Hunting the Pigs

Today we are living on Rooshoek for exactly four months. What an event full four months this has been.
This week alone we have had a snake in the garden, said goodbye to our friend from the Falklands and last night we had wild boar hunters.
The Hunters we actually have quite often but these ones actually shot a wild boar. The first one shot since we moved here.
It rained the whole day yesterday and the evening air was quite cool so when Billy called at around nine I thought he was calling to tell me that he had finished hunting because he was dying of the cold but no ... the hunter had shot his pig.

Although I realize that some of my readers might frown about the hunting of the animals but please remember that we are farmers and these pigs are classified as vermin.
The wild boars were initially imported from Europe because they were the only natural enemy to a moth that was destroying the pine plantations.
Unfortunately there was no natural enemy to the wild boars and they soon became a pest.
We now have a situation on Rooshoek where they destroy fields of produce and sometimes even come as close to the house as our front lawn.
The meat we use for all kinds of "organic" pork cuts and use the meat fully.

The meat quality of the pigs are excellent and contrary to what one would believe it not a white meat but red and tastes almost like a cross between beef and mutton.
The pig weighed in at 123kg and after it was slaughtered we had 68kg of good quality meat  left.

Today as a postscript I am adding this beautiful picture of the pig's teeth that Billy sent me just yesterday. We cleaned it for him but he took the beautiful picture above.  I know plenty feral pigs will be shot on Rooshoek, but because this was the first, it would always hold a special place in my memory.

Our Owl

About  a week before we moved to the farm, we started coming to the farm every day to clean  the house. One day while having a picnic lunch on the front lawn we became aware of a very interesting ( and interested) audience.
From his nest in one of the oak trees  a baby owl has fallen. With his big big eyes he watched our every move.  The next weekend heavy rain fell and we were all worried that he will not survive, but he did.
His mom fed him on the ground and he became "our" owl.
Recently he was so tame he would actually come sit next to us on the steps or at night sit in the tree in front of Misha's window.
When our friends from all over ( even Italy and the Netherlands)  visited and  he was the most photographed item on the farm. He became out pet and we loved him. He had the most amazing eyes and sometimes he would look at one with eyes that looked almost human.
This morning we found him dead. We don't know what the cause  of death was but we suspect that he was killed by the grape harvesters, because they are still very superstitious about owls.
It is heartbreaking

that such a beautiful creature had to pay with it's life for something that  has no relevance in this day and age.

Tennis- the Rooshoek way

The game of tennis on Rooshoek is nothing like any game you will see on Wimbledon or Roland Gaross.
The Rooshoek version is also exiting and eventful but always different and the spectators... they are amazing.
Ben, our labrador loves tennis balls... not just loves, adores, so despite our best efforts to keep him in the house, he somehow always manages to escape.  the sound of the tennis ball hitting the court just drives him completely "bezonkers" ( mad)  and  I swear, he will find a way out of a high security prison to play with a ball.

So we made Ben our ball boy. He runs after every ball and the brings them to the server. Amazingly sometimes he would bring three balls at the same time(like on the photo). He would bring them to ones feet and then... one, two, three he will pop them out. ... And he is quick!!!  Off course after a while the balls are disgustingly wet and heavy with doggy drool and when one hits it... it goes splat... all over one! All the while Oscar, on the outside of the court is barking like mad, mainly because Ben is allowed inside and he is not.

Our night time game takes a completely different turn. For some reason, unknown to me, when the light goes on at the tennis court, hundreds of crickets come out to play. The five cats finds this challenging.  Like Ben chases every ball, they make it their mission in life, to chase every cricket on the court. This makes serving and playing quite tricky, because they have no concept of the "no cat allowed on the court while the game is on" rule.
So imagine the game... two rather unfit humans, one mad ball chasing dog, a loud dog spectator, five cats a lot of crickets. It might not be Wimbledon but it is quite a spectacle!

Icing

As my mom might have mentioned, we're planning to open a guest house/venue on the farm. We're decorating it at the moment, but hopefully it'll be done in March. 

