About 1909 my father bought another farm, Raeby, at Rata Iti, about four miles from Hunterville. All the family went to live there, leaving my eldest brother Hugh to manage the Mangamahu property. We did quite a few trips by wagon with the two shafters and three leaders, pulling heavy loads at times through the Mangahoe road to the Hunterville farm.

A large holding near the Turakina River, Bird grove, owned by McLeans, was always our halfway place to stay the night to spell the horses. We carried our own nose bags for feeding the horses. The sacks were folded down to about halfway, with a rope tied on opposite sides to make a loop. This would hold a large bucket full of oats and chaff. The loop was put over the horse's neck near the ears and they were very used to feeding that way, bending their necks to lower the bag to the ground so as to get a mouthful of chaff as they wanted it.

One of my father's main interests was horses. We had about seventy horses at the Hunterville and Mangamahu properties, draught horses for the wool-wagon and the wagonette (which had seats all round it for family use) as well as horses for the buggy and the gig (usually pulled by trotters) and of course the hacks and Shetland ponies.

All the unbroken horses, as well as some old ones, were kept in a large paddock at the back of the farm. When rounded up to bring in they were like wild horses. One of my sisters, May, was an expert at breaking in the hacks and Shetland ponies. Most of the horses were broken in by a professional who got them quiet enough for working.

On the Hunterville farm at that time, the weka (wood-hens) were very abundant, living in underground water courses, niggerheads and swampy ground. My sister May was exceptionally good at imitating their call, and in the evening, when it was getting dark, she had them answering from all around about.

THE SCHOOL WHARE

When we went to live on the Hunterville farm, I went to school nearly opposite our homestead. School was held in a one roomed whare, where sixteen pupils were taught. Most rode to school on quiet hacks or ponies, some riding from as far as eight miles away. There was always a paddock to put their horses in, where they could get grass and water.

Horses were practically the only transport and some children became expert riders. There were two brothers about twelve years of age, who double-banked on the one horse and they could stand up on the horse's back while galloping full-tilt.

THE SWAGGERS

When I was about the age of nine my sister May kept a tally of the number of swaggers who called in to get something to eat on their rounds and the number was 120. They usually came singly, but once in a while two would turn up asking for a shakedown somewhere. They were usually sent to shearers' quarters to bed down and sometimes were told to come for a meal, which was always eaten in the kitchen.

The big iron kettle on the old wood stove was usually on the boil most of the day, and the swaggers had their little tea-billy filled for them, along with a few sandwiches given them. Some came along and offered to cut some wood if they could bed down somewhere, and get something to eat. But in the morning they were up and away and no wood was chopped.

My parents never objected to them coming. They carried their own blanket and usually a billy was tied to the swag. They usually looked very untidy and quite a few grew a beard, which made them look worse. If they were not near a farm foraging a bite, they would just doss down under a tree somewhere.

My father offered the likely looking personalities a job. I remember a couple of them took on a scrub cutting job which they finished in a fortnight. The odd few of these men were well-educated remittance men from England, who became alcoholics, or had misbehaved and in some instances belonged to wealthy parents who sent them a little remittance money. I remember a remittance man my father employed, who stayed working for us for about three years, but I somehow surmise he went back to England.

I don't remember swaggers at Mangamahu but I think that was rather a dead-end for them. Our Onga Road property at Hunterville connected up with long-distance roads everywhere.

Our first year of shearing at Hunterville was done by the same gang as we always had at Mangamahu, but this was the last year of the blade shearing days, 1910. Shearing machines became universal after then.

When I was about ten I went to my sister May's wedding at the Church of England at Hunterville. She was married to Herbert Tripe by the Rev. Grant Cowan.

THE MOTOR BUGGY

When I was wagoning with my father, carting material from Mangamahu to our Hunterville farm, Raeby, I remember seeing a motor buggy, towards the Kaungaroa end of the road. It was a plain ordinary looking light buggy, having four tall wooden wheels with the usual thin iron tyres. it also had a rudder like steering. It had run off the road and was resting up against the road fence. The engine seemed to fit under the front seat.

