Eleven

It's hard to believe it's been three months today since the morning my mum walked into my bedroom and said we'd been given two weeks notice. That moment somehow feels simultaneously as though it was "just the other day" but also like it was a lifetime ago. In the following days I dreaded ending up homeless and running out of money, but I tried to tell myself it wouldn't come to that. We'd always managed to get a place to live and another job every other time we'd been moved on, why would this time be different? That's the question I am still asking myself. Why is this time different?

And so we enter into week eleven of being without a house and without a job. I feel like people have forgotten that we are still homeless. Our tents are failing under constant use. They aren't designed for this. Life out here has settled into a monotonous drag, with every day bringing the same routines, the same events. It's hard to stay motivated and to stay hopeful. We've applied for so many jobs but nobody is willing to take us on. Most of the time they don't even bother replying at all. And without a job, we won't be getting a house either.

We went to an agility trial again earlier this month, finally. Skuggi was so good, and we got a third and fourth place. For a while, I could forget what my life is really like. A brief moment of happiness. But then we go back "home." To the tents and the cold and the wind.

There are only five months left of the year and we have nothing. We've lost everything we had, except each other. My family and my pets are everything. We are keeping each other going and the animals are often the only bright spots in a day. Running agility courses with Skuggi, or taking him into town for his assistance dog training. Riding Logan. Sparkie's crazy zoomies during her walks. My pet rat Pixie happily climbing onto my shoulder of her own free will. But some days are still so hard. 

Struggle On

I wanted so badly for my next post to be of good news. Some positivity. I wanted to be able to tell you all that things had changed for the better, that life was looking better. But unfortunately, things have gone from bad to worse. 

On June 13, Goldie went into labour. We watched her closely all day and then into the night until at 2am, we had to assist her in birthing a stillborn calf. The most beautiful gold and white heifer calf, exactly what we had hoped for, but she was dead. There is no explanation for why - only "these things happen sometimes." We are having to hand milk Goldie once a day. She has been a good girl. But we never intended for things to happen like this. We weren't supposed to be in a situation like this.

We're now coming up on eight weeks of homelessness. Earlier this month we were so close to getting into a rental house but at the last minute, it fell through. A devastating blow to morale after allowing ourselves to feel excited and hopeful. As of right now, we are facing the possibility of further months living in tents with no income.

Tents are not designed for long-term use and ours are starting to struggle. Broken zipper on the door. Leaks in the roof. There is no heating, of course, so whatever temperature it is outside, so it is inside the tents. One night this week, we had such a cold night that Skuggi's water bowl, which is in my tent "bedroom," had a layer of ice on the top by 9am. 

And then there's the fact we have no income and have used up all our savings. It's become a struggle just to keep food on the table. People have suggested we sell our pet cattle. Our two steers, Spartan and Logan, and our recently calved cow Goldie. I know if we sold the boys, they would end up on someone's plate. How would you feel saying goodbye to your beloved pet, who you'd raised from a baby, knowing that you are condemning them to a horrible death? That their next owner will only see them as food and so treat them accordingly? That's the trouble with having a "food animal" as a pet. Most people would not understand.

So we struggle on. I don't know what we will do next. There's a lot of talk. Lots of ideas. Nothing solid. But something has to change soon because we are barely surviving out here.

From The Beginning

It's been a month and two days since I woke up to the horrible but not unexpected news that we'd been fired. Two weeks was not enough time to even come to terms with this, let alone organize what to do next, although we did try. But nobody has been willing to help us get out of this situation.

So, we are back on our empty block. I didn't think we'd ever be living like this again. I spent ten nights sleeping in the back of my car before upgrading to a canvas tent. And still, despite our best efforts to find somewhere else to live, there's no end in sight. It's approaching winter and it feels like it. The temperatures are struggling to reach double digits. I'm sleeping with five blankets on my bed. Our pet heifer, Goldie, is due to calve on June 14. When we bred her, we had no idea this would be our current situation. But we will do the best we can.

