A Deer Hunt at the back of Fraser's

As part of the development of the Fraser's Block, which was to become known as 'south Block', I first had to establish a survey line from Trig G because there were no old survey pegs to tie in to. Well at least we did not have access to the Cadastral maps and I couldn't find any boundary pegs. The only aerial photo was very old and GPS had not been invented yet, so land survey was the way to go.

The beehive shape of the bluff has almost gone
because of the vegetation, but it is about 50metres high.

Already Mick and I had established the main access road, which I called 'Beehive Road' - no, not because of the bees, but because of the huge yellow sandstone bluff that was roughly the shape of a beehive. This bluff was the target of artillery reservists who practiced fired at the bluff from [apparently the coast]. We found many of the timed shrapnel shells around the bluff - lump of lead shot in them about the size of a large marble! Bloody hell who would like to be in a war with them flying/exploding overhead?

The lay of the land was a bit difficult, because we needed to put the road above the bluff and we did not really have much choice about the distance because the road took off past a small saddle - the old geometry thing, the hypotenuse is the grade - height is the vertical - distance the horizontal. The easier the better for all operations, especially log transport.
I took a reading with my Abney level from the saddle to the top of the bluff and wet forth through the scrub with 'survey cloth' - linen rag that is ripped into strips to 'flag', mark where the top of the 'cut' was to be. Meaning where the bulldozer made its first cut to form the road.
Actually I nearly fell over another small bluff that was hidden by scrub because it was right in the middle of the proposed road! This caused me to modify the line making on section of the road steeper than I would have liked, but it was a straight, short section, so not so bad.

Once the road was formed Colin and I carried out the survey and I plotted on a map, finishing the survey at the boundary strainer on Lindsay Clearwater's place.
Mick on the old D6 opened up the old tracks, making them useable for our vehicles and so we could plan the future roading pattern.

There was a leading ridge that headed West and fell steeply into the South Branch of the Waianakarua River, which was the boundary between the forest and Walter Rutherford's property. The whole area was clothed in quite magnificent Manuka/Kanuka forest and scrub with broadleaf forest in the gulleys. Actually this was the area I saw puffballs which are an indigenous truffles
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Mick and I had seen deer sign along this ridge when we opened up the track along the top as we sat on the moss covered rocks to look down into the river bed. So we planned a days hunting - there were to be four of us, Mick, Merv McCabe (sen), Steve (Mag's young brother) and me.
On a cool, autumn morning we parked up at the end of the ridgetop track and Mick paired off with Steve to head down the Northern flank of the ridge, while Merv and I headed to the South. The Kanuka was tall and open because the understory had been grazed for years by sheep, deer and pigs, so the going was easy, it a little steep. Merv did not want to go down too far, because he thought of the climb out, so he headed along the contour Northwards while I kept on going down towards the river.
I hadn't gone very far, when in a small basin, I spotted two spikers [young stags] in a little basin. I decided to shoot both because I thought Merv was handy and would come down to help me with the carcases. He didn't arrive, but while I waited for him I took the back and fillet steaks and skinned the carcases and cut the backbone so we could each carry a set of hind quarters each.
It was my expectation that they would have heard my two shots, and would surely come to meet me, so I started the heft and climb out. I was used to the old imperial measurement and could visualize a cricket pitch at 22 yards [steps] and that equated to one chain and there were eighty chain in a mile. I counted 22 steps as I carried the first set of hind quarters up the steep hill. There I left them and went back down to collect the other set, and counted 11 steps after I passed the first set. From then on I took each set one chain at a time as I proceeded up the hill.

Meantime, the others had gathered back at the truck wand were waiting form me, and I was taking a long time. They had not heard my shots. Mick and Merv played tricks on young Steve, telling them that I go 'bush happy' when I am on my own and I might walk for miles - they might even come back tomorrow to find me. I worried the lad.

It took me until late afternoon to reach the ridge and for the others to hear my approach, and they came rushing to give me a hand - at last! They were pleased with my efforts and apologetic that I was left to lug the meat up on my own! Still we shared the meat as is usual, because another time it would they who did the shooting/carrying.
Actually, fit as I was, it had been a huge effort to carry those hind quarters out and secretly, it took me a couple of weeks to recover!