I remember another time a traction engine came past our place, rattling, puffing, and with clouds of steam billowing from it. Our horse paddock was next to the road, and the horses took fright and bolted, flattening about three chains of fence on the opposite side of the paddock. I can remember there was a big complaint, because all the culverts were smashed in with the big heavy weight. People using the road had to dismount to lead their horse and vehicle over the gaps, until they were repaired.

Also I remember on one of our trips I saw kilns which they built to make metal for the road out of puggy papa clay, these kilns were about 8 to 10 ft high and about 10 x 20 ft oblong with layers of logs and the puggy clay set in between, this of course was fired, and the road metal turned out like red brick when spread on the road. All the bigger lumps were broken up with knapping hammers, all done by hand of course. (Knapping hammers were made for breaking up stones etc ).

I think they only metalled the steeper hills with this idea, for metal from rivers etc would have to be carted from many miles away by wagon teams with horses. The timber logs for the fires were carted from the nearest patches of bush and there must have been a suitable clay there. Country roads were rough those days and miles of them were not metalled.

MY FIRST MOTORCAR RIDE

There were exceptionally few cars on the road those days and I had never had a ride in a car until I was fourteen, and that happened by accident, for cars in the country were rarely seen. Horses were absolutely terrified of motorcars and motorbikes, and meeting a car on the road was very scaring, for most horses would bolt, whether they were ridden or driven in a vehicle.

When riding to Hunterville High School, I met a car driven by our neighbour, Mr T A Duncan, on one of the very sharp winding corners. My pony bolted and, luckily I got thrown onto a big patch of toi-toi. The pony simply dived over the bank, turned, and made back about three miles to our farm. I was offered the ride back home in the car. I was thrilled and gracefully accepted my very first ride in a real motorcar with Mr T A Duncan and his family.

Mr Duncan, known by all as T.A. and later as Sir Thomas, owned the great Otaire station. I remember him sending huge mobs of sheep past our farm. In autumn, 3000 sheep went past every fortnight for four months. They were railed from Hunterville to the works at Castlecliff.

FATHER IN JACK'S SIDECHAIR

My oldest brother Hugh bought a motorbike in about 1910-1912. It was a four-cylinder FN. Later Jack and Sid got motorbikes too. One day my brother Jack enticed Father to go for a spin in the sidechair of his Royal Enfield motorbike. Father, being a horsy man, knew nothing about motors, but after a lot of persuasion was going for his first ride in a sidechair. To get to the road we always had to go through a slightly uphill grassy paddock.

Jack started off with a rush, and the bolt at the foot of the sidechair gave way, the whole wickerwork chair swung over back wards and Father was dragged upside down leaving a trail of stuffing from the upholstery behind. Father was a big fat man, and it looked so funny to us that we kept getting the giggles, and it irritated him.

DILLON'S ORCHARD

There was a huge orchard of about eight acres, five miles from the end of the Mangahoe Road. No one lived there. We used to ride or even drive there for fruit to bottle. In some odd years we went with neighbours and took a wagon and some boxes. We must have come home with half a ton of fruit.

CATCHING EELS

The Maoris were very keen on the eel (tuna) those days, so one afternoon my brother and I with three Maoris decided to fish the Mangahoe Creek. We rode on horseback, leading a packhorse, should we have much luck. I had been down to the bush to dig some glow worms. These particular worms were about nine inches long and could stretch to twelve inches or more. They were ideal for making bobs to lure the eels with. They are threaded through with baling twine, doubled together, then bound with cotton. When an eel takes it, the glow is seen moving, more so when dark.

We used to kill a sheep for mutton every three or four days to feed the gang, so we saved the blood for a lure in our fishing. We usually cut a manuka tree so as to get a long straight stick about six feet long to throw the eels out with, having a strong string tied from the end of the rod to the bob. We'd pour some blood in good likely places in the creek and they'd come and grab the bobs.

