The Age Of Information

It is with a heavy heart that I write this post. Once again the internet has 'wowed' me with how a search engine operates. I am not going to cite a particular organisation or event as I am not trying to promote any particular side of an argument. I am not attempting to put a sugar coated spin on anything. I am not attempting to sway your opinion with emotional arguments about the fact that exporting sheep is a part of my livelihood and without it I could not be a farmer living life on the land that I love. 

Whether you are someone who skim reads posts, whether you are someone who reads a newspaper from cover to cover, whether you are someone who only reads further on the internet if the picture captures your interest - all I ask of you is to research a little further. In this day and age, properly (and improperly) written articles can be completely biased and submitted into the cyber world freely. This is the age of information, it is freely available and anyone can submit it. With that thought in mind, please take a second to realise that websites do not always have to report all the facts - there is no legal obligation for them to look at both sides. There is no governing body that dictates what is allowed to be written, and what is not.

I write this with full understanding of the fact that I myself am biased in a certain direction. However, if my pointing out that sometimes you need to search for all sides of the story in this era of information overload leads someone to discover that perhaps what has been portrayed as the truth is not the whole truth, then I have achieved my goal. 

So, if nothing else, please remember that no person’s truth is the same. It is not necessarily fact that you are reading on the internet, it is more likely to be a truth derived from certain beliefs. Just as religion is interpreted in a multitude of ways, so too are individual events. We need to remember to look at all the truths surrounding an event - not one alone. Try searching different organisations to do with your event; those that support your views, those that oppose your views, and those that provide governing rules surrounding the event. Each of these will provide information based upon their beliefs, and only when we are furnished with all the facts can we then decide upon our own truth. 

Keeping Up Appearances

Life on the Land often means living a fair distance from friends and family. I'm very thankful that some of my extended family live mere kilometres away (it makes Christmas time a breeze)! However, my dearest friends are, at the very nearest, an hour and three quarters drive away. The furthest being over 2,000 kms away! 

When I say keeping up appearances, I mean setting aside a day purely for driving to a friends house and catching up with them. It's incredibly easy to go on living and breathing farming without stopping to socialise. As a young person, that can get very hard on you. 

So I'm used to the fact that I clean my ute only to have it covered in gravel 'slurry' in seconds flat. I'm used to driving a 370 km round trip to see my best friend. I'm used to going to jump in the ute, only to find the weaners have walked into the house yard and need pushing back to their paddock before I can leave. I'm used to watching for kangaroos as dusk hits on the way home, and feeling relieved that I have a bull bar. I'm also used to running errands on these trips for the farm too. 

What's the moral of my story? When you're isolated and your work is 24/7, as opposed to 9 til 5, it's important to keep in touch with your loved ones. Without their support the toll of living your work can become too much. 

Oh and here's a happy puppy for good measure ;)

Rolling Landscapes

I'm always interested in the way soil types change, the way a landscape can instantly close off or open out because of the change in vegetation. When I'm home on the farm it's harder to document or observe as the land is cleared. Up here on the station it's very visible, there are clear changes in the scrub lines, rocky outcrops are bare and the coastal plains are wide open rolling spaces. This got me to thinking about a sequence of photos that depict these changes. As I learn the different kinds of vegetation and the names of the soil types I'll try and update this post. For now, I hope you enjoy some scenery from what is technically the Kimberley. (The station land on the south of the Great Northern Highway is in the Pilbara, the northern section is in the Kimberley!) 

A North-West Moment

*I'm afraid I don't feel confident enough with all the operations here at the station to give you concrete information on how and why we do everything. As I learn all the reasons for what we do I'll keep you updated but for now I hope you enjoy understanding why when I wake up in the morning there is a smile on my face; regardless of how long or hard the day ahead is.

The door slides back as my foot hits the mildly warm rippled decking. So used to the feeling of cold floorboards underfoot she wriggles her toes slightly. She breathes deeply and laughs to herself as the humidity provides her with a drink as well. Unlike home this is a place where warmth and moisture envelops you constantly. She smiles as it hugs her with warm arms instead of cold fingers clutching at her. She listens to the chirrups and twitters of the bird life around her. The world seems alive and thriving, the grass seems to sing beneath the dewy morning. The sky reigns with deep blue and twinkling stars in the west, and in the east it is lit from beneath. The fiery reds morph into brilliant honey yellows, the clouds mix the palette into sultry purples as the light ripples it's way through a rainbow of hues. Not a breath of wind stirs yet all the noises can be heard, as clear as a bell they reach into her soul and she smiles.