A more distant view of the South Block and the Beehive

Hooks

We called Colin Bartrum 'Hooks' because he was a keen fisherman, but he liked and took an interest in all sports, playing cricket and golf.There is a lot I could write about this guy because he remains a good mate of mine and we did a lot together over the years.

Hooks never married and when he moved out of his parent's home, the old manse in Herbert, he bought a house in Hampden where I visited and checked that he being tidy and ate well. He never liked green vegetables but could eat the best part of a chicken at a sitting!

When I arrived at Herbert Forest, Colin was a Reg 130 Forest Hand One that classified him as a laborer with forest skills. I promoted him to Leading Hand putting him in charge of work gangs, something he did not altogether like, but he accepted the challenge of it.
So he became my right hand man and I found him to be the first to agree with my sense of sustainability - taking just enough fish, whitebait and preserving native flora and fauna. Mind, he was a sportsman [always fair, if hard] and he shot deer and pigs for sport with the advantage of the meat byproduct. I shot deer, pigs and hunter possums because it was my job. I have always liked animals but quickly learned in my forestry training that animals such as pigs, deer, chamois, thar, goats, rabbit, hares and possums were noxious animals and government policy was to exterminate them. This was because there were no indigenous mammals [save a small bat] in New Zealand. These introduced animals caused erosion on the mountains and decimated our indigenous plants. So whenever the opportunity arose, I would shoot, or otherwise kill these animals - I remember being accused of participating in blood sports. No, rather my duty because I was skilled to carry out that kind of work.

I enjoyed the competitiveness with Colin. We would lay a long line of cyanide to kill possums and then later go out to skin them. We did not share - whoever skinned the animal packed it and it was his to stretch and dry - then we would go together to sell them to old Fred Barklay of course to get the best price. This was in the back-blocks and we would go all day without food and drinking only from creeks or the river. By the end of the day the full pack became heavy!
Likewise marking trees; few that I have worked with have the same idea of tree selection as Colin did - well I guess I trained him to some extent, but there were times when discussion raged on.

He was a good chainman working with me when I carried out chain and compass surveys to plot land information on maps. The chainman ensured the line to be surveyed was clear and the chain was not compromised to give an untrue reading - this was for distance and we needed to be accurate! If the survey plotted onto the map did not close within two degrees, the survey needed to be remeasured and I did not like doing that. Colin helped me to be very accurate.



Above is a prismatic used to measure the angle between pegs. Mine was ex-army and accurate, forward bearing should be 180 degrees different from the reverse bearing (a check

The chain was not made of the chain links like the older ones, this was a thin steel band - the reader end [my end] with actual links marked on, the last chain if you like, and the rest the actual chain, which Colin called out.

The Abney Level was to check the slope because the all lineal measurements need to be brought to level to fit on to a map. There was a table to read off in the office. All had to be entered into a note book, starting at the rear with notes about topography and anything of interest along the way.

In his younger days, old Hooks uses to play cricket for the MCC! Actually Maheno Cricket Club, he was a good and keen cricketer and represented North Otago. He enticed me to fill in at a game at the Orari Domain, and unknown to me at the time, he told the others that I had played Brabham Shield cricket, but I got the message when I was facing the bowling. Me? I know how to hold a bat because there is a thin end and the bowler charged at me like the boar on the Toyota ad! Well I didn't have to see the ball to have it hit the bat and run off to the boundary! Anyway I was soon out and at the after-match raffles, Colin won a can of oysters. I managed to eat most of them on the drive back, but after we had dropped Ronnie off at Waimotu, I vomited them up! The taste wasn't as good the second time around!

