe I may have heard the faint strains of ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ as the truck moved away. That would have been Summer. Bonnie is more your Public Enemy sort of pony.

By 10am we were all at the farmlet. Yours truly having raced Kerry up State Highway One — while of course adhering to the speed limit at all times. As the horses settled into their paddock of grassy goodness and munched on a few flakes of hay I tried for photos, getting, as usual, mainly this:

Summer investigates the camera

Or this:

Bonnie channels Beyonce at the Met Gala, minus a few sequins

All in all, despite equine non-compliance with management’s photocall requests, a most delightfully successful day.

A Quick Update

July 21, 2015chrissyb 2 Comments

We did move and it mostly went smoothly (ask me later about the 3am arrival with 10 chickens!). I don’t have photos yet I’m sorry, it’s all been quite a whirlwind.

There was a significant amount of progress made on several fronts: The mystery of getting running water from a rural water pump was solved (mainly by Deborah); there was a slight dent made in the Jerusalem Cherry infestation; chicken coops were cleaned and disinfected; a roaming guinea fowl left by the previous owners was added to the chicken flock; wire netting was put up to contain the dogs in their kennel area at night; various fridges, freezers and kitchen cupboards were cleaned; and 50 bales of hay delivered and stacked in preparation for The Arrival of The Ponies (date as yet to be confirmed, but fingers crossed for this Friday).

Best moment of the weekend for me was taking the dogs for a headlamp lit walk in the woods before dawn on Saturday, then sitting on the front verandah with a cup of tea watching the sky lighten into day with the dogs beside me. That was the moment I first felt like I really belonged here.

As some of you already know we still have a house to sell in Auckland, so I’m back and forth for a while. I knew it would be hard to leave the farmlet on Sunday, but I hadn’t anticipated just how hard. Anticipation of missing the Forbearing Husband and the Favorite Stepson was of course a big part of it, but also there is something completely captivating about being on a beautiful piece of land and knowing that for your minuscule blip of time on the planet you are guardian of this place.

Promise to update again soon. Just got to get through my first week in a new job (that’s in addition to the regular one), and move those ponies northwards. Tally ho!

Cats and Dogs

July 13, 2015chrissyb 5 Comments

Its probably about time I introduce the canine and feline elements of our little band since we’ve been talking about their transport arrangements for the big move. Here’s the roll call:

Ella with Kitty-Pop

Ella, a black and tan dog of uncertain ancestry named for Duke Ellington (referencing his jazz classic). She came to us from the pound twelve years ago and contributes to clan operations by alerting us to incoming personnel (with the exception of the Hell Pizza delivery bloke, whose arrival she apparently completely fails to notice), and tidying up stray food. One of her proudest efforts was a few years ago when the Darling Daughter dropped a piece of cake off the bench as she was packing her lunch. Ella did a backslide from the kitchen doorway and had that cake in her mouth before it hit the floor. Despite her advanced years she can still catch a single cat biscuit tossed in her general direction.

Kitty-Pop aka Tango

Kitty-Pop the SPCA kitten. She arrived with the handle Tango. A great name we said — the Forbearing Husband and I having done a few tango lessons here and there (most notably here). Somehow though she became Kitty-Pop, and it has stuck except on formal occasions. Kitty-Pop provides in-house secure document destruction by shredding paper when displeased. Among her confirmed kills are a rather nice certificate I had which verified my membership of a quite important professional body, and a poster advertising one of the Forbearing Husband’s projects, which we were planning on framing. Her excuse was that she’s a killing machine and cannot be tamed.

Maisie

Maisie, our latest addition. At four months old she looks likely to grow to a size best measured in hands. Her parents are both owned by my friend The Horsewoman, and Maisie’s heritage, as far as it is known, involves Border Collie, German Shepherd and quite probably Great Dane. Her contribution so far is mainly an off-the-chart cuteness rating, and a talent for converting kindling to mulch (which is a skill akin to spinning gold into straw). I have high hopes for her though as a rescue dog for visitors lost in the Seven Acre Wood. Oh, you’re quite right, that would be a St Bernard.

