THE trucks and utes crawl through the gates and everyone turns in unison.
They are checking out what's on the trailers - the day's goods to be sold at the Maungakaramea sale yards.
In the beating sun, farmers hang lazily over the rails inspecting the contents in the yards - pigs, ewes, lambs, steers, heifers and bulls are among those going to new homes today. Sometimes there are chickens, ducks, rabbits, cattle dogs and once, I'm told, even a cat.
Among the 100-odd crowd, sitting atop his mobility scooter, is the man responsible for the sale yards, Murdoch Ross. He is constantly surrounded by a small crowd with others stopping to pay their regards.
I am there with the children to buy three weaners to help keep the grass down in our paddock.
We're townies and I'm sure everybody knows it.
Murdoch kindly offers his help should we need it. But friends of my dad have taken us under their wings to help with all things rural and they are here.
My late father would have known most of these farmers and Murdoch. Until recently, he was co-owner of Bryant Tractors, a business he started more than 30 years ago from a shed at our home. It is a business centred around the farming industry. Obviously the farming gene eluded me and the sad irony strikes me, yet again, that he held the answers to the many questions I now have.
The children had named their calves the night before. Cade's is James, Jai's is Chocolate and someone came up with the great idea to name Jayla's Milkshake - which she latched on to - before they realised these are not dairy cows.
Like I say, we're townies.
And we are learning.
After an hour of the stock being on display, the auctions begin at midday.
It's not just animals being auctioned today - sacks of wool and all sorts of random paraphernalia are being snapped up.
Things are moving along swiftly but the kids are now tired and, frankly, embarrassing me.
I leave the bidding to dad's mate Roger. He's a farmer from way back and knows his stuff.
Roger rolls up to our place 30 minutes later with our new babies - actually I do know they're Friesian-Hereford steers.
Cade claims the one with the eye patch.
"Why don't you call him Pirate?" I suggest.
"Why don't you call them Mince, Chop and Steak more like," suggests Roger with a chuckle.
I shudder, then take a photo of the kids with their new "pets", which I later show to a few family members.
"Make sure you don't name them," cautions one, "else they'll never make it to the freezer."
Oops, too late. I fill him in on their new names.
"Possibly Barbi, Roast and Hangi may have been easier all round. Never mind, I'll happily come for a 'Milkshake' on the spit in a couple a years," he jokes.
As Roger's wife, Teresa, says, the life and death aspect of farming gets easier with time.
Anyway, it hasn't put me off. Next time, I've decided, I'm buying chickens, so I have been scrounging around the property for timber and netting for the coop which hubby doesn't yet know he's building.
Cade has also put in an order for a pig.
I'm not thinking about what will eventually become of our new calves, or the chickens and pig. I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The Maungakaramea sale yards hold sales on the third Saturday of each month. March's sale will be a special fundraiser for Project Promise.