She may miss home, she may miss the cool of the mornings and the slight warmth at mid-day, but there is nothing she does not love about this place. Here she can run free in shorts and singlets, she can befriend the curious Brahman calf, she can drive for fifty kilometres and still be on the same property. This is a home of another variety, this is a home of red dirt, of green kooch grass sneaking it's way across soft white sand dunes. This is a place where the soul lightens with each sunset it sees, a place where strength is admired and ingenuity an essential tool. She can wake to hear the beach being pounded by surf, sweat in the heat all day long and come home to a cool drink and many a laugh.

Confirming My Suspicions

Agriculture and raising animals is a massive part of who I am. I was born into it and I was raised in the country. I lived and breathed mixed farming throughout my childhood. I still do. The difference is now I choose to do it of my own accord. I choose to rear animals into adulthood for human consumption. I choose to take responsibility for their well being and I choose to put their welfare above my own. 

When I'm on the farm I will put aside any squeamish feelings because I have to make sure the sheep have clean water in their dams. I'll check the dams with low water every day to make sure the animals I have responsibility for are safe and healthy. When the spring weather gets warm and wet I'll check the sheep regularly so I can treat any fly blown animals. When I'm marking lambs I'll pull out any animals that are not going to make it and put them down. This may sound harsh but it is kinder in the long run than letting them back out into the paddock for a fox or eagle to kill. 

When I'm on the station I put aside any exhaustion levels to chase water. If a tank is empty then the trough is not going to refill. Cattle require a lot more water than sheep and it's a whole lot hotter up here, so hydration is key. No matter if it's 8 at night or 4 in the morning, when the generator needs starting I start it. Whether I'm tired or pushed for time I make sure I clean troughs that require it. If the water is dirty, cattle aren't going to drink the fluids they require. When a cow is not healthy I do everything in my power to bring it back to health and if that isn't possible I will put the animal down instead of letting it suffer. 

How does this confirm my suspicions? Every single person on the farm feels exactly the same way as me. They all choose to take care of their animals. Every single person on the station has the same drive to keep their animals healthy and happy. Guess what? It's true! Those working in the ag industry CARE. Every second of every day we're on the ball making sure our stock have everything they need. 

Station or Farm? That Is The Question!

Station life and farm life are very similar yet so vastly different that I thought I'd try and put it into a bit of perspective for you. 

Both properties ensure their animals always have water, on the farm this means checking dams in summer time and ensuring the dams don't have years of mud in the bottom of them. On the station it means checking troughs are clean and not contaminating the water, checking tanks to make sure there's enough water for the cattle, checking bores and generators are functioning. This is pretty much an all year round job, the bore runs happen every two days or so.

Both properties handle their animals to mark the young and ensure animal health. On the farm this means a week of lamb marking plus drenching, shearing and crutching throughout the year. On the station this means a bit more than a month of mustering and handling all the cattle in the yards. The farm handles sheep throughout the year. The station does it in one chunk. Many stations muster for a lot longer than this one as well. 

Fencing is a must on both kinds of property. The farm has small paddocks and high stocking rates. The station has very large paddocks in comparison and far lower stocking rates. When fencing on the farm you use wooden strainers and huge cocky gates. When fencing on the station you use steel strainers and small gates. The station fences can run for kilometres at a time and in some areas there are no fences at all. That's the difference between rangeland farming and intensive mixed farming. 

Machinery upkeep happens on both varieties of property. The farm upkeep is seasonal with the different cropping jobs over the year. The station upkeep is far more important, if your ute breaks down 80 kms from the homestead with no way to contact anyone, you're in trouble. All vehicles are kept in good condition and checked before each days work. The station has to employ mechanics as there's no option to get a mechanic out to fix something ASAP, the bigger jobs maybe, but generally sending something to town is just too expensive. 

