Farming couple strive for a work-love balance

By Lauren Jackson*

Feature - Kirsten and Holly Landreth work together on Thornicroft Station in the Strath Taieri valley as they advance their careers - and plan a family.

Kirsten and Holly are relaxing at home on a Monday evening, but their radio transmitter is still on, crackling with updates from the farm. Shortly after they married last February, Holly was appointed stock manager at Landcorp's Thornicroft Station in Waipori, Otago, and it's now calving season. "The boys are up at the yards calving a heifer," explains Kirsten. The heifer is having some trouble, but Holly thinks they'll be all right: "It just takes a bit of pulling sometimes." Nevertheless, they keep the transmitter handy.

Given some young farming couples work long hours miles apart, Holly and Kirsten feel fortunate to be working alongside each other. Kirsten - an experienced stock manager - works as a shepherd at Thornicroft three days a week and contracts another two days to a family-owned farming company down the road. However, it's not just luck that's allowed them to blend their personal and professional lives. Kirsten, 31, and Holly, 27, are sought-after young farmers, bringing passion, skill and a fierce work ethic to their roles.

The pair met through a mutual friend at the Methven Rodeo six years ago. Kirsten always heads along to support her brother - a bareback and saddle bronc rider - but on that particular day she missed him altogether. "I was too busy talking to Holly!" she says with a laugh. Something special was sparking, and Holly felt it too. "Neither of us got up to get a drink, because we didn't want to lose our spot next to each other," she remembers. The two have been inseparable ever since.

Both Kirsten and Holly were raised on South Island farms - Kirsten in Hyde, Otago; Holly in Haast on the West Coast - with similar family values. Both have farming "in the blood" and dads who instilled in them self-belief and a capacity for hard work. "My dad has always said, 'What? Have you got lead in your boots? Run! If a boy can do it, you can do it,'" says Kirsten. "He wants you to challenge yourself." And when Kirsten and Holly challenge themselves, the results are formidable.

Quickly realising their relationship was serious, Holly joined Kirsten in her home district, the Strath Taieri valley, five years ago, and got work on a local farm. When Kirsten's dad announced he was retiring and selling his tailing business, she took it on. After all, Kirsten says she and her siblings "grew up in the tailing pen. I knew exactly what we were doing, because Dad had been doing it for twenty years."

Holly took time off to join the "wee gang" Kirsten put together for each two-month tailing season, and Kirsten went from the kid that used to ride the lambs round to the one running the show. She says, "All the farmers were supportive of me having a go, and we actually ended up getting more clients. It was awesome."

It's still not common to see women working in the tailing pens, but Kirsten's dad was right - if a boy could do it, she could too. Holly and Kirsten are pleased to report that these days references carry more weight than gender, in their experience at least. While gender discrimination may be on the decline, Holly admits, "I sort of feel like I've got a point to prove. I don't know if it makes you work harder, but you just don't want them to think, 'Oh, I should have had a male do it.'"

Kirsten had a tailing gang of six women and two men by 2020. "Once people saw that we could drag as many gates, if not more, and we would be in the pen a lot faster than the boys, they started to take a bit of notice." The women were all "sporty, rural girls," and they were told more than once by farmers that they were the best tailing gang they'd ever had. The gang worked like clockwork, thanks to strong communication and planning, tailing 110,000-120,000 lambs per season.

The tailing run brought professional success, but it became increasingly difficult to find staff. Workers in rural communities just can't afford to job casually like they used to, Kirsten explains. "And it is such a demanding job," Holly adds. It requires serious physical and mental strength. "It says a lot about anyone that's worked in a tailing gang," agrees Kirsten.

In 2020, they moved on to shepherding work in Middlemarch before both ending up at Thornicroft - a 3600 hectare farm running 450 Angus cattle, 2000 red deer hinds and 7000 ewes.

The couple both work weekends as required and are grateful their work set-up gives them extra time together. When Kirsten recently started work for her other boss down the road, he couldn't believe how fast she ticked off his list of jobs.

When pressed, she admits, "He actually did say, 'You're better than most blokes.' You know, I wasn't going to say that, because…" she defaults to shy laughter, but it clearly feels nice to be appreciated. Holly enjoys seeing how her decisions as stock manager translate into results. "Obviously everyone helps you achieve it, but it's your planning that gets you there. It's quite satisfying."

What's it like working for your spouse? "I just do as I'm told, pretty much," Kirsten says. Holly confirms, "She's pretty good. I can't complain." Of course, they do have the odd disagreement, but they navigate these moments by reasoning with each other and listening. "We're very open with communication, and sometimes communication is louder than otherwise," Kirsten says. They both laugh. "But we've learned you have to talk - and then also stop talking - about work."

Together, Holly and Kirsten are greater than the sum of their parts, balancing and rounding each other out. Kirsten admires Holly's analytical approach to stock management, while Holly appreciates Kirsten's common sense and intuition. "I go by my eye, whereas she goes by figures," says Kirsten. "But the numbers aren't always true," counters Holly. "Holly's very patient and thinks things through," Kirsten says. "I'm a very straight-up, and honest person. So, I think it's quite good. Sometimes Holly can see that I'm getting frustrated and puts her calming effect on a situation!"

Taking care of animals is the aspect of farming Holly and Kirsten enjoy most. "It's just kind of nice, being accountable for them all and looking after them," Holly says. Rain, hail or shine the pair run their 14 farm dogs each day and put wee jackets on them each night. "Everyone says if they die, they hope they come back as one of our dogs, because we treat our dogs very well," Kirsten says. "We try to give them the best life we can, because they do a lot of work out there."

Kirsten stuck to her tongue-in-cheek promise that if they could survive two seasons of gruelling 16-hour days in the tailing pen, they'd get married - which they did on Holly's dad's farm on the Clutha River, in last February's heat. Covid-19 restrictions meant they could only invite 100 guests, and keeping up with the changing rules was stressful, but otherwise the day was "exactly what we wanted," says Holly. "Probably better," Kirsten says.

The two smaller dogs accompanied them down the aisle; they laugh at the suggestion they could have had all their dogs there. "It would have been cool to have a big bark-up at the end. But no. Too much hassle. We were going away afterwards!" says Kirsten. Coming from a large Irish Catholic family, Kirsten's maiden name, Dowling, is well-represented throughout the Maniototo, so they took Holly's surname, Landreth, to help it live on.

Now, Holly and Kirsten are "future-proofing." Having already successfully worked as a stock manager in the past, Kirsten has taken a step back to give Holly the chance to progress her career. They are also working towards a time when Holly will support them financially, as they start their family.

The couple bought their first home this year on the classic ten-acre block. "And I'm also trying to convince Holly that we should buy a boat at the moment," Kirsten says. For now, they are content to work for other people. "At this stage of our lives, we still get to go away on the weekends," explains Holly. However, they do plan to own their own farm one day and give their children the rural childhood they both enjoyed. When will they realise this dream? "Depends if we buy that boat or not," quips Holly. Kirsten cracks up laughing.

The guys helping calve the heifer have been gone over an hour. "They're still out there," says Kirsten. "I just heard them on the radio," Holly reassures her. "The calf survived, and the mum too." Kristen smiles: "That's good." Now, they can switch off for the night.

*This story was first published on the Shepherdess website