A Cow's Life

Each day, 6 days per week, my work morning begins leisurely at 8:00 am by bringing in each of the milking cows to feed and manually de-tick them.  Yes you read correctly, de-tick the cows.  At first the thought of removing ticks from each cow with my bare hands was slightly revolting; every morning each cow has acquired about 10-25 ticks since the previous day.  The revulsion continued when a tick accidentally squishes between one’s fingers.  BLEH!  The manual de-ticking occurs because the family farm ethos excludes any pesticides, herbicides, or other chemicals on the animals or the land.  After two weeks? I got used to it, squish and all.

The family farm in the Byrne Valley

The family aims for a (mostly) self-sustainable lifestyle.  If they don’t grow It, harvest it, or raise it, they don’t eat it.  If it is not in season, then they’ll have to wait until next season to re-indulge.  Exceptions are made for personal hygiene items, flour, potatoes, peanut butter, and oatmeal, but not much else.

A few examples:

Farm Kid Strong!

In my quaint studio cottage, I have a small propane tank with an attached burner on top and an electric water kettle.  For the past year, I have been in love with having oatmeal for breakfast (NOT instant!), and was happy to find that this family had a similar routine.  Each morning for breakfast I cook a bowl of oatmeal on the gas and make a laid-yesterday hard-boiled egg in the kettle.

The farm family of 4 and Great Danes of 3

On my first Saturday morning here, 8-year-old daughter Femke asked me if I had breakfasted on oats.  “Yes (that is the only thing I have to prepare)…  Did you, too?”  “No!  I had corn flakes!”  She shared this with me half braggingly, half proud.  As a weekend treat, the kids are permitted an oatmeal deviation on Saturday and Sunday mornings only, and have a big bowl of plain corn flakes.  No added sugar, fruit, or jam, just corn flakes and fresh cow’s milk.  It is a total indulgence for them.  Oh man, I don’t envy being a farm kid.

Working on this farm with kids, I am beginning to understand the farm kid reputation for being strong as oxen and tossing cows single-handedly!  Last night Femke, the 8-year old girl, picked up a 40-pound sloshing bucket of milk and set it on the counter, nearly higher than her head.  A few drops dribbled down her front, but overall she was entirely successful.  She’s only 8!

Terrible Arsonist

I have moved on from the ill lack of security and trust of Johannesburg and have bussed it 6 hours to the tiny little town of Byrne in the Kwazulu-Natal region.  I am revisiting my New Zealand wwoofing adventures to learn more about South African culture.  Wwoofing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms) is essentially work in exchange for room and board with an added desire of cultural exchange.  The traveler/person doing the work is the “wwoofer,” with an expected work contribution of 4-6 hours per day, on average.  No money is exchanged, only work, room, board, and conversation.  As a wwoofer, I’ve restored native vegetation, sold fruit and veg on the side of the road, general house and yardwork, weeded yards, milked cows, dug potatoes, prepared and planted gardens, and now, worked on a small (mostly) self-sustainable family farm.

Almost exclusively, wwoofing hosts, which may be families or large- or small-scale farms, are located far from modern day conveniences of civilization, and this family of four is no exception.  Mom, Dad, and two girls live on a farm as self-sustainably as possible which includes milking goats and cows, chickens (for eggs and broilers), growing dinner piglets, a small citrus orchard and other fruit trees, and a healthy-size vegetable garden.  For income, milk, yogurt and cheese is made/sold, as well as breeding rights/puppies from 3 Great Danes of whom are generously doted.

Pure Jersey Cream, Part 4 of 4

My cow adventures are finally (and sadly) coming to a close...  Enjoy, my friends.

Day 13 (Saturday)

After the morning milking and getting the cows out to feed on fresh grass and hay, all the other animals were ready gnaw on something too.  If I walk anywhere near the hen house, I’ve got 3 dozen chickens following me in a matter of seconds.  Either they are on a feeding schedule, and thus follow around anyone that nears them every morning around 9:00am, or they’ve imprinted on me already.  After I feed these cackling chooks, Stu picks me up on the tractor to spread hay.  Peter (milking hand) had to take off early after milking, so it is just me on the trailor balancing between 6 bales of hay stacked higher than I am tall.  How am I going to cut the cord on these things without throwing myself off the tractor while trying to balance as we hit all the potholes and have cows mooing after me with hunger?

After a ton of farm chores compressed into 5 hours, at noon we take off and drive south to Paringa for a Hereford & Angus bull auction.  I’ve been thinking about this bull auction for the past week, hoping we’d go, having no idea what to expect.  The event was even more than I imagined!  I watched HUGE Hereford and Angus bulls get auctioned off for $3,000 - $6,500 dollars each, which is apparently lower than last year’s take.  The grandstands were filled with out 200 farmers, half of them in overalls and gumboots (muckboots), and the other half in jeans and boots.  I took oodles of pictures of all 36 different bulls, and eavesdropped on everyone’s conversations.  Apparently good traits for Hereford’s are panda eyes, clarity, white shoulders and throat, body length, good feet…

Learning about the merits of each bull is a science unto itself, and this beginner’s eavesdropping course I just took was decent.  These bulls were truly incredible beasts, almost like teenage boys, full of energy, budding strength, and constantly butting heads.  I got in the pens with them… when in the safe company of those more experienced than I.  The bulls are fearless, feared, and utterly fearful. 

