THE VALUE OF LAND

As a child born on a sheep station in New Zealand, I was aware of the value of land. But not in the same way as my father. For him, our land was grass and nibbling teeth of our woolly merinos. I had quite a different idea that truly confounded him. To me, the land could simply be looked at. The looking was great land value. Productivity was something else and my father’s territory. I boldly suggested to him that houses be built for others to enjoy what I enjoyed. They did not need to be farmers, farm hands or even native to the valley.

“Just exactly how would these land gazers get to work? Where would they buy groceries? And, movie theaters?”

I was silent and in my young logistical mind conceded that the 50 mile trek to the nearest town along a winding gravel road punctuated with ford crossings may be an inconvenience to my prospective country livers. But, I was just a lad and figured that I had plenty of time to come up with one and many solutions.

My father had similar packaging and purpose views concerning our dogs. They were sheep dogs and employed to muster, drive and earn their keep. He had clear purpose in feeding and housing the dogs as part of a deal in return for work and cooperation. And, I am sure some love and attention kept the relationship steady. Having a dog for a pet with the run of the house was a confusion of purpose to my father and this…