Pack!

               Chapter Thirty-Eight

               Day Forty-Five

               Once more crowded around a set of tables, they were waiting for Rafe and Oliver to go over the latest plans, a lot had happened over the last few days. Oliver had been doing his best, but his heart wasn’t really in taking on the massive amount of planning and administrative effort their start up needed. Oh, he could do it, but after some determined and lengthy thought, he’d decided against stepping into that role. He didn’t mind and was even looking forward to the teaching and mentoring he knew would be asked of him but he wasn’t the type to enjoy being behind a desk so he set about rectifying that as soon as they’d decided on their plans.

               Oliver had, from the day he signed on with Puddlemere, kept a roster of who his team mates were, what resources they could tap into, and what capabilities were available to him from either players or through the team network. That type of forward thinking was what had garnered him a starting spot within a year, and the team Captaincy in the unheard of time frame of his second year. Not a single Puddlemere player had protested, it was bloody obvious he was an exceptional keeper and when allowed his head, adept at slotting in just the right player to just the right spot during various plays, taking advantage of their strengths while minimizing team vulnerabilities. They’d learned early on that when Ollie spoke up in team meetings and suggested someone specific for something unusual during a play, even if they’d never had a notion of doing any such of a thing, that someone shouldn’t even think of objecting and just be getting on with it. More often than not they’d come up smelling like roses with announcers and crowds going wild. Franky Armstrong once told Ash Montague after a match that if they could all quit thinking and just do what Oliver told them to do, they’d never lose again. Oliver was methodically translating that skill set to their new venture and surprisingly, it appeared to be working.

               Early on, Oliver had put together a schedule to get every Puddlemere employee at least basically trained in harnessing the Belgians and learning to drive a plow. A quick chat with Jenever Ogden, who was one of the first to buy his land and get his fields set up and allocated for future plantings, had given them permission to practice plowing in what would be his barley field in exchange for a later one time plowing of that field at no cost. He had plenty of stock in hand and wouldn’t be looking to plant for at least a year, maybe up to three. The draft horses themselves had been put on half day schedules, they could ill afford them suffering from overwork as the next generation wouldn’t be ready for heavy farm work until they were five years old, although their training would start at two.

               Less than a week after arrival at their new site, he’d asked Noel Rees, Rowan Robertson, and Miriam Mills if they were interested in training as farriers. The three did that “don’t think, just do” thing that happened when Olliver suggested something and nodded, heading out to the Hogwarts library before catching Mr. MacPherson to comb through his knowledge as well. He had a portable forge in a back corner of one of his barns that hadn’t seen use in years, and he was happy to sell them for next to nothing. They in turn offered a discount to any shoeing he needed done for the next two years. They found they really liked the work, no surprise what with Oliver having suggested it, and spent many hours making and remaking shoes, using templates to learn how to fit a shoe, scouring what books they could find on hoof care and problems. Not all of them would be needed for full time work, only Noel wanting to stay with it as a primary job; Miriam and Rowan remain as backup, and would additionally work with whomever took on medical care for the horses as their time permitted, spreading the experience around.

               Oliver walked from that conversation to Matthew Spriggens, who just said yes before Oliver had said a word, beyond surprised when Oliver told him he thought Matthew might make a good person to cover the horses’ veterinarian care. Both knew he was starting from zero, but Oliver pointed out that his family had kept cows for quite a few generations, and Mr. MacPherson was an available resource on animal care as well, so while they didn’t have anyone specialized in horses, they weren’t helpless if something went wrong. Matthew remembered all the injured animals he’d brought home and how the local healer was able to put them back to rights, leaving Matthew to handle their daily care and eventual release back to the wild. He considered his satisfaction as a youngster when he’d turned what had been an injured, then healed badger back out to do normal badger things. He nodded more firmly to the idea. He’d been buried in potions and medical books since, coming up for air only when Oliver forced him out for his harnessing lessons.

               Four days ago, Rafe had thrown up his hands in exasperation and secret pleasure, grumpily telling Oliver he’d sign on as their stallion manager as well as oversee The Paddock’s management. Lulu, Oliver’s mother, would take on development of the riding academies, between them relieving Oliver of at least half the organizational burden. Amelie Gibson, Reggie’s twin sister, had signed on with them and volunteered to take on supply and logistics, relieving him of half of the rest of it. Rafe and Oliver had spoken to her at length as it was no small task she was stepping up to, but after a long conversation, all had walked away well satisfied.

