I am on the last leg of five interesting months in the South Island of New Zealand. The majority of the time was spent working on farms, but I also got some travelling in too.

The most striking aspect of the country is its exceptional beauty. It is a land that seems to have everything. Stunning crystal-clear rivers and lakes are two a penny.

Even during the summer, the impressive mountains that run through the central spine of the South Island maintain the odd snow-capped peak. On the coasts there are miles of undisturbed beaches, natural hot pools and even glaciers. Thrill-seekers will be at home with jet boats, skiing, sky diving and bungee jumping available nationwide.

I spent most of my time in the Canterbury plains. These plains are in the centre of the South Island and can only be described as a freak of nature. Huge flats of extremely fertile land support a mixture of tillage and dairy farms. I call it a freak of nature because the rest of the country is hilly and unpredictable.

Coming from the heart of Roscommon, it took a while to acclimatise to the lack of stone walls, hawthorn hedges and deciduous trees. The absence of suitable building stones and the threat of an earthquake means the landscape doesn’t lend itself to stone wall building.

Evergreen trees maintained in perfect tall box hedges are used more rather than deciduous breeds, because they help break the strong winds that blow across the plains. Rushes aren’t commonplace here either – it’s as if God wanted to create what some might call a farming paradise. However, one would wonder if this farming paradise is more of a man-made phenomenon. Summers are usually long, dry and hot. The plains are kept green by costly irrigation systems. So, what would happen if the taps were turned off?

Canterbury itself is home to more than 1.2m dairy cows, not far off the total number of cows in Ireland. Most are kept outdoors on pasture and winter crops all year round.

Without a constant supply of water to keep pastures and crops growing, this area would barely support half that number. Prior to the mass influx to dairying and the widespread use of irrigation, Canterbury was home to sheep and tillage. Sheep farmers always aimed to get their lambs away before the start of summer. Otherwise, they could be stuck with them for months with limited grass growth, such were the conditions.

When I landed in New Zealand irrigation was all the talk among the local farmers. The newly appointed Labour-led government was threatening to introduce a water tax for farms. The plans have since been put on hold, but the threat will not disappear. Farmers were genuinely worried at the time. A new tax could potentially put a lot out of business. There are always different ways of doing things, but change is easy to propose and hard to implement.

On my travels, I met one sheep farmer in a dry area north of Canterbury who had started using lucerne as an alternative to ryegrass for his livestock grazing. Rather than dying off during droughts, the lucerne throve and so did his sheep.

If future governments get their way, Canterbury dairy farmers might have to investigate these alternatives to stay in business.

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