I have fond memories of Bert Moir. He was drove Dorothy the forest grader but first was employed as a Rabbiter.
I respected Bert for his guts! He had a fearlessness and control that earned my respect in the early days - and I have a tale or two to tell about him.
He was a scrawny old bugger. Short, skinny and bandy with it - always smoked a pipe [Sherlock Holmes type - and he smoked it until he had to give up for health reasons] and always wore a hat - a bit like Indiana Jones!
Strange thing though - Upendo reminded me of him! Nah, not by looks, by attitude - guts if you like. Upendo, a graceful young woman, but prepared to clean out the cow manure form the cow's banda/hut using her hands.
Bert should have been born a century or so earlier. One night drinking with his mate Doug Wilkie, they had this argument, a serious one actually. Bert challenged Doug to a duel using .22 rifles. They were to meet on the hill at 7:00am the next morning. Bert waited there for Doug next morning - in vain. They remained friends.
Bert and I used to walk our dogs to the hydatid dosing strip. This was a strip of land where dogs were sampled (stools) and dosed to prevent the disease occurring in humans. All the farmers took their dogs and the Council man did the dosing/testing. A social time for the farmers and the dogs!
During one of those walks, Bert told me how practical Doug was. If his sheep were getting out (onto the road), he would find the hole in the fence and shoot the first sheep he saw going through it. This did two things - first it killed the leader making the rest unlikely to follow; next it automatically plugged the hole in the fence. Most would repair the fence - not Doug, he used his logic!
Some buffoon made the decree that hard hats had to be worn by everyone [on the forest] all the time! There was resentment about this because in the heat of the summer, there was no air in the gully bottoms and a hard hat just made life unpleasant. I made representation to had the decree lifted. Even Bert had to wear his in the cab of the grader! But he loyally did - not to suck up to the [twits] head office people, but for me - he felt that if he set an example, then the others would follow. And he was right! His actions made things just a little easier for me. The decree? Like most, we just forgot about if and continued to wear hard hats in hazardous conditions.
Bert was my regular firelighter. He would carry the knapsack pump [those bass ones] filled with kerosene, or sometimes diesel to light the fires for our burn-offs. He was reliable and because we clicked, he knew exactly what I required and would light up accordingly.
The County Council established a rubbish dump in the dip on Breakneck Road. This was the cause of distention as it attracted rats and the toxic juices flowed into the Waianakarua River. Environmentally bad - but not as bad as dumping straight into the sea as previously. Bert and I discussed the need for a fire in the dump many times. Well one day Bert was having a cup of tea with neighbors Keith & Pat Gibson, and they were talking about the dump. Bert said nothing, but left his tea and walked the short distance to the dump. There he lit a fire. He returned and said nothing. Well we were called out to put the fire out but we did not expend much energy doing so because of the 'toxic smoke'. We knew it couldn't go far. This of course caused the County to find another location for the dump. Bert never 'fessed up' - he could keep a secret.
Reminding me that he was keen to 'play fight' and often with Colin Bartrum. One day Colin broke one of Bert's fingers, but he said nothing and nobody would had know had not his wife made mention of it.
He didn't like to show pain. One day at the old headquarters, he was taking shelter from the rain with the rest of the workers and Russell Ewing brought in a new pair of Porter Pruners - loppers if you like. Russell was flashing them around because they were a new tool on the forest and snipped them too close to Bert! He nipped the piece of skin below Bert's nose dividing his nostrils. He never moved a muscle, just took out his pipe and allowed the drip, drip of the blood to his the floor.
'Stupid old bastard.' he muttered, waiting for the blood to congeal there by itself.
Bert had a farm on the forest boundary, but he was a rough farmer. He could put an immaculate fence up for me, but his own was as rough as guts! There was a lot of gorse and we helped him by bulldozing it and burning. He used gorse though because young, soft gorse is nutritious for lambs and lambs also like to eat gorse flowers. The trick is to keep it short!
He liked horses and he had one that silhouetted by the bright sun, you could see through it's ribs! Well it was skinny!
Bert told me of a time that he was working with a horse and it kicked him in the chest knocking him out. When he came to, he kicked the horse back, but it kicked him again, knocking him out!
I would often look after his place while he was away and he would look after ours. I had the odd adventure there.
He had bantam chooks including a mad rooster who used to attack. Bert would catch him and hold him under the water in the small creek nearby - once he screwed its head around and let it go like a wind-up toy. One time I was in the hen house and the thing attacked but few up my Swandi [for the uninitiated a bush shirt that is fairly long]. Well he was flapping up there and I was jumping around trying to get rid of it! It was quite a performance!
His ram was a problem too - I took my son with me, who was a toddler and we had just shut the gate when the ram charged us! I tossed my son back over the gate and cleared it myself, just as the ram crashed into it!
Then there was the prison escapee - he had been seen walking down the the railway line, so as I was in charge at Bert's, I rang the police to tell them there was nobody home and the baddie could be hiding out there. They asked me to go and have a look - not me! I may be silly, but not that silly!
I have enjoyed jotting this down for Bert is a hero and one of mine!
Oh I want to add this. His mother called him 'Sonny' or 'Sonny Jim'. We heard about this this, and we too called him 'Sonny' but the ever inventive Mick Hill changed that because Bert was not afraid to 'pop you on' or have fisticuffs, so he was given the name 'Liston' after the boxer.
There is every chance I will add to this because old Bert was one of the guys who helped shape my own character.