Cooking for the workers. That doesn't happen so much on the farm as we don't employ many people. The station can have anywhere up to 30 people to cook for at any one time, a full time cook is a must and they're run off their feet keeping up with everyone's needs. They're also hugely appreciated by the workers, having a good feed while you're out in the sweltering humidity makes the day far more bearable. 

There are many similarities but the vast difference in property sizes means the way each of the tasks are completed are very, very different!

The Song of the Shearing Shed

'Scwoomp' the farmers daughter slides the big door back to its stops. She stands with her hands on her hips assessing the dust and clutter that's built up on my raised board and cement floor over the year. She takes a deep breath, jumps up on the board and pushes through one of my six catching pen doors. 'Shhhhick' the bolts are pulled out of my metal windows, swung into the open position and locked that way by her well practiced hands. I breathe a sigh of relief as the breeze skims across my grating, the dust motes circling as she gets to work cleaning me out before shearing begins. 

'Snick' my lights are switched on over the board and the wool bay. 'Slap' the power cord hits my cement floor, a puff of dust rises as it makes an imprint. She plugs the blower vac into the cord and pushes the switch forward as I brace myself. The noise echoes off my walls, bounces off the roof, and absorbs into the cement only to repeat itself again and again. She doesn't relent, she grids back and forth, over and over until the dust is swept away on the easterly breeze outside. The silence envelops her as she contemplates my newly cleaned state. She walks along the board tap, tap, tap. Her boots echo in a way that never happens once shearing begins. 

'Clank, scrrrrr, bang, tap, tap, tap'. 'Clank, scrrrrr, bang, tap, tap, tap'. She undoes my chains and swings my gates back onto the wooden rails. She oils the hinges as she goes, removing the 'scrrrrr' altogether. The gates are set now for the sheep to 'tack, tack, tack' their way up over the grating, a little like a snare drum reverberating through me, and sit for the night before the rowdy shearers pull up in the morning. 

Dust begins to swirl in through my window, blanketing the shed in a light layer of sheep yards. She doesn't groan in frustration as you might expect, she grins and her feet take her toward the yards at a run. Once she leaves I settle myself in my foundations, grounding myself before they fill me with the smells of lanolin, deep heat, hot metal, oil and the toasted sandwiches of lunchtime. I listen as I hear her whoop of a war cry against the roar of the motorbike the farmer is on, then silence. The sheep are in. 'Wait!' She commands, the dogs are attempting to jump the gun, as always. 'Good dogs', I can see her patting them until the gates are shut and the sheep cannot escape. She releases them with a quiet 'go back'. I feel the dust billowing against my walls as the sheep march their way through the pens, enforced by the constant tracking of a black and white border collie and the strategic leaps of a red and tan kelpie x hunterway. 'Hey-up, hey-up' and silence. The sheep aren't moving into my cool shade, the change in footing and lighting always baulks them. 'You go,' she says laughingly to the farmer, 'I'll shepherd'. A rolling 'fffftfffftfffftfffft', reminiscent of a snakes hiss and a vehicles motor all at once, sends the woolly mammoths flying into me. The 'tack-tack-tack' of each sheep overlaying into a constant 'takatakatakataka'. It's now that I'm grateful (oh excuse my pun) that I have a grated floor. The sheep stand across the back third of me and of course they pee and poo everywhere, but it drops straight through to the ground below. 'Ssssss, clank'. The gates are shut so the sheep can't rush the railings and break anything through the night. The farmer and his daughter assess the wool press, the bays, the lunch station. It seems everything is in order as they set off back toward the house. I groan slightly in frustration as the wind blows my toilet door, 'BAM'. Blissfully the farmers daughter ducks back toward me and slides the rock in front of it. A quiet night of protecting their flock is all that lies ahead of me now.

