Okay, okay, after much procrastination I guess today is the day I start writing about the goings on of our little farm in Mudgee. Although it isn't the eve of 2008 yet, amongst my resolutions, maybe between the usual 'go to the gym'/'drink less alcohol' will be nestled 'keep a weekly blog so everyone knows we are still alive'. I feel like I am writing a round-robin letter, which is probably why I am starting this today... partly guilt over not getting Christmas cards into the post in time. Anyway on to the bacon. I have decided not to give a 6 month history of what has happened here, but I suppose I should give a quick breakdown of who is doing what:
James: has gone from one extreme to another very well. He is not too confused about Christmas although is still insisting we have a full Christmas meal in 35 degree heat with all the trimmings... Life at the vet clinic wrestling large (?) dogs has changed to wresting very very large pigs. He tackles this with an ability that often means that I am unable to watch as I contemplate life as a single parent. Our first attempt at weaning our piglets is a very good example. At the time we were very impressed with our sows ability to mix with each other and cross feed piglets and allowed them to all form a bit of an NCT class in the maternity wing where they drank coffee and discussed who got the best night's sleep etc. Weaning, we thought, would simply be a matter of driving out the mums and piglets and lifting the littler ones over the fence. We all know that pigs are intelligent - they are also quite stubborn - our girls decided that they were very happy in their corner of the world thanks very much and despite much pushing/pleading/cajolling/swearing refused to budge. Not to be defeated, James decided to take matters into his own hands and had received a handy tip from a local pig farmer who told him that if you pick a piglet up by the leg it won't squeal. This seems to work to a point - plus when they weigh about 20 kilos, as ours did because we weaned them a little late, it takes two legs. This meant that James had to grab them and run as fast as he could from one end of the paddock to another in order to get them over the fence into the weaner paddock. This is no mean feat considering that he was chased by all the sows that were in the field who don't care who squeals, they assume it is one of theirs and come out guns blazing. He did it 13 times, by which time I needed a shot of gin and had to watch from a distance, and he needed 5 litres of water. Apart from that he has been kept himself busy building fences, sow huts, pig-arks, ploughing, planting crops, fixing tractors, chasing chickens and castrating our goat. As well as vaccinating horses and working for both local practices when they need him....
Felix: after spending too much time saying 'when is this holiday over so we can go back to London' and flatly refusing to go to pre-school unless his old teacher Liz was there, Felix seems to have settled in pretty well. I underestimated what makes him feel most secure and at home when I made the decision not to bring over his bedroom furniture, thinking that he could have some new stuff which would be very exciting for his new room. After we had been here a month I asked how he was enjoying Mudgee, to which he replied "Its okay, but when are we going back to London"..yet again. I asked him why he didn't like it at our new house and he said "I do like it Mummy, but I just miss my bed". I brought out his toddler duvet and pillow (very tiny) and had them on his bed for another month and it seems to have done the trick. He has also made friends and started cricket and swimming too. He still keeps his English accent, much to his friends delight (who think he sounds like Peppa pig??).
Emi: what can I say about Emily, when she is not naked with her gumboots on and running around the garden with unbrushed hair because I can't bear the tantrums she is a delight - even when she is she is still very entertaining. She is very opinionated and asks lots of questions and after finally giving up on asking when our chicken was going to 'turn into' an egg, has taken on the post of egg collector. This terrifies me as she often disappears off and doesn't tell me and I am awaiting my first snake in the hen house. She is also doing swimming and spends a lot of time refusing to do what the teacher asks and demanding that she stands closer in order that Emily can keep a vice like grip around her neck...I got her some floaties for Christmas.
Me: well, not working has been an interesting change. Juggling the animals and the children has been mostly good (rarely but sometimes unbearable of course) and despite my long history of killing all things green and growing (even the cactus on our kitchen window sill) have managed not to kill the vegetable garden (with an awful lot of help from our trusty campers up the back)and have somehow got to grips with mowing a lawn (for the first time in my life...yes really I am that hopeless). I spend a lot of time swearing at the chickens whilst trying to chase them in for the night and despite the fact that I thought I might have a year off from the animal behaviour malarkey, I can't help myself when it comes to the pigs.. unlike James I am simply a) unable and b) too scared to challenge the pigs physically. Actually mostly I am just a terrible wimp around them, however I am enjoying outwitting them when it comes to moving them and happily, I seem to be more stubborn. I like to think of it as the 'rubbish city girl turns farmer' option of animal management. I have named all the pigs and know them pretty well and feel I may get a bit of a fanatical glint in my eye when I start banging on about sow stalls and pig management. So far I haven't started wearing overalls...
As I type this I have Coco asleep at my feet and new member to the family "Woody" (named after Sherrif Woody from Toy Story by the kids) screaming blue murder in his puppy crate about how rubbish this family is compared to being with his Mum. He joined us today as hopefully our working dog - I say hopefully as genetically he has the credentials but it remains to be seen as to whether we can actually convince him how to do what we want him to.. I'm reading up on it so hopefully that will be enough.
Our pigs (just so you can keep up in future posts) consist of the Berkshire girls: Andrea, Beverly, Gloria, Rosie and Lillian and the Whities (also called the Royle Family for their disgusting behavior and unsanitary personal hygiene): Lucy, Harriet and Debra. We also have a boar called Maguire and about 45 piglets but I am losing count. Together with Dora (the Explorer) the goat, her 2 kids Flora and Bam, our 4 geese, 9 ducks, 12 chickens and 2 cats its like, well, a farm.