This happy band of sisters-from-different-misters are destined for rural life now. It’s a far cry from Ella’s beginnings, as recorded on her Waitakere City Pound adoption papers, “found on a driveway in Henderson”. I’m pretty sure there’s reality tv about this sort of stuff?

Moving, moving, and more moving

July 7, 2015chrissyb 7 Comments

If you’ve just been redirected from the old blog location. Welcome. You’ve found me!

Sorry about that. That last blog site was only ever intended as temporary, and this will be our new home from now on. The scenery is pleasant and there’s more room for expansion. I guess the urge to relocate is affecting every aspect of my life just now.

Boxes everywhere, and still more to pack…

In the non-cyber world packing is underway and piles of boxes loiter in most rooms. Thank goodness we don’t have to move everything in one weekend. There are various stages planned including a Contiki-like luxury coach escapade for the horses courtesy of Majestic, and a night run for the chickens and bees (who have a busy schedule and no time for jaunts up State Highway 1 in daylight, thank you very much).

The cat and dogs are being bundled into the back seat of the trusty 4WD next Friday, along with an assortment of other items, and will be among the first to inspect the new digs. I do hope Kitty-Pop approves. She’s not known for tolerance when her food bowl is moved.

What are your best tips for moving house?

Moving date

July 3, 2015chrissyb 6 Comments

We have a date! On July 16 we move from a safe little ¼ acre of city fringe to 14 acres of new territory. After five years of dreaming, scheming and saving it’s actually about to happen.

Our bees – I really should let them know they’ll be moving

I don’t think we really have any idea what to expect. These are some of things I’m hoping for:

Bigger and more productive food gardens, with the aim of eventually growing most of the vegetables we eat and some of our own fruit.
A meat supply with known provenance. We’ve eaten two home bred roosters in the last year so I feel confident about the occasional roast chicken. Whether or not we’ll be eating lamb once we’ve looked our own in the eye is a whole other question.
More time training and riding the ponies. This should be achievable since each time I walk out to their paddock and back I’ll be saving over an hour of driving. Lets see whether the swagalicious Bonnie can be persuaded to pull a little cart, and how long it takes to teach Summer to line herself up nicely with a mounting block.
An improvement in my fitness. This farmlet is my alternative to a gym membership. Yes, and a very expensive one I know. Never mind that. Focus on how walking around 14 acres, pulling up weeds, digging gardens and constructing fences will build my muscles and increase blood oxygenation. I’m going to be practically Arnold Schwarzenegger by Christmas.
Lots of fun projects. Including experimenting with micro hydro power from the stream, learning to milk a goat (thanks in advance Matthew), and organising music gigs and yoga retreats in the barn — no, silly, not simultaneously.
Many opportunities to hang out with Stephen and Deborah, our friends and co-conspirators in this rural venture. Great times ahead guys. Only twelve sleeps to go!

And then there were two

June 23, 2015chrissyb 2 Comments

Well, I was hoping by now we’d have a cast iron moving date sorted, but there is still a bit of dithering going on. I’ll keep you posted…

In the meantime how about I entertain you with the story of how I came to own a second pony? The astute amongst you possibly already having noticed the previous reference to grass for ponies (multiple) rather than pony (singular).

Now, you will recall where we left off. I needed to buy more land than I’d at first thought because I had, in rather precipitous sort of a way, bought myself a horse. The plan from there on in then was as follows.

Buy land,
Move to land,
Increase herd by one large and docile horse suitable for use by tall non-equestrian types (such as the Very Forbearing Husband).

It was a sound plan, and I was sticking to it — until my friend The Horsewoman rang with an equine emergency. The closure of a riding school meant finding new homes for 14 horses. One of them was a miniature Exmoor pony by the name of Bonnie.

