Cow love

My cows were as well planned as my children.

Our eldest son is lovingly referred to as our Byron Bay tent child so you get the picture.

One day I made a phone call and decided to change careers. Two weeks later I made another phone call and brought six calves.

The day before I started the new career I drove north for two and a half hours and picked up calves. Drove south for two and a half hours and nearly didn't get to pick up the children.

I brought bottles and calf formula.

The next day I smiled sweetly at my very tolerant husband, walked out the door and left him to hand feed our new babies.

Crazy George learning to drink from a bucket. 

Gemma giving a cow kiss 

Did I mention it was winter?

Did I mention it snowed?

Did I mention he didn't like me very much for a while?

The husband being the trooper he is did get over it and managed to hand raise these little guys. The theory being that seeing as we don't have a clue of how to be a farmers, lets start at the beginning and see how it goes.

The chook pen was the cool place to hang

As wee things they were incredibly endearing. There was obviously a fair degree of imprinting on us, particularly with the husband who did the majority of the feeding. Names were inevitable. We were advised against this of course due to the fact that one day we intended to eat them. There was Pippin (named for the obvious Lord of the Rings connection) Fergus (kind of Irish thing going on), Gemma (named after the girl who was in prep with the ginger), Crazy George (cause he was just a tad eccentric), Stuart (nice cow named after a nice guy I worked with) and Jackie Moon (Semi Pro change my husbands life).

It was not all smooth sailing. We plodded along with our twice daily feeding of cow formula and also daily rations of "cow crack" (calf muesli which is a delectable cow treat with molasses) and hay. We discovered that calves are susceptible to "scours" and we did lose Jackie Moon due to this. He had been unwell from the beginning and despite our careful nursing he eventually passed away. We lost one other calf to calcium deficiency which can occur at certain times of the year.

We researched the internet for solutions, management strategies. We cut hay at Fortylegs Farm and developed a relationship with our "hay guy" that included lots of advice regarding the basics of cow rearing. Other friends who had "cow" experience showed us how to turn a bull into a steer, manage pasture and how to maintain our animals. We learned the importance of mineral licks and despite our efforts to be completely organic we realised that worming was a necessity for animal welfare.

The cows were eventually moved from our rental to Fortylegs where they now live. They escaped a few times till we realised the value of a good electric fence. Fortunately they are easily herded by a bright bucket and a sniff of "cow crack" so we were able to get them back. We added to our herd an additional four girls brought from the "hay guy". Real cows. Angus cows. They all freely roam in our large pastures and have a pretty good life.

The cows we hand reared still come to us to cow pats. It is lovely to have them come to us whenever we arrive at the farm. The "real cow"s are somewhat timid of us and whilst they will have a sniff of the hand on occasion there is little cow love.

Raising the cows by hand was certainly an amazing experience and one that I might repeat when the husband finally releases me from my animal acquisition ban.

Building Building

So if you buy a block of land to develop a self sufficient farm, you need something to live in. Shelter is one of the most basic needs for all humans and living in a tent or a caravan gets very old very quick. I have done this before.

Houses are necessary. It just takes a long time to build one.

There was a part of me that wanted to be as sustainable as possible. I experimented in my head with all sorts of different building materials such as straw bale, earthship, cob, mud brick. Having a family of 7 (4 mad children, 2 mad parents and one very sane nanna) it needed to be big. A two bedroom cob hobbit hut was not going to work and there would have been a bloody lot of tires in that rammed earth wall in the earth ship.

The husband vetoed my grand plans of eco building and we settled on building a timber home with vertical cladding in the style of a Norweigan farm house. It was important to me that the house looked like it belonged to the area and I wanted the home to look traditional. We decided on a simple 'A' Frame design with an open deck to take in the fab view.

I thought we were being really organised and got our plans drafted quickly. I then had an honest conversation with a builder and realised I could not afford that house so I then had to shrink it. That added several months to the process. It then took us several attempts to lodge the plan at council. (My husband banned me from council for a while because he was afraid at what I might do). On the third attempt we handed the pile of papers that had been prepared by a professional to a professional standard, to the council person. We smiled as we were given a further pile of now changed forms which the professional had filled out, but they did not have the same picture on them.  We insisted that said council person must keep the papers and we would pay the fee regardless. Explained that we could email newly filled out changed forms the next day, which we did promptly. Several weeks later we received a letter asking if we still wanted to pursue our application because we had not provided  filled out changed forms, with new pictures, because they were sitting in someones email inbox who had gone on holidays. 

Despite the delays we are well and truly building now with the frame done just waiting for some roofing iron this week. 

Summer in Tasmania is supposed to be warm and dry. Windy and showery conditions have been all I hear on the news lately. I must confess to feeling slightly deranged when I hear this forecast. We made the decision to put our subfloor insulation in prior to the roof going on. It could be an experience that we get to live through again. Although we won't know till the roof is done an we let it dry out. 