When the eel pulls, the fisherman pulls also. The eel cannot let go while it is being pulled be cause their little spiked teeth are set inwards. They are thrown out onto the ground and when the string becomes slack on hitting the ground, then they come off.

We got a packload of eels, mostly with the bobs, and some with gaffs. The Maoris next morning gutted them all, then cut little short sticks to hold the belly flaps apart. Then they hung them on about two chains of fence near the shearing quarters to dry out in the hot sun. There seemed to be flies everywhere, yet very few were blown, because once they dried enough the flies couldn't blow them.

CATTLE IN THE GORGES

The Hunterville farm had several deep narrow gorges which the odd beast fell into and was unable to get out. During winter, when the feed is short, some push near the edge, trying to reach an overhanging tree, the ground gives way and in they go. The longer gorges had to be fenced on each side, but some of the smaller ones were missed out. These cattle from large paddocks were only rounded up two or three times a year and would charge if cornered, so the drafting was always done on horse back.

When we found one that had fallen in somewhere, and it had been there a long time, it would usually charge anything after being in the half dark so long. Further up or down the gorge, there was often a place where we could make a slight track, but to get them there was always a problem.

We dare not go in the gorge to drive them, so we used a very long manuka stick with a big lot of red rag on the end to wave at them, and when they got worked up they kept charging it. That enticement worked wonders some times, but the man waving the flag had to keep his eyes on an escape route. If they could not be retrieved from the gorge they were shot, then skinned for the hide.

SPARROW PIE

Having so many horses being fed on oats and chaff was a lure to the birds; sparrows and yellow-hammers in hundreds flocked there for the seed and oats. My father made a suggestion to me to catch a lot of sparrows for a sparrow pie, so I got an idea. I blocked the corner holes in the loft of the stable, where the chaff was stored loosely, then opened the high door, tied a string to it, and hid with the other end. I waited a long time until the sparrows flocked in, then pulled the string hard to slam the door. I climbed up the inside ladder through the manhole to view sparrows everywhere.

A big extermination commenced as I caught them all. I took them over to the house to show Mother and my older sisters, and said Dad would like a sparrow pie. "Who is going to clean and pluck all those birds!" There were about a hundred of them.

DWYER'S STABLES

When living near Hunterville, which was only about five miles away, we rode to the town often. Sometimes I took horses to be shod at the Ross Blacksmith shop, and while waiting would walk around about the town. I always visited Loo Won's to buy chocolates and bananas etc. I also remember my very first haircut at Tommy Brunton's Salon.

And there were times when we left horses at Dwyer's Stables. They were fed and looked after there when we went by train somewhere. Dwyer's Stables also used to do taxi work with horse and gig, taking workers and other people out to country farms.

I remember when I was about ten years old coming home from school at Rata Iti with two mates. We were pulling young grass and blowing the hollow stems while hiding in amongst some manuka trees and lawyer vines, near a corner of the road. The grass stems made a loud, squeaky noise when we blew through them.

At that time a horse taxi gig from Dwyer's Stables came trotting along, and hearing the noise, the horse ran off the road, the gig wheel hitting a short manuka stump, throwing the occupants out onto a heap of lawyer vines. The horse cleared out with one very bent wheel. We didn't wait to see what happened after that, we scooted home.

THE FIRST WORLD WAR

When the First World War started in 1914, my oldest brother Hugh and a cousin, Leo, enlisted, and joined the Main Body Mounted Brigade. Most of these mounted men had selected horses from their own farms to train and care for in the army camp before going overseas. I cannot remember whether the horses went with them at that time, but I know my brother and cousin fought on Gallipoli, where horses would not be needed.

When the Gallipoli landing failed, the Main Body went to Cairo to join the fighting in the Holy Land. Whether they joined up with their mounts again, I don't remember, but when the war ended the horses were put down because of the lack of transportation.

Later my brother Jack enlisted and fought in France, especially the battle of Messines. A year later, my youngest brother enlisted and also went to France.

