THE old Whacker has been fielding a few questions of late.About field days.
Obviously, I would be the person to ask for the best advice, actually, for any advice, and my opinions come at no charge – other than your time.
So several of the questioners, as it were, touched on things which have been bubbling around in the back of my old brainbox for some time.
With one of the biggest being, do I field like going to so many field days in the future?
The answer, sadly, is not really.
I have been a field day fella for about as long as field days have been going – as you would expect my sage comments were eagerly sought by some of the first to get up and running about how to get it right.
Which I happily told them.
But it really is a different game these days, for field days.
For a start, farms might have been getting bigger, but with technology (and ridiculous visa regulations) the workforce is getting smaller. Which means you can’t just down tools and trip off any time you like because someone has to do the actual work.
And while I don’t like to admit it, some of these sites have got so bloody big for a chap of my vintage that getting around them in a day to see and try everything (especially try everything) is getting a little too much.
Then there is the litigation factor. It’s not a real factor, but once the lawyers and accountants get together and put their contrived fear of God into organisers and insurers, field days just aren’t as much fun.
I recall the good old days when you could get on the latest big ticket items and whip them around a paddock.
Nowadays it’s just static central.
Look but don’t touch.
You get some over-educated whippersnapper telling you starting the machinery or attempting to do anything beyond sit there and shut up, is not permissible.
If someone wants me to do reach into the depths of my hip pocket and pay the skyrocketing cost of this clobber, I am not budging an inch until I see the machinery move – and I am the mover.
To do that I can duck over to a neighbour, or nip into town and see my favourite dealer, they’ll give me a go.
For all the real good I get out of a field day – social niceties notwithstanding – I might as well be sitting in front of that unbelievably ginormous curved computer screen the boys have in the office and look at all the pictures while still in my undies and singlet.
However, give me a seriously wet day and I am your man.
That’s always been one of the things I’ve liked about Sheepvention, despite it being staged in Hamilton with all the Western District squatters and self-appointed bluebloods poncing around in their tweed jackets.
Rain, hail or shine, drought or flood, you can always rely on Sheepvention to be freezing cold and bloody wet.
The best excuse to actually down tools and get along to a field day for a natter, a convivial cold one, pick up the latest gossip and check out how poorly the local sheep compared with the ones you have at home.
I am always prepared to offer the squattocracy a few pointers, but they seldom seem interested in hearing them (although, between you and me, the odd one or two have slipped quietly out to the Whacker’s Ponderosa for advice).
I also get a kick out of ducking out between showers to see some of the companies with their machines on show and seeing how wet and mucky they have got standing there waiting for someone to come and see their static show.
Then when I have had my fill of good old CWA cooking, of gossip and of gleaning information, it’s into the ute and gone.
Home to where I can drive any piece of machinery I want, at any time.