'Rrrrrr-dooof', the van door rolls shut and the shearers shuffle across my cement floor, up the stairs and spread themselves around the board. Eskies thud onto me and groans are elicited as they stretch it out before a full day of shearing. Some of them rubbing the menthol scent of deep heat into their muscles. Some of them laughing and joking. All of them putting on moccasins and assembling their hand pieces with quick practiced hands. The farmer walks in, 'Morning!' an echo of murmured responses follows as he chats to the classer. She's the boss of the shed and needs to know who I've kept dry and cool overnight. I wait with baited breath for the first yank of the rope that brings the hand pieces buzzing into existence. There will be five hummingbird stations of activity all day, every day, for two weeks. A quiet 'thoomp-ggzzzzzzz' and each shearer looks at the clock. They're into it. 'Phwoah, phwoah, phwoah, phwoah, phwoah.' Five doors swing as the bass beat pumps out of the iPod hooked up to the amp they brought. Out they come dragging a sheep each. They slot a front leg between theirs and sit the sheep's head just below their crutch. The sheep supported, they reach for their respective hand pieces and 'thoomp-ggzzzzzzz, thoomp-ggzzzzzzz, thoomp-ggzzzzzzz, thoomp-ggzzzzzzz, thoomp-ggzzzzzzz.' Five athletes lean over a sheep each and cut their combs into the wool over the belly. Wool begins to fly, the bellies thrown out to one side. I sigh in joy as I feel the rousies feet dancing across my floor. One at the table and two on the board, they spin and move. They never miss a belly, always flick the wool from the back leg out so they can pick the fleece up when it's time. They always sweep the board clean while the shearer is selecting his next sheep. They throw the fleece out wide and it seems to hang for a second, unfurling like a sail before it lands on the table. The rousie and the classer chatting, singing and laughing as they skirt fleece after fleece. The shed is singing once again.

The fleeces pour off, across the floor and into the press. It whirrs into life at the presser's touch, armload upon armload of soft warm wool piles in. 'Errrrrrr-crunch' the ram comes down and the pins slide in, it keeps going until the presser pops the jam packed bale out the back and wheels it into my wool bay. Each bale resting easily on my smooth, cool floor.

The clocks hands keep spinning round and round the dial, the tick tock is inaudible but time is kept through the 'sheepo's'. Just like clockwork, the sheep is dragged across the board, the counter clicked and the yell sends the presser into overdrive. All you can hear is 'po' over the chorus of shearing heads, loud music, laughing and hand pieces. The kelpie is quick to action, pushing his way through my catching pen doors ahead of his master. The piercing whistles, get ups, and push em ups don't last long. The sheep are penned, and so it goes on, again and again. The rhythm is never ending, the melody changes pace occasionally but the song of shearing... That lasts until the quiet tshhh of a beer opening on cut out day. 

(confronting) The Duty and Honour of a Caretaker

It's times like these when I wonder if I want to stay in this industry. The sheep are getting stuck in dams and I can't stop it happening. They're jumping fences to find the best feed they can (they're not short on feed but the grass is always better on the other side), and sometimes getting caught in that fence. The weaners are the most susceptible as they don't have much power in their body to pull themselves out of mud or a fence.

Finding the will power to stomach the stench of rotting flesh as you try and drag a carcass out of the dam is not easy. The fire rake you're using to hook through the rib cage cracks the dry brittle bones and pulls layers of wool and skin off as you dry retch. You keep pulling at it, again, and again, the sucking sound of wool in deep mud echoing through your mind. You force yourself to deal with the maggots and dead flesh because the rest of the mob needs that water. You turn away to get a breath of fresh air so you don't vomit and then you try again, only to discover that the dams sucking power is too much for your body's strength to overcome. You assess whether the carcass is too far gone to attach a rope to it and tow it out with the ute. If it's not then you block your nose, grit your teeth and put your hands into that rotting mess. If it is, then you have to make sure the stock have another water source until that dam returns to drinking quality. 

It's not easy looking at a healthy wether that you've untangled from a fence, assessing his state and knowing that the extent of his leg damage is reason enough to end his life. It's not easy pulling the trigger and watching his last movements as he twitches into death. It's not easy watching to make sure he is dead and to witness his death. I refuse to let an animal die stranded and alone if I can help it. 

Life on the land is hard; it's heart breakingly, gut wrenchingly hard. So why do I do it? If it makes me want to vomit and leaves my heart aching so much that tears don't touch the pain; why do I do it? I do it because I care, I do it because the animals we consume deserve that much. We are going to farm them and have a livestock industry because meat is part of a human diet. Therefore, I'm going to be part of this industry. I won't stand by and let these animals be farmed by people who care less than I do. Their lives deserve to be honoured and I believe I do that, I won't back away from that duty. There may be days when it is just too much for my soul to bear, on those days I will take time out. Rest assured I'll be back the very next morning with a fresh outlook, trying to make this industry better in any way I possibly can. 

