Running up the hill

NB: due to the extreme weather conditions and impact of the fires, Internet access was difficult so I was unable to load this entry until Saturday, our day of departure.

Incredibly hard though it is to write, today is my last day at the farm for this visit, for tomorrow we fly back to Brisbane. There is something about being here that soothes my soul. Being in such a remote, beautiful location makes you realise that you don't have to travel far from home to experience the best of what life has to offer. The scenery is amazing, and hearing the continual bird talk, having the sheep nearby and absorbing the colours in nature, all adds up to being wonderfully inspiring. The wind has picked up over the last couple of days, with temperatures rising to heat wave conditions - at least for Tasmania. Yesterday was in the low 30's, today will be 39 or thereabouts according to current weather reports. With a total fire ban throughout Tasmania, after serious fires across the State yesterday. The best thing is that without the humidity we normally experience in Brisbane, it is totally ok and you find yourself out and about doing all of the things you would normally do on the farm. I did however learn pretty quickly that although it doesn't feel hot, you still need sunscreen. Oops, the raccoon girl look takes a bit of getting used to. My cap protected my forehead. Pity about my ears and cheeks. The other amazing impact of the wind is that the grass "runs". What? You have never seen grass running up the hill? No, neither had I, but trust me, it is a wonderful sight. The wind gets under the grass and moves it, so that it looks like the whole hillside is swaying in the breeze, moving up and across the hill, dancing in the breeze. Grass here is not the short green stuff we are used to at home either. There are multiple layers, knee high, with clover and green shoots lower down, but the tall heads are lilac and golden depending on the type of grass so the colours dance and sway across the hillside too. It really is incredibly beautiful to watch, and something that taking a photo of just doesn't capture. Nothing can quite do justice to how wonderful this phenomenon is to see except for standing there and soaking up this visual delight. Truly beautiful! PS Weather at home hit the high 30's, as for Hobart? All time record of 40.8 or thereabouts.

Mr Fix-it

I have become number one helper to Mr Fix-it this visit. During a session on the tractor last week, the steering somehow took a dive and after limping the tractor back up the hill to home, it sat there waiting for some attention. We finally took the time to look at it this week and over two sessions now have it working again. First it was a matter of pulling various bits off, whacking a few bits and putting it all back together to allow the tractor to be driven up to the welding station in the shed. Then next day, it was a repeat procedure with some welding thrown in for good measure and hey presto....fixed. I have to admire the boy brain for trouble shooting these sorts of problems. As for me, I just fetched and carried and held bits at critical times not really doing much but feeling an essential part of the repair crew.

European Goldfinches

Have now discovered that there are European Goldfinches nesting on the farm. Didn't think to bring my field guide to Australian birds with me, so thank goodness for Google. Am happy now that I have observed these birds over a period of a couple of days that this is what they are. They are so quick, and shelter within the shrubs so it has been impossible to get a photograph of them. There is a particular clump of shrubs adjacent to a small tree they like and we have seen them come and go. An incredibly intrusive mynah also inhabits this space and scares the finches off on whim.....annoying to say the least. That said, it was the persistence of the finches that made me watch them long enough to reveal that their interest in this territory is related to nesting. The pair of finches cover each other, and watch until its safe, then take it in turns to disappear into a crack in the old bake house wall. Incredible given it really is only the smallest of spaces. The birds fly to the gap, then have to squeeze in tight as they hop through the crack and into the gap beyond. I can only imagine that the space opens out further inside and they have built a nest within. The bake house is an original building on the property, just across from the farmhouse proper and as such dates from around 1900. The main part of the structure is timber, but the section the finches are accessing is sandstone and forms the external wall of the original bakers oven. Apparently you can still access this via the oven door from within the bake house but in the interests of not disturbing things I have left things as they are. I did however spend a pleasant half an hour in the late afternoon sunshine watching the finches as they took turns coming and going tending to their business.

Oatlands

The farm is located in a tiny little place in Tasmania called Tunnack. Tunnack has a series of post boxes, and the Tunnack Club and thats about it. What was once the local petrol station is now someones home. The people though have huge hearts and are wonderfully welcoming, and for a "home away from home" I could ask for nothing better. The nearest town to Tunnack that is large enough to boast an IGA, ANZ Bank and Post Office, amongst other essentials such as a pub, is Oatlands. About 25 minutes by car, with a variety of quaint little buildings and cottages aligning the main street, Oatlands is quite a cute little town. Ideally set up to support passing tourists with a variety of B and B's (Bed and Breakfast) in addition to a range of antique shops and art and craft galleries it is well worth breaking your journey to wander along and enjoy a walk, take photos and absorb the atmosphere. The other highlight in the centre of town, situated just off the main street is the mill. Still working to mill flour the windmill makes a statement in the centre of town, surrounded as it is by lavender, producing produce that can be purchased from the mill shop. While the challenge would be to successfully run a business throughout the year, it is evident that summer would see peak visitation to Oatlands. The number of quaint little buildings for sale suggests that running a profitable business is difficult. That said, with a cottage and adjacent studio in the main street on the market, it is nice to dream for a while.

