I’ve been trying to stay more positive since my last post. It was a difficult time, but I struggled on and things got better. We did not lose any more cows. We got solid days off to go shopping. The rest of the Jersey springer cows had girl calves.
On the afternoon of Friday the 13th, I was out bringing in the cows for milking when I noticed a bunch of them stopping and grouping together. When I got closer all but one moved off. She was a Jersey and clearly unhappy about something, sending death glares at Sparkie as my little dog went up to move her on. When the cow dropped her head to sniff something in the grass, that’s when I realized what was happening. She had a calf. A beautiful Jersey calf. Just my luck it turned out to be a beautiful Jersey bull calf. Just when I thought it was over. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Calving season is over and the milking herd doesn’t just drop calves between milkings. I tried not to get attached to him, knowing he wouldn’t be around long, but from the moment I saw him lying in the grass at his mother’s feet, I loved him. So I named him Brucey and nobody held back giving him the love he deserved, until Tom took him away when he was eleven days old. He was adorable and innocent and I wish I could have saved him somehow. But it wasn’t to be.
The Friesian bull calves have all been sent to their new home (being raised on another farm by a family, who take good care of them). The heifers are all out in the paddock. The calf shed is empty and in the process of being cleaned out in preparation for the next calving season, beginning in March next year.
The supposed “final” calf of the season was born on October 31. She was the tiniest, most nervous little calf we’ve had. Attempting to catch her in the paddock was a fail – she got loose from Daddy and climbed through a fence; she was only one day old. The first time I got in the pen with her she tried to kick me. She was spooked by everything and terrified of people. It took a long time to gain her trust but we succeeded. She is gentle and affectionate but with a mischievous side, and I realize now that everything I ever thought about cows was wrong. The more time I spend with her, and with our friendly young cow “Tip,” or with the laidback milking cow “One-Fifty,” or just observing interactions in the herd, the more I notice just how smart they are. They have personalities, likes and dislikes beyond just searching out food. They are smart and kind and care about other cows. When a cow falls down in the bale, the cows coming up behind her aren’t just blindly stepping on her in a hurry to the grain like I used to think they were. No, they’re actually being pushed forward by the cows behind them, who can’t see the cow on the ground. When a new calf is born and every cow wants to stop and sniff it all over, they’re not just idiots who’ve forgotten what a calf is. Don’t humans want to have a look at a friend’s new baby, no matter how many others they’ve seen before? Cows are not dumb, none of them, and they do not deserve that stereotype.
We now have four calves that can walk on a lead, have their feet picked up, and stand still for brushing, and mostly come when called in the paddock – pictured below with their handler/trainer, from left to right; four week old Alianovna, five week old Pepper, six week old Jane, and nearly seven week old Karen. These girls are going to be the quietest cows in the milking shed in a couple of years! I only wish we had time to train them all.
This isn’t the cheerful update I had hoped to give you all. No, instead I’m feeling down about everything, and the tone of this post reflects that. But it’s been long enough since my last post so I figured I should go ahead anyway. My mood isn’t about to get any better. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for somewhat graphic descriptions of cows dying.
We started work 32 days ago. The first week was hellish – struggling to find our footing on a new farm, no outside help, just us running the whole place. Our second night on the farm four of us were out in the paddock until nearly 11pm, some of us having been up since dawn. It was muddy, and the cow sunk down so far during calving that she couldn’t sit up again, slowly suffocating. We shoved hay bales under her shoulder to prop her up, gumboots sliding in the swamp, Chantel nearly tripping in the ankle deep hoof-prints from cows walking through earlier. I was shivering despite wearing two jackets. My ears ached from the icy air, having forgotten my beanie in the rush to get out and save the cow. I lost feeling in my nose and fingers. Eventually we were able to bring the tractor in, cautiously navigating the marsh, and haul the cow to her feet again. The calf was already dead, and the cow died unexpectedly about a week or so later.
It was on our ninth day that we realised this wasn’t going to work. Milking that afternoon took a long time, and it felt like everything had gone wrong. We have a metal bar in the cowshed, that we slide across the bale behind the last cow if there’s not enough of them left to fill the bale up to the gate. It's a six foot long bar, about two inches round, strong enough that it can stand having a 900kg cow slam into it without bending. Unfortunately it’s usually the jumpiest cows that are in the last half-row – new mothers, inherently skittish cows, the “damaged” cows with a missing eye or side of a foot. And this one cow got her legs hooked around it and somehow sent it flying up over the rail and smashing down into the pit, sliding several feet before stopping. Luckily nobody was in its path. Daddy was on the phone to Tom that night, telling him we couldn't keep going like this. Tom gave us two other workers after that, who do some of the milkings. But the workload is still heavy.
