We have certainly hit the ground running this week. I don’t think we have sat down for longer than three minutes at a time and being in pyjamas and asleep by 9.30pm has become the norm, which is completely unheard of in our household.
The time finally came for the next chapter of Roseville, that Dad moved out and the Highland cows moved in.
Of course, our biggest concern wasn’t the fact that we had never owned Scottish Highland cows before. I had previously enjoyed a brief stint with alpacas and chickens, so clearly I considered myself highly qualified for the role.
It was how Roseville’s Director of Farm Operations and Unscheduled Adventures, otherwise known as Toast, would react to the new arrivals and whether he could be persuaded to adopt a slightly more professional approach to livestock management rather than simply assuming they were two very large dogs.
As it turns out, Toast appears to be taking his new responsibilities very seriously, although I suspect the jury is still out on whether Hamish and Fergus are livestock or potential playmates.
Meet Hamish and Fergus.
It feels like a significant milestone for Roseville. After fifteen years of Dad caring for the property, we are now settling in properly and beginning the next chapter. Apparently that chapter includes Highland cows.
The week has been a whirlwind and if I know my brain operates at a million miles an hour, I have now worked out exactly where I inherited it from. Thanks Dad.
The decision to purchase Highland cows involved a number of family discussions, several inspections, countless photographs and a surprising amount of excitement.
After many years together, Jaime has developed a system for contributing to conversations. When I am particularly excited about a topic, he simply raises his hand and waits for a suitable gap to appear. Sometimes this can take several minutes.
Fortunately for him, I eventually stopped talking long enough for him to agree that the cows were, in fact, a good idea.
It was by pure chance that, as one does when moving to the country, I joined a Facebook group called Hobby Farms Australia. It is full of incredibly generous people who help novice farm dwellers like ourselves navigate things we know absolutely nothing about.
One day a lovely lady posted that her father was selling two eighteen-month-old Highland steers.
They were located in Armidale.
Well, well, well.
That seemed like quite a coincidence. Or perhaps fate.
Jaime was happy for me to enquire. I do occasionally have to remind myself that this is, after all, his property and I can’t simply make every decision unilaterally. Thankfully we tend to think the same way and he wasn’t entirely surprised, as the discussion about animals had been ongoing for some time.
The owner kindly agreed to hold the cows until we returned to Guyra. I suspect he knew, and we knew, that once we met them there was never really going to be a serious discussion about whether they were coming home with us.
Have you seen their faces?
Last week we visited Hamish and Fergus and learnt everything we could about life as cattle owners. Thankfully one of Dad’s mates had a truck available and volunteered to help with transport.
Jaime and Geoffrey headed off on cow collection duties and successfully delivered the new residents to Roseville.
Our original plan had been to use the sheep yards, however we quickly became concerned that the rails might be too low for their horns and the last thing we wanted was to stress them or cause any harm.
As it turns out, we needn’t have worried.
The truck door opened, the cows hopped off and immediately wandered off to graze as though they had lived here all their lives.
Just like that.
I followed behind with a wheelbarrow full of hay in an attempt to establish myself as a valuable member of the relationship. So far it seems to be working.
Hamish is a little more cautious than Fergus, but both are gradually becoming comfortable with us. Apparently Highland cattle are also partial to a good brush, which I am very much looking forward to testing.
We later decided to move them into the front paddock. During this process I briefly managed to separate them, resulting in one cow on either side of a fence looking thoroughly unimpressed with my livestock management skills.
Fortunately between Jaime and I, we reunited them fairly quickly.
We really are proper farmers now.
One thing that has surprised us is how comfortable they are in the cold. While we are layering jumpers, lighting fires and discussing frost forecasts, Hamish and Fergus seem entirely unbothered by the weather and have shown very little interest in using the shelter provided.
The previous owner told us that during a particularly heavy snowfall last year, the other cattle looked completely bewildered while the Highland cattle carried on as though it was just another day in Scotland.
Dad is adjusting well to life in town, although Roseville still manages to draw him back most days. He continues to wander through the gardens, offer advice and ensure we are maintaining standards appropriately.
We have already started work on two new garden projects at the front and rear of the house, but that is a story for another day.
One of the unexpected joys of the move has been the sense of community. We are enjoying our daily walks to Bean Travelin‘, where Chris introduces us to half the town and treats Toast with considerably more enthusiasm than he treats us.
With the kitchen renovation still underway, we are also very grateful for The Blind Chef, where every meal feels like you’re eating in someone’s family kitchen.
Everywhere we go, people have been welcoming, friendly and happy to stop for a chat. The locals are often curious about whether we are just passing through or here to stay, and they always seem pleased when we explain that we have moved to Guyra permanently. It is one of the things we love most about country towns — people take an interest in you, and before long strangers start feeling like neighbours.
A quick review of the photo gallery suggests that while Dad moving out was technically half the story, the Highland cows clearly won the publicity campaign. We have plenty of cow content and not a single photo of Dad’s departure. Apparently, cow spam is where we draw the line, but not where we stop.
Whoever said country life was slow clearly missed the memo.
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