Preg Testing

I have watched many an episode of 'The Farmer Wants A Wife' and rolled my eyes whenever those poor girls were subject to a preg testing adventure. In all my years out here, CP has never encouraged me to have a go at doing this, and I suppose it used to irk me that it's not a legitimate example of how the poor girls would spend their days on the farm anyway. I mean if I have thus far avoided it, it doesn't have to be that common practise!

If you don't know what preg testing is, then just imagine putting your ARM inside the rear of a cow and trying to feel for a calf. Unless you are from a rural or farming background or are a vet, the thought of doing this is completely UNAPPEALING.

But this year I decided I needed to suck it up. If I want to make sweeping comments about something, it's best to do it with a little experience under my belt. And so I put in a polite phone call to our local vet and asked if it would be okay if I 'had a go'. After the laughing stopped, she agreed that it should be fine. And then I started to feel like maybe I didn't really want to do it, and spent the next few days psyching myself up to it again.

Here's how the day went.

Libby (the vet) had told me to wear dark colours or old clothes because apparently cow manure is very difficult to remove from your clothing. Nice. So I dug into the deep, dark recesses of my wardrobe to locate an old pair of jeans and my RB Sellers farm shirt. I decided that today was definitely a 'hair up' kind of day, and then opted against makeup. I didn't think that the cows would care either way how my face looked. I removed my wedding rings. (Even with the protection of gloves, I wasn't planning on losing my diamonds inside the rear of any living animal. So they stayed at home.)

I had arranged for my friend and neighbour, Leesa, to come and be my photographer for the day. I wasn't planning on weilding a camera whilst inserting my arm into some cows nether regions. CP was more concerned about me getting in the way, so he wasn't volunteering to take photos either.

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Me, Libby (Vet) and CP

When Libby arrived with all of her gear, she explained that preg testing has evolved now so that a little ultra sound device is becoming the new (less invasive and less physically taxing) method of discovering if a beast is 'in calf' or 'empty'. This new method involves a phallic looking object which is inserted into a beast and then takes an ultrasound picture.

Phallic object/ultrasound device

She also explained that in cows who were more heavily in calf, it was generally still easier to do it the old fashioned way. Here's how it generally works. Cattle are guided through a series of pens leading to a type of 'race' where they wait their turn. Then they are moved, one at a time into the 'crush'. (It sounds worse than it really is.) Essentially, the crush is just a type of 'cage' to hold the beast in place so that they can be more closely assessed or whatever it is you need to do with them at the time. Today it was to see if they were pregnant or not. This is the crush...

Sadly for CP (who was on crush duty today), the crush was a little difficult. This often results in a few 'F' bombs being thrown around. Luckily for CP, what happens in the yards stays in the yards, and we all kiss and make up in time for smoko anyway. Things were progressing at a steady pace in any event.

After watching for a period of time, I suited up...

And following Libby's careful instructions, I lubed up...

And then I did as I was told and gently inserted my hand...

Ahhhh, I mean ARM...

And then as soon as I felt the leg of the unborn calf I had my hand out of there faster than lightning! It was exciting, terrifying and interesting. But once I had done it, I was out of there. I didn't want to slow down the day and do anything wrong, so I left the professionals to it.

And after I'd had my moment of glory as a 'real farmer's wife' (just like in the show...) I was sent back to a job where I couldn't get in the way. A job that CP assured me was both important, and more suited to me...

So there I stood for the remainder of the morning. Opening and closing that gate. Knowing that I was doing a good job. And not getting in the way.

Preg testing is a physically challenging job that really does require considerable knowledge and experience to do successfully. I take my hat off to anyone who has to do this job seriously. I had my bit of fun, but could never contemplate doing this seriously. Furthermore, today made me realise that in order to be a farmer's wife, you don't actually already have to be a farmer yourself (or a vet, or anything really - even though it probably helps). I am definitely more suited to teaching, and all the other things it is that I do, and so I'm not going to be in a huge rush to get out and do it again... (Mind you, I WAS pretty good on that gate).

Thanks again to Libby for your patience, and Leesa for taking photos... and CP for not totally losing your cool with me in the yards. x

Road Trains

THAT is not a truck! THIS, is a truck...

Depending on the weather, October and November are big 'harvest' months out here. Last year it was all over the shop, and some people didn't get their crops off until Christmas - if they were lucky. Many people's crops were entirely lost to wet weather. In a good year, there are a few weeks when the road becomes a traffic jam of road trains. Out here it's the wheat harvest primarily responsible for the traffic congestion, however in other areas of Australia it's the livestock movement that is responsible.

This is at a station in the territory. These are the trucks that will be removing the cattle (over 2000 of them)  for sale.

And this is the little dance that happens so that the operation runs smoothly. These photos were taken in 2001, but I would imagine that little has changed.

They're amazing machines (is that what you would even call them??), and I am not even a truck person. In fact, I've lost enough perfectly good windscreens to those suckers, that I have every right to detest the local road trains. On one occasion, I had practically pulled over off the side of the road. I'd completely come to a standstill, and a MASSIVE road train tore past me in the opposite direction at 100 miles an hour, flicking up rocks the size of bowling balls in its wake. My windscreen bore the brunt, and for a time, I viewed the world through a spiderweb of glass every time I got in the car.

A fellow blogger (checkout 'A Farmer's Wife' - love her stuff - pay close attention to point #6 for the purpose of this blog - even though many of the other points are even funnier!) once spoke of the perils of a farmer's wife learning to drive a truck herself (or a tractor for that matter). It's true that whilst the driving of a truck can keep one gainfully employed in the country, a farmer's wife should carefully consider the impact of such a talent on her quality of life!

But never fear my city friends... you will never be subject to the dangers of driving beside one of these beasts on your flawless stretches of highway. Road trains are contained to only limited sections of road around the country depending on their size. So unless you take a trip out to visit some of your 'country cousins', you will never experience the JOY (sarcasm intended) of overtaking one of these road hogs on a straight stretch of road. You will never experience the few seconds where you actually feel your heart stop beating. The moment where you hold your breath and tense up until eventually you actually make it past all three carriages and can re-enter the safetly of your own lane of traffic again.

And yet as much as they can frighten me, I am truly in awe at the sheer magnitude of 'the roadtrain'. And like it or lump it, every harvest we can look forward to the constant passing of them from the humble comfort of our bus stop, a mere metres away from their ultimate destination at the Grain Silos.


Our view from our bus stop during harvest.

Anyway, it doesn't matter what I think of the roadtrain. My children adore them. And anything that makes my children happy, makes me a little happy too.