We lost a cow on day eleven. She’d been sick for several days and finally went down, stuck over on her side and by the time we got to her all the fight was gone. We tried anyway, our breaths fogging in the lights from the tractor, trying to sit her up enough to get hay bales under her shoulder like we did with the other one. She wouldn’t cooperate, her eyes already sinking into her skull, breaths loud and too far apart. Right as we tried to put the hip clamps on her to stand her up she stopped breathing. There was a moment of tense silence, and then the cow thrashed against the hay, head tilted back, eyes blank. There was nothing peaceful about her death. I walked away feeling horrified.
We lost two calves, one on day nine and another on day fourteen. Both breech, and although we pulled them out as fast as we could, provided them with fresh colostrum and attempted to clean out their lungs, they didn’t survive their first nights.
And despite determinedly watching the springers through all weather, we still missed the signs and lost two calves over two nights around day eighteen.
It’s terribly depressing. Sometimes I wonder why we try at all.
Do you know what veal is? Of course you do. So, a better question, do you know who it comes from? It comes from innocent babies like “Golden Calf,” whose only crime was that he was a bull. For five days I fed him fresh milk from a bottle, played chasey with him around his pen, found all the spots he liked to be scratched and he learned to trust me. And you know what I did on the sixth day? I led this poor, innocent creature to the trailer that was waiting to take him to his death. He had no idea. He followed me out of his pen, wet nose bumping my hand eagerly, completely trusting me. There’s no place for bull calves on a dairy farm. And apparently there’s no place for hearts either.
Sparkie’s been amazing through all of this. Some days I think she’s the only thing keeping me sane, through the sleepless nights and exhaustingly long days. Yesterday, when I came home after saying goodbye to Golden Calf, Sparkie wouldn’t leave my side. I was a mess, and she knew it. So she stuck with me until my head cleared and I stopped thinking about what a horrible human being I was.
We no longer get a full day off, ever. The bus hasn’t been off the farm since we arrived here, because Daddy’s been too busy to go out. Even though we get a couple of milkings off a week, there’s still calves to feed, fences to repair, springers to watch. Struggling on with no end in sight is getting old fast.
The combination of physical exertion and mental distress is taking a toll on me. My body feels overworked. I pulled a muscle in my back the first week - or maybe it was the second, I can’t remember - running around in the dark without a torch, trying to round up a loose cow, and my foot dropped down one of those hoof-prints. The mud had dried, but the holes remain. My back healed, and then it was my left knee that started acting up for no reason at all. My right wrist protests being jolted by the ruts while I’m driving the motorbike. I keep struggling on, of course. There’s nobody to cover for me if I wanted to take time off anyway.
Right before we left our job as caretaker of the Goomeri Showground, after nearly eight weeks, we got a call from Tom, our former boss from Victoria. The guy who came in after we left was making a mess of the place and Tom was wondering if we’d be keen on coming back. Tom had sold the farm we worked on previously, and sent the guy to Tom’s son’s farm, because Tom’s son is now working on the third farm, where we stayed before and after our work at the main farm. Apparently this guy’s got a mind of his own and won’t listen to Tom anymore, and his girlfriend has no clue what she’s doing around stock, so the place is getting out of control. Just like last time. With no other plans, we said yes.
Eleven long days and two thousand stressful kilometres later, the journey is over. The grass is green here. We’ve had 20-25*C for the past three days, since we arrived, but it’s dropping down to 14 the day we start work.
We start work on Tuesday. They’re Friesian cows, not the brown Jerseys like the last farm. There’s 40-50 cows left to calve, and about 290 cows in total. I know Sparkie will be super excited to start work again. Although she may need a warm coat for getting the cows in at 5am, when it’s below freezing. My poor dog is sensitive to the cold.
I think I’ve mentioned before how difficult it is to stay in one place for a long time. Seven weeks is too long. The dogs have been appreciating the routines we’ve gotten into while staying at the same camp for so long, especially the team walks at 5pm every evening. Although, it took us a few weeks to discover a route where we avoided the town’s loose aggressive dogs. We’ve been able to give the dogs several games of fetch or free-time in the field every day, but I’m getting frustrated with how dry everything is out here now. The dust gets everywhere. We haven’t seen good rain for months.