This industry is not for the faint of heart, it is not for those looking to make a quick dollar and it is not for those who lack compassion. It is for those who care, for those who are tough and for those who will put their own needs aside to provide a certain level of quality to another's life - be it human or animal. I understand that some of what I have written may be confronting, it may shock you and make you want to condemn the farming of animals. That is not my intent at all, my point is this: farmers care. You may not always see it (particularly with male farmers) because we do not show the pain we feel to the world. We bear it in silence for the sake of that animal. We do not make a fuss about it because creating a fuss does not help the animal, us, or the industry. So why am I contradicting myself and making a fuss by writing this? I believe that this industry needs a larger support base to achieve continued innovation. I believe helping the rest of the world to understand that we do not farm based purely on profit is important. We are not cruel, money hungry land owners. We are caretakers, of this land and our animals. We always will be. In short, I am willing to be the voice that creates a fuss if it means that the rest of the world can understand the true nature of what we do. I am willing to speak of my pain and heart break and to let my words speak for any one who feels as I do; for those who do not make a fuss. 

A Little Crazy Goes A Long Way

It is so easy to get caught up in the natural flow of every day life out here on the farm. It's also very easy to take pretty pictures on the farm, and as much as I love bringing you those snapshots that is not the purpose behind this blog and Facebook page. 

For those of you who are new to Life on the Land, here's the reason why it exists. A very brief and simplistic overview of our world is this: the global population is exponentially increasing, the land available for producing raw products, that become food and clothing, is not currently growing (I say currently for a specific reason but that's a fanciful thought for another time). So, more people + the same viable land = a need for technology and societal understanding. The technologies will help us to utilise that land in an optimal fashion WHILE maintaining it in a sustainable fashion for generations to come. Why does the agricultural industry need the general population to understand what we do? It's simple really; the number of people needed to run farms, ranches or stations keeps decreasing as technology allows us to expand the amount of land we can manage as single enterprises. This results in a simple ratio; the number of people working at the basic level of agriculture (on the land) vs. the number of people working and living in cities. It becomes apparent that the majority of the population, that in most countries have voting power or at least governmental sway, live in an area that often disconnects them from where the products they consume start out. We need the understanding of this section of population to ensure the government helps us to continue innovating and improving agriculture without jeopardising the livelihood of the hard working providers within this industry.

I personally believe this vast population is disconnected in another way (this is purely an opinion). I believe wastage is a large issue in urban populations. On our farm we butcher our own meat and we consume the bulk of it, we vary our meals so we eat roasts, chops, racks of ribs, shanks, neck chops, riblets, flaps and so on. When you see the process of skinning and gutting, of setting the meat, of cutting the animal up and bagging off the different cuts; you attain a different appreciation for that meat. Eating every single part of that animal becomes a way to honour the fact that it's life is no longer. The disconnect is that many people pick and choose which cuts they prefer, now I don't blame them for that. I prefer to eat chops, T-bones, roasts and rump as well. However, I cannot bring myself not to eat the whole animal as I would be taking more lives, more regularly; for no reason other than my satisfaction. The amount of food I see going to waste in restaurants, in shopping centres, in the cuts that are not sold at a supermarket - it makes me sad. I am happy to grow animals for eating, as long as those who eat them honour the life that is no longer in their own way. 

I believe in agriculture, I believe in providing for our human race and I believe in providing animals with the healthiest, happiest life possible. In order to keep ALL of these things happening sustainably we need people to understand and support agriculture; to honour the lives of those animals we eat. I can almost hear some of you thinking 'What if I only eat vegetables?'  That's fine, that's your choice, but please understand and respect that some of us choose to eat meat. Please think about the fact that not all of the land we grow produce on can support vegetable farming and not all farms would remain profitable if mixed farming was not allowed (livestock/cropping). If what we can grow becomes limited through laws based upon a lack of understanding, much of the land we utilise currently may revert to it's natural state as opposed to growing something else. 

