It is almost exactly two years since I celebrated a substantial pay rise by buying some expensive Italian boots. They were on sale, but still cost considerably more than any other footwear I've bought before or since. Not fashionable high heels, or indeed fashionable in any way: they are Scarpas, quality leather tramping boots.
At that time, I had no idea when or how I could overcome the obstacles then standing between me and my long held desire to live in or near Northland bush, but by buying the boots I was making an investment in the future I longed for. I was living in innercity Wellington, working full time, and without a car. Access to any bush at all was a rare treat and I hardly ever got to wear my beautiful boots. They remained unscuffed and not-quite-broken-in until early this year when I finally made my move north.
They are now looking satisfyingly well worn (see below) and are comfortable enough for increasingly long walks several times a week. Locations that I thought of as distant destinations when I first arrived are now launching pads for my explorations further and further into the hills. I guess I am getting fitter too, but it is curiosity that takes me further, sometimes so far that I return home exhausted and filthy with mud and pittosporum tar.
The last few walks I have been trying to find a track that will connect two ridges at the end of the back farm's valley. This search generally commences an hour or so's walk from home, at the top of the ridge where I found the dead kiwi on my first weekend. I have followed half a dozen tracks, often into DOC 'Kiwi Zones', which either fizzle out into dense undergrowth or veer off in quite the wrong direction. I know this loop exists because my neighbours walked it at Easter, but from the other hill top. Next time I go out I will take their route, which I have resisted thus far because it is steep track without any shade. I will pick a cool and overcast day and set off early, with a packed lunch and my expensive Italian boots. I'll let you know how I go.
Friday, April 15, 2005
Free Kiwi Sex
One of the things I enjoy most about both of the local free weekly papers (The Whangarei Leader and the Report) is that pretty much every issue carries a story about kiwi. I love it. I would much rather read about what's going on in the kiwi world than most of the human world.
But the best kiwi story I've read was in the local free glossy magazine, Scene. The story subtitled "Kiwi wife-swapping and burrow hopping on Matakohe-Limestone Island" by Tristan Tuckey revealed the soap operatic romantic lives of four kiwi with wonderfully tawdry and sordid anthropomorphism. I laughed out loud. More than once.
But the best kiwi story I've read was in the local free glossy magazine, Scene. The story subtitled "Kiwi wife-swapping and burrow hopping on Matakohe-Limestone Island" by Tristan Tuckey revealed the soap operatic romantic lives of four kiwi with wonderfully tawdry and sordid anthropomorphism. I laughed out loud. More than once.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Peacocks and Pears
Today I scared (not on purpose) six peacocks out of a pear tree in the orchard. I've seen them around in twos and threes before and for a long time I thought they were peahens because they don't have tail feathers. But it turns out they are males leaving their tail feathers under the totora trees by the creek, where I have been collecting them to use in my books. Peacocks look too fat to fly, but when they do their wings are a brick red as the light shines through them.
These ones are fat because they are frequent visitors to our overgrown and neglected, yet fecund, orchard. Right now it's hard to begrudge them the fruit because the pear tree in question is defiantly producing an outrageously heavy crop of russet pears despite having fallen over. The trunk is broken most of the way through near the root and the whole tree is propped precariously on a buckling fence. But still so many pears I hardly know what to do with them. Not being a bottler (despite my interest, I have no experience and no jars), I have mostly been making them into pear cakes. I'm onto my third variation of the original recipe and think I have it just about right.
These ones are fat because they are frequent visitors to our overgrown and neglected, yet fecund, orchard. Right now it's hard to begrudge them the fruit because the pear tree in question is defiantly producing an outrageously heavy crop of russet pears despite having fallen over. The trunk is broken most of the way through near the root and the whole tree is propped precariously on a buckling fence. But still so many pears I hardly know what to do with them. Not being a bottler (despite my interest, I have no experience and no jars), I have mostly been making them into pear cakes. I'm onto my third variation of the original recipe and think I have it just about right.