It's hard knowing that we have to start over, again. It feels like we lost everything, like we're starting from the beginning again. Six years ago, we were living in a tent and finances were stretched thin. And that's where we are now too. I feel so betrayed because we were led to believe this farm was the perfect place for us and that we'd be living and working there "forever." I wanted so badly for that to be true. But people can't be trusted.

We have worked so hard this past year and in the end, we have nothing to show for it. 

A Step Backward

This morning, we got fired. We got fired for several reasons, and they were all things that aren't even true or are so stupid I can't believe it was listed as a reason. There are literally no valid reasons behind it. But it's been building for a while. The signs were all there. It's not a surprise. It's not unexpected. But it's so disappointing.

Although the accusations were directed at my dad, and technically he is the one losing his job, words like that trickle down and affect us all. Besides the fact the job and house were a package deal, meaning that we now all have to move out. We all worked on this farm as a team and so we take the criticism and rejection as a team. This is a harsh blow.

This farm was supposed to be "it." You know, the place where we could stay forever and build our future. We were supposed to be challenging the old fashioned ideas about cows and pushing to change the way things are done in the dairy industry, showing that there is an ethical, humane way to farm dairy, sharing milk with the calves it's meant for. It seemed so perfect and I was so excited and grateful for this opportunity to be working on what was basically my dream farm. But it didn't turn out that way. It's so hard looking at the cows and their babies today and knowing that in just two weeks, we'll be saying goodbye forever. Over the past year, we've put in so much time here, so much love and care into these beautiful animals, and the level of trust they have in us now is amazing. That we're being forced to let that go is heartbreaking.

I suppose we'll go back to a conventional farm now, and pretend it doesn't tear me apart to send newborn calves on the truck to the slaughterhouse. Pretend I am okay with everything that goes on behind the scenes on a dairy farm. The last farm I worked on before moving here was such a nightmare, cruelty so prevalent every single day and there was nothing I could do. The thought of returning to a situation like that is just horrible. But we are dairy farmers. And we need a job and a property big enough for our three pet calves. We need a house and someone who will accept five dogs in it. What else can we do?

It feels like a step backward. It feels like a betrayal. It feels like we're losing everything.

What If

It's been a while coming, but this morning we officially said goodbye to our days of living on the road, as our house bus went to its new home. It's been nearly a full year since we last drove it anywhere, so it was time to let it go. 

Thinking back to those travelling times is very much a mixed bag of feelings. The freedom of not having a job. But at the same time, the stress of not having a job because no job meant very little money. I've written so many long posts about life on the road before so there's no need to dive back into that. Those years we spent drifting across the country really did shape who we are now. But looking into the future, I can't see us ever returning to that lifestyle. 

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I wonder if people get bored reading my blog these days. I started this blog back in 2012, as a sort of travel diary to keep everyone updated on our adventures. Lately posts have been few and far between, and my focus has shifted since the days of travel.

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We had our first agility trial of the year on March 23. Although we didn't get any clear rounds, we did get two beautiful runs that were very close to clear, and one bad run (my bad handling was the cause of that though) and I came away feeling very positive for this trialing season. We are definitely working better as a team. Skuggi's focus and confidence were much improved. Unfortunately we have had to pull out of the two trials I had planned since, due to work commitments on the farm. Nobody else can be trusted with the cows, apparently. I am hoping to get to another trial next weekend. It's only a half-day trial, so instead of leaving home at 4am, we can leave at 8am.

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But it's a good thing we did not get to compete today as originally planned, because we had a cow give birth breech this afternoon, requiring a team effort to save the calf. If we hadn't been on duty today, I really think it would not have been noticed in time. But thankfully we were here and the calf is doing well. She is a very big and very beautiful girl!

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Sadly we don't always "win" with calving problems. Recently, my favourite cow Rose gave birth to twins, both requiring assistance to be born. The first one was in the right position, but the placenta came out ahead of her. And the second one was breech. Thankfully we were able to save both these little girls, but poor Rose became very ill shortly afterwards. We did the best we could, but tragically Rose passed away four days after the birth. It was heartbreaking and it is so hard not to dwell on the "what if"s and "if only"s. I am thankful for the resilience of Rose's beautiful babies, Ruby and Gemma, who are now over a week old and thriving in our care.