Stay tuned. 

Strawberry Pigs Forever

Occasionally life provides a bounty. 

On this occasion the bounty came in the form of 500kgs of strawberries. 

On one of the few really hot days we have here in Tasmania we were heading to the beach when one of our neighbours knocked on the front door asking if we would like some strawberries for the pigs. The husband was excited and was about to grab a bucket, but the neighbour said to bring the trailer. 

They set off to the local strawberry farm. The cold room needed clearing out for the next weeks pickings and due to the Christmas break there was no jamming going on. Seven 60 litre drums later and we had a trailer load of strawberries.

Mega strawberries 

Well it was all a bit exciting really. The beach trip was postponed and we began to fossick for good strawberries. The Nanna got suitably enthused with picking through for good ones. The neighbourhood kids turned up. My ginger ate so many that he got a stomach ache. Phone calls were made and friends and Nanna's craft group turned up to get a bucket or two for jam. 

We ended up with ten bags in our freezer for later on. There will be jam and strawberry sauce aplenty in the future. One of my favourite desserts at the moment are a plateful of frozen ones, a dollop of coconut cream and a few nuts on top. Delicious. 

After we had fed the neighbourhood children and provided the craft group mafia (the Dons of gossip) with buckets of goodness we did eventually give some to the pigs.....

The Gonch!

There was much excitement in the piggy world over the strawberry bounty. Three pigs got to gorge themselves and did not do much over the next couple of days. They began to take on a bloody appearance and looked like they had been involved in some sort of violent street clash. The Gonch took to standing in the trough and began to sport some very fashionable red shoes. 

The way people work together in a small community is very different from the city. Sharing bounties is one way that they come together. Neighbours and friends looking out for one another builds the community spirit. 

Wouldn't live anywhere else.

Operation Sovereign Wheelbarrow - Winning the War on Weeds

A tale of two Thistles 

Well actually not two, more like two thousand. 

There are a bloody lot of weeds at Fortylegs Farm. We have many varieties. The most common is the Scotch Thistle. There is another thistle I don't know the name of,  a bit of Gorse and the odd fern. The Scotch Thistles are anywhere we have disturbed the ground which is basically one paddock and the really long driveway. 

On New Years Eve at a local neighbourhood party I had the fear of the weed instilled in me. Tales from other organic farms in the district where weeds had been allowed to flourish without any intervention and the consequences of the the inaction. Its not pretty. 

After a bit of thought we came up with a plan. We have decided to attack the thistles first. 

Scotch Thistle in my paddock!

After a bit of research into life cycles it became apparent that the first plan of mowing repeatedly was not going to work. As we are attempting to be completely organic spraying is not a possibility. Seems the best option is "chipping" or removal from the root. The weeds seem to die down through the colder months, however after todays efforts it is obvious that they don't die, they just become dormant. The tap root remains in the ground and continues to grow. They are enormous and today I removed one that was around a foot long. 

Tap root on the scotch thistle 

Over three hours today I managed to remove a ride on mower trailer load. Not bad. Half a paddock clear. Just need to do the very long driveway now and the other half of the paddock. One positive I have discovered is that my pigs really like them. They enjoy the tap roots immensely and love to nibble on the spiny leaves. 

Dottie enjoying a tap root 

Longterm it is apparent that the pasture is in need of minerals and also a grazing plan. This is in the bigger picture, however until the fences are established I can't get some goats to eat them. So for the next foreseeable future my spare time will be spent digging out thistles. The Gorse story will be another blog for another time. 

Skies through my eyes

One of the most amazing things I love about Tasmania is the ever changing skies. They are different to where I grew up. It took a while to get used to the lack of pollution in the atmosphere. 

Since moving to Tasmania I have captured many different skies in different locations. I have lived in a seaside community and a rural one. This has provided contrasting locations for some interesting photography. 

Fire provides changes to the Tasmanian skies. There have been recent large fire events which have devastated large areas of bushland. There is also the routine burning of forestry areas. The addition of smoke provides a change  to the sky colour palate. The increase in pollution provides a colourful change till the rain washes it away. 

 Smoky sunrise at south arm 

The many beaches and coves are constant sources of beautiful images. At times the oceans and headlands provide a backdrop that is impossible to take for granted.

Tasman Peninsula in the distance 

Over Fortylegs Farm the mountains provide a perfect frame for the constantly changing sky vistas. There are sometimes strange cloud shapes. There are never ending changes to the atmospheric landscape of the farm which provides a source of peace and intrigue on a daily basis. There is a definite lift to the spirit when surrounded by such a rich tapestry of colours from the ground to the sky.

Sky over Fortylegs Farm 

Some days there are dramatic sunsets with vivid colours and hues. These often mark the end of a satisfying day of physical work on one of our many projects at the farm. It is a privilege to see such an exuberant display of beauty.  

Sunset at Fortylegs Farm