Farming in Taihape or How I Met the Bull
Everyone has some connection to farming, either because you are a farmer, married to a farmer, do business with farmers. And farms here usually mean sheep, cattle, sometimes horses, sometimes fruit trees. The vineyards tend to be toward the coastal, warmer areas, and New Zealand does produce fine wines.
I wish that I had had a first hand chance to see shearing or docking tails, but I did get to visit a farm.
Antonia, a physician at Taihape Health, lives with her husband and two children about 25 minutes north of Taihape--her husband's family farm. They raise about 4-500 bulls and 1000 sheep. They have 3 herding dogs, and an older one who is more of a pet now. They also have and enjoy fresh eggs. I buy fresh eggs for $5/dozen from one of the nurses who has about 30 chickens. The only chicken she eats comes from the supermarket.
Antonia & Nicholas's dogs live in kennels close to the house and are fed once a day. They love to work herding, and love to ride in the back of the pick-up truck, or on the back of the ATV.
As I learned, there are two types of dogs on farms in New Zealand and in Australia. The "heading" dog controls the herd from the head of the herd, and doesn't bark. The "huntaway" dog herds from the back of the flock, and does bark, to chase the herd where it needs to go. Antonia's dogs are Cash, Flirt, Floyd (who was hiding in his kennel).
Nicholas took over the farm from his parents, who also built their house.
As I looked out over the fields from their patio, some of the bulls were making very bull-like noises, not lowing, but more like huffing. Nicholas told me that they probably were aware of other bulls outside their paddock, not part of their group. This being early summer, their testosterone was getting a bit up.
Earlier in the day I decided to take a long walk, and went on a road from town which I knew led back to my street. It was a hot day, full sun, but I trudged on among the green fields on the gravel path. It was very quiet except for my footsteps. I casually wondered what I would do if a stray animal crossed my path. On either side of the road were fences, mostly just wire bound to wood. Unwittingly, I passed my turn-off, and kept walking on the gravel path.
I paused as I saw a black bull on the left side of the road, as I stood on the right. I actually didn't know if it was a bull or steer, but didn't feel like taking time to check him out. I turned to the right, moving further into the foliage and pretended to be a tree. The bull, who was HUGE, had a tag in his ear, and contemplated me for a moment before gradually lumbering away. I did feel my heart beating very fast, and I peered over my shoulder as I edged down the road, wondering if he would turn and charge. Finally I noted a wood frame simple rectangular house on a rise, the front yard hung with clothes on the clothesline. My path took me directly into the front yard. I called Antonia on my phone, just as a man stepped outside the house. I told her I would call back, and hung up. " I'm lost," I said, sweaty and disheveled, " I took the wrong turn trying to get back to Dixon Way." His name was Dennis, but he pronounced it "Deenis," and offered to give me a lift home. I explained about the bull, but he had already noted that on his previous drive on the road.
We stopped along the way as the errant bull's farmer was just getting him back into the fenced pasture. "Is it a bull or a steer?" I asked, and they confirmed bull. On a flight about a week later, I told this story to a farmer sitting next to me, who advised very confidently that one only had to wave a stick in front of the bull to get it to behave. I was skeptical of this advice after seeing a patient who had been in Intensive Care after being charged by a bull, with broken breastbone and ribs.
In the early evening I dined with Antonia, her husband, and two children on the veranda overlooking their farm. It was delightful--marinated chicken kebabs, steak, asparagus, potatoes & salad. As we were finishing, it started to rain, and we went inside. The rain poured in sheets, which actually makes folks in the countryside happy, because their water tanks refill.
We finished with strawberries and icecream before the children went to bed, and when the rain had subsided, Antonia drove me home.
Haere ra,
Adrianna
Everyone has some connection to farming, either because you are a farmer, married to a farmer, do business with farmers. And farms here usually mean sheep, cattle, sometimes horses, sometimes fruit trees. The vineyards tend to be toward the coastal, warmer areas, and New Zealand does produce fine wines.
I wish that I had had a first hand chance to see shearing or docking tails, but I did get to visit a farm.
Antonia, a physician at Taihape Health, lives with her husband and two children about 25 minutes north of Taihape--her husband's family farm. They raise about 4-500 bulls and 1000 sheep. They have 3 herding dogs, and an older one who is more of a pet now. They also have and enjoy fresh eggs. I buy fresh eggs for $5/dozen from one of the nurses who has about 30 chickens. The only chicken she eats comes from the supermarket.
Antonia & Nicholas's dogs live in kennels close to the house and are fed once a day. They love to work herding, and love to ride in the back of the pick-up truck, or on the back of the ATV.
As I learned, there are two types of dogs on farms in New Zealand and in Australia. The "heading" dog controls the herd from the head of the herd, and doesn't bark. The "huntaway" dog herds from the back of the flock, and does bark, to chase the herd where it needs to go. Antonia's dogs are Cash, Flirt, Floyd (who was hiding in his kennel).
As I looked out over the fields from their patio, some of the bulls were making very bull-like noises, not lowing, but more like huffing. Nicholas told me that they probably were aware of other bulls outside their paddock, not part of their group. This being early summer, their testosterone was getting a bit up.
Earlier in the day I decided to take a long walk, and went on a road from town which I knew led back to my street. It was a hot day, full sun, but I trudged on among the green fields on the gravel path. It was very quiet except for my footsteps. I casually wondered what I would do if a stray animal crossed my path. On either side of the road were fences, mostly just wire bound to wood. Unwittingly, I passed my turn-off, and kept walking on the gravel path.
I paused as I saw a black bull on the left side of the road, as I stood on the right. I actually didn't know if it was a bull or steer, but didn't feel like taking time to check him out. I turned to the right, moving further into the foliage and pretended to be a tree. The bull, who was HUGE, had a tag in his ear, and contemplated me for a moment before gradually lumbering away. I did feel my heart beating very fast, and I peered over my shoulder as I edged down the road, wondering if he would turn and charge. Finally I noted a wood frame simple rectangular house on a rise, the front yard hung with clothes on the clothesline. My path took me directly into the front yard. I called Antonia on my phone, just as a man stepped outside the house. I told her I would call back, and hung up. " I'm lost," I said, sweaty and disheveled, " I took the wrong turn trying to get back to Dixon Way." His name was Dennis, but he pronounced it "Deenis," and offered to give me a lift home. I explained about the bull, but he had already noted that on his previous drive on the road.
We stopped along the way as the errant bull's farmer was just getting him back into the fenced pasture. "Is it a bull or a steer?" I asked, and they confirmed bull. On a flight about a week later, I told this story to a farmer sitting next to me, who advised very confidently that one only had to wave a stick in front of the bull to get it to behave. I was skeptical of this advice after seeing a patient who had been in Intensive Care after being charged by a bull, with broken breastbone and ribs.
In the early evening I dined with Antonia, her husband, and two children on the veranda overlooking their farm. It was delightful--marinated chicken kebabs, steak, asparagus, potatoes & salad. As we were finishing, it started to rain, and we went inside. The rain poured in sheets, which actually makes folks in the countryside happy, because their water tanks refill.
We finished with strawberries and icecream before the children went to bed, and when the rain had subsided, Antonia drove me home.
Haere ra,
Adrianna
I thank you were wise to take evasive action with that bull. I would have done the same.
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