Let's get back to the reason for this blog and Facebook page though. I would be incredibly sad if my future children did not have the opportunity to consider the agricultural industry as a profitable career path. The aim is to provide information, to answer any questions anyone may have, and to help people get back to basics. I believe that reconnecting to our roots, to the way things grow, and respecting the natural cycles of life will help curb wastage, increase the support for agriculture and therefore sustain it's viability. Life on the Land is about so much more than mass production, it's a way of life and one that needs to be preserved; for those who live that life, and for those who benefit from the produce we offer. 

So if any of what I've written rings true in your heart, please share this far and wide. Without the shares I cannot reach those that are disconnected, if we work together we can change this world. We can make it a world that respects it's roots and honours the lives within it. On the other hand, if something I've written strikes you as wrong or disturbs you, please message me. I'm always open to new points of view and I'm not aiming to offend anybody in any way. 

*Please bear in mind that I'm basing this overview on Australia and that I realise there are many more countries that provide raw agricultural products but I do not have firsthand knowledge of what goes on there. I am in no way an expert - just a farmer trying to make a difference. 

A Charmed Lifestyle

As I stand upon this hill,

Surrounded by degrees.

Three sixty, if you will..

Minus wind, plus some C's.

I see field bins shining bright,

And headers cutting rows.

Dust hovering in mid flight,

Full trucks crawl, oh so slow.

I see sheep beneath the trees.

Their stomachs full, bellies round.

Waiting out the evening breeze, 

'fore they walk that stubble down.

I see birds soaring high,

Swooping down on fact, not hunch.

Nailing unsuspecting mice,

Snatching up their fill of lunch. 

I see clear blue, dots of white,

Golden rays, and hazy waves

Of heat beating down til night.

A cool breeze ends summer days.

I feel pride in this wide view,

My heart filled with joy, I smile.

For I love this, just as you.

The charms of a country lifestyle.

Update

To any of you who follow this blog, I've tried to make it more accessible by creating a Facebook page for it as well. Head to Life on the Land - Emily Charlotte Ann and you'll get constant updates. :)

Sacrifice

Life on the land, and producing the raw products that allow us the lives we are accustomed to, comes with many sacrifices. 

We sacrifice our innocence. Each time we put an animal down we are putting their need to be out of pain above our need not to take another life. 

~ We gain the knowledge that we have done what is right by them.

We sacrifice being a large part (2-6 years) of our children's childhood so they can have an education. We send them to boarding school and ask them to grow up before many other children do. 

~ We gain the knowledge that they will have the best start in their life whatever they choose to do.

We as children sacrifice our need to be at home with our parents because we trust that they are doing the right thing by us. We trust in a need for education and a need for life on the land that means we can't move to the city. 

~ We gain the knowledge of love and what our parents are willing to give up for us.

We sacrifice our time in many, many ways. Our mornings to the bushfire radio, our sleep ins to the school bus, our weekends to the stock that need food and water, our school holidays and family festivities to harvest. 

~ We gain the ability to see past our own needs. 

We sacrifice our well being at times. If a fire goes up we drop everything to ensure all lives are safe, that minimal damage is done and that it can't re-ignite. 

~ We gain the feeling of safety in knowing people will come to our aid just as we do for them. 

We sacrifice the ability to have a 9-5 job that doesn't necessarily require our attention once we get home again. We don't have a job and a life, they are one and the same. 

~ We gain a much larger sense of satisfaction in each work task as it's also a life achievement.

Life on the land is in many ways one large sacrifice, yet we choose it willingly. We choose to let our children grow up in this lifestyle, we choose the small town communities, we choose the non-stop work and pushing through the need for a sleep in or a weekend. We choose this life on the land because we believe in what we provide to the world and we believe in the benefits it provides us. With every sacrifice is a positive effect for ourselves and those around us. They are not always tangible and we sometimes lose sight of them on the journey through everyday life but they are always there. 

Even the little benefits like the things I get to photograph are worthwhile in a very large way. 

Yesterday's beautiful afternoon muster, warm sun and a cool breeze plus happy weaners. :)

This moth is very deceptive, he almost looks like a spider with those fake legs!

Full bins, money coming back in after a year of expenditure.

Birds of prey keeping up surveillance. They're there I promise! Just to the right of the leaning dead tree, sitting on a dead branch above the still growing branches.