Pear Cake Recipe
4 cups of pears, peeled and chopped small
1 1/2 cups sugar, sprinkled on the pears
Leave them together to make syrup, which depending on the grain of your sugar and the juiciness of your pears, will take 1-3 hours.
Preheat the oven to 325 and grease some muffin tins or 2 small cake pans (don't make as one big cake unless you like a soggy middle)
2 eggs beaten slightly with
2/3 cup canola oil (or other light flavoured oil)
1 tsp almond essence (optional)
Add egg mixture to pear mixture.
Sift together:
3 cups white flour (make 1 cup wholemeal if you are feeling fibre-deprived)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp nutmeg
1tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp ginger
Stir dry ingredients into wet ones or visa versa depending on your bowl size. Spoon mixture into baking tins and cook until golden brown, bouncey and aromatic (15 mins for cupcakes, 25 mins for small cakes).
This cake is so moist it doesn't need icing. Freezes well.
1 1/2 cups sugar, sprinkled on the pears
Leave them together to make syrup, which depending on the grain of your sugar and the juiciness of your pears, will take 1-3 hours.
Preheat the oven to 325 and grease some muffin tins or 2 small cake pans (don't make as one big cake unless you like a soggy middle)
2 eggs beaten slightly with
2/3 cup canola oil (or other light flavoured oil)
1 tsp almond essence (optional)
Add egg mixture to pear mixture.
Sift together:
3 cups white flour (make 1 cup wholemeal if you are feeling fibre-deprived)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp nutmeg
1tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp ginger
Stir dry ingredients into wet ones or visa versa depending on your bowl size. Spoon mixture into baking tins and cook until golden brown, bouncey and aromatic (15 mins for cupcakes, 25 mins for small cakes).
This cake is so moist it doesn't need icing. Freezes well.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Radio New Zealand
Hooray! At long last my audio-deprivation is ended. I have got a radio into the house that actually has all its bits and works! I instantly tuned in to Radio New Zealand, even Wayne Mowatt is welcome, but I can't wait for Saturday afternoons when RNZ makes the best listening around.
And I can almost forgive them for calling off the production of my radio play/poem 'Fall' which was to be broadcast as part of the Open Story Season before the season was cancelled with no real explanation of why. I was pretty excited in anticipation of hearing my work on air. But Oh well, I am planning instead to publish Fall on my website when it is updated any day/week now.
(Fall is Solomon's Song of Songs- the sexiest and most romantic thing in the Bible- transposed to a contemporary New Zealand midlife romance. I'll let you know when it gets on line.)
And I can almost forgive them for calling off the production of my radio play/poem 'Fall' which was to be broadcast as part of the Open Story Season before the season was cancelled with no real explanation of why. I was pretty excited in anticipation of hearing my work on air. But Oh well, I am planning instead to publish Fall on my website when it is updated any day/week now.
(Fall is Solomon's Song of Songs- the sexiest and most romantic thing in the Bible- transposed to a contemporary New Zealand midlife romance. I'll let you know when it gets on line.)
Grey Heron
Every time I see the solitary grey heron that visits the paddock in front of my studio windows, I feel like I have been given a great gift. Is there a more elegant and graceful bird?
Monday, April 11, 2005
Smiling
(My mouth is still a bit numb as I type this so forgive me if I lithp or drool a little).
In my 30s I am a vigilant oral hygenist- my love of flossing is so well known that I was actually given a designer floss holder for my birthday and the little guy gives it up to me every day. The logical outcome of this hypercare routine would be, you would hope, the kind of visits to the dentist that result in a very small charge and smug satisfaction at no work needed.
Sadly I am bolting the barn door after the horse has run away to join the circus. My vigilance is a reaction to early and sustained dental trauma including 5 root canals- three of them on two teeth subsequantly extracted and don't even get me started on impacted wisdom teeth. I have spent most of the last six years working in Wellington to pay exhorbitant sums to repair the work of careless dentists in small towns. And, I admit, my ongoing sugar addiction means I am fighting a losing battle. Even though my beloved grandpa Lou was a dentist, I find it difficult to feel good about them as a professional group, sucking up all my disposable income and causing me great pain.
