Page Content Here

26 September 2011: Hydeaway Chicken and Donkey Rescue

It all started when Rain came wailing in to beg me for help with an uncommonly stupid little brown chicken who had fallen into an empty concrete reservoir. Chickens aren't known for their intellectual powers at any time, but the little brown hen was dumb even for a chicken.

After several minutes' running about and making mad dives at the chicken, during which we roped in Mom and Jabulane to give us a hand, I got hold of the little dumb chicken. While she vented her indignation at being saved with racous squawks, Jabulane climbed out and I gave Rain a leg-up with one hand whilst clutching the yelling chicken in the other. That left me and the chicken in the reservoir, so Mom threw down a handy washing basket. I stood on the washing basket and climbed out and then the washing basket had to be rescued, so eventually Jabu was sent down to retrieve it. It was quite a saga and the ungrateful little hen went on squawking until we let her go with the other chickens.

I thought the rescuing was done for the day but this was not to be. On the way to Rain's ballet, Mom and I spotted two donkeys grazing on the side of the road; a stallion and a little filly. Mom phoned around and asked if anyone had lost a donkey and eventually we resolved to call the SPCA or Highveld Horse Care Unit and leave it at that. Being Hydes, though, we couldn't bear to leave the poor little donkeys innocently grazing where trucks could squish them flat, so we spent half an hour herding them to the farm. Herding donkeys is no mean feat but at least I now know I can run faster than a jackass if I really need to. We got home ridiculously late for the mares' lunch and inseminating Brilliant, but at least we got Donkey 1 and Donkey 2 (christened He-Ore and She-Ore) off the road and into a paddock.

Dad was suitably unimpressed with us for bringing two donkeys home when we were supposed to be inseminating Brilliant, but he calmed down when the vet assured us that the only thing donkeys would really be able to give to our cows and horses would be rabies and these donkeys didn't seem very rabid. They were really quite friendly, especially the jack, and let me touch their faces.

Once inside our paddock, the donkeys set to grazing and the jack began to bray. We've had Benjamin for longer than I can remember, but since he's gelded, he never, ever brays except for an odd squeaking noise he makes when he thinks he will be fed. The jack brayed like a jack; very loudly. The animals went mad. All the Frieslands galloped up to see what was going on. Siobhan decided not to eat her lunch in favour of staring agog at the faraway jack. Achilles galloped up and down neighing dementedly. The Jersey calves, who were being quietly herded through the donkeys' paddock, went ballistic and started to chase the donkeys. Two laps around the paddock later, the workers managed to get the berserk Jerseys under control and the donkeys retreated to a comparatively safe corner. The only animal that didn't turn a hair was Benjamin because not having seen a donkey in eleven years he doesn't know he is a donkey. He probably thinks he's a well-bred Arabian for all we know.

We called the HHCU and they will be coming to pick the donkeys up tomorrow afternoon if no one claims them.

Horse adventures today consisted of a stunning outride to the Snymans' farm with Skye, Arwen and Kevin. The only bad part was the huge trucks that thundered back and forth; we met five, and none of them slowed down, but mercifully none of them hooted so even though they belted down that dirt road hell for leather the horses stayed very calm. There was one bad moment when Skye and I were trapped on one side of the road and Arwen and Kevin were on the other and the truck thundered past between us, but no one panicked and Skye just serenely watched it go past.