Pure Jersey Cream, Part 3 of 4

10-mos old calf

Part 3 of 4 - The Dairy Farmers Life

Travel dates: May 17 – June 2, 2010

Day 6 (Saturday)

Morning and evening milking.  I’m tired.  Very tired.  Am I getting used to the smell of cow poo and urine?  I dream about cows nearly every night.  Last night I got up and looked around my room because in my dream, I thought there were cows in the house.  Cows, cows, everywhere! (but not in the house)

Day 7 (Sunday)

The morning started early despite more than an extra 30 min of sleep (6:30am).  It rained the entire night, and I dreaded climbing out of bed to head to the milk shed.  After milking Stu, two of his brothers & Peter headed to the deer paddock to round up the deer for culling.  The enormous 20-point stag was separated from the hinds (aka doe, NZ speak), and the others were corralled into a small shed.  Four men, me and 30 deer were enclosed into an area no larger than a standard size bedroom; I was shocked so many hearts could fit in one room.  Eighteen big does were separated and released (the ‘moms’) and as each left the shed, they galloped and gave a great leap of over 8’ high.  I was reminded of the grace and agility of these animals but looked around and was also reminded of their vulnerability as I was surrounded by 12 young females.  The plan: each deer would be shot and drug outside (while I stood carefully outside) and then eviscerated.  At this point I did not feel confident going in the shed to participate in dragging, nor was I exactly keen on looking into the soon-to-be empty eyes.  I stood outside as did Brother John.  Pop.  One by one a deer was lifelessly pulled out of the shed.  

Pure Jersey Cream, Part 2 of 4

Part 2 of 4 - Farm work begins!

Travel dates: May 17 – June 2, 2010

Day 1 (Monday)

After venison pies for lunch, we rode bicycles down the way to move electric fences to shift the 10 month old calves onto a new grassy paddock.  These girls (around 40 of them), as well as all of the other cows, get moved onto new grassy paddocks every day or two, depending on how many are in the herd.  As we walked up, there was so much commotion that I thought the calves were in trouble.  MOO! MOO!!!  40 of them were synchronously mooing at Stu and I; it was perplexing!  What is happening?  WELL, It seems that cows are just regular chatterboxes, and the mooing was to ‘talk’ to Stu & I, and to let us know they were hungry and wanted to be on greener pasture!

Stu has about 165 cows in his herd that are currently being milked twice a day, and at 5pm we headed to the Milk Shed for the evening milking.  My nerves were on edge, but  I was so excited for this new milking adventure!  There was a lot of following-Stu-around involved, explanations, and nods.  There were neither pretenses nor excuses, and after my lessons, it was my turn to have a go at it.  Grabbed a hold of the first teat, cow didn’t jump around nor sense that I was a first-timer, or try to kick me.  All good signs.  After a few cows, I was starting to feel relatively comfortable, and liked the process.  Good thing, because there was a lot of cow milking to come.

Cook big delicious dinner, drink wine.  Go to bed before 11pm.

In the milking shed, wearing full bib & overalls

Pure Jersey Cream, Part 1 of 4

Hi friends & family!

My next WWOOFing adventure took place on a dairy farm on the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand.  This was my first true experience living and working on a farm; it was so exciting, mucky and rewarding!  In lieu of my normal large summary of events, I wrote about my experiences every day while I was there.  What follows is essentially my journal of Farm Living!  I was on the farm for 3 weeks, wrote a lot, and will send the adventures in 4 parts.

Enjoy! Jessie

Travel dates: May 17 – June 2, 2010

Waitaha Valley

“Hello, this is the Mayor of the Waitaha Valley .  I’m not in, but I am home.  I’m out on the farm either milking the cows, driving the tractor, or shooting a opossum for the night’s supper.  Please leave a message with your number, and I will call you back.”

After my first call to Stu Davidson (and receiving his above answering machine message), I knew I HAD to wwoof with this man.  Anyone with that message on their “answer phone” had to have a lot of character, and was someone I wanted to meet.  Turns out, that was one of the best thoughts, and subsequent decisions, that could have happened in New Zealand.

Keeping it Organic

May 8-14, 2010
Wanaka, NZ

I like to eat healthy. I like to buy organic foods. I didn’t realize that my habits were so primitive compared to my next family of five! There is something to be said for incorporating organics, sustainable methods, and eco-conscious products into your life ranging from vegetables, fruit, toothpaste, meat, hand & face lotion, towels and clothes... Admittedly, those latter few are not regularly part of my greenie tree-hugging lifestyle, but I’m not opposed. Naturally this family had a compost pile, actually multiple composts all in different stages, a worm farm for the garden and compost piles, 50 or so odd sheep, 2 cows, a dog, couple rogue cats, vegetable gardens galore, fruit trees recently planted, and an overall goal of self-sufficiency. In addition, in an effort to encourage organic product availability the family started a small “store” out of their garage, open one day per week, delivering and selling organic products to their community. Good people with good goals in life.

