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Sunday, 8 November 2009

One Each plus a Spare

Socks, our youngest breeding sow presented us with five squealing bundles of joy yesterday morning. Haven't sighted the children since.

With mother Socks and father Boots, what could you expect the youngsters to have been named other than: Topboots, Gumboots, Slippers, Stockings and ......... Patchy. One of those kids is either not very footwear-savvy, or just a non-conformist.


After explaining repeatedly to the children that Socks is a first-time mother and may be very protective of her newborns and that they must remain cautious and wary around her at all times, it would appear that Sally at least took note.



Our much-awaited rain-event came and went last night, with not so much as a shower over our heads. Those "in-the-know" tell us it will be Christmas before our turn comes. Those 'here-in-the-know' know that if we have to wait until Christmas we'll have dead cattle and a concerned bank-manager.

Last year was a dream-season, over 3 inches in October, seven and a half in November, seven in December, five for January and eight for Feb. Followed by a long dry spell. We've never gone this long before.

I believe our turn is coming.

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