It was swelteringly hot too, but we found a cattle trough and the mares each had some water, so they were fine. We rode for a good three hours with a fair share of cantering, especially when Kevin decided to play tag in the forest. Playing tag in a forest at a gallop is not a ride for anyone a) sane;  b) nervous; and c) in possession of a lazy or stiff horse. Luckily Skye, though she stubbornly refuses to trot a 10m circle in the arena, turns on a dime on an outride so we nearly won the game. Kevin failed to mention that we were supposed to stay in the forest so Skye and I headed for the hills at a flat-out gallop across an open field. Arwen, especially with 6ft Kevin on her back, is slower than Skye so we simply sailed away gaining with each stride. Skye's ears were in the air and she simply floated and for a few seconds I held a star in my hand until Kevin bellowed "You were supposed to stay in the forest!" so I turned Skye straight around and headed back, still galloping. At that point Arwen decided to turn on a dime too but this was not really possible for Arwen so she began to flounder about crossing her legs and half falling over with Kevin going "Arwen, Arwen, Arwen, ARWEN!" to get her attention. The two of them survived and came hurtling after Skye and I, but by then we had disappeared into the forest. I think it was more or less by chance that we nearly walked straight into Arwen and Kevin whilst meandering aimlessly through the woods. We set off again at a reckless pace; Skye must have bumped her foot on a branch at some point, because she took a teensy bit of skin off her coronet, but I don't think she even noticed. Then we reached the stream and I dragged her to a halt because we had reached the thickest bushes and steepest part of the stream. Kevin and Arwen erupted out of the forest, slightly wild-eyed, and Kevin clapped me on the back yelling "Touch!" as they shot past, knocking my helmet over my eyes.

"OK, you win," I said. "I'm not going down THERE."

Once the mares had caught their breath we went on. I thought Skye was exhausted and gave her long reins. This proved to be a good idea since Arwen and Kevin disappeared over the stream and Skye decided to clear the stream with a flying leap. I was caught rather unawares but managed to stay with the movement and not jerk her in the mouth.

Skye had an absolute ball. She looooves riding out. She would make a stunning endurance horse. Actually, that's not a bad idea. She pranced home with her neck arched, thoroughly fizzed up, and Arwen recovered faster than normal. We washed them off afterwards and even though it was only the third time that Skye's ever been sprayed off, she stood quietly and seemed to like the water especially on her neck. Naturally they both rolled while they were still damp so I had some cleaning up to do this evening, but after a great ride like that, it was well worth it.

Nothing so beautiful on Earth

16 September 2011: A Time to Dream

Hydeaway Farm is built on a foundation of faith and dreams. Once a man and a woman dreamed and two small girls were born into the dream; now the girls have grown with the dream, and for ten beautiful years we have built and built and built on that dream.

Some farms are built on money or on inheritance. Hydeaway was built on a dream.

Freshly back from the Standerton Show yesterday, which was marvellous (see our new News page for more of that), we are coming back from the temporary half-world of the showground to the endless rhythmic patience and reality of a dairy farm. There are few things more real than a dairy farm and to my biased eyes God seems so much more real in the wind and the dust and the veld and the rain; things that He made with His own Hands and Words, things right from Him without having to go through humans first. And unfortunately nothing real has no problems.

For the past while we have been running the farm at a loss. I feel a little bit lost because we can't carry on with this and it is decision time. We need to look at what exactly it is that we're losing on, the heifer raising or the Jersey stud and dairy, where we can tighten it up and whether, worst of all, we will have to downscale drastically. We are farmers and always will be; but somehow losing our heifers or Jerseys would be like losing a limb. There have been times when I have put my head in my hands over the cows. Times when it seems like cows must come first and other things - things I care about, like horses - must come last. But those were jealous, childish emotions, temporary, fruitless; proud and selfish. Really, I am as much a cow farmer as I am a horsewoman. I love horses, every part of them. The thunder on their necks and the lightning in their eyes. The way they move with the grace of fire. A horse is a magnificent contradiction; the proudest and most humble; the wildest and most trustworthy; the fiercest and the gentlest; the fastest and most graceful. A horse can prance and nothing in the world, not even an antelope, can prance with the same mixture of fire, grace and strength as a horse.

But nothing is as patient as a cow. Nothing has eyes so deep or so limpid. Nothing walks so calmly into adversity; nothing trusts with the same endless acceptance. I love the music of the hoofbeats and the way a stable sounds at feeding time, and the sound a horse makes when it chews; but I also love the rhythm of the pulsators and the hiss of the clusters and the perfect contentment of a cow chewing cud.

My heart beats in the rhythm of a horse's hooves; my blood pumps to the time of a swinging pulsator. I stand silent in the peace when the horses have their breakfast; I quiver in the bustle of the milking parlour. When I gallop with my horse, I fly; when I see a wet and wriggling newborn calf, I sing inside. I thrill with delight, my heart might burst at the sight of a well-trained showjumper flying around a big course, and something turns over in me when a well-bred cow strides stately into the showring.

