VN June 2021

Vetnuus | Junie 2021 34 Sitting on the sand dune, gazing out at the huge combers rolling in from the restless, icy Atlantic Ocean, with the white spray flying high as they slammed into the black rocks below, the strong smell of ozone and salt in the slightly misty air, a huge peace settled over me. I turned to look at the profile of Coenraad Brandt whowas sitting next tome lost in aworld of his own.We were waiting patiently for the lobster traps to do their work while the paraffin can of sea-water was heating over a small fire of driftwood down on the beach. Coenraad, who was a researcher at Elsenburg Agricultural College, had roped me in to help him solve a fertility problem in a herd of Hereford cattle on the small experimental farm near Lambert’s Bay that he was trying to do some research project on.To try and improve the fertility I had suggested regular visits where we could monitor the individual cows and take the necessary specimens. Our visits had evolved into a sort of regular ritual. Leaving Stellenbosch just after lunchwewouldmake our way through the grain lands of the West Coast, Malmesbury, Darling, between the green wheat fields set off against the bright yellow of the Canola lands, herds of cattle and flocks of sheep stopping momentarily in their daily search for food to watch our car speed past. Then up the Piekenierskloof pass, from where one could look back and see right across the plain below as far as TableMountain in the distance. On past Citrusdal, soon surrounded by the Cedarberg and by late afternoon pulling in to Clanwilliam. This was amust stopwhere we would take on a supply of Karoo lamb chops andwors and a few beers and soon be taking the turn-off towards Lambert’s Bay. As the sun was setting we would pull in through the gates of the experimental farmand find our way to the small guest cottage. The setting sun often reflected like burnished brass on the sparkling Atlantic waters about a kilometre away. The fire would be set and soon we would be surrounded by the heavenly smell of braaing meat, while sipping away at an ice-cold beer, something many South African males almost live for. Early to bed, after solving all the world’s problems, for an early start the next morning. Up by 5 am for a herd run in the well-constructed crush, taking various specimens and checking through the records. In a herd of less than 50 animals this didn’t take more than 2-3 hours. The farm manager always organised some crayfish bait from the factory in Lambert’s Bay the day before and soon we would be bumping across a seldom-used track down to the seashore in the farm bakkie. The farm had about a kilometre of shoreline andwe would soon be at the beach. In the seventies the seawas teemingwith crayfish and pilchards and there was a large factory in Lambert’s Bay where they processed these, mostly for export. There was an open air fish market near the shore in Lambert’s Bay where one could buy crayfish tails at 15 cents each (present value probably R15-20). The crayfish were harvested by men who would be taken two men to a dinghy, with about 3 or 4 dinghy’s hitched behind a motorisedboat as far as 30 kmto sea, where these fishermenwouldbe left to spend the day letting down traps and later pulling themup again. They were left to themercy of the seawhile thepilot boat would return to shore, only to come and fetch themagain in the late afternoon. In the meantime, our traps would take about 30 minutes to fill and soon the live crayfish would be emptied into the boiling water, regarded as the best andmost humaneway of preparing them. Soonwewould be tearing apart the crayfish and emptying all the edible parts, while we packed the tails away to take home with us. Our trip back home would be expedited by cracking the feelers and legs which we had put into a separate container to nibble along the way. By lunch-time we would be back home again, almost as if we had just woken froma dream. I was settling in to the routine of a Regional State Veterinary Laboratory and making the most of the time, while champing at the bit to get back intoprivate practicewith the promise of a partnershipwith local colleague Joep Maree. During this time there were some highlights which made life interesting and especially the increased contact with colleagues made it possible to get to know several of thembetter. Recollections 46: Stellenbosch, the Oak City Ian du Toit Story