Ha,the flying feeling was actually a hard case thing alright,,twas bloody murder on the shoulders the next day though.
When veni hit the dollar a pound most chaps I knew went crazy, myself included, was full on madness .. good though.
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The whole huge area from Tutukau mill way south past Opa site, and north to Titiraupenga and Pureora forest was still dense bush in 50s and early 60s. Sawmills took out the big trees in our area, Totara, Rimu etc, but left small/medium trees like konini, miro, five finger, and of course the northern ground cover like blackberry, supplejack, ferns grew back very quickly after big logs removed. Bit later they planted blocks there in exotics - pine/ fir etc? Unsure when.
There were two ways to get back to Opa from the hills above Tutukau. One was the notorious zigzag down a hillface, and the other was a long steep straight descent - both only possible in perfect conditions. This latter one was overgrown then so probably long gone now. These areas were teeming with pigs and deer when family farmed there from 1955-1966. We took untold numbers there but it was very hard going in that dense northern undergrowth at times. Nothing like southern forest. You'd hear the dogs bailing maybe 200m away but it might take an hour to get there. Slasher was essential equipment with all that supplejack and blackberry etc. There were also at the time wild cattle in that bush - had got free decades before and populated in some areas. One of the Mann boys met a huge bull in the bush behind their farm - scared the shite out of him. But he did come away with the head and horns - very big spread. Not a shot you'd want to miss...
And incidentally - a bit of history for the Waikato boys who know this zone. George Wilder the famous NZ prison escapee in the 60s was caught on our farm - the last one before tutukau sawmill. This was in 1962. Farm ran to the mill then off round to the right and George was caught there. I remember the farm crawling with hundreds of cops and army etc, and the old man showing them where to look. The policeman who caught him (Gyde or Hamilton) had borrowed dad's jungle carbine to go back and check a spot. George had been sleeping during the day on a big rock and had just climbed down when policeman saw him... Carbine won that conversation and he gave himself up. Later escaped again for 100 days. Very famous times in 60s NZ...old George was a national 'star'.
When men were men...
Here's "tough".
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As said,
I was a bit later to it. But we must have got less money @ $2 a kilo
Malc with one after we had been crutching all day.
We were always after the extra dollar.
They had to have the ears on to sell them. I still leave the ears on whole deer. They seem naked without them.
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Just had a catch up with John Mann and he remembers what you fellas got up to.
I had a laugh to myself the thread title is "when men were men" in reality for a start we were just kids playing and learning a bit, some off it the hard way.
But it is good to reminisce now and again and some of the stories are pearlers.
This a photo I took years ago from one of the clearings in the Opa,Bullring area.
Pretty much what a lot of the area looked/looks like.
It was a neat spot and handy to home if you were prepared to hoof it a bit.
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Say hello to John from Mike and Paul next time you see him - he knows us well. Yes we did alot of hunting with the local farmboys in early years. Great to see pic of Opa area :)
When my dad died in 2016 at 95, five of the boys who came out with us shooting on the tractor-trailer trips 55 years ago were present at the funeral. A cool reunion - showed the depth of relationships forged as youngsters hunting together a long time ago. Ernie - John and Malcolm both there..
Meat hunting days relived. Me yesterday. I took 3 very slow trips to get these out in the morning - then the cocky said "seeming you are here I will get in a mob to dock this afternoon". Bloody hell.
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I have never liked docking.
The old man used to time lambing so docking was the school holidays.
We used fight, squabble and moan in the hope we would get sent home.
Letting the scrim go at the right time might work or "loosing" control of a dog sometimes worked.
Liked fencing and using a handpiece more.
Docking, drafting, lambing beats, crutching, milking etc - all the farmboy jobs.
Old man was a dab hand at docking. Dock anything that moved. We had a farm tomcat that was getting a bit stroppy, so old man says 'come and help'. He managed to push Tom (very original name) head first into a gumboot. Back legs in too so only his tail and his nuts sticking out. He says 'hold that gumboot closed boy'. Whip, whip with his pocket knife and cat lets out a hell of a screech, legs in overdrive as he scrambles backwards, I drop the boot, and he clears the back fence at about 100 miles per hour. Never saw a cat move so fast. 2-3 days later he came back.. he was quieter after that. Not surprised really....
A last farm tale.... always makes me chuckle. We had an Auckland city boy Peter come to stay on the farm for a week. Had never been out of the city. Old man's doing some drafting in the yards, finishes, and me and 3-4 other local farmboys now sitting on the yard fence. Old man goes into one of the pens, leaning down checking the ewes.
Peter: "What are you doing Mr Anderson?"
Dad: "I'm checking the ewes for lumps in the udder"
Peter: " Can I help?"
Dad: "Yep - you go and check them in that pen"
Peter - keen as mustard, leaps off the fence into other pen. Grabs a big sheep and grapples its back end... "Mr Anderson ..Mr Anderson..this one's got great big lumps in the udder"..
Great hilarity ensues .. old man grinning, and 4 farmboys falling off the fence with laughter. The pen's full of rams..
Back to the hunting stories..
yes supplejack sure does hurt......very good at keeping young folks in line.