Today, we had a severe storm warning out. We even had a storm-chasing group pass through our town earlier, on a storm chase. But, nope, no storms today. Just unrelenting humidity and hot enough that it feels like winter is nearly over for another year. I guess it is, really.
We spent five days last week sorting through our storage shed – five years worth of stuff, layered by year. Right at the back was stuff we hadn’t seen since the end of 2010, when we first put it back there. We ended up taking three loads of stuff to the secondhand shop, and four loads to the dump. It was intense work, stirring up more dust, and memories. As always I’m thankful I had my beautiful dog to keep me company when I eventually had to just walk away from it all for a while.
(Photos are of the clean-out in progress – I forgot to get any at the end of day five, my poor brain was done!)
Meanwhile, I’ve been working on Sparkie’s fitness, and building up some muscle. She’s nearly seven now but aside from the greying around her muzzle, nobody can tell. I’ve seen too many fat old dogs, and I don’t want that to happen to Sparkie. She appreciates the extra exercise, too.
Since the highpoint of the ABHL convention, things haven’t been easy. We’ve applied for a bunch of jobs, but never got any replies.
Our generator broke down at the beginning of June. We survived the next month on solar power, but with the constant bad weather there was barely enough sun to keep the batteries charged.
On the occasional sunny day, we were able to stop in at a beach. After being inland for so long it was beautiful. The beach is my favourite place, and I think Sparkie’s too.
We didn’t get any snow last week, but the temperature last night was –0.2*C at 11pm. I’m thankful we have power to run our heater this week.
It was amazing. We arrived at Central Station at 1pm. The crowd getting off the train was huge. Mummy and Jessica got split up from me, so I just grabbed Sparkie's harness and said, "get me out of here." Brilliant little dog pulled me through the people, down the stairs, and off to the side, where we met up with the others again. Then we got totally lost trying to find a toilet, couldn't find the exit, found a map that we couldn't even READ... Ended up having to walk all the way to the Y and checking in before we got to a toilet. The Supernatural finale was awesome. Our room was beautiful, but right next to a busy intersection so there was tooting and yelling and sirens all night. I got maybe five hours sleep.
I heard my alarm go off at 6:30 and thought, just a little more sleep... I woke with a start at 7:15 and panicked. Turns out the convention was delayed a bit because flights were late and one of the guests requested the times be pushed back so he could get more sleep. Fair enough. But we didn't find that out until later. So we quickly walked to the Mercure, grabbed coffee from Michel's outside and gave Sparkie her breakfast. The maxi taxi a fellow fan booked to pick us up never showed, so we took a couple that were waiting outside. Sparkie was great, just tucked in by my feet in the front seat and the taxi driver had no issues with her at all. The lines outside the convention were massive. Luckily we had arrived early enough that we ended up pretty close to the start, and they issued our tickets and we got our tokens. I had Sparkie attached to my belt so my hands were free to get my tokens. There was a lot of waiting around. I took off Sparkie's harness and let some people pat her. Sparkie was a bit of goofball, playing with a stick and digging holes in the garden. Then the doors opened for day ticket holders, so I harnessed her up again and we went in. Our seat had a pretty good view.
When our row was called for photos with Jensen Ackles I was shaking. And I kept shaking the whole time I was standing in line. Then I heard a deep voice saying "hi," and I'm just thinking "is that Jensen????!!!!" I come around the corner and he's right there. There's a guy standing to my left as I approach, and he takes my token and guides me closer. There's red tape on the floor. My legs are shaking. Somehow I remembered to swap Sparkie over to my right side, so she won't get between Jensen and me. And then suddenly it's my turn and the guy is trying to move me forward again. Jensen turns to me and he's smiling and saying hi. I think I said hi. I meant to. I reach out my left arm so he can give me a one armed hug, because as much as I really want a full one my right hand isn't free to give it. So he pulls me close and all my focus is on the camera, because this is my one shot to get it right. The flash goes off. The photographer waves me on. I let go of Jensen. And then Jensen spots Sparkie and leans down. "Who's this?" he asks, in his deep voice, and starts patting her. "Sparkie," I say, and I'm so surprised by how confident I sound. Sparkie's wagging her tail and she licks him, freakin' KISSES Jensen Ackles on the hand, and he straightens up and says "aww, I miss my dogs." I'm grinning like an idiot, I know. But my anxiety is gone. For the first time all day, I'm relaxed. I walk off, and say to Mummy and Jessica who are waiting on the other side, "Sparkie kissed him, and he misses his dogs!!" I was so happy, I couldn't so grinning for ages. When we got back to our seats, I texted the story to Chantel and then posted on FB. There was more waiting.
