"Forest Range," Plains Folk #698 (Copyright Hoy & Isern)

It was a Kodak moment, but my camera was locked in the car. Range scientist Kevin O'Connor and I had arrived at Forest Range Station, Lindis Pass, Central Otago, New Zealand, conveniently in time for supper, or I should say, evening tea.

Our hostess, Jeanette Emmerson, one of those wonderfully adept and articulate sheep station women, came to the table with a perfect leg of lamb seasoned with rosemary and garnished with apricots. Herbs do famously in high, semiarid Central Otago; irrigated apricot orchards grace the valleys; and the lamb, of course, is plenty and fine.

Later, well-fed, I had the opportunity to interview Jeanette and Russell about their life on a sheep station in the tussock grasslands of New Zealand.

Jeanette was not born to station life. She grew up in sunny coastal Timaru and was working for an insurance company in Christchurch when her family went on holiday to the lake resort town of Wanaka, in Central Otago. There she met Russell attending a Young Farmer's Club dance. They courted while Russell attended Lincoln Agricultural College (now university), near Christchurch, and were married in 1968.

"My expectations were negative," says Jeanette, "because I didn't want to come and live here. I was a townie." Russell, however, was determined to make a go of the run-down station that had been his grandfather's. He did so, and somehow in the process, Jeanette became a fervent advocate for the high country pastoral way of life.

They prospered by a combination of hard work and circumstances. When they commenced station life together, the New Zealand government was practicing an expansionist agricultural policy designed to pump up exports by subsidizing production. There was money available for land development, which meant oversowing the grasslands with good forage grasses and clovers, applying superphosphate (by air), installing cross-fencing, and bulldozing tracks for access. Subsidies were designed to cover the costs of such work by contractors. Russell hired a crew and did the work himself, and then used the income to build a fine registered flock and specialize in super-fine Merino wool.

The Russells' beautiful stone home was built in 1984, just before the government recast its policy, withdrew all subsidies, and began turning New Zealand's agricultural economy into the most market-driven in the world. They entered this new era, fortunately, in a favorable capital position. Of their three children, Jeanette says, "I'd like to think there was a future here for them, but it's got to be their choice."

Today Forest Range runs about 20,000 stock units, uses computer-readable ear tags for identification, and routinely uses a helicopter (and a hand-held global positioning system) for mustering, pest and weed control, and visiting customers of its stud. The station is under the management of a competent couple possessing the right combination of vision and common sense, with a promising new generation easing in. Forest Range looks as sophisticated and solid as an operation can be.

But there are no certainties in agricultural life anywhere in the world anymore. Urban environmentalists criticize high country pastoralists for their manner of land use; animal rights advocates want them to stop killing rabbits and be nice to their sheep; and the wool markets pitch and roll like a ute going up and down one of Russell's tracks. Still, Russell says, "The land is better off for the investment we've made."

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