Waiting for his master to come home from Cambridge...

Time honoured traditions

Recently Ian and I were moving ewes and their lambs up from the lower fields to Raceground, and as I was ambling up the lane, I became aware of a car purring along behind me.  When I turned, I realised that the woman in the passenger seat was taking photographs of us - the bucolic time-honoured tradition of a man walking his sheep up to higher ground, crook in hand, sun on his back.  I guess I spoilt it all by being on the mobile phone at the time - sigh!

These girls were the last batch, and dear Sonny has been missing out on his herding while we are lodging on Flossie's patch.  He was a little overexcited and bit his tongue - I can now see where the myth of the Exmoor Werecollie comes from...

Meanwhile the flowers are bursting forth after a late start, and this year seems particularly good for early purple orchids - great patches of them along the roadsides.  The ferns are sprouting, and now that the insects are hatching, the martins and swallows swoop joyfully across the valley.

Joey and orchids

Cody and ferns

And big news!  As of Thursday, Ian M will be a full-time farmer...we're taking the leap of faith!

Caught behaving unprofessionally

Finally lambing is over, and a chance for a few tales from the Edge of Exmoor.

Now the ground is dryer, the bull, his harem and their offspring are out in 13 acres, with access at night to the shed and tasty silage (which this year has been seriously good stuff).   Recently, after evening chores (ie dealing with demanding and lippy sheep), I was letting the cattle back into the yard and had a short love-in with Mrs Brown Cow...she is quite tame and likes to have her neck scratched, and of course while I had my arm round her neck and was giving her a good rub, our neighbour drove past and gave me a funny look - it's not professional to bond with the livestock.

Our nearest neighbours at the new build.

The calves bought at the end of last year are growing nicely, and have come back from their winter in Cleave Shed.  They like their new quarters, especially as they can look over the barrier and watch the to-ings and fro-ings in the sheds.  They didn't seem that impressed with birthing sheep.

Tucking into lovely calf cake.

Ian M shows off the tiniest lamb - not one of our prime specimens.

The Disney version of the classic film "Alien".

After leaving our house at the end of March, we are now officially homeless - with belongings in four different locations.  Our storage container is like a game of Jenga - and I know exactly where everything is, but it would take days to get to it.  If anything has shifted, when we unlock that door we're in for an avalanche.  Meanwhile, we do have a post-box and a set of foundations, and Mike the Digger Man came and moved a load more soil in the garden, creating the basic setup for development over the next few years...or more.

Base for sheds, veg beds and Dartmoor viewing point...that's the plan.

The site - in context.

Now lambing is over, we're be based at the other farm until we have a habitable house - so this blog probably should be renamed From Betwixt Two Moors temporarily.  It's nice to wake up to lowing cattle outside the window, and be around for spring calving - this morning I watches a gang of 5 littluns having a charge around under the watchful eye of their mums.  

Ian M becomes a full time farmer on the 26^th of May - all change down here!

Starting to make the place look less like a bomb site.