In the meantime, we're doing a variety of things for the venue, like planning menus and the like. And... we're taking a cake decorating course. That way, we'll eventually be able to do the wedding cakes ourselves. Which might be useful, given the dangers of transporting a wedding cake on dirt roads.  

Yesterday was our first ever lesson. We learned the basics of Royal Icing. 

This is the result:

Yeah... Very basic. But me being me, I've already started practicing on more interesting patterns. At the moment I'm working on butterflies. So once they're done, I'll put them up for you to see (either here, or on TCoML). 

For interest's sake, the yellow crib and the green heart is mine. The white heart (with the smudge) is my mom's as well as the gingerbread man with the green shirt. My gingerbread man was being digested by me at the time of the photo, as my decorating attempts had gone awry. As it would, when my classmates nicked my icing. 

The water on Rooshoek

Once, years ago I was on a train in England on my way from Sussex to London. It was late afternoon and the train was full. The woman sitting next to me must have found me quite a strange traveling companion and because of my accent she quickly wanted to know where I was from... On my " South Africa" answer, she informed me that she always wanted to live on an African farm. I thought it funny, because I then was living on an African farm and did not always find it so amusing or romantic ... Years have passed since then, and after a move into first a town and then the city, we are now back on a farm in Africa.
A farm, where wild animals still roam freely and this morning I decided that we have to share our story...
I hope you enjoy it... and love it as much as we love living here...

Rooshoek, the name of our farm translates to "corner of roses"... however don't be fooled, life on the farm is anything but the proverbial "moonshine and roses".
The event this morning that made me decide that I am going to keep a daily blog about our life here ( and get Misha to help writing it) was... wait for it... the coloring of my grey roots...!!
At six this morning, I was jerked awake by gunshots... not quite unexpected, because we had hunters overnight. Finally giving up all pretense of being asleep, I decided I might as well color my grey roots. Grey roots, which I for days have been trying to hide, by giving my hair more body when blow drying. The dye applied, I joined Misha for breakfast when Grandma arrived at the breakfast table and informed us that there was no water in the taps. "Not to worry though," she said " Jan has already gone to look at the water...".  Since you are all new to the farm, I have to give you a bit more back ground information.
 Jan is our foreman. To look at the water he has to drive up the mountain. Our water comes from a fountain about a kilometer away from the house. The fountain is quite a bit up the steep slope of the mountain, but twice a day Jan, or one of the other workers, will do the trip up the mountain to make sure that all filters are clean and the water is running. This trip to the water can be quite exiting as well, since they can and have encountered leopards, snakes and baboons on the way. These encounters are blogs for another day.
 Today however, I think Jan's trip was a little less exiting than what was going on while I waited for the water.
Usually the half an hour waiting time is always too long for me to be sitting around, I get irritated, but would you believe, today it passed amazingly quickly. So quickly that before Jan could get the water running again, it was time to rinse the hair and I was in trouble. I gave it ten minutes more, but still... no water.
Undressing and hoping for the best I got under the shower, but the few drops of water  in the shower pipe was just enough to have a lot of dark hair dye spread all over me. I feverishly opened the hand basin tap and lo and behold another liter of water came forth! Soon this water was just as mud dark as the dye and I had to pull the plug on that idea as well. I tried the other basin ( his and her basins) and another few drops came forth from the pipes... however not near enough to get the dye rinsed of.
Desperate now for a solution I grabbed the only option still open to me... the dog's drinking water. I didn't even stop to think about Oscar's slobber... No way.. I grabbed it and rinsed my hair. Hair that by now felt as dry as winter grass. I slathered on the conditioner because surely the water can't  be too long in coming  though the pipes. Twenty minutes later I was looking at the toilet with anxious eyes, but I could not bring myself to put my head in the toilet and rinse it. I did however open the bidet's faucet and rinsed of the conditioner with the little water still in those pipes. I  had to stand on my knees to get it done though.... And would you believe I just turban wrapped the towel about my now slightly darker, but very well conditioned hair, when water gushed  from the still open taps?
Such is the STORY OF AN AFRICAN FARM.