The Native Iowan

A Wednesday morning here in lovely QLAND. The air is chilled, the cloud cover rather thick, rain is coming.

And rain is good.

Ive been hanging out here on the little farm in our happy valley close to Woodford. Had a bit of dry weather so we slashed a couple large fields. The grass had gotten so thick you couldn’t walk through it. It was a big task to mow it all down. Took maybe 15 hours to do the two big paddocks, close to the houses. I don’t intend to use right now. Considering that we are moving into winter, the dry season for us, I don’t want a thick load of fuel this close.

I dont intend to use these fields soon. We don’t need to. We have cut the herd in half, with only 16 breeding mammas, a big arsed bull named “Hank”, and 13 calves of varying age. I’ll shift 6 teenagers out soon. Prices are good so they’ll go to market and be shipped out west where they’ll graze and grow for another year or so.

Our’s is a small calf-factory type operation. Sold 22 breeders and claves a few months ago. I decided I didn’t want to get too big, work too hard. The 22 we sold were all young heifers. All bred here. They were like pets, but like teenaged, unruly poets.

The ones we kept are older, easier to manage, matrons of the paddock. The fewer head the more docile the herd. The old mamas are well trained. And they do move like matrons on a domestic mission.

Like ships afloat on a sea of green.

With 16 cows we can expect 16 calves in any 12 month period. I think the oldest calf in the herd was born July last year. Makes him almost a year old. The Youngest is maybe a month old. I expect 3 more calves soon, then we start again… all but the one that calved recently should be pregnant as we speak. Hank does a pretty good job.

Last eve Hank caught a whiff of a cow next door. The neighbour’s cows were on the north fence line, maybe 600meters from Hank. But he caught a whiff and sat on the fence where he was and bellowed for a couple hours. We laugh because Hank has a lisp and sounds much like Mike Tyson.

The farm is a good place. Kinda boring, a lot of walking, the big, old house is cold. Colder in the house than outdoors this time of year. Nice heavy blankets cover the furniture. The bed has a thick down comforter on it, with flannel sheets. Grace and I were just commenting how much sleep we are getting. It’s 914am and I’m bundled and zipped up. It’s 19c/66f, and it wont warm up much with this cloud cover.

Grace says I should put a heater in but I disagree. Like the heat of summer, the cold of winter is so short its not really worth the effort. Not like in the Northern Climes where you need a pile of fire wood the size of your house to survive a winter. Nope, here we just add layers of clothes. Sit in the sun. If eves get too cold I light a fire out back.

The farm is kinda boring in that life is simple here. Feed the dogs, watch the cattle, manage the few daily tasks that arise, noting it is a small farm. Nothing big or arduous or heavy here. I have a few projects to plan… the big rains pushed over a couple fence-lines in the back. I’ll schedule Mendozza to come home from school to help me. He’s a competent labourer and a very good machine operator.

But the life of a hobby-farmer is pretty good.

More later

Big smiles