HLM – Chapter 986 The Restless Flock

Allicin really was a valuable food additive, containing natural garlic oil.

The garlic oil mainly consisted of diallyl disulfide and diallyl trisulfide, which had powerful antibacterial properties. It was effective against dysentery bacteria, typhoid bacteria, which cause diarrhea, and Pasteurella bacteria, which cause pneumonia and bronchitis.

Additionally, the volatile sulfur compounds in allicin could repel mosquitoes, flies, and other insects from feed and manure. Inside the cow, allicin would convert into allicin’s pungent compound under the action of enzymes. Once excreted in the urine and entering the manure pit, it could inhibit insect breeding and larval growth, reducing the harassment of livestock by flies and mosquitoes, decreasing disease transmission, and improving the surrounding environment.

However, in New Zealand, allicin as a feed additive was relatively rare. Firstly, it had a strong garlic smell, which many Caucasians did not like. Secondly, it was expensive—yes, this was a costly additive.

According to tests at Safi Farm, adding allicin to feed could improve the aroma and quality of cow’s milk, enhancing its fragrance.

Moreover, as Cousins had said, allicin was almost a panacea in the hands of traditional Chinese veterinarians—many diseases could be addressed with it. For example, if a cow had poor appetite, adding 0.1% garlic powder to the daily ration or providing a 5% garlic water solution could boost its appetite.

Another example was the common large-scale bovine influenza. Using allicin alongside environmental improvements and enhanced ventilation could inhibit the disease’s spread.

After reviewing the information, Wang Bo nodded and said, “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go buy some allicin as a preventive measure. Winter is coming soon—if Safi’s cows catch a cold, it could be disastrous.”

Cousin pulled out his phone and checked online. “It’s a bit pricey. Five hundred grams costs about 2,000 NZD, and according to the recommended dosage, each cow consumes at least 250 grams per day.”

Wang Bo said, “That expensive?”

“Probably because it’s made for human consumption. There’s no veterinary-grade allicin in New Zealand.”

Wang Bo said, “Forget it. I’ve planted dozens of acres of garlic in my vegetable fields. You guys can harvest some, chop it up, dry it, and mix it into the feed. That can also supplement allicin.”

“Boss, that’s a bit harsh,” Cousin remarked.

“Just an experiment. My garlic is for human consumption anyway.”

The cowhands had a better method. Garlic took a long time to dry in sunlight, which was difficult in New Zealand winters. So, Cousins and his team sliced the garlic and put it in a dehydrator.

After mixing it into the feed, the cows’ appetites noticeably improved—they ate much more than in previous days.

With this small problem solved, Wang Bo felt that learning was indeed useful, and he instructed the cowhands to regularly consult professionals at Safi Farm.

Upon hearing this, Cousin plopped down on the ground: “Don’t be like that, boss—spare us.”

A few days later, garlic appeared on the cowhands’ own tables: roasted garlic, pan-fried garlic, garlic paste with bacon, garlic beef pizza… the variety was impressive.

“This stuff tastes amazing. No wonder the cows like it—we like it too,” Cousin said as she offered Wang Bo some roasted garlic.

Wang Bo ate two skewers. The garlic from his garden tasted great—not too pungent, but with a rare, fresh, slightly sweet aroma.

This gave him an idea: why not open a local produce store in Sunset Town?

He already produced various livestock products. Beyond meat and eggs, he now had cow’s milk and goat’s milk. Once the herd started producing milk in large quantities, he could offer dairy products as well.

He still had some unused farmland. If he cultivated it, it could produce grains. Combined with vegetables from his garden, his agricultural and sideline products would be almost complete.

But this plan would have to wait until spring. Winter had arrived, and both the farm and garden were in a dormant season.

Additionally, running a farm and large-scale vegetable cultivation would require hiring more staff. His current ranch already occupied much of his attention, even with the help of a few cowhands.

In early April, the annual meeting of the Stubborn Bull Club was about to take place.

Compared to previous years, this year’s meeting was held later than usual. The reason was that New Zealand’s livestock industry had faced some challenges—the government canceled certain subsidies and liberalized the import/export of agricultural products.

Australia, with a much larger agricultural industry, had begun dumping exports into New Zealand.

This hurt the local livestock industry, and the Stubborn Bull Club had been busy liaising with the Ministry of Agriculture in the past few months, leaving little time to prepare for the meeting.

Wang Bo decided not to attend this year, especially since some incidents had occurred at the ranch in early April.

On the first night of April, he noticed that the “draw plate” could be used and decided to try it for a lottery. He drew a “Heart of Repair.” He placed it in the “Heart Storage Box,” thinking it would be useful for a repair shop. Sunset Town didn’t yet have a large repair shop, so he could take the opportunity to establish one.

The Heart Storage Box contained six hearts that were temporarily unused—for example, he had drawn a Level 1 Bird Nest Heart, but hadn’t used it yet. The colonel and political commissar lived in the castle and didn’t need a bird nest.

Ready to sleep, he opened the draw plate to browse his land and noticed that the sheep flock on the ranch was restless.

Because it was night, even when he zoomed in on the sand table, he couldn’t see any apparent issue. He assumed perhaps some wild possum had startled the sheep.

Sunset Town had never conducted a rat extermination program. New Zealand’s environment was naturally wild, and people weren’t keen on killing wild animals. As a result, some species, like prairie possum, had become abundant.

The next day, he reported the situation to Peterson, without going into details—just mentioning that townspeople passing by the ranch at night had noticed the sheep seemed frightened.

Around 10 a.m., Peterson called him: “Boss, come take a look! A huge flock of KEA has come to take advantage of our place. How do we deal with them?!”

“Kea? The sheep-pecking parrots or what?”

Kea, a native bird of New Zealand, primarily inhabits mountainous forests and subalpine shrublands. They can be found at elevations from 300 to 2,000 meters.

New Zealanders generally don’t use their scientific name and refer to them by their common name, KEA, because the parrot’s call resembles the sound “KEA.”

Wang Bo wasn’t entirely sure if Peterson meant this bird, as he had never seen one—he only knew of KEA from news reports and conversations.

Peterson replied, “Yes, the sheep-pecking parrots. Those annoying little thieves—they somehow got into our ranch and scared the sheep into a panic.”