Townie heads to the farm

The sun is trying to shine, but I can’t feel her warmth. It is deceiving, hiding behind a crisp fog still lingering from the morning dew.

I get into my car and do a self-checklist. Gumboots, check. Swanni, check. Beanie, check.

I am spending the day on a dairy farm a couple of kilometres south of Tokoroa. Although I am originally from Tok, we were not farmers and the last 12 years of my life have been spent in the “big smoke” of Hamilton.

Off the main highway, a narrow gravel path arched with tall trees leads to the farmhouse.

John Balvert, a 27-year-old second-generation farmer, greets me. He lives and operates the farm with his partner Larissa Taylor, her son Cade, and their nine-week-old son Hudson. His parents have owned the farm for 16 years, but now Balvert is running the place. His Dad hopes to eventually retire, but will continue to help out when need be.

Balvert’s on a quad bike with Cade beaming on the back, and says he’ll be back in a minute before driving Cade to the school bus stop at the end of the driveway.

My day on the farm is slightly tweaked from what I was expecting due to the time of the year, and I’m starting at 8am rather than the 5am I was dreading. It is fast approaching calving season so Balvert has stopped milking his 300 jersey cows twice a day to give them a break in preparation for the busy time ahead.

The winter calving season allows Balvert to tick off small jobs around the farm while it is “quiet”. He makes sure everything is running smoothly and the farm is still operating.

He assures me “quiet is still bloody busy”.

When he returns from dropping off Cade, he tells me to jump on the other side of the quad bike and hold onto the back handle, and we’re off. My first job is jumping on and off the quad bike to open and close the farm gates. I don’t mind this, it’s keeping me warm, which is handy because the grey clouds are rolling in and the temperature has dropped.

We see Balvert’s Dad, Herm, in the tractor transporting a load of maize to some cows in a nearby paddock. Herm nods his head at me from a distance, and we carry on.

There is a good understanding between father and son when working together. Herm knows the land inside and out, and Balvert has learnt a lot of what he knows through his Dad.

“I can go on holiday, and know it’s in good hands,” Balvert says.

We drive down to a paddock to see what Balvert’s mother is doing. She often lends a hand around the farm. While Balvert chats to his Mum, I see a large four-legged figure from afar in the paddock and assume it’s a large calf.

It is not a calf. A giant dog races over and leaps up onto the quad and places his two massive paws on my knees. I freak out and yell out to John who slaps him on the nose and tells him to get down.

“His name is Eastwood,” Balvert says. “As in Clint Eastwood.”

The massive bull mastiff stands as tall as my hips, with a huge head and a wide tongue the size of my palms.

Out of the corner of my eye I see another beast come charging towards the bike. He is also a bull mastiff, but with a darker brown coat, and he goes by the name of Zeus. They’ve been with Balvert and his family since they were six weeks old, and are not your typical lean, nippy farm dog.

But as scary as they look, the dogs are surprisingly friendly and placid and follow us around for the rest of the day.

“We are one of the only farms in the area to not have any trouble with theft, and I reckon that’s why,” Balvert says as he points to the dogs.

Balvert says he will be heading to this year’s Fieldays, but has no plans to buy anything.

“The Fieldays deals are definitely worth it though. If you see something at the start of the year and hold off until middle of the year when Fieldays are on, you’ll get a lot of money off.”

He knows he will be financially okay during the winter season, and said they did all right last year even with dairy prices dropping.

“We don’t have any debt and had a good season, finishing 18 percent up on last year.

“We were lucky through summer because we got the rain when we needed to keep the grass growing, which kept costs down for us in not needing to buy as much feed for the cows.”

But at the moment, things on the “want list” can wait. He admits it’s been a rough year, but knows there are farmers out there a lot worse.

Taylor is looking forward to Fieldays as she enjoys visiting all the homeware stores and gourmet food stalls.

“I wasn’t a farm girl at all, but since being with John I’ve learned to understand farmers and the lifestyle a bit more,” she says.

In the long run, Balvert hopes to look into share milking, and buy the herd  from his Dad in June next year, with the hope to one day buy the farm off his parents.

He shows me around the cowshed, and talks me through the milking process. It’s a technical and calculated process, from how much milk is produced to how much cows can eat from what paddock for how long.

We move a herd of cows to a different paddock and add a new trolley of maize to the feed on.

Finally, I jump back in my car and head back to the “big smoke” of Hamilton. I stop at the BP petrol station and grab a coffee for the road. I’m knackered, and it’s only been one day on the farm.