Dan Jackson: Ignorance less blissful on farm

COUNTRY LIFE: Footrot Flats - even townies get the jokes.

I'VE RECENTLY been doing a fair bit of work with farmers. I get out and about in my truck and see a fair bit of the countryside, and I've been thoroughly enjoying it.

However, I've noticed a bit of a gap between me and the people who work the land.

My dad came off a farm and I grew up in a semi-rural part of Wanganui. I holidayed on farms with cousins as a kid, and I've always considered myself to be a person well grounded in all matters to do with the land.

But I've noticed I'm not very good at gas-bagging about the state of facial eczema or the price of lambs at the sale.

I must confess I'm not 100 per cent sure what a two-tooth actually is - apart from perhaps being a sheep with two teeth - and my idea of milk solids is when it has gone off in the fridge.

But my real problem is that I come across as knowing more than I actually do. I can't help it...it's part of my know-it-all nature.

I'll turn up and we'll start working and, just because I can't bear too much silence, I'll repeat a snippet I read in the morning paper's farm supplement to start a conversation.

I'll say something like: "Things were looking up at last week's sale", to which the farmer, with a surprised look at my profound knowledge, will reply: "Yeah, but...", and then give an expert opinion on the state of the rural economy, cross-referenced with global trends in agriculture, etc.

There's an uncomfortable and often drawn-out silence as he - or, more often than you would think, she - waits for my reply.

Sometimes it's a very long silence before I throw in something like, "well, at least things are better than dairy", or "I think it's gonna rain this arvo."

The farmer is not fooled, though, and you can almost see the thought pass through their mind that I'm just another "bloody townie".

Breaking it up with a bit of humour doesn't work either. You could have heard a sheep's pellet drop the time a farmer said Hunterville was only 15 minutes away, to which I replied: "Yeah, but how far to the nearest civilisation?"

(Disclaimer: It was only a bad joke. Hunterville is a great town with great people and very civilised - I recommend you stop and try the coffee there next time you're passing through.)

Not that there's any shame for me in being a townie, but it really is embarrassing that I know so little about one of the cornerstones of our economy and such a central part of New Zealand's identity.

For goodness' sake, I loved Footrot Flats; I got the dog's jokes...how can I be so ignorant? I guess I'm just a product of the urban drift. I come from farming people but I get my food from the supermarket, and I only wear gumboots when I mow the lawn.

The differences between the lives of the people who live 10km from the town boundary and my own life are innumerable. They have a wealth of knowledge about subjects that I hardly knew existed.

I've resolved to try to keep my mouth shut and my eyes and ears open, and learn a thing or two. They say it's better to keep quiet and be thought a fool than open your mouth and prove it.

I'm not alone in my ignorance, though. Plenty of people think they know all there is to know about life in the country but then find they don't.

Any real estate agent can tell you that people on lifestyle blocks often only last a couple of years before moving back to town - because it was muddier than they expected.

Politicians, too, think they know what farmers need or want but it's not often they get it right...Just ask the farmers.

-Dan Jackson is a Whanganui journalist and part-time scrap metal dealer.