That is the story so far - I'll put up some pictures so you can see what it has entailed. We are off to deparasite the 9 weedy piglets we got on the cheap yesterday.. Will leave with the thought that it is 6 sleeps till Christmas as I am reminded by the advent calendars the kids bring into me at the crack of dawn each day and Felix has been reassured that despite the fact there is no snow here, Santa's sleigh has wheels that work if all else fails.
James: has gone from one extreme to another very well. He is not too confused about Christmas although is still insisting we have a full Christmas meal in 35 degree heat with all the trimmings... Life at the vet clinic wrestling large (?) dogs has changed to wresting very very large pigs. He tackles this with an ability that often means that I am unable to watch as I contemplate life as a single parent. Our first attempt at weaning our piglets is a very good example. At the time we were very impressed with our sows ability to mix with each other and cross feed piglets and allowed them to all form a bit of an NCT class in the maternity wing where they drank coffee and discussed who got the best night's sleep etc. Weaning, we thought, would simply be a matter of driving out the mums and piglets and lifting the littler ones over the fence. We all know that pigs are intelligent - they are also quite stubborn - our girls decided that they were very happy in their corner of the world thanks very much and despite much pushing/pleading/cajolling/swearing refused to budge. Not to be defeated, James decided to take matters into his own hands and had received a handy tip from a local pig farmer who told him that if you pick a piglet up by the leg it won't squeal. This seems to work to a point - plus when they weigh about 20 kilos, as ours did because we weaned them a little late, it takes two legs. This meant that James had to grab them and run as fast as he could from one end of the paddock to another in order to get them over the fence into the weaner paddock. This is no mean feat considering that he was chased by all the sows that were in the field who don't care who squeals, they assume it is one of theirs and come out guns blazing. He did it 13 times, by which time I needed a shot of gin and had to watch from a distance, and he needed 5 litres of water. Apart from that he has been kept himself busy building fences, sow huts, pig-arks, ploughing, planting crops, fixing tractors, chasing chickens and castrating our goat. As well as vaccinating horses and working for both local practices when they need him....
Felix: after spending too much time saying 'when is this holiday over so we can go back to London' and flatly refusing to go to pre-school unless his old teacher Liz was there, Felix seems to have settled in pretty well. I underestimated what makes him feel most secure and at home when I made the decision not to bring over his bedroom furniture, thinking that he could have some new stuff which would be very exciting for his new room. After we had been here a month I asked how he was enjoying Mudgee, to which he replied "Its okay, but when are we going back to London"..yet again. I asked him why he didn't like it at our new house and he said "I do like it Mummy, but I just miss my bed". I brought out his toddler duvet and pillow (very tiny) and had them on his bed for another month and it seems to have done the trick. He has also made friends and started cricket and swimming too. He still keeps his English accent, much to his friends delight (who think he sounds like Peppa pig??).
Emi: what can I say about Emily, when she is not naked with her gumboots on and running around the garden with unbrushed hair because I can't bear the tantrums she is a delight - even when she is she is still very entertaining. She is very opinionated and asks lots of questions and after finally giving up on asking when our chicken was going to 'turn into' an egg, has taken on the post of egg collector. This terrifies me as she often disappears off and doesn't tell me and I am awaiting my first snake in the hen house. She is also doing swimming and spends a lot of time refusing to do what the teacher asks and demanding that she stands closer in order that Emily can keep a vice like grip around her neck...I got her some floaties for Christmas.
Me: well, not working has been an interesting change. Juggling the animals and the children has been mostly good (rarely but sometimes unbearable of course) and despite my long history of killing all things green and growing (even the cactus on our kitchen window sill) have managed not to kill the vegetable garden (with an awful lot of help from our trusty campers up the back)and have somehow got to grips with mowing a lawn (for the first time in my life...yes really I am that hopeless). I spend a lot of time swearing at the chickens whilst trying to chase them in for the night and despite the fact that I thought I might have a year off from the animal behaviour malarkey, I can't help myself when it comes to the pigs.. unlike James I am simply a) unable and b) too scared to challenge the pigs physically. Actually mostly I am just a terrible wimp around them, however I am enjoying outwitting them when it comes to moving them and happily, I seem to be more stubborn. I like to think of it as the 'rubbish city girl turns farmer' option of animal management. I have named all the pigs and know them pretty well and feel I may get a bit of a fanatical glint in my eye when I start banging on about sow stalls and pig management. So far I haven't started wearing overalls...
As I type this I have Coco asleep at my feet and new member to the family "Woody" (named after Sherrif Woody from Toy Story by the kids) screaming blue murder in his puppy crate about how rubbish this family is compared to being with his Mum. He joined us today as hopefully our working dog - I say hopefully as genetically he has the credentials but it remains to be seen as to whether we can actually convince him how to do what we want him to.. I'm reading up on it so hopefully that will be enough.
Our pigs (just so you can keep up in future posts) consist of the Berkshire girls: Andrea, Beverly, Gloria, Rosie and Lillian and the Whities (also called the Royle Family for their disgusting behavior and unsanitary personal hygiene): Lucy, Harriet and Debra. We also have a boar called Maguire and about 45 piglets but I am losing count. Together with Dora (the Explorer) the goat, her 2 kids Flora and Bam, our 4 geese, 9 ducks, 12 chickens and 2 cats its like, well, a farm.
That is the story so far - I'll put up some pictures so you can see what it has entailed. We are off to deparasite the 9 weedy piglets we got on the cheap yesterday.. Will leave with the thought that it is 6 sleeps till Christmas as I am reminded by the advent calendars the kids bring into me at the crack of dawn each day and Felix has been reassured that despite the fact there is no snow here, Santa's sleigh has wheels that work if all else fails.