New Years Eve

With shearing finally finished it was time to get the sheep and lambs back together. Plan being to open two gates and let them meet up mid point en route to the large paddock with the dam. Plenty of fresh grass and water. A joyous reunion was had by all with lots of bleating and talk happening. The perfect way to end a long day. For me, lots of new skills to add to my cv - wool puller and wool classer extraordinaire. No insult intended for the experts as I am sure that to become a professional wool classer there is lots of study involved. That said, I can now distinguish a fleece from a Merino versus a Black Faced Suffolk. Pretty good going for this city girl! As for the humans - a cold beer went down really well to end what was a really long day. Did I see in the New Year? No, exhausted I hit the sack at my usual, unfashionably early hour....with a smile on my face.....what a day!

Shearing to see out the year.

Shearing is plain, old fashioned hard work. It seems to me that shearers are undervalued, yet simultaneously form a group that are dying out. Problem is that the task they perform is one of the few that can't be totally mechanised, yet prices are fixed by the shearers union. Bit of catch 22 happening. That said, being involved in shearing for the day was an incredible experience and one I will long remember. Work kicked off at 7.30am with one shearer working solidly through the day. Bringing his own shears, blades and oil with him, he set up in the shearing shed and set to it. Working from a sling which supports his weight, the shearer works bent over, holding the sheep between his legs, pinioned by his body as he works. The other essential piece of equipment is the booties worn to shear. Made from inverted sheepskin these are apparently the ultimate for someone on their feet all day. That said, their look is so unique they will never take off as the ultimate fashion accessory....will leave that to Ugg boots. Generally a fleece is removed from an adult in close to one piece. Then the fun starts. The fleece is picked up from the floor by one "leg" then another, and with a flick of the wrist, is thrown across a special table, with the external side of the fleece facing up. The table looks somewhat like a huge abacus on its side, minus the beads, with timber slats across the surface which the fleece is draped across ready for picking over. My job then was to work my way around the edges of the fleece, removing any bad wool. This could be dirty fleece, wool imbedded with grass seed and other gunk. These sections are pulled by hand and added to a bin on the side. Once the whole fleece is picked over the fleece is then rolled in on itself, exposing the freshly cut wool and put into a bale bag on a rack. Each consecutive fleece is added to the bag as it is prepared until you have a bagful of beautiful fresh wool, making sure not to mix e Merino cross with the Black Faced Suffolk fleeces. A good shearer has fleece removal down to a fine art, retrieving and shearing a sheep in about the same time it took me to pull the fleece. It was then a race to see whether I could bundle and bale the fleece before the shearer had flicked a new fleece onto the slatted table ready for pulling. This process went on for hours. I escaped middle of the day to run an errand to Oatlands returning over an hour later....status unchanged....shearer still working....fleeces still being pulled and baled. We stopped at about 1.00pm for lunch, thinking we were done for the day only to find that the lambs too had to be shorn. Yikes. As for the rams, we waited for backup for those. With the size of these guys and the fact that they are pretty cantankerous no one was going to be dumb enough to tackle them single handed. One ram gave us the run around to the max taking off and clearing the railing in the pen in his bid for freedom. Each time he was tackled and brought back he again sailed over the fence and disappeared into the far paddock. It eventually took three burly blokes, a four wheel drive, a quad bike and a dog to reign him in and get him in for shearing. Most entertaining to watch. I think it was a lucky thing I was out of range of ear shot, as I can only imagine the conversation taking place as this little scenario worked its way out.

2012 over and out

The last day of 2012 was spent shearing the sheep. An annual task, this is not as romantic as it sounds. In fact it is really hard work, and for me, a baptism by fire. Preparations started the day before with rams, sheep and lambs separated and brought up to the house paddocks into the pens adjacent to the shearing sheds. Although the lambs are now at least half the size of their Mums, and most are weaned, they are still closely bonded. As such the separation caused some angst and much talking. The process itself is a little fraught with animals moved from the main paddock with quad bike and dog, then sorted via a run and a chute with lambs and sheep separated by a gate operated by someone whose task it is to swing the gate directing sheep one direction and lambs the other. With almost 180 animals to process, this is a challenging task. The sheep don't always do what they are meant to either which further complicates things. Sometimes they come through in multiples, other times they bottle neck and need to be pushed through and yet other times the come through in reverse! I have seen this sheep sorting take place on tv and it isn't as easy as it looks! Once sorted though everyone settled quietly enough for the night, ready for a big day's shearing.