So when I flossed a filling out of one of my remaining molars last week I went into a mild panic at the thought of having to find a new dentist I could trust sufficiently with my poor mouth. But, I am happy to report that today I actually enjoyed a visit to my new Whangarei dentist, Dr Asi Cohen at the Smile Care Dental Studio.
In stylish surroundings, amid much friendly chat and useful explanations, he did what seems to be an excellent job on my tooth. I was pleasantly distracted during the whole procedure by a DVD of the (appropriately) jaw-dropping Cirque de Soleil and would have willing stayed in the chair longer to watch more.
PS My only complaint is that on my browser, his website doesn't have a navigation bar. But here's the link anyway.
PPS I just want to point out that my Wellington dentist, Dr Andrew Brown, is also a sweetie pie and dental hero.
In my 30s I am a vigilant oral hygenist- my love of flossing is so well known that I was actually given a designer floss holder for my birthday and the little guy gives it up to me every day. The logical outcome of this hypercare routine would be, you would hope, the kind of visits to the dentist that result in a very small charge and smug satisfaction at no work needed.
Sadly I am bolting the barn door after the horse has run away to join the circus. My vigilance is a reaction to early and sustained dental trauma including 5 root canals- three of them on two teeth subsequantly extracted and don't even get me started on impacted wisdom teeth. I have spent most of the last six years working in Wellington to pay exhorbitant sums to repair the work of careless dentists in small towns. And, I admit, my ongoing sugar addiction means I am fighting a losing battle. Even though my beloved grandpa Lou was a dentist, I find it difficult to feel good about them as a professional group, sucking up all my disposable income and causing me great pain.
So when I flossed a filling out of one of my remaining molars last week I went into a mild panic at the thought of having to find a new dentist I could trust sufficiently with my poor mouth. But, I am happy to report that today I actually enjoyed a visit to my new Whangarei dentist, Dr Asi Cohen at the Smile Care Dental Studio.
In stylish surroundings, amid much friendly chat and useful explanations, he did what seems to be an excellent job on my tooth. I was pleasantly distracted during the whole procedure by a DVD of the (appropriately) jaw-dropping Cirque de Soleil and would have willing stayed in the chair longer to watch more.
PS My only complaint is that on my browser, his website doesn't have a navigation bar. But here's the link anyway.
PPS I just want to point out that my Wellington dentist, Dr Andrew Brown, is also a sweetie pie and dental hero.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
50 First Dates and The Time Traveller's Wife
The other night I watched 50 First Dates, on a DVD borrowed from Whangarei District Libraries. (I don't have a TV, and my laptop screen is too small for watching films with subtitles or subtlety, and while Adam Sandler is off-putting, as one of the ET generation I have a soft spot for Drew Barrymore).
It is a very silly movie and I would hesitate to admit watching it, let alone recommend it except it has been in my thoughts all weekend, and I've ended up watching all the extras including the commentary. This is most surprising because I almost switched it off in the first 15 minutes because it was so interminably crass. It did improve, sporadically (with the aid of a couple of glasses of wine) into substantial moments of endearing tenderness.
I have come to the conclusion that what I like about 50 First Dates is how it reminds me of my current favourite book, The Time Traveller's Wife. I mean no insult to a book that does not have a single misplaced word, one-dimensional character or unnecessary scene between its covers. Unlike 50 First Dates which required a huge effort to suspend disbelief sufficiently to maintain anything but derision; Audrey Niffenegger so skillfully constructs an entirely believable scenario that when you rise for air between chapters you have to remind yourself it's not a true story. (And I think is Henry de Tamble -TTTW- is funnier than Henry Roth-FFD.)