               The first thing Amelie had done was talk to Esmae Dawson, captain and keeper of the Falmouth Falcons. The Falcons had elected to establish a farm, intending to cover the community needs via one large farm under their aegis, market farms would no doubt pop up in short order to cover any miscellaneous needs. Puddlemere and the Falcons had quickly worked out a barter system for use of the Belgians during planting and harvesting against a portion of the grain harvest, with additional grain and hay requirements being paid for at a fifteen percent discount for two years, said contract to be renegotiated at that time. So far, the Falcons had the largest block of farmland just outside the village proper, and they’d been busy for the last two weeks subdividing and stacking drywall fences. At the end of each exhausting day, all any of them would say is “Thank Merlin for magic!”, as they stumbled into their rooms, intent on nothing so much as a hot soak and some sleep before they rose to do it all again.

               Ollie had been canvassing the Puddlemere players just in case he’d missed some hidden expertise or interest, having to widen his net when he came up dry; it was essential they find someone willing to learn harness making. They had individual harnesses that came with the ten Belgians, as well as at least some work harnesses for a few of the ponies and a bit of riding tack for the horses. They were good for the moment, but each animal would eventually require their own purpose-built tack to be sold on with the animal when the time came. They additionally needed to learn to repair the tack, mend and make do would have to be their watch words for as long as possible. They had a decent stock of leather, but they’d need to be careful with it as they had no readily available source of resupply as yet. There would be enough work to keep a single person occupied full time with their internal needs, someone in town would have to be responsible for any follow-on work needed once the horses were sold. He came up empty amongst the players and their family members but just this morning had been approached by Levi O’Keenan, Devlin Whitehorn’s grandson, who wanted a job. The young man had been working in his grandfather’s broom factory as a gopher, learning the ropes, but it was obvious to him that production was going to be greatly slowed down for the next while and his relatively unskilled labor wouldn’t be of great use to Nimbus. He knew his grandfather would keep him on, but he wanted more than a make work job offered because he was family. Added to that was the fact he was a devoted Puddlemere fan, the chance to work with his idols had factored in when he’d set off looking for the first team member he could find.

               Oliver had sat down with Levi and gone over the harness parts, showing him the basic differences between carriage harness, riding tack, and heavy draft harness for plowing and the like. There would be further variations needed, but for now, the farm work harnesses for the ponies and draft horses would have priority for repairs and new harness as needed, riding tack for the other breeds as time permitted, and carriage harness could wait for now so long as they had a set or two made up for training. Oliver emphasized that he wasn’t any sort of specialist or expert in harness. He could get by from his years of hanging around horse barns and picking things up as he went, but he’d never actually studied the method by which harnesses were made and he didn’t always know why this strap connected to that strap. Levi wouldn’t be on his own or without guidance, but Levi would have to make himself into the professional they needed. Both walked away from the meeting looking forward to the next year of growth.

               Lulu Woods had eyed up the available land near the village and settled on an area two miles out and about half a mile from the first of the farmers’ fields. She’d bought fifty acres, knowing that they’d need an indoor ring, an outdoor ring, at least the one linked barn and space for a few horse pastures. There was the thought that they might be able to offer boarding in the future if they had the means to do so, so she didn’t skimp on space. The purchase drained quite a bit of their unallocated funds rendering the alternate site location a moot point, it would have to be on Harry’s land, they couldn’t afford to buy any more local property. They had two years of their yearly operating budget set aside as well as an emergency reserve, but those funds would have to cover two years of very limited income.

               For now, stable MPC #1 was set up in its semi permanent location, Emilia Bates assigned as the barn manager, Rafe taking her in hand to begin her training in how to ensure the animals and building were well cared for and properly supervised. Jasper Higgens and Harley Hughes tagged along when they were able, taking copious notes, they’d be the MPC #2 and #3 managers. MPC #4 hadn’t yet been assigned, it may remain in stasis for a bit. The Belgians were settled in MPC #1 and appropriate nameplates affixed to their stalls, as well as three of the Dales ponies and two of the Cleveland Bay mares. They were the only horses where Olliver had a guarantee of their training, others could be added to the barn once they’d been evaluated, until then all stock would remain in stasis.

