It's never too late to learn new skills...regardless how painfull it may be!

Well, Australia is an interesting place. In the last week we've been staying at the Sunshine Coast just north of Brisbane where the sea and river give lots of opportunities for water-sports, weather is warm and life is good for the thousands who flock there for holidays. We then headed about 80 miles south-west to Esk to stay on Heino's farm. Here, there has been little to no rain for 6 months, the land is barren and the farmers are suffering. In most States in Oz, the last 12 months has brought little to no rain and official drought areas have been declared in most of southern and eastern Queensland. Just shows how varied this land can be.
Heino has 50 acres of land, 4 cows and 25 goats. He also has some great toys - 4-wheel drives, motor bikes, guns, that sort of thing. So, we came up to relax, take in some country air, feed the animals and generally get into the urbanites-on-a-farm thing.
First day, official tour of the farm in the clapped-out but still runs 1.3lt Suzuki. Wonderful views over the Esk county hills and a first hand view of how bad the drought is. Saw a wild skippy and got a glimpse of what its like to be able to have a small hobby-farm just 1hr away from Brisbane. Land availability here is huge and prices (of which you can't compare to Europe) work out at GDP 500 an acre - almost a tenth of prices in the UK. Heino has built an "autobahn" around his land which involves some hairy inclines but when you have some beer in the back who cares. But, by the end of day one the previous family illness had hit me and I was laid in bed with flu.
Day 2, and a bit of poncy flu wasn't about to spoil life on the farm. Also, Heino had plans and work to be done. So, he geared himself up in his overalls and I put on my holiday t-shirt, shorts and fake crocs. May well have also "oiled" myself up for a day in the sun. Took too much paracetamol so felt a bit drowsy and off we went. First job, round up the cows and give them some de-wormer. Easy...just shout a bit, wave your arms and show no fear. I once heard that cows (or bulls) smell fear...they may have also smelt the coconut oil which may explain why they went in the opposite direction away from the main gate. Finally got them in, and then a bit of the old magic juice and off they go.
Job two, bit of de-wormer for the goats and a little bit of castration! I was certain I heard that word. With me open-mouthed, Heino explained the process. In his mind, a simple process of testicle strangulation! And there's me figuring on a nice holiday snap of me holding some goats not a full anatomy video showing some goats' nuts being lobbed off. We had the hilarious (and obvious) act of trying to herd 25 goats into a pen, including the 10 or so kid goats who could not only smell coconut oil but also the fear. I also suspect that they had been fore-warned by the elder goats in the herd that when a man approaches with food and leads you into a dark barn that you had better run in the opposite direction (which they did) or pretend to be female. So we get them in the pen and the fun starts.
Normally with flu, I like to stay in a dark room, lemsip in hand, perhaps a DVD and some peace and quiet. Being faced by a screaming baby goat on a hot day, legs held wide open by a hobby-farmer, and having to decide the sex (and therefore the fate) of a goat ain't one of those things that takes my fancy when being ill.
So, goat one - thank the Lord, female. Goat two, again female. Perhaps this was going to be easy. Goat three, male - well, I had to be told, I thought it had two udders. Ok, here we go. Attach a small green rubber band to some clamp-like device, open it up so stretch the band, grab the little-goats two balls (a minor technical point) and then release the clamp and listen to the cry of a lost sex life. Having only experienced testicles from a personal point, I felt a degree of sensitivity was the best policy. After all, if someone was to chop mine off then I would want a nice dainty female nurse to complete the operation and not some huge grappling bloke who'd rather be ill in bed. Poor goat one. I sensed I'd made a mistake when the scream was a slightly pained high pitch squeal. Heino, with a degree of sarcasm only Aussie's have, pointed out I'd only clamped one of his balls and that I should grab hold of them both and make sure the 2 go through the band. I looked around to Marie for moral support. There she is, camera in hand, giggling away. In sickness and in health! Also looked to the boys', who where wide-eyed and open-mouthed. I do now have a a very quick way of ensuring good-behaviour from them for the rest of their lives. So then, the intricate procedure of removing the band of one ball (sigh of relief from the goat) to only then re-apply the bloody thing.
So, an hour later, 5 male goats now turned into eunuchs. 5 sets of balls now due to fall off in one month. Ouch! I suggested they could be sent to me as a memento! To be honest, it was ok. I also reckon that there can't be many tourists on holiday who have spent time on a farm castrating some goats.
I also reckon that I'll celebrate the goats balls falling off next month. I only hope they fall off cleanly. I was thinking that a snow-ball cocktail (how many jokes are in that drink!!) would be a good way to remember my little (and the goats' very little) friends.