Growing up was Fun

Meercats on the Farm

            The mealies on the farm grew to more than six feet tall but every here and there was a patch of much taller plants.   These plants were growing in an old meercat den, years of meercat poo made the patch of soil very fertile.   The meercat moved out when the veld was ploughed for lands   There were some of these red meercat on the farm and their den was not too far from the house.   These little animals would sit upright and watch all the goings-on of the humans and farm animals.   We had a brown and white fox terrier (I think he was a Jack Russell) named Chips who could not stand the scurrying animals and would try to cut them off from their entrance hole.   But he never learnt that there were quite a few interlinking holes and tried endlessly to dig them out.   At times you could hear him barking deep down in the earth and I am sure that they were peering at him, chattering about his futile attempts.  Anyone with a Jack Russell would know how Chips had made it his number one concern to rid the farm of these cheeky animals.   Old Chips lived with us for many years and is buried in the pet cemetery on our later farm in the Eastern Cape.

Our Bulldog Polly

            Another dog of ours, which comes to mind, was a bulldog bitch called Polly.   She was a very placid dog and we children could do with her as we wanted.   Her face was enough to scare any would-be ‘skelms’.   I can remember a time when Polly had a few pups.   We as children were amazed and wanted to know where they came from, so we

were told that she must have dug them up out of the ground.   This caused us to wonder if she had perhaps missed any and I remember my sisters with a spade digging up the garden to look for more pups.   My mother was not impressed with us digging up her garden and told us to stop it and go play.   Homes were found for all the puppies and I suspect that old Chips was the daddy.   Not a useless dog after all!   Polly had a very sad end and if I have the courage I will tell you about it later. R I P.



Watermelons and other Crops 

           My dad always planted other crops among the rows of mealies such as pumpkins, watermelons, ‘soetriet’, cowpeas, beans and calabash.   Watermelons in those days were very sweet and blood red when ripe.   They would be cut into long slices, leaving the crown for last.   A big watermelon could easily feed a dozen hungry people.   One year the melons were big, but daddy had not yet picked one for us and we children decided that we would go into the lands and find a ripe one ourselves.   I have difficulty even now to choose a ripe one from a pile of melons.   Some people shake them, others scratch the peel and some put the melon on their head and press it down and listen for tell tale sounds to declare whether it is ripe or not.  I think that it was Bertha, the plucky sister, who took along a sharp knife and cut holes in the Melons to find that there were no ripe ones as yet.   I do not know what punishment we got, but we did learn that there is no easy way for a child to pick a ripe melon from a pile!  Needless to say, quite a few watermelons rotted on the land.

An angry swarm of Bees   

         There were certain minerals missing from the soil on Maizefield so the cattle had to be given coarse salt from time to time, and a handful would be popped into their mouths.   Unfortunately some salt would fall out and be dissolved by rain or dew.   My mom had some young turkeys that came across the spilt salt and quickly swallowed it all.   The result was that the turkeys became lame, but would walk again after a while.   These lame turkeys were brought to the house where they were kept in the shade of an apricot tree.   Here they could be given food and water and not bothered by any sexy turkey toms or roosters.   Under another apricot tree stood a wooden beehive on some bricks. 

      One morning someone’s dog chased up a hare and to escape the fast moving dog, the hare dove under the beehive and the hunting dog knocked the beehive over !!!!!!!   What a catastrophe  !!!!   The swarm of bees came out and started stinging everything in sight.   The dog and the hare both scampered away, the cows were bellowing and running with their tails in the air.   Old Ligman, my dad’s stallion, who was feeding nearby, farted loudly a couple of times and galloped to the far corner of the farm, and the best of all was that the lame turkeys got up and ran for dear life.   People were being treated for bee stings.   We children were each stung once or twice before being ordered to stay indoors.  How my dad solved the problem I do not know but the next morning the hive was back on its bricks and the bees were working as usual.   A few days later it was moved at night to where the other hives were kept among the Gum Trees.  Nobody wanted a repeat performance of that ugly event.