Colin had a fi shing boat, the 'Ilene' and he had a slipway at Shag Point. Colin used to like me to drive the old girl [drive is not the word, but I'm no seaman] because of my experience as a surveyor, I could us landmarks as pointers and find the good fishing spots. She was a good little boat but sailing into the slipway was dangerous, as she was slower than the surf, with the danger of going sideways, so timing was critical. He would sit at the stern watching the sea and yell 'Giver her arseholes!' - full throttle!
I always felt safe out in the sea and maybe that is a dangerous thing, but one time I did sweat! Something huge passed under the boat, we never identified it, but we think it may have been a whale shark. It had the potential to tip us over.
We used to go go netting for flounders off the Hampden beach, sometimes catching elephant fish as well. I would hold the rope on the beach and Colin would row out [we would only do this when it was flat calm] dropping the drag net after him and then we would pull the net in. One day a dolphin was swimming in the bite of the net and I had visions of Colin being dragged out to sea! But no, Colin was unaware but the dolphin went straight through the net leaving a big hole! We had some good feeds in those days!
He replaced the boat in later years a larger more powerful one! We spent ages fixing it and cleaning the Volvo stern drive. It had a Zephyr Mk3 motor, so it was powerful. Well the day came to launch her at Moeraki and we puttered out on the axillary motor. In Moeraki harbor Colin fired up the motor! It all happened at once! The throttle was jammed full on! She was in gear and the steering didn't work! We were on course to cut David Higgins' boat in half. Colin tried the controls but on we roared, so I turned the key and it worked! We avoided David's boat because luckily the axillary motor started first pop and we were able to make a turn! We never put the boat back in the water!

Colin trained as beekeeper with Stan Davidson and his own farther, old Stan Bartrum used to keep bees as well. When Colin found out that I was interested in bees, we each bought a couple of hives and built up our population. As w ell we set p a couple of hives on the Forest HQ site and supplied honey to the workers.
There is a lot to know about bees and bee keeping and we were generally successful. The regulations were not as strict as today, although each hive had to be registered and inspected.
One evening we decided to shift six of out hives to the other side of the river. We loaded them on a trailer when we though all the bees had come home, then Colin driving his Landrover, slowly drove through the paddock. Every beekeeper's nightmare - the hives all tipped over! we had taken out protective gear off and it was not an option to cover ourselves outside! The cab of a short wheel-base Landrover is not ideal for a couple of guys to put on overalls.
Once outside, the bees hit us en mass ! In the end we managed sort things out as best we could and the hives survived.

One of Colin's tricks was to catch a handful of drone, they have no sting, and frighten people with them - usually asking someone to hold a hand out and he would put them in there! He delighted in the reaction.

German wasps are a constant danger to beehives, because they rob honey and kill bees, so Colin and I would kill any wasp nests we alerted to or found. The bes t method was to fill a beer bottle with petrol and push the neck of the bottle into the exit hole of the nest. Some people light the petrol, but it is dangerous and there is no need to. The fumes do the job.
There was a huge nest just by the bridge in an old tree stump and it was proving difficult to get on top of. One day we filled some Indian Knapsack Pumps [for fighting fires] with petrol, donned our protective gear and started the fight. It was a hot day, which caused the petrol to evaporate more quickly - a good thing or bad, I don't know - but the wasps were active and attacked us. We had cut a line to the stump as far as we could without being savaged [we were not suited up for that job] and we found that there were several exit holes in the nest. Once we reached the nest, we took turns spraying the attacking wasps with the petrol while the other poked the nozzle down each hole to give it a dose. Killing wasps does nothing in the end, you have to kill the queen. When all the pumps w ere empty. We made our retreat and a few days later we could tell we had won the battle. Never the war though - queens hibernate and set up nest the following spring.

I took him Thar shooting at Mt Cook, well we stayed in the Fred Stream hut and climbed the mount ains behind. We slept on the floor and Colin complained that rats crawled all over us and were playing football with an empty tin on the floor. I heard nothing, but the next night, I found that he was right, there were a lot of rate in the hut! He slept in the car, but I felt safe enough.
One morning as we set off, there was a car parked in a pull off area and we could see the car was in motion. As we became closer, we could see a pink pair pf women's knickers on the steering wheel. I had to physically pull Colin away, because he wanted to creep beside the car and let off a shot of his rifle at what he called, 'the gravy stroke'! We left them to it.
We did climb the slopes of Mt Cook, seep and through snow, and on the leading ridge this Swiss guy came bouncing down, from rock to rock! We were amazed because we had used a deal of energy getting to where we did! The Thar were quite safe, we never fired a shot!

We made two trips to Stewart Island, the first time flying across in the Domini sea plane. We took my dog Wally, coated in baby powder so he didn't stink out the other passengers. One woman took a liking to him and I was nervous that he was going to vomit in her lap! I managed to distract him enough.
We had blue cod and crayfish there, staying at Chew Tobacco Bay. The area lacked fresh water and we suspected Wally of licking our plates clean because we had not washed them!

