tHe ReAsON wHY fArMeRS arE NOt RiCh...

This may come as a shock to some town people who so strongly believe that farmers must be rich............WRONG! ! !

I had a lady say exactly this to me when she asked why my husband and I had come back to NZ...

"To farm" I replied.

"You must be rich then" she said.

I laughed out loud and more importantly in her face.

Here is a webcam reenactment...

It is true...you need some money to begin with in order 'to farm', but then after that you just keep chasing your tail so to speak. You buy to sell, so you can buy more to sell, to buy more... you get the picture.

So for us, this is what $245 looks like these days - and sometimes it dies for no reason.

And surprise, surprise, there are hidden costs that nobody tells you about too.

                              A tonne of milk powder and half a tonne of grain = thousands of dollars...

Milk bar feeders = hundreds of dollars...

$80+ worth of electrolyte powder...

Antibiotic powder...

Anti-shitting liquid...

The most expensive disinfectant in the World!!...(not much change from $250)

Iodine spray for umbilical cords...

Paint markers for singling out the slow/fast feeders...

Sawdust by the tonnage, water troughs, hay and grain feeders...

Trailer to go to the auctions with...

Times $245 by 50...you do the math...

Man hours...

Do you still think we're cute??...and that farmers could possibly be rich after all that?!!!...

psst... An optimist is a person who doesn't understand the enormity of the problem.



sLaVe tO tHe LaNd

No one said it would be easy, and no one was right.
Justin and I are now slaves to the land. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part.
A bit morbid for 8:40 in the morning, but after a burst water pipe late last night; the thanks we get from three sick calves in their supposed 'weak' state, Justin was out doing repairs soaked to the core trying to restore an entire water supply from the dam to all the surrounding paddocks - 1300ha. The last ride down to check on the pump I was in attendance. It was chilly, dark and unusual work for 9pm.
This morning we were both up just before the crack of dawn, back on the four-wheeler and with ladder in tow off to check another tank 3 paddocks away at the top of a hill. I can say that the sunrise was magnificent. I should also mention that I could not feel my hands or feet. Justin carried on with switching off electric fences, climbing to the top of said reservoir and checking the progress of it filling and then proceeded to retract the whole mission very quickly indeed. The cup of tea Justin had slurped down only 15 min's earlier had finally stirred his innards into a frenzy and he was now becoming very volatile. I was asked (somewhat impolitely) to race down ahead and open the gates up in anticipation of the great escape.
Life with Justin is one big comic strip, even the most dull situations can, and often do take a twist of fate into hilarity.
So farm life doesn't really have any set hours. It's pretty full on when things go wrong and cows and bulls are very thirsty critters. They may go one day without water but after that they drop off pretty quickly from what we've heard. We'd rather not find out by experience.
I begin my new job today. As expected I am longing to get back into any kind of payed work - both for financial reasons and for the mental stability. I could never be unemployed for more than 3 months I reckon. I would just go stir crazy. You lose your confidence, your identity, your purpose for being. Even if you scrape up dung voluntarily - it's a start. I love working. So does my Mum, when she's well. Unfortunately as she gets older it is becoming harder and harder for her to maintain the gut-wrenching physical jobs that she is likely to be employed for. With few skills, except for being a keen worker at anything, the last few employment opportunities that have surfaced for her have been either working on a conveyor belt at a chicken abattoir or a conveyor belt in a large bakery. Both require round the clock hours, mostly twilight and in excess of 10 to 16 hours. Other jobs that Mum has done include working on a trawler in Yamba (requiring both Daniel and I to be babysat overnight), vacuuming cinema theatres - again at night, truck stop attendant and cook, cleaner of just about every facet, and once long ago a nurses aid.
For all my Mother's weaknesses there is two strengths. And luckily for me she managed to pass on only the strengths.
Mum is still in Hospital, 7 weeks after I admitted her. I spoke to her yesterday and she feebly explained that some Dr has told her it will be at least 3 days before she can have unescorted leave. One of the many stepping stones to getting out of the psyche ward and proving that you are no longer a danger to yourself and others.
Mum has struggled with my move overseas. We have been preparing her for it for over 5 years, but it still impacted greatly on her ability to cope.
Frustratingly though, Mum still insists that she does not require "legal drugs" to make her better and is adamant that her bipolar disorder is just a cruel figment of a "controlling government body" and that if everyone just left her alone and stopped stealing all her important documents she'd be fine.
We tried that, it didn't work.

