Tractor poorly again

About two years ago I opened the bonnet (hood) of my tractor and it felt very heavy, the gas strut which pushes it up had failed. When the tractor was next serviced I asked the local mechanic if he would replace the support, which he did. Two days after the tractor returned I was mowing an olive grove when BANG the bonnet jumped forward and when I investigated the strut had pushed its mounting so hard that it had sheared it off under the bonnet, which is thick plastic. The mechanic said it would be a tricky repair, why not just carry a stick around to jam the hood open? Which I did.

Eighteen months later, May 2020, the engine developed a fault and I had a different mechanic from a main dealership come to investigate. On Tuesday he took the tractor away for repair and servicing, and incidentally to replace the gas strut mounting so it could work again. He brought it back on Thursday, all done. That evening I noticed a one-inch crack at the air vent cutaway in the plastic bonnet, so decided to keep an eye on it. On Friday morning I opened the garage and the crack had grown to a ten-inch break almost across half the bonnet, clearly serious and possibly difficult to repair. I rang the main dealer who said don’t worry, just carry on and disconnect the strut if you can, which I couldn’t. I sent them a picture of the breakage, and tried using gaffer tape on it.

Out mowing the same olive grove as two years ago BANG and the bonnet jumped forward, but this time the strut had forced it apart almost into two, a serious breakage now. I sent the garage another picture and spoke with them. They asked me to remove the strut altogether by any means, and then to remove the bonnet completely, which I couldn’t as it was almost in two parts and now fragile. The same mechanic came to remove it and take it in for repair or replacement. I thought this part would cost around two hundred euros, an expensive strut this was turning out to be.

The next day I rang them and their office said they were looking for a replacement and would send me an estimate. This was their reply

Hi. Mr. Clive,

So… There is one in Germany, that can be sent to Portugal, the cost will be 1040€ with TVA included, but they cannot guarantee that it is already painted, if not, the value adds..

My coworker said if you can bring it in here so we can see if we can fix it and how much it costs..

Best regards,

Apresento os melhores cumprimentos,

Patricia Mendes

The mechanic who now has the broken bonnet said the price is exorbitant. So we wait to see if they can effect a repair . . .   Wish I’d just carried on using the stick.

 

The Lamb

The lamb

We have had two rainy weeks to end March and start April, with another week of showers forecast. As autumn and what bit of winter we get were dry, we need the water desperately. This rain has washed away the ash from the autumn forest fires and brought up spring grass and plants to green the land again. I have pruned over 120 olive trees and almost finished pruning the vineyards now. Because of the extensive wildfires the government has passed a law that for fifty metres around a house there should be no trees over five metres high, very few trees in any case, and the land under them must be clear. This work has to be completed by the end of May and if it is not done a big fine will be issued, then if the work is still not put in hand the land will be cleared by the local authorities and the bill given to the landowner. I am pushing hard to finish the vines so I can start on the trees and woodlands beside our house.

Our shepherd João brought his flock onto our land yesterday and again today, presenting a forlorn figure slowly ambling through the south olival with his umbrella out against the rain. I watched him as I sat in the study with the log fire burning in the corner, and took this picture from my seat beside my desk, through the conservatory, into the edge of the south olival (olive grove).

After lunch the rain stopped for a while so I togged up and went to prune some more vines. The flock passed beside me and he stopped for a chat; his “We-e-e-e-ll,” bleat makes me smile every time. He had to move on to follow his hundred-sheep flock; they are like an eating machine for grass, making a munching sound as they slowly flow around you, smelling pleasantly of lanolin, grass and, well, sheep.  Nice.

The flock had gone over the hill and I heard an isolated bleat from my south olival. There was a sheep left behind. There was a lamb trying to feed from it. This sheep wasn’t trying to follow the flock but stayed with its lamb. After a couple of minutes I decided they needed help, as the lamb was clearly too tired to follow its mum to the flock. I walked across to it and picked up the lamb; the sheep headed off in the opposite direction, bleating. Long story short, I gave João the wet lamb, he thanked me and said the sheep which had now joined us wasn’t much of a mother.

An hour later the flock came back with him and I saw the little white lamb and its mum again. I remarked that it was hard for such a little thing to walk with the flock and asked how many days old the lamb was.

“Days?” he said, “It’s not got days yet!”

“How old, then?”

“Oh, about two hours. She had it in the olival this afternoon.”

