You're gonna need a bigger park....

Sunday, the 18^th of November, 2012 started as any other Sunday in Fremantle. Hipsters gathered at Cafes, each claiming they’d put their woollen cardigans on that morning, before they were cool. They were joined by old Italian gentlemen trying to outdo each other with gesticulations as they sipped coffee you could stand spoons in.  Parents herded their children into cars headed for the nearest sportsground, revellers from the night before did the barefooted walk of shame from strangers houses, and the latest bunch of nutters to board a sheep ship rattled tins at the Markets to raise bail money.

But something was different. Something was in the air, something electric, like the moment before the lightning hits and the thunder rolls, when your hair stands up on end and your arm raises goose bumps with corrugations a trainee Shire grader driver would be proud of. You could smell it, rain on the horizon, or far off smoke from a distant fire. Or the dust of a thousand country cars as they weaved their way through the unfamiliar bituminised roads of Perth. If you build it, they will come, and come they did, in a display of pride that made more than one old cockie’s eyes moisten and voice falter before the day was out.

Golden Rules of Farming Part 9

These ones took a while, until I stumbled upon the idea of asking Twitter for help. Why it took so long to ask I have no idea, but judging by the replies, the next 25 should be up in about twnety minutes. Maybe.


201. By the time you yell "COME BEHIIIIIIIIIINNNNND!!!!!" the damage is already done.

202. By the time you can taste the dead goat in the house well, it's too late.

203. It's a good idea to test the lifting capacity of the ute winch before being lowered down the well on a bosuns chair.

204. Never underestimate the gripping power of clenched buttocks on the bosuns chair.

205. The less expensive the guard that you fail to notice has worn away, the more expensive the part it was protecting.

Stand up for Live Exports

LINK TO HADAGUTFUL RALLY 8th Dec 2013 - http://farmerswayoflife.blogspot.com/2013/11/hadagutful-2013-now-with-more-guts.html

This post is now redundant. The day was a great success, and you can read about it HERE

Not quite two weeks ago I sent out a simple email calling for a counter rally to one being planned against live exports on the Stirling Bridge, Fremantle on the 18^th November. I expected maybe 50 people to turn up with us to stir things up a bit.

 But apparently, everyone has had a gutful.

The response has knocked me for six. So while I originally intended to do this on the quiet, it’s gone past that now. This post is purely to serve as an information point for our little gathering.

 If anything I’ve written here, on Facebook, or on Twitter since I started this little adventure back in 2011 has made you laugh, nod, smile or just think a little differently, please, join with us on Sunday, 18^th November.

 Everyone is welcome to come and show your support for the farmers, the truckies, the stock agents, the yardmen, the jackaroos, jillaroos, feed mills, hay and grain growers, feed lotters, vets, AQIS officials, shearers and all the other support industries involved.

 Thank you.

Michael Trant

Below are the details emailed to everyone. This post will be updated as required, with most recent info at the top, just below this introduction.

 

So Sue Me.

All tough and brave while the other blokes not looking.
 

 

 

One of our last litters of puppies was all female except for a single boy. It was Gemma's idea to name him Sue, and much to our worker mans disgust, he even has a bright pink collar. The plan being of course, as per the song, he would grow up to be big and tough and strong. Instead, he's a big dopey oaf, but not to worry. So for fun, and with much apologies to the late, great Mr Cash, the following is in honour of our Dog named Sue.

Sold to my boss soon as I could see
Cos my parents owners couldn’t handle me
Had too many dogs and not enough cattle to do
Now I don’t blame him cos he took the bid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was day I got born, he went and named me Sue.

Well he must o thought that was quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from the country folk
As my Boss and I worked the district through.
Farmers would laugh and I’d see red
And when they did I’d piss on their leg
I tell ya, life aint easy for a dog named Sue

Hell? No.

I was asked the other day by an opponent of the live trade how I justified sending our animals overseas. They’d read this blog and formed the opinion we look after our stock, but couldn’t understand why we continue to send them in light of all the bad news stories airing about lately. This was my reply.

