THE FARM.
Raoul had quite an extensive farm, probably 30 acres all told, which was large enough to warrant a full time farm manager. The area of the farm extended along the Northern shore as a series of paddocks, bounded on one side by bush- covered hills, and the other by cliffs dropping to the sea. It included the Met. station area.
There was a milking shed, a piggery, and some yards, it was quite a nice little set-up. During our time, the stock comprised approximately 20 cows and two bulls (one retired), a similar number of pigs, though this varied a lot, and maybe 50 sheep, together with about 20 hens. We were certainly not lacking for fresh meat. There were also two horses, both retired.
Dick was the farm manager and I used to help him quite often, usually by driving the tractor. For instance, if a cow fell over the cliff, it often became stuck half way down. Dick would get me to drive the tractor to haul her up after he had tied a rope round her. One thing I learned was just how tough those animals were.
Dick was responsible for providing all our fresh food and that meant that he had to grow supplies in the vegetable garden. He never let us down, as there was always an abundance of farm fresh food, including butter made in a hand churn daily, though that particular chore was rotated round the rest of us.
To provide meat for the expedition table Dick was required to kill and butcher the animals, so he had to be quite a versatile man of the land. There is no doubt that the year Dick spent on the Island was a great training experience for him.
To keep wastage to a minimum, one of my first jobs was to wire up a large (3m x 3m) reefer box complete with its fuse panel and switchgear, all three phase. This was a major learning experience for me as I had never had to do anything like this before.
However it worked well and the resulting box meant we could store a complete cattle beast until we had munched our way through it.
So with poultry, eggs, pork, mutton, beef, fish, milk and cream, and plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit, we certainly did not lack for food or variety.
The two horses that lived on the farm were pretty old and cunning. No one knew how they arrived there but it was believed that they were probably left over from the first attempts to establish citrus orchards on the Island. These horses wouldn't let themselves be caught easily and no one, to my knowledge, actually rode them, so they were left in peace for the time they had left.
Another retiree was an aged jersey bull who had also been on the island an indeterminate number of years. Ferdinand, as we called him, had a paddock to himself and was also left in peace as no one was eager to trust his temperament.
Accompanying us on the boat to the island was a small flock of sheep and a young jersey bull. The sheep were no problem to unload as they could be taken ashore in pens a few at a time.
Young Ferdy as the new bull was called, was a different matter as he and his transport box weighed over a ton. We managed to get him off the ship and on to the Fishing Rock landing, but when we tried to get him on to the flying fox the combined weight proved a bit of a problem.
Normally when a load is attached to the "fox" it is simply hooked on and lifted up off the ground with a pulley system and then hauled up the cable to the cliff top. When it was time to lift Young Ferdy off the ground all that happened was that the "fox" cable was pulled down and Ferdy's box remained firmly on the ground.
After much consultation the experts decided to go ahead and haul it up anyway. As the fox cable sloped up steeply it was reasoned that if it didn't break, Ferdy would become airborne at some stage. Much to everyone's surprise, it actually worked.
Ferdy's box was pulled over on its side and dragged over the edge of the landing stage where it swung free, bouncing up and down 3 meters at a time.
We all watched anxiously as the load slowly rose toward the top with the biggest sag in the cable anyone had ever seen.
Of course when he reached the cliff top the load didn't clear it. However no one was going to stop now and it was dragged over the edge, again on its side, until at last he was there.
Everyone assisted and Young Ferdy was set upright and still in his crate, was loaded on to a trailer towed by the tractor. Everyone dropped what they were doing and piled on to the truck and followed to the farm to watch the end of his long journey.
Young Ferdy had been in his crate for at least 10 days for his trip from the Manawatu to Raoul Island, and he was understandably looking a bit wild-eyed, particularly after his landing experience.
Finally the crate was deposited on the ground in his new paddock, and we all stood well clear as Dick undid the latches and swung the crate door open.
It was all a bit of an anticlimax. Ferdy staggered out and stood, looking round, totally bemused. Then, with what can only be described as an air of resignation, he lowered his head and started eating grass. 8