How The Story Unfolds

I remember very clearly the night we left our house in February of 2008, eight of us crammed in a Falcon wagon with just what stuff we could fit in. The rest of our belongings were in a storage shed. We had no destination and nowhere to sleep for the night. We drove into the closest town and found a 24 hour motel to stay in for a few nights, until we were able to get a wind-up Jayco caravan and begin our road trip. For eleven year old me, it was the greatest adventure. We went north and hit summer floods, stayed in an expensive caravan park and ate pancakes for breakfast and went swimming in the pool every day. Eventually we discovered "free camping" and then we went west and found freedom, open spaces, and a million stars. After a time we went south again and swam in creeks and played in the dirt and drove up into the mountains where the air was sharp and clean. It was around that time I got Sparkie for my twelfth birthday and I always think that if we hadn't made the choices we did, my perfect girl wouldn't have come into my life. And I needed her so badly. We brought a bus after a year of travelling, and my dad had some short-term jobs here and there but we couldn't seem to stay in one place long. So we kept going. Up and down, and around and around. We had some of our best times on the road. But as I grew older, times grew tougher. And so we started dairy farming again.

Everyone we met, everywhere we went, everything we experienced has led us to this moment. To this place. To who we are now. I wonder how different our life would be if we hadn't spent those years on the road. Everything that happened to us in the last eleven years has made us so much closer as a family and it makes absolute sense to me that after spending so much time living in such close quarters, we would end up working best as a whole team. A unit. We are so used to being together now that it just feels natural to all pitch in on the farm. 

Some days I feel like this is it, the end of the journey. The final result of all the struggles we've gone through. I can't tell if it's the truth or not. Some days it feels like it's just another stop along the way.  

Whatever this point is, I won't know until later. But I still feel the lure of the open road. The love of a long road trip is something that has never gone away despite our lifestyle changing, although it's always so nice to come back home to the farm afterward. How incredible would it be if next year, Skuggi and I went all the way over to Western Australia to compete in the national agility trial? The next twelve months will be the deciding factor. We need to get Skuggi consistently running clear in trials, get into a higher level, before I attempt such a big venture. I am so excited to start the 2019 trial season, beginning in just eight weeks.

But life is what happens to us while we are making other plans. Living in the moment is hard sometimes when it's not being good to me and the future I see in my mind looks so tempting. But that distant future may never become my reality, while this moment, right now, this is real. A quiet day, listening to music and catching up on social media, with Skuggi asleep in his crate of his own volition and Sparkie snoozing under the desk as always. Whatever tomorrow brings I know I won't be facing it alone.

Not Just Surviving

I've tried to write a new post several times this month but it's been hard. Too hard to put into words what's been going on, without implicating those involved. We're on the edge of another change, and I'm so sick of being taken for granted, taken advantage of. We trust and we love and we want so badly to believe what we're told, believe we've made it, but the world is against us. "You're safe here." They're just words. And words are meaningless these days.

But it's time to think of the good. There is always some good in life, although it can be hard to find. The evening sky on fire. A cool day after weeks of excessive heat. A once-terrified cow accepting human contact for the first time and returning your affection with a lick.

Skuggi went to an agility seminar with me earlier this month. We were one of the lucky few selected to train with the winner of the 2018 Agility World Championship, and we had a great time. He was so fun and patient and his instructions easy to follow.

One of my favourite cows had surprise twins. Unfortunately, the first one was stillborn, and I assumed the next one would be as well after it took a solid six hours for it to be born due to wrong positioning. But she was still alive, and with some TLC she got stronger, and nearly two weeks later she has grown heaps and full of energy. 

I brought my first car just before Christmas. Although my driver's license expired a while ago and I haven't had time to get it renewed yet, I am so happy I now own a car and it's beautiful. 

The future is so uncertain but sadly that's nothing unusual. It feels like no matter what choices we make, where we go, we always end up here. But, we keep fighting. Always keep fighting. Just carrying on, like we always do, until we get out of the darkness. Until we can start believing the words we're hearing. Until we feel like we're living and not just surviving. Because this, right now? This isn't living.