The horses and the cows; the cows and the horses. Sometimes they come into conflict. (Skye is shivering out there in the rain but the sick cows must stay in the stable... The smallest heifers are running out of teff but the horses must have the last bale). But I can live with it. I just need to find a balance. It's a big world and Hydeaway Farm has a big heart; there's space enough for horses and cows.

Yesterday I led a magnificent heifer to an excellent place in a top-notch show. And as she stood there in the lineup with her head up, her tail carefully teased to a startling frizz, every hair of her body clean and soft, her topline clipped to ruler straightness, I was so happy I could burst. This morning a horse as golden as an angel's glow raised her head and neighed to me and every fibre of my body shivered in purest delight.

For now I'm an apprentice. I clip and show the heifers, stand in for AWOL workers, work at the crush, do the A. I.s, draw up medicine, help with inoculations and vitamin injections, help with diagnosis. Basically, I help out wherever I'm needed on the dairy farm. I'm on the fringe of the big decisions; clued in, but not instrumental. I only watch and learn when my mom deals with a drunken labourer, my father scratches his head over a broken milk tank and the cost of a new one, or my parents together groan over the low milk price and the mad feed prices. But one day I'm going to inherit some of this, and I'm going to have to make the big decisions too. It's my privilege, my duty to build on my parents' beautiful, brilliant dream.

I'm also an apprentice horsewoman, but the dream of the horses is so much more personal. I do everything I can - feeding, grooming, riding, checking troughs and fences, giving the lessons, looking at feed changes, nursing sick or injured horses, making sure they get their hooves done and their deworming and their inoculations and their tick poisons and their fly repellant at the right time, cleaning tack, etc., etc. This is a dream I have to build on my own. Of course my parents support me and Kevin teaches me, but this is my dream, my vision; this is the centre of the mighty revelation that God showed to me not long ago. My horses are my friends, too; Skye is so much more than just part of a dream, she is... well, Skye. This is my dream, and it's my pleasure to live it.

And these two dreams are linked and I must stick to them both. It's only now that I know the risk of losing the cows that I know how much I really love them. I've toyed with the idea of downscaling heavily on my portion of the inheritance, keeping a few really nice cows for my parents' sake and concentrating on the horses. I thought that the horses were my single, greatest calling. But now I know that God has called me to love them all, cows and horses both. No one person can live two big dreams at the same time, but God can do it through me. That's why I'm going to buckle down and sweat at the cows now, dream them as I've never dreamt them before; and yet I'll never, ever forget the horses, I'm holding onto them. I'm holding very, very tight to my dreams and there are two. There are some people who never dream. I am so blessed, so amazingly blessed that I have two dreams, and that's not even counting the writing!

Of course, double the dream means double the work and double the trouble. Double the tribulation. Double the baptism in fire. Double the failures. By God's grace, double the reward.

O Lord my God, let us keep the cows and calves. Don't let our dreams be crushed. You promised never to try us with more than we can take. Please, Sir, help us through the fire, to rejoice in our tribulation. Let us walk on the water and never take our eyes off our Lord; and if we slip and waver, as Peter did, and sink, catch us, Sir, please. Carry us, Lord, when we fall; remind us, Sir, when there is just one set of footprints in the sand, that it is Yours. Help us with our decision; let us serve Jesus and not money, let us serve just One Master. Help us to become the horse and dairy farmers with a difference, the people who farm for Christ and not for money. Remind me, when it seems that my equine dream is shunted aside, that I dream of cows as well and that it's up to me to find the balance. Remind us all, when the times go hard, that You are in control forever. Let us live, Sir. And thank You for keeping all Your promises, always and forever, and only You know how long forever is. Thank You, Sir. Amen.

