Living at the end of the forest seemed to give my little family and I
a different perspective on life. As a single mother with two young
children, I found that life sometimes threw a curved ball in my
direction. When I stood back and regarded life from this new
perspective, it looked different, felt different and smelt different.
It was always a blessing, although sometimes I could not see that right
away.
We had just moved to the farm. We were all trying to adjust to the new way of life. All creatures, both great and small would invade our space, crawling under doors, through the window netting and even through the peep holes. It was best to keep the keys in the doors at night otherwise the little creatures crept through the holes in the locks. Mary Jayne and I were not naturally fond of little snakes and bugs. Not even the little brown mice were cute. Andrew, of course, loved all little creatures. Looking back, I’m not sure if it was the thrill of finding a new creature, or just the creatures themselves that captured Andrew’s imagination so much. He played endlessly with them.
One day I bought some ducks from the farm down the road in an attempt to keep the crickets at bay. The horrible little crickets seemed to be everywhere, under our pile of laundry clothes, in the toilet, under the couch. Ducks and crickets are natural enemies. I named them Binger, the thin one, Bonger, the fat one, and Fluff. Fluff was probably younger than the others because she was a whole lot smaller and far more fluffy. They quacked around our garden, chasing the cars and the tractors. I dug them a pond and built them a little house so that they could have somewhere to sleep at night. They would leave their feathers all over the yard. Sometimes Fluff would bite one of the children’s bums, but that was not very often. Andrew and Mary Jayne would chase them all the way to the stream in the Fairy Forest where they would float unconcerned in the water. At night as I lay in my bed, I could hear the ducks chase the crickets, quacking loudly as they had a conversation about them.
About a month later, one lazy Sunday afternoon as I came home from church, I smelt the distinct smell of roast duck being cooked over an open fire as I was driving up the path. Oh dear! The children cried, I cried. We were all devastated. I didn't know what to do. I really had a problem.
The following week I went to visit Yvonne and told her of my predicament. Yvonne was an Afrikaans lady who had a huge house in the centre of town. It was painted orange and had a huge lawn that she constantly seemed to be mowing. Her property was surrounded by a very high black fence. If one wanted to get inside, you first had to wait until she put her huge black dogs away in the little room at the back of her house. She had no chance to plant anything pretty or even sit in the garden herself, because the dogs would just stand there with their huge paws, chewing away at everything as they destroyed it all. They looked a bit like wrestlers, very mean and angry.
That afternoon though, she had had enough! Her neighbour had given her a new puppy, which was softer by nature. He seemed to me to be tall, thin and elegant compared to the other brutish black dogs. He was lovely and brown. When he shook his head the spit dripped out of his mouth and flew everywhere. Because of his softer nature, Yvonne had let him inside the house, but when she opened the door to let me in, the young dog streaked past and into the front garden. Here he saw Mary Jayne and Andrew. They had left the hatch at the back of the bakkie open as they climbed out. The dog climbed in and curled himself into what seemed to be a little ball. Well, it was quite a big ball actually. What were we going to do now?
No amount of bribing could get him out. As we dangled some biltong under his nose, he just farted loudly. We offered him some raw meat to get him out of the back of the bakkie but much to the delight of the other dogs he didn't take it so we flung it over to the dogs on the other side of the fence where it was hastily gulped up. He had made his decision. He was not going to move. Thinking he would get bored and get out if we ignored him did not help either, because after more than an hour of chatting to Yvonne he was still there, happily snoring away.
‘You had better take him home with you’, Yvonne said. ‘Bring him back if he gets too much. He needs a new home!’
Mary Jayne and Andrew yelped with delight. I sighed, knowing that he was going to become another addition to our little family. That night we named our new boerboel Bully Beef, or Bully for short, after his first meal in our house. He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. Within a few hours he was firmly part of our little family. When I fixed him a bed outside, he objected strongly, raising his eyebrows to the roof, rolling his big brown eyes and plonking his huge body in the kitchen, near the food and the stove where it was warm and where he wanted to be. When the bugs came in, he caught them and ate them. He was very happy to be with us. The kids and I were very happy that he was there too. Within a couple of days, it was as if he had always been there. I can’t actually remember a time on the farm when he wasn't there. I bought some new ducks, Hatty, Matty and Sam. They lived for a very long time behind the house, down by the stream. Nobody ever dared to touch them now that there was a big dog to protect them.