               Now up to speed on their current status, they needed to decide where on Harry’s land to set up the remainder of their operations. They were definitely going to be further out than the two hundred miles they’d tested the stables; once they had a few sites to scout, that would have to be the first thing they checked and someone with a powerful messenger patronus would have to be on either end in case a message had to be sent. It was a given that Harry would be part of any scout team and he, Jasper Higgens and Jessie Gardner all confirmed they could send a patronus the length of England, so they were good to about six hundred miles. Either Jasper or Jessie would have to remain behind for the scouting trip, and they’d need at least eight or more people to stay to cover the plowing just in case they ran into an issue and couldn’t return immediately.

               The community had no way to determine the current season, this being something that time alone would tell them, nor did they know their axial tilt which would tell them how severe the seasonal weather change would be. Thirty days of observation with only a miniscule change in sunrise or sunset had them going with a working theory that they might be on the equator, or at least near it, which was good news; they might have an extended growing season. They made the decision to go ahead and plant now and hope. They weren’t being completely optimistic, they had what greenhouses weren’t bought by Neville that would be enough to keep them going, but you couldn’t use horsepower in them, everything planted and harvested had to be done by hand. It was a daunting task, hence the decision to throw a Hail Mary and get the farming started.

               They were going to run the Belgians in four teams of two for the plowing and other initial work of preparing the fields, one team held in reserve, rotating daily. They weren’t going to push, they’d work the fields to a five hour day. One hour of plowing, ten minutes of rest, another hour, then a one hour break for the horses. Then two more hours with a ten minute break in there, the second half with a fresh set of hands on the plow. After testing the ground in Jenever’s field, they’d discovered a rich, loamy soil that the magically sharpened plow could cut through like butter, turning over the green of the turf in neat sod rounds. Oliver was the most experienced at guiding a pair in harness, but plowing was new to all of them, and it had taken a solid week of trial and error to learn the best depth to set the plow, how hard you could push in a day, and the most difficult of all, how to plow a straight line. They’d all succeeded to various degrees, but knew it was a skill they had to have. The Belgians were theirs to protect until more were available to be sold at which time they’d be happy to turn the plowing over to those who owned the fields.

               They’d taken careful notes of the farm equipment available for use. It had been decided early on that the community would buy the equipment and it would be for use of all at no charge for the first two years, the farms could decide in the future if they wanted to create or buy their own later. Remus had sent a team out to the Mennonite community in Shropshire to buy all the horse drawn farm equipment they were willing to sell, broken or not. That community had grown considerably smaller over the last several decades, they had a plethora of equipment just sitting in barns and the team had taken it all. Over the past few weeks, many hands had gone over the items, repairing what they could, charming off rust, sharpening blades, and oiling mechanisms in addition to puzzling out what some of it even was. There were a number of well made plows able to be pulled buy a single horse or a team with the farmer walking behind, sulky plows where the farmer could ride on the plow, and other variants all the way up to a six furrow gang plow that would need a horse team of eight. This year they’d limit themselves to the sulky plows with two people on each, one person managing the team, the other watching the plow. The smaller walking plows would be fine for household gardens or market gardens, the gang plows weren’t feasible until they had more horsepower. It was the same for some of the harrowing equipment as well as the seed drills, they were going to have to use the smaller versions of those pieces for now.

               Eventually, they would need at least a hundred acres under cultivation and would prefer twice that, but they had very real constraints on what they could do. A horse team with a sulky plow, working in perfect conditions using what magic they were able to apply, could do three acres a day of plowing, but they weren’t working a full day, only half. It wasn’t just the plowing, it was also the follow on work of the harrowing, spreading, seeding, tilling, and eventual harvesting. The horses would be under constant work for at least seven months, perhaps more, and they had to treat them like glass, as well as getting the broodmares into foal. Some of their plans would need to be rejiggered, it wasn’t going to be possible to have the horses primarily grain fed, they didn’t have the ability to put that much land under cultivation right now and they didn’t want to dip too deeply into the feed reserves this early on. Estimating the maximum area they’d be able to manage, it worked out to probably about fifty acres. They could use some of the working breed ponies for the small household gardens and limit each pony to just a few hours a day; they had enough ponies to be able to swap them out, which would take some of the weight off the shoulders of the large scale farms for the first year or two. Reality was setting in, and everyone was getting a bit stressed.

               Clapping his hands, Rafe stood and terminated the meeting. “Off ye get laddies, we can’t be having the pitch looking so empty and ye need to not be thinking for a bit!”  It was comical to see how fast they sprinted for their brooms.