I RUN A FARM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20366, 21 September 1929, Page 1 (Supplement)

I RUN A FARM.

A COUNTRY ADVENTURE.

tiv ELSIU.K. MOKION

They both needed a holiday, neither of them had ever been to Rotorua, and as I pointed out to Anne, it seemed almost providentinl that I should have been staying with til en 1 just at the exact time tho invitation came.

" But what about tho farm?" argued Tony. " All the livestock to be fed, the cow to be milked, the goat to be looked after? "

" Yes, and the cats and the parrot," added Anne, with a sigh. "It would be too much for you altogether. . . No, we must put it off." " You shall do nothing of the kind," I said firmly. "If 0110 healthy, able-bodied woman is not able to feed a few cats and tether a iroat, and run a pocket-edition of a farm like this for a week, with a boy to milk the cow, she's not worth her facepowder! No. and I won't have anybody to keep me company, thanks—the animals will be quite enough company for 111 c." So I urged them with immense enthusiasm and confidence in my own ability to run the farm tor a month, if only J could keep them away that long! 1 had never run anything more ambitious than a two-roomed fiat and a pet cat before, but I felt that it was only lack of opportunity that had cramped my talents in this direction. At last they agreed to go, leaving me with minutest instructions as to how and when all tho livestock was to bo fed.

" Bo sure you writo every day and let us know how you're getting oil," urged Anne, us wo reached the station, " and don't forgot, Robbie likes his milk warm, and Penrod will hato you if you wear that green hair net! You must give him fresh seed every day, and . . ." " What is far moro important," interrupted Tony firm'ly. " is you mustn't forget to untethcr Billo, and anchor him in another blackberry patch, But you mustn't try to drag him along, because he's a very stubborn goat; ho can be led but ho can't be . . ."

" All seats, please! " shouted tho guard in my ear. " Stand back, please, miss! " I Win a Prize. ,

The house seemed rather lonely after lunch, so I thought I would go down to tlvc village, where they were holding a Paddy's Market in aid of the earthquake fund. , A lady with a persuasive smile invited 1110 to guess the number of peas in a bottle. A motor-car toot-tooted loudly outsido nbovo the din of the fair, and 1 promptly guessed 222, paying sixpenco for the privilege. Immediately on the heels of the first lady appeared another who talked very loud and fast, and I paid her a shilling for a guess at the winning number of a prize cake. At least I thought she said cake, but an hour or so later I heard a shout, " Miss M , please come and get your drake!" I was not too pleased when I found I had won a pedigreo drake, but tin reflection I decided to take it. It is not overy novice at running a farm who secures a prize bird tho very first day! So amid loud applauso I received a flax kit containing a very uneasy and fluttering pedigree drake.

" What shall I feed it on ? " I asked, with a sudden qualm. Ono nioro gaping mouth to lill!

" Give it these," said tho lady with the persuasive smile, pushing the bottle of peas into my hand. "There arc 658 peas in it . . . your luck wa3 out that time!" she added archly.

"Well out!" I reflected, on learning that the prize was a pair of white rabbits.

So I went, home with my quacking pared and the bottle of peas. I let the pedigree drako loose in tho fowl-house, poured the peas over it, and went inside, hoping for the best.

Morning Joys.

I got up at half-past five the next morning, not that there was very much (o do. but it seemed tho right thins: on a farm. The sky'was flushed with sunrise, and tho morning song of tho birds .in tho trees was inusic to thrill the soul. Gladly would I have listened to them for hours, but tho birds in the fowl-house seemed to be labouring under strong excitement. and their brazen shrieks and raucous din turned that holy morn into a thing of horror. But I could not indulge in reprisals as yet, for my feet j were all cluttered up with mewing eats, and Penrod, tho parrot, was swearing stridently at tho canary, who was greeting the day with song. ( .After breakfast I turned my attention to the fowls. Then I skimmed tho nn.k, and poured a quantity into a little wooden trough in the fowl yard. The drake, a noisy, unmannerly creature, promptly flew into tho trough, ran his beak rapidly up and down, making urgent quacking noises, groping for curds, and getting tho milk up his nostrils. Spluttering and squawking, elbowing all tho other birds out of his way, ho thoroughly upset tho hens, who finally turned and pecked him so viciously that ho lied, still quacking, and blundered into tho trough as he went, turning it upside down. I righted it and went back with a sigh for more iriilk. Running a farm evidently required a lot of patience. There seemed to bo a certain lack of co-operation on the part of those dear, dumb furred and feathered friends I had always admired so from n distance. Then I tackled Billo. On account of wandering habits Billo had to bo tethered with a chain secured to a small anchor, which had to be lifted every so often, so that Billo might bo transferred to a new blackberry patch. He always preferred to remain where he was, however. Hoprefeiaed verv stronglv this particular morning and if you have ever tested tho drag-power of a lusty goat plus the weight of an anchor through fifty feet of blackberry field, you will know something of the hidden joys of running a farm. ... I tottered back to the house. Penrod greeted me with a strident flood of 'abuse, screamed like a Billingsgato harridan when I opened the door of his cags, and promptly bit my finger. All too late I removed the green hair-net . . . but he remained in abusive mood all the morning, so to escape his wrath I took refuge in the great out-of-doors, performing little I odd-jobs I7ke filling the horse's chaff-box, bringing in a few armloads of hay for the cow, tidving up the tool-house, burying a lew dead rats also, and the mangled lemains of a kingfisher left on the front door mat by one of Anne's insufferable cats. The Olimax.

The food and attention those farm creatures demanded was incredible. They kept mo going from morn till night, and my sleep was broken with feverish dreams of goats insecurely tethered, cows in the cabbage rows, and cats on tho roof. The climax came one frightful night of storm and flood, when tho wind tore the roof off the fowl-house, turned Nipp's kennel and two bee-hives over, and wrenched the farm-yard gate off its hinges. Hie rest of the night was a nightmare of shrieking birds, bellowing and barking livestock, crash of thunder and blue dazzle of lightning. I staggered out into a hopeless dawn, to find Billo had broken loose and disappeared, taking his anchor with him, while tho fowls, pedigree drake, and I'oley, the cow, were all busy in Anne's cherished garden. . . A few hours later came a telegram from Anne: "Returning to-night, children got measles. Hope all's well—is everything fed ? " "More than fed—yea, even fed-up. I murmured, reaching for tha timetflW© marked, " Trains to town."