We had just moved to the farm. We were all trying to adjust to the new way of life. All creatures, both great and small would invade our space, crawling under doors, through the window netting and even through the peep holes. It was best to keep the keys in the doors at night otherwise the little creatures crept through the holes in the locks. Mary Jayne and I were not naturally fond of little snakes and bugs. Not even the little brown mice were cute. Andrew, of course, loved all little creatures. Looking back, I’m not sure if it was the thrill of finding a new creature, or just the creatures themselves that captured Andrew’s imagination so much. He played endlessly with them.
One day I bought some ducks from the farm down the road in an attempt to keep the crickets at bay. The horrible little crickets seemed to be everywhere, under our pile of laundry clothes, in the toilet, under the couch. Ducks and crickets are natural enemies. I named them Binger, the thin one, Bonger, the fat one, and Fluff. Fluff was probably younger than the others because she was a whole lot smaller and far more fluffy. They quacked around our garden, chasing the cars and the tractors. I dug them a pond and built them a little house so that they could have somewhere to sleep at night. They would leave their feathers all over the yard. Sometimes Fluff would bite one of the children’s bums, but that was not very often. Andrew and Mary Jayne would chase them all the way to the stream in the Fairy Forest where they would float unconcerned in the water. At night as I lay in my bed, I could hear the ducks chase the crickets, quacking loudly as they had a conversation about them.
About a month later, one lazy Sunday afternoon as I came home from church, I smelt the distinct smell of roast duck being cooked over an open fire as I was driving up the path. Oh dear! The children cried, I cried. We were all devastated. I didn't know what to do. I really had a problem.
The following week I went to visit Yvonne and told her of my predicament. Yvonne was an Afrikaans lady who had a huge house in the centre of town. It was painted orange and had a huge lawn that she constantly seemed to be mowing. Her property was surrounded by a very high black fence. If one wanted to get inside, you first had to wait until she put her huge black dogs away in the little room at the back of her house. She had no chance to plant anything pretty or even sit in the garden herself, because the dogs would just stand there with their huge paws, chewing away at everything as they destroyed it all. They looked a bit like wrestlers, very mean and angry.
That afternoon though, she had had enough! Her neighbour had given her a new puppy, which was softer by nature. He seemed to me to be tall, thin and elegant compared to the other brutish black dogs. He was lovely and brown. When he shook his head the spit dripped out of his mouth and flew everywhere. Because of his softer nature, Yvonne had let him inside the house, but when she opened the door to let me in, the young dog streaked past and into the front garden. Here he saw Mary Jayne and Andrew. They had left the hatch at the back of the bakkie open as they climbed out. The dog climbed in and curled himself into what seemed to be a little ball. Well, it was quite a big ball actually. What were we going to do now?
No amount of bribing could get him out. As we dangled some biltong under his nose, he just farted loudly. We offered him some raw meat to get him out of the back of the bakkie but much to the delight of the other dogs he didn't take it so we flung it over to the dogs on the other side of the fence where it was hastily gulped up. He had made his decision. He was not going to move. Thinking he would get bored and get out if we ignored him did not help either, because after more than an hour of chatting to Yvonne he was still there, happily snoring away.
‘You had better take him home with you’, Yvonne said. ‘Bring him back if he gets too much. He needs a new home!’
Mary Jayne and Andrew yelped with delight. I sighed, knowing that he was going to become another addition to our little family. That night we named our new boerboel Bully Beef, or Bully for short, after his first meal in our house. He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. Within a few hours he was firmly part of our little family. When I fixed him a bed outside, he objected strongly, raising his eyebrows to the roof, rolling his big brown eyes and plonking his huge body in the kitchen, near the food and the stove where it was warm and where he wanted to be. When the bugs came in, he caught them and ate them. He was very happy to be with us. The kids and I were very happy that he was there too. Within a couple of days, it was as if he had always been there. I can’t actually remember a time on the farm when he wasn't there. I bought some new ducks, Hatty, Matty and Sam. They lived for a very long time behind the house, down by the stream. Nobody ever dared to touch them now that there was a big dog to protect them.
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