Bonnie, an unsuitable mount for anyone over 4 foot tall, and only intermittently docile

Bonnie is barrel shaped, nine hands high on her tippy-toes, and carries herself with the demeanor of a 17.2 thoroughbred princess. I’ve seen her double-barrel horses twice her size when they ill-advisedly came between her and the salt lick. Bonnie, she got swag*!

I approached the Very Forbearing Husband. He looked at the pony. He assessed the swag factor. He said “A miniature pony with attitude is exactly what we need around here. What a shame there aren’t two of them needing a home.”

Well, I’m pretty sure it went something like that. The man is a saint.

* definition: sexy with a bit of gangster.

Here we go…

June 5, 2015chrissyb 10 Comments

We’ve done it! Deposit paid. No turning back now. Guess we’ll just be stuck living with this:

and this:

and some of this for the ponies:

And, just to put those more idyllic looking shots into perspective, there’s also this pruning and clearing challenge in the orchard:

and about seven acres of this:

It’s Jerusalem Cherry. Poisonous to livestock (even chickens, dammit, because a chicken tractor was my first thought for controlling it), and seemingly pure evil unless you live in Siberia and want a pretty house plant. So, there’s a lot of weeding in my future.

If anyone has bright ideas for organic control of what is about to become the bane of my life, please leave a note in the comments. In the meantime I’m going back to the top of the page to look at the pretty bits. See you later.

How the five-year plan grew

June 2, 2015chrissyb Leave a Comment

It had already been on the five year plan to move to a larger piece of land. Our suburban edge 1/4 acre was full to bursting with 5 chickens, a beehive, vegetable gardens and fruit trees. Not to mention a dog, a cat and a pond full of goldfish. Suddenly though there was a new imperative. Instead of 1-2 acres for all of the above plus a pig and perhaps a goat, we were looking for 10 acres or more for all of the above, plus pig, goat and the newly acquired pony.

As we scoured the lifestyle block real estate pages it became apparent there were a couple of choices.

Buy land near Auckland and spend the foreseeable future commuting an hour or more to the jobs needed to pay back a large mortgage.
Jump off the edge of reason, let go of being JAFA and commit to living in a smaller town. Thus needing no mortgage, possibly having a modicum of money left over to invest, and gaining the luxury of time to enjoy the new lifestyle.

The answer was kind of obvious, although it’s surprising how hard it feels to commit to changing cities. I haven’t actually made the move yet but the new property deal goes unconditional today so there’s no turning back now. Let’s see how it all pans out shall we?

Buffy

How it started

June 1, 2015chrissyb 4 Comments

I am about to drag my husband out of his city comfort zone, and relocate him. He’s a very forbearing man.

We are going to be moving to a 14 acre block of land which is two hours drive from where we live now, and roughly the same distance from the nearest BurgerFuel outlet. The husband has never lived this far away from BurgerFuel. As I said, he’s a very forbearing man.

So, let’s see. This all started with learning to ride at the age of 47. Well, officially it was re-learning, since I had once, about 30 years previously, somewhat possessed this skill. Apparently though the body does not remember.

I took lessons at the local riding school on one of their horses, a 14.2 bay Kaimanawa pony by the name of Summer. After a few weeks in the arena she and I were let loose onto the riding school farm. We bonded over gentle ambles through the bush trails, terrifying (I mean exhilarating) gallops on the home track, and my various falls from her back when her agility and speed exceeded my balance. She was very patient with me.

The reason for the five year plan

Then came the day when the riding school announced that Summer was to be sold. She’d become unhappy as a trekking pony with a different person on her back every hour, and my riding instructor wanted her to find a human partner she could depend on. I hadn’t really been planning on owning a pony, at least not so soon, but I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her again.

I bought her in December 2012 (craftily labeling her as my Christmas present) and life started changing, one cowboy boot at a time.