“What, today, this afternoon??”

“Yes, but she hasn’t enough milk for it yet. They stop making milk before it’s born.”   So when I had “rescued” the lamb it was only an hour old!  I asked if it was normal for them to just have a lamb whilst wandering around and he said, “Of course!”

“Oh.”

“Haven’t you seen a young lamb before?”

“Not that young, no. First time for me.  Are there more sheep that might just have a lamb now?”

“You see the ones with a red mark in their back?” From the study window I’d seen about twenty and wondered why only those were marked with a big red “T”.

“He’ll stay in the barn tomorrow and after that . . .” and he shrugged. “They are always running about at seven days, you know,” which I did but only vaguely, being a townie and feeling somewhat simple now. I wanted to give the little lamb a name, and offer the fireside to dry and warm him. And thereby seem even dafter and foreign.

But I’ll be on the lookout now, João !

 

A few minutes later, I asked “What do you call a very young lamb?”

“Cordeirinho or Borrego.”

“And when does it stop being ‘Lamblet’ or ‘Lamb’ and become ‘Sheep’?”

“When you sell it.” Oh.

 

 

 

A colheita (the olive harvest) again

Pruned as per textbook

We had a dry winter and by the end of January 2017 I had pruned sixty olive trees at 1¼ hours each; as we have three olive groves each of about 120 trees I do one grove a year.

In mid-February I was busy with pruning hundreds of vines and cutting by hand the weeds around their legs. With March being the finish of the pruning season the olives had to be done quickly, so I called on Senhor V and his team again: they did over two hundred trees in eight man-days, not in the pretty and theory-recommended way that I would, but in a serviceable manner.

 

Top olival, fast pruning

Following the pruning 10mm of rain fell in April and 76mm in early May; not enough for a good crop when the next rainfall was only 3.5mm in August and 16mm in October. After this rain the locals spread their toldos (plastic nets about six or eight metres square) under each tree and harvested what it had managed to produce.

Janet and I were concerned because their crop was small, the harvest should be four weeks later, and maybe they knew something we hadn’t heard yet. We walked through our olive groves and found that despite Sr V’s rough work the stunted trees would yield enough olives to give us a colheita; maybe I had misjudged his ability to get the trees into fruit.

Varejador runs off the tractor battery

 

 

We had heard the buzzing rattling sound of “the latest thing” in getting the olives off the tree without having to use ladders; there are actually two gadgets with an electric motor on the end of a telescopic pole.

 

 

One, bata-palmas, is like a pair of seven-fingered plastic hands which clap together. The other, a varejador. is a pair of five-fingered hands which oscillate past each other like small beaters. In both cases you comb the fingers through the drupes (olive-laden twigs) to shake free the olives. Having been told they make the job several times faster and much safer, we went out and bought a varejador.

It is lovely working in the top olival, quiet.

Clive combing olives from the tree

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Long story short, four days later we loaded seventeen crates of galega olives into the Subaru and took them to the co-operative lagar in Fundão (which is a cold-press mill), arriving mid afternoon.

Janet with the winnower to remove leaves and twigs

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were fortieth in the queue to the gates of the olive mill, and in the compound there were maybe sixteen more vehicles waiting or unloading.  I went to the front office and paid to become a member of the co-operative of olive growers. We waited for another hour.

Quarter of a ton of fresh olives

After an hour’s wait, now 30th in line.

Nearer to the front of queue for the lagar

 

We did a cryptic crossword. It went dark.

We waited. I walked to the nearest coffee bar for a coffee; it was full of chaps like me who had left their vehicles loaded with olives in the queue.

The moon came up and the temperature went down and you could see your breath. We sat in the cold car and we waited.

A two-wheeled tractor with trailer full of olives

All manner of vehicles arrive to unload olives at the press, from large commercial tipping lorries with several tons, medium-sized drop-down tailboard lorries, tractors with trailers, vans, Mitsubishi L200’s, two-wheeled tractors with trailers, and estate cars. By the time we emptied our crates into the balances it was after eight at night.

We took a day off then did it all again but went to the lagar early on a frosty morning, although it was lunchtime before we unloaded. Total yield, half a tonne, with very low acidity so Extra Virgin quality, which will be ready in a few days for collection.

The ladders, toldos and varejador are stored away for next November. The oil has just become available for members and we bought some to try – it is lemony yellow, buttery and softly fragrant like olives and citrus – delicious!