I know this because I’ve been roped in to ride shotgun for the hired gun Doug Avery, affectionately known as the Resilient Farmer, for the four weekends leading into Fieldays. The idea is we travel around the country to connect with locals who have a real connection with Fieldays.
By the time you read this our roadshow will have taken us to the Winton War Memorial Hall in heartland Southland and to the Newbury Hall just north of Palmerston North. Over Queens Birthday weekend we’re at Kerikeri in the beautiful Bay of Islands then we wrap it at the kiwifruit capital of Te Puke on June 9 before I fly back to Palmerston North to join The Country’s roadie to Mystery Creek. We’re hoping, along the way, to call in to two leading stud breeding operations, the Whitelock and Barrett farms.
Winton was chosen for the first stop because it’s near the home of former Otorohonga cow cocky Bill Johnston who holds the distinction of having been to all 49 Fieldays so far. When he first turned up to the Te Rapa racecourse in 1969, Fieldays was known as the Town and Country Fair and was held in summer.
Palmy North was picked because nearby Feilding is the home of young dairy farming couple Mike and Ryley Short. Mike entered the 2009 Fieldays Rural Bachelor competition on a whim and duly took home the title. But it was a year later, when he returned to judge the competition, that he took home the big prize, his future wife Ryley who was working as an events co-ordinator for the VIP Centre at Mystery Creek.
The next month for me is going to be hectic after a couple of really tough weeks. But Avery’s a top bloke. He loves a beer and a good yarn and it’s a pleasure to go on the road with him. He’s doing God’s work around mental health and told us in Winton “there’s only one bugger I haven’t been able to help” and that’s because he was suffering from dementia and couldn’t take the message in.
Doug’s message is very much to share your problems and don’t be afraid to ask for help. Burying your head in the sand and simply working harder is not the answer.
I wish my great boyhood friend John had spoken to Doug. I spoke at his funeral recently. I want to leave you with an edited excerpt from my eulogy:
Fast forward to the turn of the millennium and a wonderful tradition was about to unfold. The boys from that primary school class of 1972 had grown up, gone their separate ways but stayed mates and kept in touch. Fate and good fortune saw them regroup some 30 years later to go duck shooting on the old Mackay home farm pond.
This annual ritual and bonding session was where I spent most of my quality John time. Early on John decided he was going to be the flamboyant star of duck shooting. This was achieved by turning up at the Riversdale pub on duck shooting eve wearing progressively more garish, outrageous, dare-I-say camp outfits. I once described him as looking like a cross between Rambo and Liberace and was recently reminded of another occasion when I suggested he was like Princes Charles about to go out for a quail shoot.
But what he wore was not the only highlight of duck shooting. A close second was the fine fare he brought for us to feast on. Typical maimai tucker is red meat in its various manifestations. There’s usually a choice of steak, steak or steak. Not for John. He introduced us to delicacies of English pork pies, the finest of boutique cheeses, the most expensive of wines and ports and he introduced me to the delights of imported craft beers before it was ever trendy to drink them.
John, my old mate, you died tragically but your duckshooting mates are never going to let your memory die. Come the first weekend of May 2019 your son is coming to the pond to present your inaugural memorial trophy. Rest in peace my old friend and rest assured we’ll be having an English pork pie and an expensive Belgian beer in your honour on the morning of May 4.
