Chapter 10 - Aftermath

Throughout January the fires burned, blotting out the sun with the thick throat-tingling peat smoke. From the whare the landscape seemed to have changed completely. Along the back boundary where the waters from Lake Tuna Whaka Peke Peke oozed in a quaking bog, rushes and sedges were still growing, but the rest of the flats were a mess of grey ash that twirled and twisted in great clouds of dust at every puff of wind. Esther had to return to her teaching position, going reluctantly, but Mrs Williamson stayed to help her boys in their time of trouble.  There was rain at the beginning of February, and most of the fires seemed to be out, but the ashes formed a crust and the water stayed on top. It was too deep and too soft for any vehicle to be used, so the men sowed the seed by hand, floundering almost to their knees in the soft powdery stuff. Every now & then they stumbled over something big and hard and wondered what was below the surface.

“I feel like the sower in the Bible,” remarked Sam as he set off with the grass seed in a sack slung at his waist using both hands to fling out the precious grass seed. It was hard work. At last about 100 acres had been covered and all the expensive seed was gone.

‘I didn’t expect to do it all the first year,” commented Fred. “This place is costing much more than I bargained for.”

The gusty wind whipped up again. With no trees to slow it down it whirled through the district. Too unreliable to turn the windmills properly, it dried the peaty ashes to a fine dust, and day after day the dry soil lifted and was carried away, and away went all the costly grass seed too. Whenever any of the farmers met, they talked of the trees that must be planted to shelter their farms. “Pinus Insigus or macrocarpa are best,” most agreed, but even these hardy trees found it difficult to maintain a root-hold in the soft peat during the hot, windy autumn. On Okoropong the young farmers were despondent. The fires had started up again and three times a day they were patrolling the fire breaks. The wind sapped the energy of men and horses. Besides, all their paddocks would have to be sown again and grass seed cost a lot. On Sunday, 22nd February, Fred said to his Mother, “we haven’t a horse you can ride to kirk, but we’ll put Darkie in the cart and go to the service in the Gordonton hall this afternoon, so get your best bib and tucker on.”

They were all getting ready when there was a knock at the door and Mr Peach introduced himself.

“Have you seen the mess your fires have made of my fences?” 

Mr Peach began. “I think you had better replace them.”

After some discussion, the Williamson Brothers agreed to rebuild the fences destroyed by the fire, and to sow the burnt areas with grass and manure.

Then Fred said, “You know we drain into your place. We’ve been working on our drain as far as you boundary, but the water won’t clear properly if you don’t keep it open through your property.” “Draining’s hard work,” said Mr Peach “and it’s expensive to get someone to do it.” But the drain was vital to the Okoropong lands and Fred persisted till the visitor promised to clear his drain. “I wonder,” said Fred gloomily, as they watched the neighbour walking across the paddocks to his own home. There was no road between the properties, so it would have been five miles to ride, but a log across the drain opened a walking track. It was now too late for the Williamson’s to go to church. On March 17th, St Pats day – Mrs Williamson thought how weary her sons looked. The worry over the peat fires, and extra labour entailed in going round three times a day, as well as all the new work they were trying to do to establish their own farm was just too much.

 “How’s the irrigation work going?” she asked as she put the tea on the table.  

“We’ve got the tank up by the windmill, and most of the pipes laid to the Hill and Seed paddocks. As soon as we get some more cement, I’ll make a trough by the shed too,” Fred told her. Water pipes came in 20ft lengths of galvanized iron. These had to be joined carefully so there were no leaks and the pipeline dug into the ground straight and fairly level. 

“I wish someone would invent a water pipe that goes round corners,” said Fred, then seeing his mother’s worried look, he brightened.

“The “Crosley” is working well pumping the water. There’s a good flow in both troughs. It seems as if you can’t rely on the wind in the Waikato! It shouts along like a mad thing till you think the whole mill is taking off for the moon, and then when you really want it, it sulks and won’t even move the sails.”

They had nearly finished tea when Sam dashed to the window.

“It’s raining! It’s raining hard,” he chanted and he leap-frogged over the back of a chair. “It’s raining hard.” “Out go the fires. In goes the seed. Up comes the grass, and into the cans goes the cream.”

“And into our pocket goes the profit,” laughed Fred forgetting his tiredness. 

The rain did put out the fires, and every year when St Pats Day came round he remembered. 

Now the flats were sown with grass seed again, and Mr Peach’s burn too. As they laboured to cut up the posts for Mr Peach’s fence, erecting it before starting on their own, they felt that the “experience account” had been very dearly bought indeed.