A quick lesson for me recently……I can do a lot of things
when the pressure is on.
My husband was organising a buck’s party weekend away and
taking his Best man’s role very seriously. A weekend of camping, fishing and
drinking with mates, although after listening to the menu and their organising
I had arrived at the decision that they were glamping….seriously 10kgs of
prawns & two boxes of strip loin straight
from the abattoir to be consumed on a creek bank in Western Queensland?! The wedding had already been cancelled once
due to an unexpected accident (from which an excellent recovery has been made),
and it was really important that they all get away for some downtime.
We had organised someone to come over and feed the cattle in
the feedlot…..or so we thought. A feedlot is a very demanding master. Cattle
must be fed at least once a day (sometimes more), rations mixed, waters cleaned
and the feedlot checked several times a day (to make sure all animals are
healthy, water is available, sufficient feed available, etc). Much like a dairy
farm, it is very difficult to leave and ties you down to the place.
Finding employees is hard in this area. We have to compete
against CSG(Coal Seam Gas) companies & service companies who pay big wages.
The local town has rents that average $600/week for a house. It is also hard to
find someone who is genuinely interested in feedlotting and farming.
Only six days out from the weekend we discover we have no
one to feed, and we are hitting dead ends in finding alternatives. Meekly I
pipe up with “Perhaps I could do it?”. I was very glad at this stage that the
idea was rejected and I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to offering
other suggestions.
I should explain at this stage that I do not drive a tractor.
My mother told me never to learn so I did not have to sit there going around
and around on a cultivation planting crops. I think it may be the fact that she
used to have to drive a D6 Bulldozer with no cab at all (lovely Australian sun
beating down on her) planting wheat may have been the reason behind her advice.
She also told me never to marry a farmer (as in a cropping farmer). She should
have mentioned feedlotters too I think.
I do however drive a bobcat, and can operate a mixer. I also
do all costings (working out costs of all components of a ration) on our
rations so I know exactly what goes into a ration and at what ratio, but the
finer points of mixing rations are not my domain. I assist with the induction
of cattle and potter around cleaning waters, etc when able as I have three boys
5 and under who keep me house bound and busy.
So when hubby suddenly said “Right you’re it!” I suddenly
felt sick. Sick at the responsibility that would now be mine. I believe at this
point in time I was almost physically sick any time I gave the coming weekend
too much thought. Me and my big mouth
and bright ideas!!
Perhaps the thing that worried me the most was the fact I
must drive a bobcat with a bucket load of various commodities up a ramp and
empty the bucket into a mixer. Bobcats
are sensitive machines, prone to propping and bucking under the drivers hands.
The bucket is controlled by foot pedals while driving is controlled by the
hands on sticks. Lots of things to be doing at once, meaning lots of room for error. There was a
lot of bunny hopping over bumps to and from the silage pit & also more
terrifyingly up and down the ramp.
I sat there in the cab tense, so tense infact that when I
got out it took along time for the muscles across the shoulders to relax and my
hands were almost like claws from gripping the sticks so tightly. When I bunny
hopped right at the top of the ramp there were so many deep breaths taken I was
positively oxygenated well and truly. It probably sounded like I was going a
round with Danny Green as the air sailed out of my cheeks like I had been
punched. Then two small things made all the difference……1. I discovered I could
move the seat forward so I had much better control over the pedals (yes I know
der Freddy) and 2. I banned all from sitting there watching me and giving
orders with flapping arms. Suddenly calm came to the cab of the bobcat and I
had it all together (barring odd minor lapse in concentration).
The other thing to note is that it really is important that
a lot of care be taken with the mixing of the rations. Ratios of the different
commodities must be correct. Therefore we operate by the “if you are not happy
with it don’t feed it motto”. I had a
lovely list of the exact amounts needed for each ration, removing the margin
for error.
So after three days of intensive training & practice,
hubby headed off with a procession of utes. It should possibly be noted here
that it should have only taken them 3-4 hours to reach their destination, not
the 12 hours via a scenic route that it did (mud map found still on kitchen
table). The first morning of going it alone I arrived at the commodity shed and
jumped into the tractor to warm it up only to find a lovely note pinned to the
clipboard where all the ration information is kept…….”Remember to breath sweetheart.
Piece of piss. You’ve got this.”
Strangely I discovered it was very peaceful without someone
watching me (even if they were hiding around the corner trying not to be
seen). As long as I didn’t let my mind wander
off on a tangent like thinking about jobs to be done at the house or the kids,
I drove that bobcat like an old hand. The minute my mind wandered I spilt
stuff, bunny hopped or collected something. The rations were mixed and
successfully fed out. Cattle were happy and well behaved in the absence of the “boss”.
Not being a morning person I was surprised to discover how
much enjoyment I got out of getting up in the cold and the dark to go down to
the feedlot and prepare the mixes and feed out the ration. I am thinking it had
more to do with the sense of achievement I got from being able to successfully
complete my job without any complications (Husband’s friend who was “on call”
for motor issues was not required).
I do love cleaning the waters in the feedlot. The cattle
soon become quiet if they weren’t already. There is always one or two in every
pen who are addicted to fresh clean water and are pushing past you while you
are scrubbing the troughs as they can’t wait until you are done. The back of
your shirt is often wet from being licked or chewed or having water dribbled
down it while you are scrubbing. There is always one character in the feedlot
who likes to make sure you are awake and up for a game of “Call your bluff”,
which I lost on two occasions as I am sure it had passed the game and these
couple of characters had developed more sinister intentions. Or as you wander through the pen checking on
the health of the cattle it resembles the school playground game of “What’s The
Time Mr Wolf” as the cattle inch closer and closer behind you.
So to the outcome…..the mixer wears two new (small) scars
from a bobcat bucket. The shed support is slightly bent at one point (although
I am pleased to say I was not the first to do this). One bunker wall may not be
as straight as it was. I did however remember to raise the elevator between
feeding every pen removing the chance of tearing it off. The tractor well it
was a piece of piss (hubby’s term). Even
found the light switch (it is an old tractor and it took some finding) so I
could feed out at 4 am because the cattle were particularly hungry that night.
All cattle were fed and happy, waters clean and mixed done correctly.
I finished my job feeling empowered, confident and proud
that I was able to master and complete the tasks without any incident. I loved
the fact that I surprised myself, my husband and his friends.
Agriculture has many areas where it becomes a man’s domain
based often simply upon the strength required to complete a task. However women
can do many things and should be encouraged to give it a go. Agriculture needs
more people in every industry and everywhere throughout Australia. Male or
female if you think you have a passion to be on the land, you can make it
happen.
