As New Zealand looks to a future in which retirement becomes a moveable feast, there are a growing number of Ashburton over-65s who do not have slowing down and stopping work on their radar. Reporter SUE NEWMAN talks to two of those, Arthur Maude, who's knocking 80 and 70-year-old Joan Washington-Robb. They're still working and loving it.
Arthur Maude might be close to 80, but he reckons that's got nothing to do with his ability to work.
He still puts in a fair day's work for a fair day's pay, ask his employers.
They can't speak highly enough of the man who headed for the hills as a 17-year-old to begin a career as a high country musterer. They call him "a legend".
That was decades ago, more decades than Arthur cares to count.
The years might have somehow ticked by, but time has done nothing to dull his energy or his enthusiasm for rural life. He's a stockman through and through and can't see any reason why he should hang up his boots and raincoat or retire his dogs.
Arthur's wife is not so sure. She's fairly keen to see a bit more of her husband and reckons the best present she could get for her next birthday would be his commitment to retire. Arthur's hoping she's not holding her breath on that one.
It's been a long road from the rugged hills of Mt Hay station in the Mackenzie country to a down country lamb fattening unit, but the journey's been good and it's not yet over, he said.
He's a Southland boy, growing up in Edendale and later on his grandparents' Oamaru farm
Arthur and the high country eventually parted company when their children reached secondary school age. He and wife Joan decided boarding school wasn't for them and they moved into the Hinds area for him to work as a shepherd.
"It was kind of hard to give the high country away, but we had the kid's schooling to think of," Arthur said.
Once he adjusted, life on the flat wasn't all bad.
He says he worked for some good farmers and regardless of the contour of the land, he was still doing what he loved, working with sheep and dogs.
Once Joan hit 60, she decided the time had come for the couple to finally buy their own home, rather than living in farm accommodation.
"She said she wanted her own place in town. I told her I wasn't baching, so I was on the move too."
That was 1992, he was 60 and officially retired, well on paper anyway.
The reality was very different. Arthur might have been living on a small block on the outskirts of Ashburton, but work was still on his radar.
"I did odd jobs for a few blokes and worked at the saleyards sometimes and that's how I really came to be here," he said.
He's been on Chris Meare's pay role since 2002, initially as a part-timer, but the older he got the more he worked. He's happy on the Winslow farm, which is part of Grant Ludemann's multi-farm consortium stretching from Ashburton south.
He's a stockman through and through and accepts he's got a fair stock of knowledge about sheep and sheep farming. He's modest.
"It took me 10 years though to realise I knew what I was doing – I stopped making ballsups."
Today he's working not for the money, but simply because he loves what he's doing and can't imagine not having work to look forward to each day.
"It's all a piece of cake here, I whistle up the dogs and I can drench and dag the sheep as quick as anyone else, I don't hold them up."
Those dogs are his constant companions, always at his heels, always looking for a command, sleeping with one eye open. He's had dogs since he was a kid who used to go rabbitting with his uncle. That dog was called Wag and there's still a Wag in his team.
Remaining in the workforce for what could eventually come close to 70 years is as much about good luck as anything else, Arthur said.
Things have certainly changed over the years.
Yes, he's traded 11,000 hectares of hill country where you ran seven sheep to the acre for intensive lamb fattening, and yes there are cows everywhere you look, but what hasn't changed is his love of the land.
The only thing that gets in the way of work right now, is his one concession to a life of retirement, and that's bridge.
He plays Wednesday afternoons and that means his working week is now four and a half days.
Joan's not happy.
She's keen to see a bit more of her husband.
He believes people stop work too soon, some simply work towards retirement as an end goal, and others, like him, want to work as long as they're able, for the sheer pleasure of doing something that has meaning each day.
When he calls it quits, he knows it will be a bit of a shock to his system.
"At the end of the day, it's always up to the individual, but I thing that there always has to be a reason to get up each day. I've got all weekend to recuperate."
Arthur Maude might be close to 80, but he reckons that's got nothing to do with his ability to work.He still puts in a fair day's work for a fair day's pay, ask his employers.
They can't speak highly enough of the man who headed for the hills as a 17-year-old to begin a career as a high country musterer. They call him "a legend".
That was decades ago, more decades than Arthur cares to count.
The years might have somehow ticked by, but time has done nothing to dull his energy or his enthusiasm for rural life. He's a stockman through and through and can't see any reason why he should hang up his boots and raincoat or retire his dogs.
Arthur's wife is not so sure. She's fairly keen to see a bit more of her husband and reckons the best present she could get for her next birthday would be his commitment to retire. Arthur's hoping she's not holding her breath on that one.
It's been a long road from the rugged hills of Mt Hay station in the Mackenzie country to a down country lamb fattening unit, but the journey's been good and it's not yet over, he said.
He's a Southland boy, growing up in Edendale and later on his grandparents' Oamaru farm
Arthur and the high country eventually parted company when their children reached secondary school age. He and wife Joan decided boarding school wasn't for them and they moved into the Hinds area for him to work as a shepherd.
"It was kind of hard to give the high country away, but we had the kid's schooling to think of," Arthur said.
Once he adjusted, life on the flat wasn't all bad.
He says he worked for some good farmers and regardless of the contour of the land, he was still doing what he loved, working with sheep and dogs.
Once Joan hit 60, she decided the time had come for the couple to finally buy their own home, rather than living in farm accommodation.
"She said she wanted her own place in town. I told her I wasn't baching, so I was on the move too."
That was 1992, he was 60 and officially retired, well on paper anyway.
The reality was very different. Arthur might have been living on a small block on the outskirts of Ashburton, but work was still on his radar.
"I did odd jobs for a few blokes and worked at the saleyards sometimes and that's how I really came to be here," he said.
He's been on Chris Meare's pay role since 2002, initially as a part-timer, but the older he got the more he worked. He's happy on the Winslow farm, which is part of Grant Ludemann's multi-farm consortium stretching from Ashburton south.
He's a stockman through and through and accepts he's got a fair stock of knowledge about sheep and sheep farming. He's modest.
"It took me 10 years though to realise I knew what I was doing – I stopped making ballsups."
Today he's working not for the money, but simply because he loves what he's doing and can't imagine not having work to look forward to each day.
"It's all a piece of cake here, I whistle up the dogs and I can drench and dag the sheep as quick as anyone else, I don't hold them up."
Those dogs are his constant companions, always at his heels, always looking for a command, sleeping with one eye open. He's had dogs since he was a kid who used to go rabbitting with his uncle. That dog was called Wag and there's still a Wag in his team.
Remaining in the workforce for what could eventually come close to 70 years is as much about good luck as anything else, Arthur said.
Things have certainly changed over the years.
Yes, he's traded 11,000 hectares of hill country where you ran seven sheep to the acre for intensive lamb fattening, and yes there are cows everywhere you look, but what hasn't changed is his love of the land.
The only thing that gets in the way of work right now, is his one concession to a life of retirement, and that's bridge.
He plays Wednesday afternoons and that means his working week is now four and a half days.
Joan's not happy.
She's keen to see a bit more of her husband.
He believes people stop work too soon, some simply work towards retirement as an end goal, and others, like him, want to work as long as they're able, for the sheer pleasure of doing something that has meaning each day.
When he calls it quits, he knows it will be a bit of a shock to his system.
"At the end of the day, it's always up to the individual, but I thing that there always has to be a reason to get up each day. I've got all weekend to recuperate."
No comments:
Post a Comment