But both book and film give a central character a distorted experience of time which, as a stop-motion film reveals the graceful unfurling of a flower, allows us to examine the unfurling of a relationship, and development of the characters, in detail. And what this time distortion device reveals is the transformative and sturdy power of consistent, thoughtful, deliberate, generous acts of kindness. Such actions are the basis of a love that can transcend the vagaries of time.
If you are in a hurry, I think you could get the gist of this in scenes 4, 5, 12, 13, 14, 15 and 18 of 50 First Dates. If however, you have the time I recommend, without qualification, The Time Traveller's Wife.
P.S. While I was searching for a good link for this post, I discovered that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston bought the rights to TTTW and I imagine planned to star in the movie together. This terrifying prospect is mitigated by the recently demonstrated inability of Pitt and Anniston's love to transcend time, giving me hope that no Hollywood desecration is immanent.
...If I was casting the movie I would want John Cusack and Salma Hayek...
It is a very silly movie and I would hesitate to admit watching it, let alone recommend it except it has been in my thoughts all weekend, and I've ended up watching all the extras including the commentary. This is most surprising because I almost switched it off in the first 15 minutes because it was so interminably crass. It did improve, sporadically (with the aid of a couple of glasses of wine) into substantial moments of endearing tenderness.
I have come to the conclusion that what I like about 50 First Dates is how it reminds me of my current favourite book, The Time Traveller's Wife. I mean no insult to a book that does not have a single misplaced word, one-dimensional character or unnecessary scene between its covers. Unlike 50 First Dates which required a huge effort to suspend disbelief sufficiently to maintain anything but derision; Audrey Niffenegger so skillfully constructs an entirely believable scenario that when you rise for air between chapters you have to remind yourself it's not a true story. (And I think is Henry de Tamble -TTTW- is funnier than Henry Roth-FFD.)
But both book and film give a central character a distorted experience of time which, as a stop-motion film reveals the graceful unfurling of a flower, allows us to examine the unfurling of a relationship, and development of the characters, in detail. And what this time distortion device reveals is the transformative and sturdy power of consistent, thoughtful, deliberate, generous acts of kindness. Such actions are the basis of a love that can transcend the vagaries of time.
If you are in a hurry, I think you could get the gist of this in scenes 4, 5, 12, 13, 14, 15 and 18 of 50 First Dates. If however, you have the time I recommend, without qualification, The Time Traveller's Wife.
P.S. While I was searching for a good link for this post, I discovered that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston bought the rights to TTTW and I imagine planned to star in the movie together. This terrifying prospect is mitigated by the recently demonstrated inability of Pitt and Anniston's love to transcend time, giving me hope that no Hollywood desecration is immanent.
...If I was casting the movie I would want John Cusack and Salma Hayek...
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Frothy and dazzling times
Sometimes you get a horoscope that is just spot on- random chance or psychic powers? Who knows... I don't really care cos Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology Newsletter is so fun that it hardly matters whether what he says for my sign is 'true' or not.
But this week, he really hit the spot:
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): English poet William Wordsworth said that "Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." By that definition, Sagittarius, you'll be a fount of poetry this week. For best results, though, don't immediately translate those spontaneous feelings into action. Let them have their way with you for a while before you decide what they all mean. It's one of those frothy, dazzling times when you have no more important task than to honor your emotional riches with your reverent, patient attention. (Italics mine cos this is exactly what making books is.)
(Follow the link to his website and subscribe for your own weekly dose of subversive and inspiring pronia)
But this week, he really hit the spot:
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): English poet William Wordsworth said that "Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." By that definition, Sagittarius, you'll be a fount of poetry this week. For best results, though, don't immediately translate those spontaneous feelings into action. Let them have their way with you for a while before you decide what they all mean. It's one of those frothy, dazzling times when you have no more important task than to honor your emotional riches with your reverent, patient attention. (Italics mine cos this is exactly what making books is.)