i FeEL tHe EaRtH mOvE

There is a first for everything and last night I felt my first earthquake. It was probably around 11am last night and I woke up to the bed shaking and the windows in our room rattling. I wasn't alarmed in the slightest, I just rolled over and thought to myself it was a train going past really close, and then I thought "No, no trains around here, must have been a plane". We are both quite used to planes, jumbo's and airbuses as we lived under the direct flight path to Coolangatta airport for 5 years. Then I half woke up some more and realised neither of these things were possible when you live just past the black stump in the middle of absolutely nowhere...it must be an earthquake. I woke Justin up just as it was rumbling to a finish. And he said sleepily "what was that?", I said "it must have been an earthquake" and he said "yeah that makes sense" and then he rolled over and went to sleep. Needless to say I was quite awake for some time because I was waiting for any after shocks; they didn't come. Chances are we slept through the big one and I woke up for after shocks. Very exciting nonetheless.
This morning I tested the windows to see how rattly they are even without an earthquake, and to my surprise they were rock solid - not a whisper of a rattle or a loose plain of glass anywhere. I was quite amazed because the windows last night were sounding like nothing was holding them in place.
So now I can tick that off my to do list.
Going into town today. Got my nice 'town clothes' on. Quite distinctive in comparison with 'farm clothes' which would put an Indian beggar to shame. We have less to do in Dannevirke today which will be a pleasant change from the last few visits which were more like Beat-the-Clock-snatch 'n' grab buy-up-big-like-you-want-to-go-completely-broke hidden camera captured footage straight out of an American shopping mall during Boxing Day sales.
I hope today will round up all the little loose threads that have been more stubborn and required extra effort to get organised - like my driver's licence - which I had to send away to the RTA in NSW for confirmation of date of issue; to which they sent back a page outlining two speeding fines - the dirty bastards. So now I have to apply for my Kiwi licence with egg on my face. And just for the record both my fines were grossly unfair and nabbed during a police fundage shortage and they tricked me with roadwork signs and dazzled me with confusing speed limit changes which they are very good at doing when they need extra revenue.
All in all, it is all coming together well. My only complaint is the cluster flies which now have a very short life expectancy since they have been put on my 'hate and must die' list. Die flies, Die!
And now off to Town for some High Tea and no flies.

FaRm-tAsTiC

Arrived in NZ on the 31st March, two black cats in tow. Unpacked (mostly) and have been living in our free farm house, thanks to Uncle Benny (Justin's new employer) for just over 2 weeks. Moving is about as painful as any experience can get. I give it a pain score of 9 and a half out of ten.
Now we are feeling a little bit more settled. We have TV *tick*, broadband *tick*, landline and mobile *tick*, farm dog *tick*, functional killing house *tick*.
We definately are not in Kansas any more Toto.
So far we have managed to spend thousands of hard earned dollars on just the basics. It is amazing how much money is actually sitting in a pantry cupboard with just the bare minimal of necessities. Of course we have had to get a few miscellaneuos items (ie. slow cooker, wheelbarrow, new car) which have made a dent in our profit from the Rose St unit sale, but what can you do?
The cats are happy enough, especially in front of the fireplace. They have mostly forgiven us for the flight and quarantine ordeal which left them both a little bit more than pissed. But home is where the food is, so here is home.
Roger has killed thrice already so he has already paid for his ticket and for Lucky's. Didn't really need the bloody mess at 6am this morning outside our bedroom door, but took on board the fact that this is supposed to be a real gift of love from our feline male hunter.
Will be beginning my new midwifery job next Wednesday at the local (45 mins drive) rural hospital. Will be looking forward to a change of pace by then I'm sure. Farm life is good, but working in a job you love and being switched on is better. To put it another way, I think as a farmer's wife full-time you would become a very good baker, and woodchopper. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Have met the only neighbour that we have and I give our future friendship the thumbs up. A strong individual with the capacity to do ten things at once. My kind of woman. I can foresee many a laugh and drowning of sorrows together over middle of the range NZ sav blanc's.
The weather has been kind to us thus far, but today we had a small taste of the misery yet to come. Grey drizzle and howling wind that threatens endlessly to bore into your psyche and depress even the most optimistic soul. It won't have much of a challenge with me I'm afraid, I'm not even going to try to fight it. I plan on embracing the meloncholy and writing painfully depressing songs on the guitar about it that will be able to bring the happiest of people to their God forsaken knees.
Slow cooker has been on for 2 hours now, dinner is scheduled for 2300hrs tonight; just as well we tend to eat late.