SMALL PROFITS

Evening Star, Issue 21718, 12 May 1934, Page 2

SMALL PROFITS

YOUTH AND INDEPENDENCE fWritten hv M.K.S., for the ‘Evening Star.’] Ten years ago wo despised cows; to-day we feel that we owe them an apology. In onr arrogant youth, when we spied out the land, wo were secretly pleased that’, although sound sheep country, it was uusuited to _ dairying. Coming from a cow-ridden district, we vowed to have nothing more to do with that exacting industry. To sheep wo would devote ourselves, and by sheep we would stand or fall. To this resolution we clung, obstinately if precariously, for many years, through booms and .slumps. Wo would probably have remained in onr proud but poverty-stricken isolation for ever if the voung people had not risen in protest.’' Two years ago they said “ Lot us milk a few cows to get some ready money.” Wo did not like it, for oni prejudice had persisted; hut wc could not give them a penny of pocket money, and so wc had to consent, “But where are you going to send your cream?” was asked, for our isolation, if no longer splendid, is real enough. “ AVby, ride with it to the junction, of course, they T told us. What was seven miles to their arrogant youth? . In the end wo agreed, and a hectic search for cows began. “There are plenty of cattle about somewhere, they said, but we replied “ oven you cannot intend milking Polled Angus and Hcrefords.” Gently they reminded us that, owing to the casual and communal nature of our fencing, our herds were not so pure as wc liked to boast. Some years, before a Jersey bull had appeared in our valley, and, heartily though we cursed him at the’time, our children were to bless the day when he left his strain through our heifers and cows. SCRUB COWS. A wholesale muster ensued, and for weeks the peace of our bush homes was ■shattered by the hollowing of calves deprived of their birthright and the laments of thwarted maternity 7. Thcin were many failures; many “dud cows were restored to their offspring; but at last they succeeded in sorting out a dozen cows that seemed likely to repay the milking. Of course, wo watched with sceptical eyes; it would not work. Who would expect young people, fresh from school and college and accustomed to the comparative variety of sheep-farming, to rise at dawn,’ milk their scrub cows, carry their cream seven miles, wash cans and separators, make hay and provide winter feed—and all the time butter-fat falling relentlessly ? But they have done it for two years, and now that wool is recovering they show no sign of relinquishing it. All through the dark spring mornings they have never grumbled; all through the tempting summer evenings thcy_ left their tennis parties and their picnics at the most attractive hour to milk their cows. Necessity may be a hard master, but it is a splendid spur. It was all worth it for the sake of those meagre monthly cheques, lor the knowledge that they were earning money that was really their own. Presently the infection spread. Impossible to hear of your school friend embarking upon such a venture and not emulate him. Hasty musters took place on the neighbouring fanhs, more hearty votes of thanks were passed to that now defunct, but once prolific, Jersey bull. Presently a compromise was arranged. The “children” no longer carried their little cans of cream on a half-stuffed pillow before their saddles. They made, instead a wonderful arrangement of “cradles,” or wooden platforms, that could be hung from the hooks of a pack-saddle. Presently a little procession of packhorses picked its way down the steep clay road in the early hour of dawning twice or three times a week, with an anxious rider in the lead and another in the rear. We had become a dairying district. ’ ADVENTURES. The carrying of that cream brought many thrills. So great was the span of the “ cradles ” that it was difficult and in some places impossible to pass a vehicle upon that narrow road. Every corner was an adventure, a passing motor a possible tragedy. There were hair-breadth escapes; the ill-balancing of a load, a slip on the steep road, the breaking of an aneient strap. Once a can of cream actually rolled twenty feet, to lie, miraculously unharmed, in the stony bed of the creek below. At the junction the young people built a little stand for their cans; there they left them' over-night, with the superb optimism that is characteristic of the back-blocks. We are accustomed to leave our mail and collect it from unlocked boxes, with a casual pound note in an envelope to pay for commissions in town. No one troubles to collect the money or the letters over-night if the mail happens to be late; no one bothers about change or parcels left in mail boxes. But this cream box was seen miles away, and in its vicinity was a Maori pa of the least attractive kind. The “ children ” were indignant at their factory returns, sure that someone was tampering with their weights. An all-night vigil followed, and the supply of free cream and butter—for they had improved upon Mr Shaw’s suggestion—ceased abruptly. There was nothing for it but those trips in the early dawn and the delivery of the cream in person to the cheery lorry driver who carried it to the factory fifty miles away. There were many tea parties at that junction ; many billies boiled, and the latest news from town exchanged for comitrv gossip. SUCCESS.

Wc have watched it all now for three years; watched with a gentle scepticism that gradually turned to admiration. Never for a moment did we dream that they would persevere so doggedly. Nor have they grumbled. Those years of poverty and dependence did their work. The young people are thankful to earn, however small the income ; they are proud that their humble venture has cost their parents nothing, for even the price of the .cans has conic from those little monthly cheques. .... Tho psychological o fleet of dairying used to he a favourite topic with ns: now we feel that in this case wo should substitute the word “ emancipation ” for “ slavery ” ; 11 independence ” for drudgery.” We used to say in our arrogance' that cows sapped a man’s self-respect; now wc must admit that sometimes they have restored it. _ The “ children ” arc .no longer discontented. They have little enough, but It is their own, mul they miist work for it. . And now that wool shows signs ol recovery at last? Their attitude Is characteristic. “ We’re not going to be tooled tins time. All (lie world will turn to sheep, and yon know what that means. One cheques are small enough, but Lbcv can’t get much smaller, and at least they’re certain. We’ll help

with your sheep, hut for the present we'll keep our cows.” Thus, on the hack of the cow they were used to despise, they have risen to a pleasant if meagre They are no longer looking lor jobs in town ; they have found one in the country; and, humble though it is. they arc glad of it. Daily their thanks are rendered to the magnanimous cow.