Wednesday
Oct262005
Learning Curve
Wednesday, October 26, 2005 at 01:54AM
Tuesday, October 18
Wow, what can I tell you about today? Shaving the sheeps bums is actually called 'crutching'. Okay, that's it.
hee hee
This is Timbo crutching, see? the sheep looks like a happy happy sheepy! (these pictures can all be seen bigger in the 'visual logs' section)
Okay, so maybe not. We did sheepy things all day - checked the paddocks for flyblown sheep. Used the three dogs to round up the sheep and drive them in. Every time I blew my nose - hopefully last day-of-the-cold-nose-running - it was BLACK from the dust.
Once the sheep are in they have to shear the fly-blown ones - and you'll thank me without even knowing you should thank me that I didn't take any pictures of them... ick. Then they spray them all with "rid' - a fly killer thingy before driving them all back out to their paddocks again. The good thing is they don't usually lose many of them - it's not really as bad as PETA says it is.
I learned about hay and oats and barley and planting and crop rotation, the best time to shear sheep and wisteria's so old and huge that they'll pull your house down around you.
I watched a sheep with a back leg so badly broken that it dangled and flopped and swung madly about as the poor thing ran home on three legs to it's paddock.
I took a skip when Tim went back out to shoot it.
I can now smell a dead sheep driving through a paddock in the dark and tell you what direction it lies in.
I learned that when you split one of the 8 million types of ecualyptus trunks they smell just like vinegar.
I learned about 'black boys' (the more PC modern term is 'grass plants') and how they only grow one foot every hundred years - think how old this one is...
I learned that the sandwich has a recorded history 28 years LONGER than 'Australia'.
I learned that euclayptus trees with the big fat round leaves suddenly lose their bark, get lighter skins and thin leaves between the time they are 9 and 10 years old. You'd never know they were the same tree.
I learned that this plant.....
Is where 10-80 poison comes from (our rat poison is one of the things it's used in) but that the indigenous species here can eat it and it doesn't harm them. Although one tiny bush - 1/2 the size of the one above - will kill about a 100 sheep (being a non-indigenous species).
I hopped up on this post here on the left and took a climb up a tree, perched quite comfortably and happily watching Tim spray sheep below me when I felt a little nip on my hand and looked down to see an ant biting so hard that his little body was all clenched up with the effort. Scrambling up to give myself a shake, I noticed a little black spider beside me - and that, right there - was the end of my tree-climbing efforts.
Although, to my credit (I think), I refused the days before to let Tim's mom spray for spiders - mainly because, although I agree with you Philly - I just have to get used to them.
I had a wool broker insist on giving me a calculator with his name and address engraved on it so I would always remember Brookton Shire.
Later, with the power out and the boys out bringing the rest of the sheep into the sheds, I searched for candles, lit the fire and answered the phone, "Evans' Farm" to a big long pause before that same broker says, "Is that Jen?"
Which tickled me pink. Even more so when Tim told me later that out in the sheds he'd asked my name three times and then written it on his hand so that pause would have been him flipping his hand over to remember my name.
About 10 pm Tim and I touqued up and headed out to look for some roos. Tim thought we'd see maybe one, but we actually found five.
Picture this.... bouncing around in the truck in the dark, Tim switching gears and driving like a madman, holding the spotlight out the window while I yell "Giv'er Tim!!" and we try and get close enough for a picture.
Not only would that seem an impossibility, you may understand how even more difficult it is when I refuse to do anything but point the camera and press the button - I hate those moments when you're so busy trying to get the picture that you miss the experience.
The last one we saw was about 15 feet in front of the truck when Tim says, "Kay, we're coming up to the fence so he'll hop-hop-jump over it..... wait for it , wait for it....."
The kangaroo decided at the very last second he didn't have enough momentum, turned towards us on my side of the truck, hop-hop and JUMP about five feet from me, framed perfectly in the flash of my camera...
...as I took a picture in the opposite direction.
So, although this is the worst picture EVER of a kangaroo....
oh, good lord, I wish you could see what it looks like in my head.