(Follow the link to his website and subscribe for your own weekly dose of subversive and inspiring pronia)
Master Class
While I was on my trip South a few weeks ago I bought myself a new book (a rare event). It is the Penland Book of Handmade Books and it cost way more than I can afford but I had to have it and so I do. But strangely, I came home, put it on the shelf and didn't look at it for three weeks.
Why? Well, for a start I am world class at delayed gratification (watch me NOT unwrap the present for hours or days or weeks). Also I had a ton of orders to fill, so I was in production mode and couldn't afford to get to excited about designing new books. But most of the orders are filled now, and the itch to make new books has been begging to be scratched. I spent the weekend noodling around with interesting ideas for content... turning into unsatisfying structures. And then I remembered my new book.
It's big, it's glossy and hardbacked, it's chock full of incredible, beautiful photographs of artist's books. It has interesting essays by ten different expert book artists, each of whom demonstrates a representative technique (this is not a book for beginners). And from the moment I pulled it off the shelf and slowly, respectfully opened it up, I have been on a crazy ride.
First I had a crisis of confidence- these guys are sooooo good, who am I trying to kid with my feeble efforts. Then I started getting excited by all the new ideas bouncing out of the pages. Then I followed Heidi Kyle's step-by-step instructions (she is famous for folding single sheets of paper into elaborate elegant books). Then I looked at the time and thought I better go to bed. But I just lay there imaging where I could take the Heidi Kyle structure and eventually dreamed about making books and then couldn't be bothered staying in bed any longer (it was almost dawn) so got up and started experimenting.
I've been in a frenzy of folding and cutting and glueing and sewing as I spiral outwards from the first model- following interweaving paths of content and structure, butting up against the boundaries of (wailing begins not having the right kind of paper and tools so having to make do with what I can find in my stash. Here I am 30 kilometers from the Stationery Warehouse- not good enough!- which is the best on offer in the arts supply wasteland that is Whangarei and while I've been mail-ordering up a storm, rural delivery is unbearably slow wailing ends) . So inevitably, I am having to be more creative, not less, because 3 out of 4 ideas I've come up with in the whirlwind of the the last 48 hours have been blocked by logistics, sending me galloping off in another direction.
And while my studio is starting to silt up with intricately folded paper and interesting cardboard cutouts in the pursuit of the new, I am also looking at my current work with fresh eyes, suddenly seeing new ways through some sticky technical production problems.
I've been feeling the need for a book artist-mentor or teacher who can critique my work in a constructive, challenging way. This book, subtitled Master Classes inBookmaking Techniques goes some way towards giving me the expert push I need. I'm not sure where my new work is going to take me, but I'm enjoying the ride. Yee ha!
Why? Well, for a start I am world class at delayed gratification (watch me NOT unwrap the present for hours or days or weeks). Also I had a ton of orders to fill, so I was in production mode and couldn't afford to get to excited about designing new books. But most of the orders are filled now, and the itch to make new books has been begging to be scratched. I spent the weekend noodling around with interesting ideas for content... turning into unsatisfying structures. And then I remembered my new book.
It's big, it's glossy and hardbacked, it's chock full of incredible, beautiful photographs of artist's books. It has interesting essays by ten different expert book artists, each of whom demonstrates a representative technique (this is not a book for beginners). And from the moment I pulled it off the shelf and slowly, respectfully opened it up, I have been on a crazy ride.
First I had a crisis of confidence- these guys are sooooo good, who am I trying to kid with my feeble efforts. Then I started getting excited by all the new ideas bouncing out of the pages. Then I followed Heidi Kyle's step-by-step instructions (she is famous for folding single sheets of paper into elaborate elegant books). Then I looked at the time and thought I better go to bed. But I just lay there imaging where I could take the Heidi Kyle structure and eventually dreamed about making books and then couldn't be bothered staying in bed any longer (it was almost dawn) so got up and started experimenting.
