2017 || A Year In Review - video

Good bye 2017. You brought further struggles and sad times and general crappiness. Let's see if 2018 can outdo you, as every year seems to bring a new level of difficulty.

And We All Fall Down

**written 18/11**

My diary doesn't go back any further than five years. After 2011, I had to start a new one or risk being triggered every time I opened it. But looking at my memories on this day over the past five years, things haven't improved much at all.

Five years ago, we had finally got out of a very triggering area after spending several weeks there due to a lack of money. My dad applied for a job without discussing it with us first. It ended up not working out.

Four years ago, a friend told me I couldn't bring Sparkie to their house (she had just started her assistance dog training) because the landlord wouldn't allow it. After all those times turning down the requests to visit, because of anxiety, in the end the one thing that made it possible for me to do it was also the thing that made it impossible. I was never invited again. And on this day exactly, we tried to help someone save their dogs and were told to stop, that it didn't matter, and that they had "made peace with" the subsequent death of their two young puppies, that could have been prevented if they had just accepted our help. We were also searching for a job and two potential places had just fallen through.

Three years ago, we were waiting for things to sort out between our new boss and his previous workers. The police got involved, while we stayed at a camp in the bus half an hour away. It was a crazy stressful time.

Two years ago, we had tickets to another country, that we canceled a few days later. I was still reeling from walking a five day old Jersey bull calf out to the calf truck over a month before. I don't know where he ended up. Honestly, nowhere good. I begged and bargained for his life for those five days but nobody would listen. And he trusted me and I felt like I betrayed him.

A year ago, I was struggling with a boss who overworked and underpaid me, treated us all like incompetent children, on a property where anyone was allowed to come and go as they pleased without letting us know what was going on. Vehicles would come in at all hours, we'd have cattle on our lawn, he'd put cows and newborn calves in with our calves without asking (making feeding our calves dangerous because the mothers could be protective of their babies), several times he shifted our calves into a different paddock without permission.

Today, I am exhausted in all the ways. Tired of fighting, tired of being depressed, tired from being depressed, tired of getting my hopes up only for everything to fall through. We're trying. But nothing is working out. I just want all this to be over.

Raw Truth

I am done with hiding and down-playing things and posting half-truths. This is honesty. This is reality. Just when I think things are good, something happens and I start thinking, again, that maybe things never will be good. 

How is it that out of all the potential dairy farms we could work on, we keep ending up with one where the boss either:
A. neglects/abuses their animals,
B. constantly is rude and demeaning towards us,
and/or C. massively overworks/underpays us past what is legal?

I'm trying, I really am, to keep the thoughts in mind that dairy farming isn't a cruel industry. But it's hard. I'm standing in a world where cruelty runs rampant, neglect is common-place, and most attempts to prevent any of it is brushed off. "Nah it's fine, we always do this and there's never been a problem before." It'll be fine. She'll be fine. Don't worry about it. Where is the kindness? The compassion? Is there even any shred of decency in these people?

It's not about "animal rights" or being an animal activist or whatever negative terminology you try to slap on this to make me out as being unreasonable. This is about what is right and wrong, the line between humane and inhumane, our duty to the animals in our care to actually care for them.

I am angry but more than that I am tired. I'm having more and more often the thoughts that I want to just leave here and give up this whole stupid idea that maybe dairy farming can be good and kind and that farmers actually care about their cows. Because I've seen time and time again that so many of them don't, and somehow we keep getting stuck with those people. What is the point? It's hard. Seeing suffering and being unable to help because people do not listen and they do not care.

It's a sad day when you realize that you love cows too much to be a dairy farmer.

I'm sorry, cows. I'm sorry that people don't see you as living, feeling creatures. I'm sorry people don't see your worth as anything beyond how much milk you produce. You deserve better. And I'm sorry I can't give you better. 

For Now

Okay to start off, the best good news: we passed the trial period for this job and the boss is going to make up a more permanent contract! It's been a stressful, hectic, exhausting few months since we started - getting home late from shopping in town on a "day off" and still having to feed and medicate the sick calves, freezing nights out in the paddock trying to save a sick cow in ankle deep water while the dew turned to frost around us, getting to work at 7am to find all thirty calves in the shed have come down sick overnight, long days, too many late nights. But I guess through all the mistakes and struggles, we actually did a good job because we didn't get fired.

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And now, the weather. At the end of July we were commenting on how little rain we'd had this winter. But August brought all the usual wintery weather we hadn't had for the first two months of the season. Rain, sleet, hail, destructive winds, frosts, etc. We only had ten days the whole month without any rain, and this month so far only three days without rain.

June: 12mm, 16 days of rain.

July: 48mm, 22 days of rain.

August: 71mm, 21 days of rain.

And so far for September: 55mm, 15 days of rain.

Most of the paddocks are now covered in ankle deep water, with some areas more than knee deep. Parts of those paddocks are inaccessible by motorbike and by foot. That's when a good dog comes in handy, they don't mind going for a swim even though it's often less than 10*C. Unfortunately Sparkie doesn't quite have the drive to take on a stubborn cow anymore and Skuggi's not trained enough to take over yet.

After weaning the oldest group of calves and moving them down the road to better grass, we were able to shift the second group to higher ground. The boss has been saying for weeks now how bad he felt about the state of the paddock they were in, since it's low lying and slowly turning into a swamp. But with only three paddocks on the property suitable for young calves and all of them in use, we had to wait until weaning day before we could shift them to a better place.

