The List

Broken: Caravan door, a total of three times. Present state: Fixed.

Broken: Gazebo, caused by mysterious circumstances. Present state: In the dump.

Broken: Wheelbarrow has a flat tyre. Present state: Ignored.

Broken: Solar fairy lights that lead to the toilet. Present state: Ignored.

Dead: Banana plants. Cause: Grey water overdose.

Dead: Potato. Cause: Lack of water.

Problem: Ant plague. Cause: Long forgotten dog food.

Unwanted visitors: One, Satan's human equivalent.

Feral animals: Rufus, the boar (yes, I've named him). One ginger cat.

Enjoyments: Bird watching at Big Dam.

Enjoyments: Listening to a young curlew find its voice.

Enjoyments: Watching a sugar glider go from tree to tree as the sun sets.

Progress: Boundary slashed.

Progress: Driveway and front of block graded.

Progress: House site cleared in preparation for building.

Future: Getting ready for the next adventure!

Door

Two posts in one week. That’s how exciting life is in the sticks.
There was not much enthusiasm to go back to work at my second job after being away on leave. Upon discovering one of my new colleagues was difficult to get along with I was even less interested. I spent my lunch break googling other ways to have a second income that fits my skill set and energy levels. There wasn’t a great deal out there, not in Katherine and not without reliable internet.
When I did get to work on the second night the chef noticed I looked like crap. Without even realising, my face was speaking without my jaw flapping. Less than an hour later a migraine was in full swing. Before leaving I noticed I was rostered on for two nights the next weekend. What happened to my specified “No Weekends”?
When I got home I was keen to just get to bed and get some sleep. During the day there must have been a big gust of wind that had ripped the tarp down (again), blew some things around and shut the caravan door. I opened the door and out rushed one very excited and desperate for the loo dog. She came out so quickly her chain got caught and yanked on the bottom of the door and next minute, there it is, swinging off one lonely, bent hinge. I stared at it. My shitty caravan was even more shitty thanks to the dog getting trapped inside. And then there’s that horrible moment, that epiphany, that I might be sick of working two jobs but my less-than-comfortable life was made even slightly less comfortable and quitting would mean I’d have to wait over two years before I can build a house rather than just one.
Tonight’s activities are obviously going to involve rehanging the door. It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t run the generator for the air con last night, I was too tired to care. What did bother me was Kip’s singular barks to indicate how pissed off she was about having to sleep outside. Too bad dog, such is life.

Plan B

Will Smith reckoned there was no reason to have a Plan B because it distracts from Plan A. Well, what if you never had a Plan B because you didn’t expect Plan A to go to hell in a hand-basket? Hmmm? Answer me that Will Smith!
Plan A was very simple. Purchase a 12v camp shower. Put the bilge pump in the water pod. Put the other bit in the cigarette lighter of the Landcruiser and voila! A shower with a decent flow, enough to wash ones hair.
That lasted a little while, till mid-December when I was half way through dying my hair. The fuse blew. So instead of leaving the dye in for the necessary time, here’s me, on the back of the ute, flopped all over the top of the pod so I can scoop the water out with a cup and wash the dye out of my hair before it burns my scalp from being there too long. When I had time and daylight to spare I replaced the fuse. I checked to make sure it was working and I was satisfied that when I returned to camp and needed a shower I would be able to with the now-fixed camp shower. But nooo, that wasn’t meant to be!
It’s now early April and I’ve returned to camp. Head to toe in flakes of tarpaulin and covered in diesel and the days sweat I was ready for a shower. Fuse blown… Again! I didn’t know whether to curse the Landcruiser for blowing the fuse or the camp shower for having too weak of a fuse supplied (even the spare). So instead of flailing all over the top of the pod to scoop out water to wash myself I stared at the tap at the bottom wishing I had got my act together ages ago to fit it with joiners and 2 inch pipe so the water can at least run out beyond the Landcruiser tray and I could catch it in a bucket. Instead I’m wedging the bucket underneath the tap and getting things done at a slow pace. A Plan B was needed. And the other night Plan B was installed.
A bucket, a pulley, rope and a drill. Plan B is up a tree. And it’s not that bloody great. It’s amazing that while I was using this basic system that all the physics I actually did manage to learn at school flashed before my eyes. The fulcrum (ie: the handle) is not in the right spot for optimum pouring. It needs to be around the middle of the bucket, not at the top. The rope at the spout that tilts the bucket is only capable of pouring so much out before I have to push the bucket up from the bottom with soap in my eyes. A new drilled hole in the bucket and a rethreading of rope is in order!
So much drama just for a flipping shower!

