Compromise in the cabbage patch

One of the things we aim to promote is the fantastic lifestyle that is based on growing your own food and being self sufficient. It was one of the values that brought us together and while it is hard work, it is so rewarding to have bought out own patch of Tasmania and to be able to source virtually all of our food from our garden and farm.

Both Eliza and I grew up on family farms in the hinterland of north-west Tasmania and had access to the most amazing home grown produce. Our family was the classic self-sufficient smallholding: we had a massive orchard, two extensive vegetable gardens and berry patches, and we always had access to our own lamb, pork, chicken, ducks, geese, rabbits and beef.

If you were hungry, you would go and pick a fresh carrot from the garden or raid the berry patch. If you had more time there were always enough ingredients to make a big pot of soup. I didn’t realise how lucky I was to have access to a freezer full of yummy, ethically produced meat or a garden and storage shed full of home grown organic vegies.

In fact, it wasn’t until I went to high school in the big smoke of Burnie that I realised not everybody experiences this sort of lifestyle. It’s funny looking back at being tormented about coming from ‘the sticks’. I clearly remember when we had a grade eight Christmas party and we had to bring a plate of supper to share. At the time Mum had forgotten to make something, so I was forced to take a plate of carrot sticks. The town kids thought that was pretty funny. It wasn’t until I travelled that I appreciated how lucky I was to have grown up in this environment.

One of the things that happens though when two passionate gardeners ‘shack up’ is working out who is going to be responsible for looking after the vegetable garden. To avoid conflict we have decided that Eliza will be the main vegetable gardener, while I will look after the orchard and berry patch. So far that has been working well and I have learnt that it is best to stay out of the vegetable garden and that friendly advice is not always appreciated.

Eliza certainly has passion for her garden and thrives on the garden-to-plate mentality. Every time she serves a meal, it’s like we’re eating at a quality fine-dining restaurant and it goes something like this: “Tonight, dear, we have from the garden seven home-grown vegetables to accompany our free range Wessex Saddleback pork shoulder. The parsnips have been roasted with garlic, sea salt…”

I think that since her trip to Hobart and eating out her service skills and product knowledge delivery have even gone up a level. I think she was inspired by our time at Piccalilly.

To help promote the self sufficiency lifestyle, I have been part of an enthusiastic team organising the Penguin Organic and Sustainable Living Festival. It’s a grass roots event being held at the Penguin Sustainable Living Centre on Sunday, March 28.

It’ll be a great day with an impressive line-up of guest speakers including the founder of permaculture, Bill Mollison, SBS’s ‘Gourmet Farmer’ Matthew Evans, and agricultural scientist Bruce French who has put together a database of the world’s edible plants. He’s working in third world countries to encourage the locals to grow their native foods, rather than western varieties that do nothing to help their malnutrition problems.

For more information on the festival, have a look at the flier.

In the name of poo

It’s a dangerous time of year to be out at dusk.

The dung beetles are swarming.

Just as the sun sets the beetles take to the air, at break-neck speed, looking for fresh manure to munch on.

They’re after the bacteria in the poo, and they’re also looking for a place to lay their eggs.

When they’ve found a pat that’s fresh and runny, they dive into the soil and dig tunnels ruler-length deep. Then they roll up balls of poo and take them to the bottom of the tunnels where they pop in an egg – which won’t hatch for maybe three, six or even 12 months depending on the season. The larvae’s then got a ready-made meal when it hatches out.


We’re seeing a lot of over-enthusiastic dung beetles on our barbed wire at the moment. You’d think with so much air above the fences they wouldn’t put their flight paths between the wires.

There are also quite a few beetles laying on top of cow pats, toes in the air, who I think may have over-indulged.

Dung beetles play a vital role on farms in cleaning up effluent. When they drag it down into the soil they’re adding organic matter, aerating the ground, and removing the temptation for flies.

They’re also good for the health of our animals. Within manure there can be larvae of nasty parasites like roundworm. But at 30cm underground the larvae can’t survive. Dung beetles can destroy 70 per cent of roundworm larvae in manure.

The type of dung beetle we see most often is the Blue Bomber, a Spanish species introduced into Tasmania 20 years ago by our friend Graeme Stevenson. We do have native beetles, but they’ve got more of a taste for wallaby and possum poo.

Graeme now collects the beetles and sells them to farmers on the mainland. A year ago I went on a trapping expedition with him. You can hear some rather funny audio from the trip here.

Over the next few weeks I suggest wearing a helmet and safety glasses if you’re out at dusk.

It’s the time of year when “injury by dung beetle” starts appearing on hospital emergency lists.