FARMS FROM FOREST.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LX, Issue 18342, 7 March 1923, Page 5 (Supplement)

FARMS FROM FOREST.

it 'TAMING THE WILD, , HARD AND DIFFICULT LOT. ™ MASTERY over NATURE. T ' BT MAURICE HURST. '.il have been holidaying in tho real back* blocks, and then fore imagine that I know , little about the pioneering of to-day. We town-dwellers ought to realise 'that the work of settlers in the bush country • pioneer tori of a very similar kind to that of the earliest settlers who planted themselves in Auckland, Wellington, New Plymouth, Nelson, and elsewhere, nioio than 80 years ago. They have a few m ore comforts and conveniences, it is true l>ut in most respects the back-coun-try farmer of our a >' has the same sort of hard work, and suffers tho same privations and disabilities, a3 his prototype Of. Old. « Starting the Home. The settlers of the early days cut down riant trees ami sawed the timber in a pit. In exactly similar fashion tho timber was provided for the construction of the cottage oif my host. " In tho sweat of thy [ blew shalt thou saw wood," is a phrase | A»t mildly describes th*> labour of making boards out of a 4ft. to 6ft. log straddled acrows ['• saw-pit. The cottage is like a small island in a tea of blackened stumps and logs, and rotting branches and twigs. Surrounding this sea is a broad circle of dead trees, icorched by the fire that made this 20-acre clearing two years ago. Once they were living giantsnniu, matai, totara, bduau, maire, and others—garmented in green; but now they are doomed. Every wind that blows brings down their branches; they will finally succumb to fire or be wrecked by wind and weather. ... And beyond tiie dead trees —the wilds wave upon wave or emerald forest, across the ever-surging river, over the crests of the ridges, away to the distant sky-line. There are many big clearings hereabouts, but from the top ol the highest hill there it naught to be seen but the virgin bush, low ridges, valleys, and broad plateaux I the green heart of the North Island, thou- • sands of acres in extent. Lonely Settlers. My host and his neighbours are lonely people. Railway, post office, and telephone are fifteen miles away from my fiiend's cottage, and it is seldom that time can be found for a visit to the township. Seeing these settlers at their tasks, one feels that they are true heroes and deserve the best of luck and success. Whether the farmer be single—in which case he is his own cook and housekeeper, as well as . boss-farmer and rouseabout—or whether he is in partnership with a wife, his lot, and her lot,, is hard and difficult. There ..are a thousand tasks, from ear-marking a calf to fencing a 30-acre hillside paddock, and thero is never the satisfaction of feeling that the jobs have been. " caught up." Their little homes, so simple and sturdy t please the eye to a far greater extent than most of the " charming and : original" bungalows that smother tho suburbs of our cities. They are unpretentious, their surroundings are spacious, they.are built of material from the sites where they stand, they are designed for use and not. as a basis for extraneous decoration and surely I all these points are factors in sound architecture. . ] Mastery Over Nature. One blessing these bush farmers have—■ they possess freedom. There is nothing cramped about either their work or surroundings. Their freedom, indeed, would overwhelm most street-bred folk. If they are healthy and competent, they can stand upon 'a stump on one of their hills and fwl that they are raonarchs of all they survey. Theirs is a unique sense of .aastery over Datura. They go into the

bush, where nobody trod before trees tod scrub fall beneath their axes, until a broad space is cleared."""A" few mouths of summer sunshine* dries the bush; in a brief hour a fire will consume the bulk, °* it. Then seed is scattered with generous hand among the ashes. The blackened, soil .becomes, burgeoned with green, with pasture come cattle, and a farm is begun. For years the fallen timber cumbers the earth, and towering skeletons (too big to cut in districts where no mill exists) reach gaunt branches to tho sky. But a . second , blaze and. the constant trampling ■of cattle, combined with the decomposing {action of the weather, all help to. trans- | form wood into mould. Noxious weeds I are sure to come with the grass; Scotch I thistles, which are a temporary nuisance, j and the golden-crowned ragwort, a serious i and hateful menace in spite of its' beauty, which all bush farmers arc cursing and fighting to-day. Wherever farmers gather, and in the columns of country newspapers, ragwort is a common subject for discussion. It has been a noxious .weed for a good many years, but nobody seems to know exactly what should be done with it. , Some settlers say it will gradually exterminate itself, others advocate cutting it down, while the extremists demand that every plant should be uprooted. From dawn until dark tho work goes on, all to the end that pasture should increase in quality and expand in area, and that herds should multiply. When the settler wants a holiday ho takes his

rifle" and goes" into the bush for meat, for wild cattle . and ; pigs are ' plentiful. Sometimes he captures a wild heifer and eventually adds it to his herd, to compensate for his beasts that break through the fences to respond to " the call of the wild." Horses, too, . sometimes take to the bush, perhaps returning after a month or a year. The Price of Progress. Sir. Pember Reeves wrote in his poem, " The Passing of the Forest," that the destruction of the bush is a " bitter price" to pay for progress. It is. I am a treelover, and I cannot but feel regret to see the wrecking of the remaining portion of our forest heritage. When is the voice, of authority going to say: Thus far, but no further Surely the forest that remains is not too largo an area for our future national needs ? What Goldsmith said of a bold peasantry" is true of a forest; it is easier to destroy than to make. However, in the case of these bushfarms, there are compensations. There are beauty and wealth in a paddock where herds are pastured, as well as in a grove of trees. A burnt and blackened hillside reminds one of the verdant glory that is gone; but it should also stir the imagination to take a forward look. The work of the bush settlers deserves our admiration; many of them fought for us in France and Flanders, and to-day they are battling for the country's progress on the frontiers of civilisation.. Production! Producuon! is the cry of statesman and economist. The settler responds with deeds, not words.