Plan A: 12v Camp Shower with the bilge directly in the water pod.

Plan B: A bucket suspended from a tree with rope and a pulley.

Agronomy

I’ll be running my horses on my property later on in the year so I thought it would be a good idea to know what pasture I’ve got, whether it’s any good and if I can run more than just my two horses as I would like to be able to agist another two.
Having 74 acres I thought that four horses could well be viable but according to Artie, a very well-respected agronomist, that ain’t gonna happen. Well, it can if I am happy to supplement feed them.
“Two is fine, three is pushing it”. Well, time for a Plan B.
We drove around the property while he identified the pastures that I didn’t know and the pastures I did. With that came the learning of new pastures I hadn’t heard of or knew very little about. On a piece of scrap paper I wrote down every pasture and stylo and other fodder of significance identified. Against them all I wrote a number with 1 being good, 1.5 okay, 2 crap and 3 needs-to-go.

Species	Value/ Desirability	Purpose	What Eats It
Annual Sorghum	2	Pasture	Cattle
Perennial Sorghum	1	Pasture	Horses, cattle
Cockatoo Grass	1	Pasture	Horses, cattle
Ribbon Grass	1.5	Pasture	Cattle
Blunt Spear Grass	1.5	Pasture	Cattle
Northern Cane Grass	3	Weed Grass	Nothing
Spiny Mud Grass	1	Pasture	Horses, cattle
Cynodydon racuatus	1.5	Pasture	Horses, cattle
Three Horn Spear Grass	3	Weed Grass	Nothing
Kangaroo Grass	1	Pasture	Cattle
Sedge	3	Weed Grass	Cattle
Buffalo Clover	1.5	Nitrogen Improver	Cattle
Seca	1.5	Feed/Nitrogen Improver	Cattle
Verano	1	Feed/Nitrogen Improver	Horses, cattle
Glen Joint Vetch	1	Feed/Nitrogen Improver	Horses, cattle

 

The overall outcome was that I seriously lacked perennials (seca, verano and perennial sorghum, cockatoo grass, kangaroo grass and spiny mud grass was the best I had). The rest were annuals or unwanted grasses. Artie suggested I fix this with Strickland Grass if I could keep the wallabies off it. I can’t see me being successful at that. I asked about whether I could fertilise my perennials but sadly native pastures don’t respond to fertiliser like introduced pasture species do.
The second dam I have (that being the smaller one) has always looked to me like it was natural. Thankfully, Artie agreed. It doesn’t hold like the other dam does, there’s no mess of earth in terms of walls etc. and the trees are quite close to it. And the spiny mud grass that grows all through it will be a feast for the horses.

If you’re in the Katherine region and would like to know more about  pastures and land conditions then come down to the Farm and Garden Day at Katherine Research Station on Saturday the 16^th of April 2016.
If you live too far from the Katherine region but would like to know more, DPI & F offer Agnotes on pastures and these can be found at this link:
http://www.nt.gov.au/d/publications/index.cfm?fi=Pasture

 

Spiny Mud Grass covers the Little Dam

Dam

As with every blockie out there in the Top End, my nemesis in the Wet season is weeds. Sida, hyptus, senna, flannel weed, amongst others. So, instead of pulling down that old, dilapidated fence that runs through the guts of the property I’m spraying weeds on the weekend. And each weekend I feel like I’ve made only the tiniest dent.
However, the Wet season also brings about full dams and wildflowers so after finishing off a tank of spray I decided to go for a swim in one of my now full dams. The water was lovely and warm, if I could ignore the stagnant smell. And the lilies were flowering again (they look like little, white, ostrich feathers coming out of a crown) if I could ignore the grass that constantly entangled me. There were some lovely birds to watch, if I could ignore the mites in the water that wouldn’t stop biting me. Where the hell did these mites come from? And how the hell did the ducks put up with it? The ducks I’ve found very difficult to identify! Four days out and I’m still itchy from the water dwelling mites.
With the dams now dubbed “unfit to swim in” I’ve had to resign myself to the fact that if, when I can afford it, I want somewhere to swim on the block there has to be a swimming pool. Therefore, there will probably never be a swimming pool and before you say “Get a blow-up pool!” it would not be a job done properly and therefore a job not going to be done at all.
Between the biting mites and the excruciatingly painful shoulders as a cross result of swimming and Ross River I have learned my lesson: No leisure time on the block. It has consequences.

Though the picture shows the water level to be quite low the dam is currently quite full thanks to the Christmas monsoon.

Nature on the Block