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When you start getting emails from people you've never met, asking why you haven't updated your blog in ages, it's time to pull finger and write something. I didn't realise anyone outside of our immediate circle of friends actually visits this site, so it was nice to know there are others enjoying our misadventures. I've felt bad knowing we haven't posted anything since April. It simply boils down to being too damn busy. However, with a new year comes a new resolve and we'll try to be a bit more consistent in 2016. In the meantime, here's a distillation of the last nine months, utilising that wonderful Japanese poetic form, the haiku. And some pretty pictures. Enjoy. Posted by Farmer Nik
 Before the deluge
 Needs insulin injections every 12 hours for the rest of her life. But she's worth it.
 Three of the five calves born at Muntanui in 2015 (L-R: Morag, Wee Jock (standing), Lorna). DECEMBER
Another one done So bring on the hangovers And Happy New Year!
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Given that a picture's worth a thousand words and we've had very little time to post anything of late, I thought I'd let this say it all: Incidentally, that hail storm lasted an hour and it took nearly two days for the deepest patches to melt.
Our 2014 lambing season was the best yet -- poor old Spidey outdid himself. He fathered 14 progeny and we only lost one, so there are 13 of the little darlings running amok and keeping us entertained. They're in incredible shape. It's a very graphic demonstration of the difference good pasture makes to the ewes. Onwards and upwards! Although I'd just like to say that we are TOTALLY over snow, hail, frost and freezing winds -- and we're only two weeks away from the official start of summer! Posted by Farmer Nik  The Concise Oxford Dictionary's definition of "grit" in the colloquial sense, reads:
Strength of character, pluck, endurance. To which I'd like to add: 1. Spending an entire afternoon and early evening doggedly broadcasting seed with a manual spreader over a rough, sloping 1.5 hectare (approximately 4.5 acres) paddock, then harrowing it in the tractor. 2. Watching while torrential rain washes most of it away over the following week -- and not weeping. So I guess the next post should be about our efforts to renew our pasture. . . Posted by Farmer Nik  Thanks for your company this year! We hope you have a happy Christmas and that 2014 brings you much merriment, love and all the right kind of surprises.
Back in the New Year . . . Posted by Farmer Nik  Bees. Please. Now.
Posted by Farmer Nik  All stabilised and ready to deplete the national grid 1. Making merry Ah, Christmas. It only seems like 41 days ago. We lovingly adhered to all the festive Muntanui traditions for our third Christmas here, the most notable being the Ritual of the Tree. It goes something like this: 1. Farmer Wan locates a suitable wilding Douglas Fir (they seed from the plantation next door), cuts it down and carries it home slung effortlessly over one mighty shoulder. 2. Farmer Nik spends all afternoon decorating it. 3. Anywhere from fifteen seconds to six hours after the decorating process is complete, the tree topples over. This year set a new record: the tree began falling as the last bauble was still being draped over its branch.  Best. Pav. Ever. On Christmas Eve, we met a lovely Belgian couple and invited them to come to Muntanui the following afternoon and sample that most Kiwi* of summer desserts, the pavlova. Luckily for me, it was the best pav I've ever made. New Zealanders everywhere breathed a sigh of relief, national pride intact. New Year's Eve was a very sedate affair, spent in the company of some of our neighbours and Farmer Wan's brother Malcolm, who'd touched down from Scotland a few hours earlier. While it's true there might have been drinking, dancing and singing, only one of us had to spend all of the next day in bed to recover. I'll leave it to you to guess who that was. The winner gets to help us scythe the orchard. We've also been making general merriment of late because it's summer, we love summer and being happy in summer is kind of mandatory. *Aussie friends, take note.  Two people, two scythes, a useless dog and a bloody great orchard. 2. Making hay
This one will get a post all to itself. The content will feature much physical effort, much scratching of heads to come up with creative solutions to all sorts of challenges, and a song. I don't want to give too much away lest I spoil your hunger for this future hay-making narrative but I will share this about the song: it played a vital role in our first hay cut. It boosted morale and that's very important when you want to make hay but have no tractor, no baler and no money. I wouldn't be surprised if the song catches on. When I share it with you, you'll see why. Maybe it will become a kind of hay-making anthem. Maybe we'll make an album and get rich and spend all our days lying around on tropical beaches reminiscing about how we used to scythe our orchard and sing funny songs. 3. Making progress Work's underway on our solar power system; one side of the Polytunnel of Love is totally complete and functioning well; and we've decided that Farmer Wan needs a licence to bear arms. Details on all this and more to follow soon(ish). Posted by Farmer Nik I'm indulging myself and having fun while we play The Wellbeing Game (anyone wanting to join Team Muntanui, follow the link and sign up -- it's very cool!). Enjoy! Posted by Farmer Nik
