Life

Believe it or not, there's been more to life than puppies recently. Lots more. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had a full day at home with no visitors, events or major jobs to get done. I've been working extra days and clocking up a lot of kilometres to and from training courses and doctors' appointments, BabyJ's been spending a lot of time at daycare, and R has been struggling his way through the busiest time of the year with a shocking dose of hayfever.



We've had weeks of drenching, weeks of crutching, then weaning lambs, the spraying's been done, the hay's been cut, and sometime in the next week or two we'll start shearing. That'll take a couple of weeks if the weather's favourable, and then we're onto harvest. And sometime in and around all this important farm stuff, we'll squeeze in Christmas and I'll squeeze out a new baby. Hopefully.

Weaning: nothing to do with sippy cups and rice porridge, but the task of separating these-
lambs and the odd dry ewe:


From these- merino ewes:


So it turns out that after all my whinging about the Albany trial, we'll miss most of it. Serves me right, really- and as it happens, my whole vent was based on an error in the trial form and we're all welcome in Open. I'm hoping to make it for a day so maybe I will get to run a couple of dogs, and depending on weather and shearing, R and BabyJ might come along too. Possibly in our new ute!

It's probably a good thing we aren't making the whole trial, because at this time of year all the dogs are sorely neglected. The only ones that get any attention are the work dogs, and they've been practicing all sorts of bad farm dog habits rather than polishing trial ground skills.

Here's my current work team (or one form of it):
Muddy, Queani, Trim and Pink (Bill doesn't need to be tied up...)


Bill- still does most things for me- as long as no-one bosses him around in the yards, he's happy as a pig in mud, and generally pretty sensible. Nothing goes over or past him.

Muddy- good for yard work, anything involving backing, and helping out on mobs



Queani- my left hand dog (Bill's on the other side), she does everything- big mustering cast, usually sensible on a mob, does anything for anyone in the yards





Trim- up and coming. Doesn't listen to me very well at the moment, just getting some miles under her before hopefully trialling next year. Happy in the yards right from the start, like her sister Badger.

Pinky- off the trial list, she's apprenticed to Queani to get more confidence on the farm and hopefully later on the trial ground

Yard dog extraordinaire Jim (who'd think it of an imported dog?) and Queani take a breather in the force:


So we've been spending lots of time in the yards, and look:


Proof that BabyJ is absolutely no longer a baby, but a proper Boy. He climbed all the way up there on his own, while I was drafting (my favourite job).



If you're wondering, that "rock" is actually a spaceship that goes up, up, UP! In the SKY!
Not a potential spinal injury in the making at all...

He would prefer to be on the drafting gate himself, but big fast panicking crossie lambs are even more dangerous than rockclimbing when you're only a little FarmBoy, and it's no fun being shut in a "farm playpen" all day.





And speaking of spinal injuries, we did manage to get away for one day to the polocrosse:





They all made Jarrah and Blade look fat. Time to get back into it, R!



I liked this horse best:




I missed the sub-juniors, but I'm told it's a festival of little people on little ponies, in many cases led around the pitch by parents much fitter than me.

FarmBoy, now the proud owner of his first polocrosse stick, is pretty keen to get out there on Toffee and show them how it's done.

Just as soon as he gets his boots unstuck...

One down

Just remind me of this in a few years if we ever contemplate having puppies here again:

I really don't like puppies.

There's a brief period, somewhere between 3 and 6 weeks, when they're kind of cute: eyes open, toddling around, interacting with their environment and the people in it in a gentle endearing way. Then I don't mind them, apart from the mess they create.

But by 6 weeks, they're starting to get annoying. They have sharp scratchy nails, they jump on you and bite your fingers, and they dig holes under their pen gates and create havoc around the garden. They tip over food bowls and make an exponentially bigger mess every day.

Squig to Evie- "Look, something soft and vulnerable..."


Then, somewhere around 7 weeks, BANG, it happens!

"Bite it! Hard!"


Their adorably soft, uncoordinated little bodies become strong, fast driven instruments of destruction. They no longer totter unsteadily on their hind legs as they try to clamber up your legs- they launch themselves a foot in the air to tear holes in your shorts. They observe with touching interest all the goings on in their world- watering of veggie seedlings, repotting of little trees, feeding of chooks- and then hurl themselves into the action and try to wreak as much destruction as they can.

"Tear it, shred it!"


In the space of one short week, "Puppies!" has changed from a welcome invitation to fun for BabyJ and the big dog gang to a threat, now met with horrified faces and swift retreat.

I suppose this is a deliberate ploy by Nature to ensure that those that bring puppies into the world and rear them for their first weeks don't get so attached that they never want to let them go. It's certainly worked well here- I was quite sad last week when Dark Girl headed off to her new home, but now all of us, two legged and four, are counting down the days until the remaining little monsters start their new lives.

Why the sad face, BabyJ?
You don't want the puppies to leave?


"No, I don't want Squig to take my fingers with her!"


Dark has gone to be a sheepdog in the district, eventually to replace a dog R bred years ago. The others will mostly be sheepdogs, and there's one Token Agility Dog. They're all getting called by their new names now, apart from the TAD, who will just have to stay the TAD for a while longer.

"Bye, Dark!"








"Be a good girl!"


So we're stuck with this lot just a little bit longer:

Boy, Squig and Evie:


Evie:




Boy- now known as Drift:




Watch out girls, Drift's coming through!




Drift and my ex-sock, with Gem in hot pursuit:


Gem (formerly known as Squee, or "that pup with the blue eye spot")


Gem and Evie:


Squig- butter wouldn't melt...


... because she'd shred it and tear it and destroy it long before it had a chance to melt.




Squig- "small tasty child, you're blocking my dog walk"




Squig and my ex-sock, Gem still in hot pursuit:


Gem finally catches my ex-sock, and now has Squig, Evie and Dark to deal with:


Squig: "They stole my sock, before I had a chance to destroy it!"


Gem- front, Squig, behind:



Thank God for the big dogs. Fred has had enough of having his dangly bits molested, and shows an amazing turn of speed when he sees the fruit of those same loins approaching (and the fruit of the fruit of his loins, if we want to be technical). But Muddy is still game, and Jim actually loves puppy-sitting. BabyJ and I usually take Jim as a diversion when we go puppywalking.

Muddy, trying to persuade the girls that his nipples are purely ornamental:


Muddy, trying to persuade Drift that he's ferocious and the bone is his (he failed dismally):


Jimbo, our puppyshield:





And finally, for all those lovely people/unsuspecting bunnies waiting eagerly for their own little piece of this action, I'd like to present our formerly lovely verandah hibiscus:



Hope you're all ready for them!