It can't come soon enough

I am sooooo pregnant!

And we're off ...

Ian M went to Cambridge for a week, so of course lambing started with a healthy triple. An email from Ann to Ian made its way to me, only to be met with a "bugger, not already!" Only two weeks to go until the real deal gets underway. 

Laine put on her old clothes and set her shoulder to the wheel to help with some final shearing and the day-to-day routine of clearing out and bedding up. However, she has to work harder on her sheep gravitas as they took scant notice of her pushing and pulling. Resorting to measured persuasion didn't work either. 

"I would like you to go in here, now, please." 

The cows are going back out into the fields during the day, while all of the sheep are inside and being fed morning and evening – udders are swelling, bellies are pendulous, but none of this stops the mad dash and scrum for cake and oats. Beware the fool who stands in their way – he'll be knocked down as they swarm past. 

Inevitably, there are feet to treat and the rare eye problem. Not content with just eating silage, the ewes push their heads right into the bales to get the best bits – and silage is slightly acidic, leading to milky eyes (sheep) and chapped hands (humans). Both are easy to cure. The occasional ewe has a prolapse, while the occasional farmer has to push it back in gently and attach a strap to hold everything in place for the duration. The relief is palpable as she is able to pee again – usually not waiting until we are out of the way. 

A couple of 'strapping' lads. 

Some oats end up in the yard after feeding, where lovely mixed flocks of chaffinch, yellowhammer, sparrow and greenfinch do their best as a clean-up party. The occasional pheasant is a B52 among spitfires. Back at home, a visitor to the garden keeps an eye out for tasty blue-tits on next door's feeder. 

Post-prandial rest.