Chapter 7 - To Stock a Farm
On May 19th, 1913 the deeds were signed and Fred became the official owner of the parcel of land he called Okoropong. Already the drain was working but there is no profit in empty land.
There were visits to various sales, wasted days, and Fred began to wonder if there would ever be any worthwhile cattle at a price he could afford. Even the milking machines they inspected weren’t reliable. The Dominion agent took them to see a plant but it had broken down; the following day an agent took them to Ngaruawahia to see some heifers but they were at the back of the property and it was too rough and cold to inspect them.
“Surely there’ll be some,” Sam commented. “We’d better get a shed ready anyway.”
Timber and cement were ordered and had to be transported out to Okoropong. There just didn’t seem time to make a dray, so one, together with the harness had to be purchased.
“It’s just as well our hands are getting tough,” Sam said as he straightened his back, and he made a joking remark.
“Sam is fun to work with”, thought Fred and he felt grateful. They were shoveling gravel into the cart to make the foundations for the shed. Six cows came in one behind the other on each side of the passage about 1 yard wide. Where each cow stood, there was a post and a rope to tie her leg and a heavy stick went behind so that she could not move backwards. A hole was chiseled in each post and filled with ointment to use on the teats that inevitably cracked in the muddy environment. There was a tin of water and a rag to wash each cow before the cups went on. The milkers all had a stool to sit on when they stripped the cows after the machines were removed.
“We’ll concrete it all,” commented the owner,” and it must be levelled correctly so that all water goes to the channel at the end of the shed. As soon as we can afford it we’ll concrete the yard too and put a roof over it so the cows won’t drip down our necks on a wet day.”
The shed for the engine was at the end of the race and a short distance away a concrete building 2 meters by 2 meters had to be constructed to hold the copper underneath with a little fire heated he water to wash the machine. It was necessary too, to build an adequate fence around the paddock prepared for the pigs. “If we were near enough to a factory to cart our milk, we’d have whey to feed the pigs, but we’ll separate the milk on the farm and only send the cream. The pigs will be fed on skim milk and we’ll have to grow swedes and mangolds and pumpkin for them too. When we get time we’ll put a pipe line from the shed to a settling tank so that they can have some curds,” he told his father.
Fred and Sam had been so glad when their father came up for the holidays. An extra pair of hands made such a difference to all the jobs that needed doing. As well as the building, Fred had made a triangle harrows to use where there were too many stumps to plough. The hill paddocks were top dressed by hand
“Like the man in the bible,” quipped Sam.
It was hard on the hands and on the eyes when the wind made the task more difficult.
On May 29th Fred and Sam rode to the cattle sale at Motumaoho, purchasing 8 heifers at £4/2/6d each, and 8 at £5. At the end of the sale, they went to collect their stock. As another drover opened the gate for them, one of the cows shot out bellowing and bucking. She startled the lot. Several men with their whips and dogs came to help start the little group on their way. With another bellow the big spotted cow dashed at one of the dogs and only a drover’s whip saved it.
“That’s a devil of a cow,” one of the men called.
Piako Road was unfenced. Here and there little tracks led through the thick manuka and rushes, but danger lurked in the treacherous scum-covered pools and squelching moss. They had gone two or three miles and the herd seemed to be settling down when a pukeko lifted noisily from a pool. Spotted Devil gave a bellow and bolted. The rest scattered. For a while the men tried to collect their stock but it was almost dark.
“Tired and hungry and very angry they rode home, returning at daybreak next morning. Most of their cows were feeding quietly on the road. Searching, they found a little jersey heifer bogged. It wasn’t theirs so they pulled her out and left her on the road hoping she would find her own way home. Fifteen animals, all except Spotted Devil, were driven home.
Three days later Fred rode that way again; someone had seen her on the Morrinsville Road and there he found her. It was dark by the time he got that cow home; a day wasted.
“She’s a big cow,” Sam said, “Maybe she will give a lot of milk. Anyhow, now we’ve got to decide about the milking plant.”
At the Winter Show on 7th June, Fred ordered the milking machine; a L.K.G. It cost £250. Ten days later at a sale in Hukanui (now called Gordonton) he bought 30 cows at four pounds 11/3d each, as well as two sacks of grass seed, a pony for £5 and two bags of potatoes to go in the new garden his father had helped plough and disc.
All day Fred and Sam had been splitting battens. One of the big kauri trunks had been cut the right length and a 6 inch slice sawed off. A cross-cut saw is heavy to work at any time, but sawing sideways is even more awkward. Then wedges were used to split it into battens. The sledge hammer needed to drive in the wedges grows heavy as the afternoon turns to evening.
“Let’s call it a day,” Fred said on Wednesday, July 30th.
Sam said “There’s someone coming.”
It was the two engineers from J.B. McEwen and Co. having come to erect the L.K.G. engine. There was a spare bed for one but young Arthur Morgan had to sleep on two Morris chairs pushed together. It took them three days working for twelve hours a day; on Sunday morning they started the engine, separator and vacuum pump. The pulsators and cups were still at the station and Sam went in for them on Monday.
Fred wrote to his Esther, “The engine room of our milking shed looks more like the interior of an engineers shop than the business end of a dairy farm.
With the engine, pump, separator, releaser and all the necessary shafting and belting, things do look busy. The noise is going to be more than I expected, but no doubt the cows will get used to it in time, but I’m afraid we will have trouble at first. The most important part, the engine is a very compact little machine. Although 5 hp, one man can lift it. Its strength lies in the speed, not in the size of the cylinder. When in motion, she does hum; goes as if her life depends on getting there at once. I have been taking lessons in the working parts but I don’t know that I am any the wiser yet.”
The engineers left after lunch to complete a plant they had installed a month before and returned to Okoropong the following day when Sam had been to Claudelands to get the last consignment of equipment. “McMullens are sending cream to the factory. Why aren’t our cows coming in,” Sam wondered.
Fred was worried too. They were only milking three when he’d expected all the cows to have calved. The heifers were due later. It was no consulation when a neighbour said, “Oh, Tom put the bull out when he told you he had, but it wasn’t any good and he had had to get another bull.”
It wasn’t till August 29th, that there was enough cream to take the can down to the roadside stand. Four days later there was another can of cream to go and the third consignment went on September 3rd.
“A good bull is necessary if our herd is to improve”, Fred decided and that first winter’s pedigree Jersey bull calf out of Pencarrow Winningway was bought. He wasn’t in the herd book so they only paid six guiness.
When the first sow farrowed she killed all her piglets.
“Little Girl” produced six but three were dead. It was hard to find out why, but one authority said, “Pigs run a temperature when they farrow so they must have a draught proof house and privacy; a bed in the toi-toi won’t do. And maybe bracken isn’t safe.
The paddock looked as if it had been ploughed where the pigs rooted for the fern. So individual pens were built with a snug house for each sow, and the area ploughed and harrowed to get rid of the fern. Later the paddocks were grassed and the pigs ringed so they did not plough up the ground. How they squealed when they were caught. Ringing pigs is one of the noisiest games there is.