"What are you doing next weekend?...Want to come out to my Dad's?" Cassie, my martial arts buddy, had asked. "He'll pick us up Thursday night and bring us back Sunday."
Cassie's Dad runs a 2000-acre sheep farm in Central Otago, about a two-hour drive from Dunedin. Since Cassie and I are usually sprawled on a mat choking each other, this would be new perspective--not to mention a class-A Kiwi experience.
Geologically speaking, the farm is set within a flat basin encircled by mountains--a place called Maniototo.
Cassie's Dad was born on this farm and has raised sheep all his life. He has 2000 sheep, a number that will more than double in late September when the lambs are born.
Cassie gives Vaughn the Sheep Dog a little scratch on the head
One evening, Mr. Lindsay's wife Ann took us for an exciting four-wheel-drive ride across the farm. She followed the road for a bit and then jutted across open pasture. As we ca-junked over hills and ruts and pools, I made use of the conveniently located hanging handle--you know the one.
When we reached the outskirts of the property, numinous gray crags scratched the evening sky, leaving streaks of pink melting into lavender.
Maniototo was in the clutches of winter, complete with ice and frost, but once inside the house, there was nothing to fear. Central heat is a scarce feature in New Zealand, but these folks knew how to use heat where it matters. A diesel-powered furnace toasted the main room, and they put me in a big fluffy bed warmed by an electric mattress pad. Most exciting of all, the bathroom floor was heated!
Caution: Animal lovers and activists, stop reading here.
(I mean it.)
I didn't want to know, but I asked anyway. "So...ah, does your Dad kill them himself?"
Yes, indeed, he slits their throats, and they hang in the "killing tank" for a couple days to drain.
I knew I shouldn't have asked.
Killing Tank at Dusk
(to the left)