The next time we took Spencer King with us [one of our work mates] he took a bottle (several?] of rum - Colin and I did not drink very much - and old Spencer would have a toddy or two each evening after the day's hunt - never offering us a swig. When there was about an inch left in the bottle, Colin and I drank it and replaced it with cold tea. Spencer did not notice it in his first toddy, and the second he looked quizzical when he poured the rest, we gave the game away by rolling on the floor in laughter!

It's a quieter life now for us all!

The Logging Arch

I attended a local birthday party last night (and I don't do that too often) where I met up with Geoff Herbert. Herb, as we call him, used to be a silvercultural contractor who worked on the forest for some time and I admired the hard work he carried out.

Luck did not always follow poor old Herb and he never really recovered from the setback caused when the guy he was in partnership with in a logging operation, drove off with the log-skidder and sold it in off, pocketing the cash!

Herb now is in the firewood business and uses a small crawler tractor, winch and logging arch to extract his produce.

I was interested to know where Herb had found a logging arch, because these days they are not used so much because there are more modern machines available to 'the big boys' today.

He had found the one that I arranged for Bert Bennett!

This takes me back to 1965 or 6! Bert, who owned the local sawmill used to log farm blocks in the district to run his sawmill. He used a TD6 crawler tractor with a winch and skidded the logs out of the bush causing the butt of the logs to be filled with soil and stones.
My old mate Keith Gibson, was the sawyer at the mill and as part of his duties he sharpened the saw blades. Keith operated the breaking down bench which cut the logs down to a suitable size for the breast bench which cut the actual timber.
To reduce time and saw maintenance, Bill Matches was employed from time to time to chip away the rough bark, soil and stones from the butt of the larger logs.

I suggested to Bert that a logging arch help produce cleaner logs and make for a more efficient logging operation (and Bill had died). Through my forestry contacts I was able to source an arch from Tapanui for Bert to try. It was an instant success and old Bob Yates (who operated it) wanted Bert to keep it.
Well I did have some influence! Bert was given the arch because, as I put it, he would be logging in the forest soon.

Well the arch was used for some considerable time but became redundant when Bert bought a Timberjack log-skidder.

I am thrilled to know Herb is now getting very good use out it!

Allan Ross

My good neighbor Allan Ross died recently and of course I attended his funeral.

It is always sad to witness the passing of out elder citizens and Allan was a good Christian citizen who contributed throughout his life. Sad as I was at his passing, something else saddened me. You see Allan was a Returned Serviceman and old soldiers - that tern encompasses all the services - pay homage to their fellow by placing a red poppy on his casket. A fitting thing to to. But these old soldiers, among them Hugh Muldrew and Phil Wilkie, are just that - old. Each one sore within his frame, bent and slow. These were the guys who carried us through the war years! Strong, fit and brave - even if they were scared! There is no immunity to old age.

Of course you don't get to know all about a person until you hear the eulogies from those dear to him and I was impressed that during his final years, he learned Spanish to ward off a staling of mind - he thought that if he could not be fit in body, he could be in mind.

I fist met Allan late 1965 when I ran over one of his sheepdogs! I was chugging down Mt Misery Road in the old Commer truck and the dog had slipped his chain and lay waiting for me in the shelter of the sheep yards. On my approach he charged out and simply went under a wheel. There was that sickening bump.
Allan's house was nearby and I went there to find him having a cup of tea. He showed no ill toward me, though he regretted the loss of a good working dog.

A while after I had bought my small farm, Allan inherited the block next door and across the river. This was old Billy Sharpe's place. He had died and his wife Francis lived on there until she passed away with Allan managing the farm and looking after her. She was born in that house!
The fences were not too good and Allan's stock strayed on to my place but we never had words and from time to time he would donate me a few bales of hay to compensate for any losses. His son Peter took over the farm when Allan retired and he was no different to Allan.

Allan had some rough gorse covered southerly faces on his farm and over the years I planted them up for him with P. radiata. Most is now harvested but on block in particular was difficult to establish and as a fundraiser for the North Otago Women's Hockey, I supervised them in hand releasing the trees (cutting the gorse for smothering the trees) - I have managed unskilled labour before but this was something else.

Rest Allan, you have earned the right to it with honor.