Looking at the forecast though things may be drying out soon, with temperatures this week expected to sit between 18-20*C with minimal rain for the most part.

And here is a video of our life on this new farm.

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Logan and his friends are now 15 and 17 months old, so they're getting their training gear setup for ground driving this week, ahead of being able to ride them next year. More videos and photos to come as their training progresses!

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Skuggi is also getting his adult working gear soon, his training is going so well and I think he's finally maturing. He's so confident now. With Sparkie showing signs of arthritis this winter and reluctant to work some days, Skuggi's been doing most of the outings. Once he turns two in December, he'll get to use a better harness, for guide work.

The Little Ones

Calving season ended a few weeks ago, with the last two heifers deciding to give birth on the same bitterly cold night. The brown heifer's calf was a big strong bull, who somehow slipped through the fence overnight and we found him in the next paddock, lost and hungry but still feisty. Unfortunately the other heifer had to have some vet assistance with hers the following morning, and her beautiful heifer calf was stillborn. I'm thankful that the poor mother did not show any sign of concern for her baby though. She was quite content to walk back to the paddock with the brown heifer and leave her dead calf. It breaks my heart when they are upset about it.

The last of the babies went out to the paddock last week, the same day that we had a surprise birth in the milking herd. A very sweet, gentle Jersey heifer calf. Her mother didn't care for her at all and left her behind in the paddock. We put the little one in the shed and fed her the important colostrum we took from her mother. She now has a friend in the pen with her, an older "brownie heifer" who's come back for treatment of mild scours. 

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We had last weekend off, and Skuggi got to come with me to the mall for some training. He did so well! Yesterday we finally braved Woolworths as well which he also did amazing with. I'm so excited about working with him and seeing what adventures we have in the future.

For All Of The Innocent Things

There's a lot to catch up on. Since we moved here, it's been absolutely hectic. It's been 80% hard work, 15% sad moments, and 5% things turning out right. 

The night we moved out here, we found a possum had fallen through a vent in the ceiling and was now living in the kitchen. He'd made quite a mess in the house but wasn't all that keen on coming outside again. I'm not sure how long he'd been in there. But we got him to come out the door eventually.

We had to get someone else to transport our calves in a stock truck, because our vehicles just aren't strong enough to tow a trailer big enough for them (aside from the bus, but it has no towbar). The calves all did surprisingly good and have settled into their new home nicely.

I was given the job of calf rearer, and I'm rearing 104 calves. We weren't told until we accepted the job that they had an outbreak of "Cryptosporidiosis," a parasitical infection that causes diarrhea in calves, resistant to the usual treatment. All that can be done is get a good amount of colostrum into them as soon as possible, and try to keep them hydrated while it runs its course. We lost one little brown heifer in the second week. She was never quite right, from the day she came into the shed, and although for a little while it looked like she'd pull through, she went downhill again so fast.

We lost some cows too. Late nights trying everything to keep them alive, but sometimes they just lie down and give up. They were old and they were tired.

We came out late one night to check the pregnant cows and found one that had a baby already on the ground and another being born. Twin calves are incredibly rare, so it was amazing to see. Both babies were big and strong, and they got named "Barf" and "Belch" after the two-headed dragon in How To Train Your Dragon.

We've only got 19 calves left in the shed now. Everyone else is strong enough to go into the paddocks. There's only three cows left to calve, and none of their babies we'll be rearing. It's hard saying goodbye to those little ones, most whose only fault is they were born too late in the season. 

I've got my special babies, the little ones I find myself getting attached to more than the others. Nim, a Friesian calf with an underbite, and Bexa, a tiny Jersey who acts dramatically offended at being "booped" on the nose. They've learned to accept love from humans, learned how to play with me, losing that fear they all had when we first arrived.

This is dairy farming. This is calving season. You lose calves, you lose cows. You can fight with everything you have and still not win. But in some moments of rare calm, watching the little calves bouncing around their pens, the ones who I thought we'd lose, it doesn't seem so hard.

Some Hope

I made it. After nearly another month of applying for jobs only to be rudely turned down ("I won't employ someone with more than two dogs, you should have put that on your resume and then I never would have even considered interviewing you" and people swearing when they were told how many children are in the family), we finally got a new job just 45 minutes away. By the end of next week we will hopefully be out of this place.

It was hard saying goodbye to my favourite cows last weekend, when I did my last milking here. Although I'm relieved to be getting away the people, the cows were good to me. I will miss them.

We'll be dropped right in the middle of calving season, as usual.  I am anticipating a struggle. I am expecting difficulty, and frustration, and probably depression. But I'm hoping that things will smooth out after the first month or so. 

The paddock we've been allocated for our pet calves is much better than their current one. Mainly because it actually has trees for shade and shelter from bad weather. Transporting them there will be a bit of an adventure. Aside from Spartan's 30 minute ride here when he was three months old, none have them have ever been trailered. The three younger ones actually rode in the boot of our car because they were so tiny. So hopefully they behave themselves for the journey. 

We had surprisingly good weather this week. The rain held off and the sun came out. It was almost warm. But the forecast is for more rain and a temperature drop, of course, because it is winter.