I've been in a frenzy of folding and cutting and glueing and sewing as I spiral outwards from the first model- following interweaving paths of content and structure, butting up against the boundaries of (wailing begins not having the right kind of paper and tools so having to make do with what I can find in my stash. Here I am 30 kilometers from the Stationery Warehouse- not good enough!- which is the best on offer in the arts supply wasteland that is Whangarei and while I've been mail-ordering up a storm, rural delivery is unbearably slow wailing ends) . So inevitably, I am having to be more creative, not less, because 3 out of 4 ideas I've come up with in the whirlwind of the the last 48 hours have been blocked by logistics, sending me galloping off in another direction.
And while my studio is starting to silt up with intricately folded paper and interesting cardboard cutouts in the pursuit of the new, I am also looking at my current work with fresh eyes, suddenly seeing new ways through some sticky technical production problems.
I've been feeling the need for a book artist-mentor or teacher who can critique my work in a constructive, challenging way. This book, subtitled Master Classes inBookmaking Techniques goes some way towards giving me the expert push I need. I'm not sure where my new work is going to take me, but I'm enjoying the ride. Yee ha!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Great galleries!
Reading this blog may give the impression that I do nothing but walk the hills and get friendly with cows. But no! I actually have been working really hard to produce copies of my books for new galleries about to start stocking my work. Today I mailed a bunch of lovely little parcels out to them. I am so pleased with my new work, and so thrilled to be releasing it into the world that this is a very satisfying part of the whole process.
It won't be too long before I can post photos of all the new books onto my website (and I'm planning to celebrate that event with some special deals for cyberspace customers so keep reading this blog regularly). In the meantime, I recommend visiting one of these excellent galleries to have a look at what I have been making!
It won't be too long before I can post photos of all the new books onto my website (and I'm planning to celebrate that event with some special deals for cyberspace customers so keep reading this blog regularly). In the meantime, I recommend visiting one of these excellent galleries to have a look at what I have been making!
- In my new hometown of Whangarei, the fabulous Tuatara Inspired Design is the place to look at a representative sample of some of my best pieces.
- If you are driving through Tirau, stop at Heather Leonard's Naked Art Gallery. She specialises in the human form and is stocking my Boob and Cock books.
- Wellingtonian's can venture up the coast to Lush Design Gallery in Raumati Beach where they will be selling a selection of my books.
- In Waihi the Art Market (just off the main road, in Moresby Ave) is also stocking some of my new bush books and some old favourites.
- Don't forget Arts Post Galleries on the main street of Hamilton. They were the first gallery to show my work and continue to be enthusiastic supporters- they stock everything currently for sale in my oevre.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
New calf (and a pig sighting at last)
It is calving season round here, apparently they are coming thick and fast but until tonight I hadn't seen any for myself. Then, returning from a walk at dusk, I saw a cow with something sticking out of her bottom that looked quite a lot like a snout. Sure enough, as I got a bit closer,I could see it was a little calf face, the mouth opening and closing as the labouring mother waddled about snatching mouthfuls of grass.
I've witnessed the births of 5 humans, a dozen or so kittens and once a chicken from an egg, but never before a calf. It seemed like a long time before the mum stopped walking, eating and pushing other cows around and finally lay down (facing away from me). I missed the head coming out while I repositioned myself trying not to stress out the mum or her mates. But it didn't matter too much because after a few minutes her sides started to heave, like she was giving great sighs (though she was silent) and with a wet woosh, the calf slithered out into a soggy pile.
Next was a long period of licking, which she started at the calf's nether regions, leaving it to shake its own face free of slime. Some of the other cows came over to have a sniff at the new baby but were careful not to actually touch it. During the baby's transformation from intert slime creature to tufty-leggy-cutie there was another exciting event.
All the other cows in that little paddock and another little herd of them on the other side of the driveway suddenly thundered towards each other, bellowing across the track at the top of their lungs. I thought for a city-girl second that maybe this was some kind of birth announcement to the herd, and then... a little brown piglet came running out of the grass onto the drive heading straight for me. (Inevitably the camera failed at that moment, so you will have to believe me when I tell you it was actually multi-coloured- with a green stripe down its back and red legs- no really, I am telling the truth and no mind-altering substances were involved).