My father had not been well for a long time, and I, a teenager had no hope of managing both farms, so my father arranged to sell both places. We were exceedingly lucky at that time, for when my father became hospitalised, Sir Thomas Duncan of Otairi put a manager on our farm until it could be sold. Both places were sold within the year and Sir Thomas oversaw all the winding up of our Hunterville farm business in 1919.

After being ill for a long time, my father retired to College Street, Wanganui, buying quite a large area of land there with the one old house on it. There were three sections at this College Street place, so my Father had a very nice new home built, but just when the new house was finished, he died, in 1919, just after the First World War ended. My oldest brother arrived home after his five years absence to see my father still alive, but only for a couple of days. My mother lived in the new house at 43 College Street for about fifteen years until her death.

COLLEGE

After the Hunterville farm was sold, and my father and mother had retired to College Street, Wanganui, they sent me to Collegiate as a boarder for two years.

When at Hunterville, my father used to brew all different kinds of wine, and after he retired to Wanganui (he was in hospital at the time) it was stored in the sand under the College Street house. It was left there and had probably been forgotten. My mother told me to ask a College mate or two along for Sunday dinner once in a while. Mother had help in the house and that was all OK. Sunday was the only part-day off for us, so we came along well before dinner and had to be back by four.

While filling in time, we found our way under the house, and we came across these bottles, thinking it was some sort of a soft drink. So we opened a bottle and each of us had a good swig. After a while we got a call to dinner. After saying grace, my mates got giggly and talked a lot of nonsense. I was not so bad, but the mates must have had an overdose of the parsnip wine. I think my mother thought they were just the giggly type.

I just hated my first year at College. I got the long supplejack cane across my behind, so I eventually stuffed the bottom of my trousers, and got caught, thereby getting two more cuts after. Even the prefects were allowed to cane the boys, putting some force into the blows which left welts showing on our behinds. The worst caning I had was for sneaking down town when something interesting was on, without leave. The second year I don't remember being caned but some of the new boys got hell. I rather enjoyed the second year.

AT THE RACES

During my holidays from College there was a three-day race meeting and I had ten pounds I had earned while staying with my brother-in-law Bis Taylor earlier in the holidays. I took the ten pounds along to the races and lost the whole lot on the very first day of the meeting.

I had a sort of racing bike which I managed to sell over the weekend for twelve pounds, and I took all of this money to the last day of the meeting on Monday. To my relief, I managed to win back the ten pounds I had lost and even managed to win an extra four pounds. But that first day had given me a big scare and I have never done any betting since.

FLU

During World War One, when I was at the Wanganui Collegiate School, we were stricken down with the influenza plague. It spread all over New Zealand and help was not available to everyone because most contracted the disease. This must have been one of the worst outbreaks on record, for people were dying everywhere. Coffins were unobtainable in a time like this, and the dead were collected on trucks in some places.

The Collegiate didn't suffer so much, all of us being young and able to take turns in helping each other as each of us caught the flu. When the sick got better, they helped those that got ill later. One boy in particular had it badly and was in a critical condition for a long time. I had about ten days in bed and got over it without much trouble.

THE RAETIHI FIRE

While I was at Collegiate there was another catastrophe, the Raetihi Fire, which swept over hundred of thousands of acres. I was a boarder and not allowed out so all I saw was the dense smoke overhead. We were not affected badly with smoke at Wanganui because it was all high in the sky. However the heavy smoke clouds kept the light out and it seemed almost dark. We had to have the lights turned on inside during the day and cars had their lights on as they passed by the school in the half dark. Some people didn't seem to know what was happening and had thoughts it might be the end of the world.

I heard that people in the Raetihi district took refuge by jumping into the rivers until the fire passed. I even heard of people jumping into a tank of water when the grass fires swept through the open country. There was a drought that year, even some green bush burned. Some people were cut off from civilisation when the fire jumped the back roads and others were able to make for safety. Some homes were completely burnt out, but I think there were only two or three casualties.