I was the only one in my group getting photo with Osric Chau, but there was still ZERO anxiety so I told them they could just wait for me and I'd be fine. And I was. No shaking, no nausea, no sweating and panicking. Osric was short compared to Jensen and I seriously cannot believe he's ten years older than me. He's like a big kid and it was wonderful! As I got into position for another side hug, Sparkie swivelled around and sat in front of Osric. "Ready, set..." said the photoraphy, and the flash went off. Osric laughed excitedly, like he was surprised by Sparkie's behaviour, and to be honest so was I. The photography waved me on so I let go and tried to move off, but Osric kept his arm around me while he asked "Is the dog in the photo? Did you get the dog in the photo?" until he was sure Sparkie was in it. And she was, and it's the cutest photo ever. Thumbs up to the photographer for that.
After that there was another long wait, in which we saw a couple of episodes on the big screen. Also we saw the Supernatural parody by the Hillywood Show, which some people sung along too, and I saw some get up to dance. Then a lunch break. We'd left our water bottle at the Mercure that morning. Big thanks to the people who shared their delicious apple pie and coke with us! The first panel was Osric and Tim Omundson's. It was hilarious. Most of the panel time was taken up by Tim singing a lullaby to Osric, who was curled up on his knee. Best thing ever!! Richard Speight Jr and Matt Cohen walked all over, barely ever on the stage. I'm still laughing about "oh, that Pared." Mark Sheppard's panel was a bit disappointing. I think he only really answered one question, and the rest of the time he was yelling "what a STUPID question!" and just being really rude to the fans. He made a little baby cry too by yelling in its face. Not cool. >:( He did give a nice speech about how important the fans are to the show, and at one point joked that he was going to be on Pengu (?) and did a really funny penguin walk.
Jensen's panel was the highlight though. Absolutely brilliant. All his answers were long and thoughtful. He talked about not liking fake blood because it was sticky, and acted out Jared Padalecki walking in for his scene in the season 9 finale, saying "Oh wow, that's a lot of fake blood," and then leaving Jensen lying on the dirty floor for 20 minutes while he went to the bathroom. Someone asked about season 11, and Jensen asked who had seen the finale. Half the room said they had, the other half hadn't. Everyone was yelling. "I don't know what you're saying!" Jensen yelled back, and everyone laughed, "Do you want me to stop talking?" We all yelled no. "Should I keep talking?" YES!! He kept details about the finale as vague as possible, out of respect for those who hadn't seen it I guess. A fan thanked him for his part in the AKF campaign, and said she was not ashamed to say that it had saved her life. When Jensen was told we were up to the last question, he teased us about getting pizza and pie and staying for longer. I think the last question was "what life lessons have you learned from Supernatural?" and Jensen pulled up the chair and sat down and said, "I'm glad you asked that." And then he stood up again and said he couldn't sit down. He drew out the answer for a long time, saying he'd learned keep fighting, don't give up, etc. It was beautiful. When he stopped talking, everyone clapped and cheered and I saw I couple of people in the front rows stand up. And then Mummy stood up and so did Jessica and me and so did everybody. Jensen got a standing ovation. As the noise started to die down he pulled out his phone and said he wanted to video it for Jared. The cheering reached a new level. :D
Throughout the day people kept coming up to me to say hi, that they recognized me, that my dog was so cute and well-behaved, and half the time I had no clue who they were! Haha! I kind of felt like a celebrity or something. We picked up our photos, and they are wonderful. Somehow standing next to Jensen makes everyone seem so beautiful. Jessica described it as Jensen has this "bubble" of beautiful around him, and when you step into it to hug him you look beautiful too. :D We caught a taxi to the karaoke venue with another fan. There was an amazing Charlie cosplayer we sat near while we were waiting in the foyer. She even had the hairstyle right! Karaoke was so loud and Sparkie didn't enjoy it much, but she stuck it out with me and we were able to join the crowd at the end to sing Wayward Son. Best feeling ever. We were exhausted by the time we got back to our hotel though. I dropped into bed at 12:30am and slept for eight hours. It was a wonderful experience and something I definitely want to do again. Bring on next year!
Also, the whole weekend, NOBODY ASKED TO SEE SPARKIE'S ID - not the hotel staff at the Y or the Mercure, not the taxi drivers, not the convention staff. Thank you, Sydney, for making me feel welcome!!