4 September 2011: A Hastily Scribbled Note

The weaning is going really, really well. Neither of the foals have escaped and they are relaxing a lot. I moved Benjamin the donkey in with them, Thunder tried to eat his tail and he gave Thunder a resounding one-hoofed kick on the chest and that was that, no fighting. They're not buddies, but they're not trying to kill each other, either. I was most relieved when I got there on the first morning and there was no blood and all the fences were still standing. Achilles is complicating things a bit with marching up and down and yelling to the foals, but they're doing well. Skye, Thunder, Achilles and Dancer all still call every now and then, and the foals still do a bit of pacing, but it's no longer the frantic galloping around and screaming. The foals and the mares all spend most of their time eating hay or grass; the foals' pacing only happens every other hour or so and it's just a five-minute walk up and down the fence. In the first two days Thunder neighed himself hoarse, poor little guy, but as weaning goes, this one is pretty peaceful. Skye's poor udder was horribly full and she sprayed milk all over her hindlegs, it was a bit hot to the touch as well and I was scared of mastitis. Yesterday I took her for a ride because I'd read that exercise could help for the fullness and whether it was the ride or simply the time that's passed, her udder has gone down quite a bit. Still very full, but no longer burstingly, mastitis-reminiscently full. She has also stopped dripping milk. Hooray, hooray, hooray.

2 September 2011: The Grateful Saga

One of the Friesland heifers, known to the workers as 0070 and to us as Grateful, had been artificially inseminated four times without success, so she had to be sent to our Jersey bull, King Arthur. Unfortunately Arthur has a distinctly fussy taste in girls; he doesn't cover Frieslands, only Jerseys. The horses' paddock adjoins to King Arthur's paddock so I was sent with a message to Arthur at horse lunchtime.

Firn: Your majesty, your Royal Adviser has a message for you: She is sending you a young lady by name of Grateful. Kindly have intimate relations with her.

King Arthur: [look that can be roughly translated into Over my Dead Body]

We sent her anyway with fingers crossed and that evening Jonas the worker went to see what was going on. Now please understand that Jonas's English is not brilliant; few of the workers have a good grasp of English or Afrikaans, but Jonas asked for an English dictionary, so that could explain what happened next.

Mom: Jonas, is Arthur getting to double-oh seventy?

Jonas: We can rejoice! Apartheid is at an end!

2 September 2011: Overheard at the Hyde House V

A cow who had been sick for a week came into the parlour and hungrily attacked her feed. Paulos, who was milking her, was overjoyed.

Paulos: Miesies, Beauty is eating.

Mom: Hallelujah!

Paulos [in shock]: Eish! The miesies can talk Zulu!

1 September 2011: It Is Spring! The Famine is Over!

All right, so that's putting it a little dramatically, it wasn't really a famine, more a food strike. We ran out of that wonderful teff hay. No crisis, we have literally tons of high quality eragrostis for the cattle, so we gave the horses a bale of eragrostis while we waited for the teff to arrive. Guess what? The spoilt brats flatly refused to eat it. This isn't Food, said Arwen, sneering at it. What it is, I don't know, but it's not Food.

Even Skye pulled up her nose and she should know better, she lived on the veld for several years before I got my act together. Ungrateful brats. Anyway the crisis is over, we have been saved by my mother and the likeable, deeply religious Teff Farmer who is my hero for today. The horses are stuffing their naughty faces. Luckily the weather is nice and hot so they will drink enough water not to give themselves colic with all the hay they're suddenly eating.

At half past six this morning I borrowed one of Mom's workers and we quickly put up the remaining two metres of the foals' paddock fence. Now there is a paddock, complete with fences, sturdy gate and a bit of kikuyu to boot. The kikuyu grass is coming through beautifully, it is such a hardy grass and animals adore it. Horses do well on kikuyu so I'm going to take the foals off teff. My poor parents are paying through their noses for that teff. There are a few piles of old teff lying around, all that's left of bales that Achilles and Benjamin ate, and it hasn't rained much so it should be fine, I'll finish feeding them that and then they can go onto the eragrostis. It's wonderful stuff, still 8-10% protein, just not as palatable.

I have started the foals on a handful of the mares' Spurwing Tranquilo for now, they really appreciate it and we haven't gotten Supa Start 16% for them yet.

Meanwhile the poplars and peaches have started blossoming.