Wow, what can I tell you about today? Shaving the sheeps bums is actually called 'crutching'. Okay, that's it.
hee hee
This is Timbo crutching, see? the sheep looks like a happy happy sheepy! (these pictures can all be seen bigger in the 'visual logs' section)
Okay, so maybe not. We did sheepy things all day - checked the paddocks for flyblown sheep. Used the three dogs to round up the sheep and drive them in. Every time I blew my nose - hopefully last day-of-the-cold-nose-running - it was BLACK from the dust.
Once the sheep are in they have to shear the fly-blown ones - and you'll thank me without even knowing you should thank me that I didn't take any pictures of them... ick. Then they spray them all with "rid' - a fly killer thingy before driving them all back out to their paddocks again. The good thing is they don't usually lose many of them - it's not really as bad as PETA says it is.
I learned about hay and oats and barley and planting and crop rotation, the best time to shear sheep and wisteria's so old and huge that they'll pull your house down around you.
I watched a sheep with a back leg so badly broken that it dangled and flopped and swung madly about as the poor thing ran home on three legs to it's paddock.
I took a skip when Tim went back out to shoot it.
I can now smell a dead sheep driving through a paddock in the dark and tell you what direction it lies in.
I learned that when you split one of the 8 million types of ecualyptus trunks they smell just like vinegar.
I learned about 'black boys' (the more PC modern term is 'grass plants') and how they only grow one foot every hundred years - think how old this one is...
I learned that the sandwich has a recorded history 28 years LONGER than 'Australia'.
I learned that euclayptus trees with the big fat round leaves suddenly lose their bark, get lighter skins and thin leaves between the time they are 9 and 10 years old. You'd never know they were the same tree.
I learned that this plant.....
Is where 10-80 poison comes from (our rat poison is one of the things it's used in) but that the indigenous species here can eat it and it doesn't harm them. Although one tiny bush - 1/2 the size of the one above - will kill about a 100 sheep (being a non-indigenous species).
I hopped up on this post here on the left and took a climb up a tree, perched quite comfortably and happily watching Tim spray sheep below me when I felt a little nip on my hand and looked down to see an ant biting so hard that his little body was all clenched up with the effort. Scrambling up to give myself a shake, I noticed a little black spider beside me - and that, right there - was the end of my tree-climbing efforts.
Although, to my credit (I think), I refused the days before to let Tim's mom spray for spiders - mainly because, although I agree with you Philly - I just have to get used to them.
I had a wool broker insist on giving me a calculator with his name and address engraved on it so I would always remember Brookton Shire.
Later, with the power out and the boys out bringing the rest of the sheep into the sheds, I searched for candles, lit the fire and answered the phone, "Evans' Farm" to a big long pause before that same broker says, "Is that Jen?"
Which tickled me pink. Even more so when Tim told me later that out in the sheds he'd asked my name three times and then written it on his hand so that pause would have been him flipping his hand over to remember my name.
About 10 pm Tim and I touqued up and headed out to look for some roos. Tim thought we'd see maybe one, but we actually found five.
Picture this.... bouncing around in the truck in the dark, Tim switching gears and driving like a madman, holding the spotlight out the window while I yell "Giv'er Tim!!" and we try and get close enough for a picture.
Not only would that seem an impossibility, you may understand how even more difficult it is when I refuse to do anything but point the camera and press the button - I hate those moments when you're so busy trying to get the picture that you miss the experience.
The last one we saw was about 15 feet in front of the truck when Tim says, "Kay, we're coming up to the fence so he'll hop-hop-jump over it..... wait for it , wait for it....."
The kangaroo decided at the very last second he didn't have enough momentum, turned towards us on my side of the truck, hop-hop and JUMP about five feet from me, framed perfectly in the flash of my camera...
...as I took a picture in the opposite direction.
So, although this is the worst picture EVER of a kangaroo....
oh, good lord, I wish you could see what it looks like in my head.
Reader Comments (1)
You sound like you are having a great time in Oz. Happy travels !