What Lies Beneath

May 2-7, 2010
Kokonga, Central Otago
Two nights in a Dunedin hostel filled in the time between Crazy Americans in Waikouaiti and the next wwoofing host, Potato David, in Kokonga.
That Sunday night was supposed to be an early bedtime in the backpackers, but 6 new chatty roommates had other ideas. The night prior was a big party night for Aerin & I, as the ‘big’ night in Dunedin is best had on Saturdays. Sometime Saturday night/Sunday morning I strolled into my hostel after lots of dancing, drinking, and a late night snack, and checked the clock: 2:25am, not too bad. A nice sleep until 9:45am gave me nearly a full night’s rest, or so I thought. The next afternoon I met a friend for picnicking in the Dunedin Botanical Gardens, and an excerpt of our conversation follows:

Jessie:       I got home just before 2:30am, not too bad. How about you?
Mikenna:     What?? Umm, Jessie, that’s not possible… I left you at 3:30am to walk home.
Jessie:       Are you sure? Is your cell phone set to the right time zone?
Mikenna:     Yes, I’m sure. I walked into my place at exactly 3:59am; I remember looking at the clock on the wall.
Jessie:       Uh oh, um…. (pause, pause, more pause…) Oh no! I read the clock wrong!! I switched the big and little hands!… It was actually 5:10am!!!

Fairy dust and Pixie sticks

April 27-30, 2010
Waikouaiti
One day while wwoofing with The Pringle’s (native vegetation folks) we had a big day out attending a Native Tree replanting at a nearby beach, where Aerin & I would meet our next wwoofing hosts, AKA the “Crazy Americans”. My skepticism was high, particularly considering wwoofing is an ‘exchange,’ primarily between two cultures, so what kind of exchange would be had with an American couple? “Surely not much…” Boy was I ever wrong!!

In wee Waikouaiti, New Zealand (1-hour north of Dunedin) I sat in the living room of an outrageously strange American couple's home pondering how and why I was looking into a crystal ball.  I equally wondered why there were mini table and chairs sitting on top of cupboards and bookcases? When I say strange, I mean it to the N-th degree. Fairies, tarot cards, pagan ceremonies, crystal balls... the works! Perhaps some of this is standard fare for you, but truly I was baffled. Let’s just say, there was indeed a ‘cultural exchange’ that occurred! Through many odd conversations with the wife, whose locks were dyed bright orange, I learned that there was “a place for the fairies” in every room of the house, which explained the mini furnishings and décor scattered on top of cabinets and cupboards.

Long Beach... a long way from California!

April 19-26, 2010
Invercargill

After five great days of hiking, marvel, beauty, partying, and fun times in Queenstown, I should have known disappointment could only follow. There was some difficulty finding the next wwoofing host, and we quickly realized that many farms and homestays were leaning up their operations for the approaching winter months. Success prevailed though, and with bus ticket bought and luggage loaded, there was a quick email check before shooting off for Invercargill:  New Zealand’s southern most city. Bad news was revealed 3 minutes prior to leaving: our new hosts backed out.
The trip started off with a powder keg bang, and continued down a dreary path. All in all this city, one which I could do without visiting again, greeted us with 80 kph wind, gray skies, rain showers, and just overall depressed gloom. By making the best of the situation, we found a gardening-for-accommodation exchange at a hostel in an insalubrious neighborhood, which turned out to be much more rewarding that originally anticipated. Taming a neglected and wild garden into something respectable can be highly satisfying, so we gave it all we had for 2.5 days!

Returning "home"

Hello all!

In lieu of sending you old travel updates (and the fact that I am surprisingly up-to-date with my current travel updates!), I have included some details of my most recent adventures!

April 8 - 13, 2010
Waitakere

On the day of my birthday I boarded a plane in Brisbane, Australia with the entire crew of the Georgia Tech 2010 Pacific Program, which included 36 students, Program Director (Awesome Dave), and Program Assistant/Lab Instructor (Awesome Me). A few hours and a few time zones later we landed in Auckland, New Zealand. Thirty-six people flooded the International Transfers line, while two people got teary-eyed and hugged all of the people in line, slowly walking past the Transfers line en route to Baggage Claim. One of the students, Aerin, and I were adventurously embarking on a new journey in New Zealand. We both changed our return plane tickets home to extend and discover more about the country we have come to love. We planned to chase Kiwis for 4 weeks together, then Aerin flies home, and I run around the country for 5 more weeks on my own. To that, add on 1 week for me in Tonga, and we’ve got 6 months of living out of suitcase! Essentially I will not have any permanent mooring place for longer than 7 days!