The little piglet did a u-turn when it noticed me and ran the gauntlet of distressed pregnant cows back down the driveway. All the neighbours cows on the other side of the road came over to join the commotion and after a few minutes the little pig came running back and this time carried on past me. I guess it weighed up its options and decided I was smaller and quieter so less of a threat than three herds of angry pregnant cows. It carried on up towards my place and I weighed up my options and decided I would rather stay and watch the baby calf struggle to its wobbly feet for the first time, than chase a piglet round my lawn.
Eventually the cows calmed down a bit, and reverted to being annoyed with my nosiness. They all circled round the new mother and calf who took its first wobbly steps in the wrong direction, away from its mother and towards another, particularly antsy, cow. Mum didn't like this and started trying to push the other cows away from her baby so she could carry on with her vigorous licking, as her udders leaked colostrum onto the grass.
And then the piglet reappeared, running towards me from the direction of the new calf, just on the other side of the fence from them. This time I decided to chase the piggy, and called my neighbours on the cellphone to enlist their help. We ran around in the dusk for a while but the piglet disappeared (no doubt heading into the hills to grow to a threatening size so it can rush me again and freak me out). The cows all calmed down, more or less, and the calf eventually staggered in the right direction, and managed to get its mouth wrapped around a dripping teat. All in all, another exciting evening on the farm.
I've witnessed the births of 5 humans, a dozen or so kittens and once a chicken from an egg, but never before a calf. It seemed like a long time before the mum stopped walking, eating and pushing other cows around and finally lay down (facing away from me). I missed the head coming out while I repositioned myself trying not to stress out the mum or her mates. But it didn't matter too much because after a few minutes her sides started to heave, like she was giving great sighs (though she was silent) and with a wet woosh, the calf slithered out into a soggy pile.
Next was a long period of licking, which she started at the calf's nether regions, leaving it to shake its own face free of slime. Some of the other cows came over to have a sniff at the new baby but were careful not to actually touch it. During the baby's transformation from intert slime creature to tufty-leggy-cutie there was another exciting event.
All the other cows in that little paddock and another little herd of them on the other side of the driveway suddenly thundered towards each other, bellowing across the track at the top of their lungs. I thought for a city-girl second that maybe this was some kind of birth announcement to the herd, and then... a little brown piglet came running out of the grass onto the drive heading straight for me. (Inevitably the camera failed at that moment, so you will have to believe me when I tell you it was actually multi-coloured- with a green stripe down its back and red legs- no really, I am telling the truth and no mind-altering substances were involved).
The little piglet did a u-turn when it noticed me and ran the gauntlet of distressed pregnant cows back down the driveway. All the neighbours cows on the other side of the road came over to join the commotion and after a few minutes the little pig came running back and this time carried on past me. I guess it weighed up its options and decided I was smaller and quieter so less of a threat than three herds of angry pregnant cows. It carried on up towards my place and I weighed up my options and decided I would rather stay and watch the baby calf struggle to its wobbly feet for the first time, than chase a piglet round my lawn.
Eventually the cows calmed down a bit, and reverted to being annoyed with my nosiness. They all circled round the new mother and calf who took its first wobbly steps in the wrong direction, away from its mother and towards another, particularly antsy, cow. Mum didn't like this and started trying to push the other cows away from her baby so she could carry on with her vigorous licking, as her udders leaked colostrum onto the grass.
And then the piglet reappeared, running towards me from the direction of the new calf, just on the other side of the fence from them. This time I decided to chase the piggy, and called my neighbours on the cellphone to enlist their help. We ran around in the dusk for a while but the piglet disappeared (no doubt heading into the hills to grow to a threatening size so it can rush me again and freak me out). The cows all calmed down, more or less, and the calf eventually staggered in the right direction, and managed to get its mouth wrapped around a dripping teat. All in all, another exciting evening on the farm.
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