Glad you liked it. That site is my hobby. The way I see it is this. I've been on a farm since I was born. I'm 32. In that time I've seen sheep burned alive by bushfire, washed away and drowned by downpours, I've come across ewes with their entrails hanging out after being mauled by wild dogs. I've seen a weaner lamb still alive after having his back leg eaten by a fox. I've seen lambs picked up and dropped from heights by wedge tailed eagles, then get up and try to flee with their backs broken. I've seen sheep literally shit themselves to death from salmonella or coccidious, despite our best efforts to treat them. I've seen the fattest, most healthiest looking sheep choke on their own kidneys as their bubble up through their throats from pulpy kidney disease, caused simply by being too greedy and getting a gutsful of feed. I've seen a nanny goat being rooted to death by ten or more billy goats in the wild. Kangaroos blind from disease slowly starving as they bash themselves to bits on trees and shrubs as they try to make their way to water. I've seen hordes of emus breed up in good years, only to starve to death in bad. And I'm only relatively young, so imagine what my parents and their parents have seen. If my sheep pass out in 5 - 10 seconds or worst case a minute from a poorly executed cull or slaughter, they may not be as lucky as those killed here, but tell you what, their fate would be my 2nd choice. Just cos you die naturally, doesn't mean you die well.

And that’s it in a nutshell. Knowing what I know about sheep, if the ships were the crammed Hell holes they are claimed to be, by the time the three week journey was over, the sheep would all be dead. And no customer is going to buy dead, or half starved, stressed and sick animals, especially at the price they’d be charged for them.

Yes, I would like all stock to be stunned. But having cut a few throats myself, and witnessed more than one Muslim family kill their own animals, I don’t have a problem with it. Other may disagree, as is their right, but that’s where I stand. We raise animals knowing full well they will end up on somebodies dinner plate.

In the last 16 months of banging away at the keyboard, not one person has been able to name me one other country that spends money on trying to improve welfare practises in overseas countries. 109 countries export live animals.But it seems more and more likely that the only one actively doing anything to better things over there is going to be the one not allowed to send anymore. Out of sight, out of mind I guess.

Give me half a day with some football footage and I could make you a video claiming that football (or any sport) is a brutal, horrific game that results in countless injuries and even the occasional death. None of the footage would be fake, and Michael Barlows broken leg last year would be the Pièce de résistance. Add in some sad, scary music, a few disgruntled ex-footballers and whammo. Who knows, I might even win a Walkley.

Bless you.

Day 1 - Place is looking pretty good right now, the winter has been okay, and looks like it’s not going to cut out too early. Next time I’m in town I’d better stock up on antihistamines, there’s a faint itch in the air already.

Day 3 - Doing a paddock tour while inspecting sheep. The wild radish is flowering nicely. Never did get to town.  Funny how the radish flowers block the radiator but not my nose. That’s running freely.

Day 4 - Going to town. Last night in bed elbowed Gemma’s head as I scratched my nose while asleep.  Need drugs and need them now. And an icepack. And flowers.

Through a haze of tears and snot explain to the young counter girl at the pharmacy that while the packet does say 24 hour relief, past years have proven that to be a furphy. Mildly annoyed when she refuses to sell me three different types of antihistamines at once.

After doing three separate runs into three separate chemists now know what it feels to be a meth maker seeking pseudoephedrine.

Drink!

Well bugger me, we got a response. The PR team was working overtime (at your expense, dear taxpayer) and managed to punch out a neat reply for most of Jo's first questions. I will give credit to where credit is due, Lee Rhiannon is on a hiding to nothing from us, and could've quite easily ignored it. We struggle to make as much noise as the activists, and getting our side in mainstream media had proved to be very difficult.

So. Below is the link to Lee's reply. But before you read it, I'd like you to get a drink. A few actually, we're going to play a little game I like to call Spotto. Each time you read the word cruel, horrible, horrendous, or the phrase "called for / call for," we yell "Spotto!"and drink. Ready? See you on the other side....

http://lee-rhiannon.greensmps.org.au/content/blog/responses-questions-about-greens-call-ban-live-animal-exports

Sho...you shtill uprightsh?

Seriously though. I'm not surprised at it to be honest, pretty much every argument for bannng the trade is there, and while it looks good, the substance is lacking in alot of areas. I'm not going to bore you all to tears with an in depth analysis, but I can sum it up in two words. Bull. And shit.