Tannie Hennah has done a Herculean job on our veggie patch and it is covered in plants. She's also planted a lot of flowers and lavender in the old wheelbarrows. I adore the daffodillies.

Effentjies is also still living in the veggie patch. Poor thing, I gave her a vaccine yesterday and she had a bit of a reaction to it, a mild fever and some swelling. They do occasionally react to that vaccine. Effie has become a real little pet. Practical dairymen, look away now.

We're also in the process of trying to sell Achilles. It is a very hard decision and I've never sold a horse before, but Achi is basically standing around and getting fatter and fatter. I fell off him pretty hard eight months ago (we were riding out and Arwen was in heat and he went totally ballistic, resulting in concussion, bruises and a painful shin) and the parents (and my lack of nerve) banished me from riding him until he was gelded. He has not yet been gelded but Mom let me ride him again for a short while, he actually behaved himself very well. Now that I've convinced my stubborn never-ever-quit nature that I have not quit and that this is a good decision, he's on the market. We originally bought him for Mom and the two of them got along really well, and Mom is a natural in the saddle, but she firstly doesn't have time to ride and secondly can't afford to fall off and break something. I would keep him and take him on as a project of my own, but frankly I don't know what I would do with him. Keeping six horses in work is no mean feat for one person, especially a person already occupied with school, writing and the farm, and I can do it and love to do it but don't want to do it for nothing. Achilles won't be a showjumper, it's not his breed; he could become a dressage horse but then again so could any of the others. I would train him just for the fun of it, but I have Siobhan, Skye and Arwen all under saddle and in two years' time the foals will also be backed. Someone else will really enjoy him and he will really enjoy someone else.

All the same, I'm really going to miss him. Concussion or no concussion, he's a horse and I've had him for two years and he's become a friend. He is sooo handsome (and fat).

Anyway, Kevin came for my lesson today and we actually got a really really nice jumping session out of Arwen. The heat pressed down on us like a lid and the poor thing was dripping with sweat when we finished, she also felt a bit flat and unresponsive, but her jumping was really good, only one or two stops. She is getting comfortable with the bigger heights (80-85cm) and Kevin pushed her to jump over one metre. I didn't think she would jump and I seriously doubted that I was going to stay on, but with a tremendous heave she did it and I stayed on top, prompting a shocked "Well done!" from Kevin. That is the Kevin equivalent of leaping about yelling so I was very pleased with Arwen. She is consistently jumping amazingly at the moment. Today is also her fifth birthday.

Kevin reckons she's almost ready for her first jumping competition, though she needs to lose some weight first. After weaning Dancer she's grown very fat.

Skye also had a fabulous session today, she really enjoyed it and only stopped a few times at the big jump. She's very good at jumping far and occasionally takes off too early when approaching the big jump, causing her to knock it down, so a) I need to get brushing boots and b) she is extremely good at doubles. Perhaps I should try some dressage with Skye, she works in an amazing frame with her head carried really well and she's getting more energetic in the arena now, so she feels fabulous in the way she's going. Her slow canter is coming along very well and she holds her head in at the canter now. I adore her soft mouth, I ride a lot of crazy young horses who lean on my hands a lot, so it's a great pleasure to ride Skye with her lovely gentle mouth.

Quite a jump, huh? I'm so proud of my mares!

We also weaned the poor little foals today since their paddock is done. I found a nice sturdy bucket for water, it's not ideal but the blind cows' trough is within easy reach of their paddock so no issues there. I hate weaning, I feel so evil separating them, poor things, but I know it's for the best. Thunder is taking it quite hard, he did a lot of shouting, but Dancer is a big consolation for him. She escaped once but a bit of baling twine and luck fixed that, she's prone to going underneath fences, but I ran a piece of string across the gap where the fence was a little high and the problem seems solved, at least she's staying in her camp. It's late now, ten to nine, and things seemed to have settled; we had a veritable choir of screaming foals, yelling Achilles and the occasional high bell of Skye. She seems to be coping with it, though she was neighing a little. Now the shouting has stopped and hopefully everyone can get a good night's sleep. Hopefully. We can all do with it.