 I'm sure I left them SOMEWHERE around here ... According to the Concise Oxford Dictionary, to wince is to:
"Show bodily or mental pain or distress by slight start or loss of composure; flinch." Here's the Muntanui version: 1. "Farmer Wan's involuntary movement upon realising that the hairy object the dog is holding in his jaws is not a mouse, nor a rat, nor even a squashed baby stoat, but rather our young steer's testicles, detached from their former owner and still sporting their blue elastrator band." 2. "The collective reaction of all males who read this post." Posted by Farmer Nik  I'm purely decorative. You have a problem with that? First, let's take a look at the Concise Oxford definition:
"Briskness; cheerful readiness." Now, here's the Muntanui version: "The state of springing into action upon discovering that your dog has rolled in something absolutely putrid and you have exactly four minutes to give him a bath before those snow clouds charging towards you from the west reach the house." I can't say there was anything particularly "cheerful" about my "readiness" but I did manage to get the job done with 90 seconds to spare. And that was using heated water, to prevent our stinking canine from cowering and shivering and generally being pathetic. A "soft touch". Ah, yes. According the Muntanui Dictionary, that would be me. Posted by Farmer Nik  We're discussing fractals. Go away. Whoever it was, I’d like to take issue with them because our particular, personal ovines are not dumb as stumps, like they're meant to be. They’re smart -- not quite as smart as our dog but streets ahead of our cat (who, admittedly, isn’t that bright and still has to be shown where her food bowl is).
Clever sheep. Just our luck. The full extent of their intellectual prowess was only made clear to us recently when we attempted to separate Spiderbuilder the ram** from his girls. This segregation was designed to spare us the thrills of lambing during July blizzards. The problem was, we don’t have any stockyards. Or working dogs. Or experience. The theory was simple: we’d quietly herd them to a fenceline, walk them around it until we got to the gate and then direct them into a pen fashioned from temporary electric fencing. At this point, the theory got a bit hazy but basically involved Farmer Wan rugby-tackling dear Spiderbuilder to the ground, letting the ewes escape and somehow dragging the ram into the adjoining paddock. The first attempt started well. Aided by our friend Jan, we managed to get the sheep into the temporary pen. Then they panicked and jumped the fence, with the exception of one ewe who managed to get her head stuck through the mesh. We decided to change the set-up: different gate, more secure pen. Three more times, we had those animals penned up. Three more times they escaped. They’re good jumpers, our sheep. They have many talents. They're quite possibly Renaissance Sheep. The weather turned foul and we postponed the exercise until the next day. Reinforcements came in the form of Jan’s husband, Robbie. The game plan was basically the same – no noise, no fuss, just silent and implacable steering along the fence-line to the gate. (Jan has since dubbed this technique “Tantric mustering”.) We should’ve succeeded this time but we hadn’t allowed for one vital factor: the sheep had learned from the day before and weren’t having a bar of it. They were happy to trot along the fence-line but at the first sign of the gate, they’d bolt. And bolt again. Seven times they bolted. Finally, with sheep and humans all stressed and panting, we gave up. The solution: a substantial investment in some portable yarding, due to arrive this coming week. Until then, we have to hope Spiderbuilder exercises some restraint -- doubtful. I can just picture him with his three favourite ewes in the collective afterglow, murmuring with the utmost disdain: “Who said humans were smart?” ** It's a long story. Don't worry about it. Posted by Farmer Nik |
About Ewan and Niki
Farmer WanScottish mechanical engineer with a deep and abiding passion for good food. Outstanding cook. Builder of lots of stuff. Cattle whisperer. Connoisseur of beer. A lover rather than a fighter. 
Farmer NikKiwi writer and broadcaster who hates cabbage, even though she knows it's good for her. Chook wrangler. Grower of food and flowers. Maker of fine preserves. Lover of dancing and wine. Definitely a fighter. Archives
November 2016
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