My bastard tongue

Now, before anyone says “Oooer Mrs!” or clutches their pearls in shock, I mean bastard in the sense of no longer in its original pure form…a hybrid of sorts.

These blog pages have already mentioned some of the local farm lingo that is bandied around casually that means absolutely squat to a casual bystander…mules (sheep), hogs (sheep), tud’duths (sheep), four’tuths (sheep), goyle (steep sided valley, where sheep live), mizzling (less than drizzle, but infinitely more annoying, which makes sheep wet), and dimpsey (dusk, the time when sheep do nefarious deeds out of eyesight of their overlords).

These words have slowly crept into my daily vocabulary, along with referring to anything as he, as all farmers here around seem to do.  “Turn him over (the sheep…invariably female), and pass him here (the foot trimmer) while you hold him steady (the foot)”.  Cheerzen is now my standard parting (thanks Richard for that Wiltshire-ism…I’ll get even one day), while I have started unconsciously to use your’n (your one), where’s he to (where is he) and back along (a while ago).  However, back-sunned (something that does not get much sun directly as it is facing the ‘wrong’ way) has yet to creep its way in.

A man is a mosaic of his history, and his language a bastard conceived from various influences.  While Devon and the south-west are now gently affecting my accent and vocabulary in subtle ways, bits and pieces have been accumulated along the journey.

I started off with a battle between Estuary English (Lahndan mate) and Received Pronunciation.  Environment vs mother exasperatedly trying to get us to speak properly (“It has a t in it!  Hope starts with an h”).  A failed experiment, as everyone adjusts the way that they speak subconsciously to where they are and who they are with (whom…but whatever).  I still find it easier not to pronounce the h in hair, (I’m goin for an ‘air cut), and use profanity in the standard London way – as punctuation, rather than as insult.  Someone once told me they lived in Herne Hill, and it took me a while to realise they meant Ern Ill, where even the Ill is pronounced iwl.  Which is just dahn the road from Fornton’eaf (Thornton Heath, for those RP amongst us).  Add to that a Kentish grandmother living with us (who gave me length, breadth and heighth) and my compulsive mimicry, and we were set.

Living in the States gave me a whole new set of words and phrases to incorporate.  I still now go to fill the car with gas, but have reverted to bonnet and pavement.  Ian says I am the only person in Devon who says “Dude!” but Aaron and Brontë down the road do too, so I’d like to modify that to the only person over 30.  I may be the only one who uses Jonesing (I’m really Jonesing for a hamburger… I really fancy one), and Bogart (Don’t Bogart the duvet…don’t keep it all to yourself).  Other USA-isms creep in from time to time, earning me a disgusted look.

As well as absorbing as I go along, I have a father who makes up words and always has – most of the time not realising he is actually doing it.  When he does, he shamelessly passes them off as real.  This is the same man who said he was going to hospital for his autopsy, so that gives you a bit of an idea as to the strength of his grasp on the dictionary.  However, his abandon with words has given us threddling the needle, which really ought to exist (I was convinced that it did for a long while), flobadobs (the hanging down bits of a boxer dog’s mouth), and mungling along the beach (I can’t even begin to fathom where that came from).  As he says, they are words – just the dictionary people aren’t clever enough to know what they mean.

Like father like son, I use words that exist in this household, but possibly not elsewhere.  When nothing fits, a new word is needed.  Strokage, what you give to dogs, the strokes, cuddles and general fussing that they love.  Ensmallen, to make smaller.  Sheeping (what Farmer Ian does all day, in its various forms). Ensneakulate (what puppies do when they are sneaking and inveigling and generally worming their way into or onto something, such as the sofa).

What got me thinking about all of this was that I said to Ian the other day, having failed to get any of the dogs to go out for a wee in the thunderstorm, “Nary a one wanted to go”.  Where that comes from, I have no idea…but clearly it’s in there from somewhere.

Meanwhile, after that digression, back on the farm, we’ve started more hedge-laying (or in the case of Little Field, fully grown tree laying), some new cows have arrived to be integrated with the herd, and we are starting to bring some sheep in for the winter (cattle already nicely bedded up and chewing cud).  Lambing will be a fortnight earlier next year, so things are happening sooner than normal. 

Mowing and strimming to encourage wildflowers in spring.

Ned is getting his farm inductions...lesson 5, quad bike etiquette.

Lesson 8, don't mess with the husky.

Goodbye old buddy, and happy trails

Yesterday, our dear old Billy Big Balls (aka Comet) eased off his mortal coil and went to the eternal rutting grounds in the sky.  It's a time of sadness and reflection.  While the reality is that all living things eventually die, some of our animals make more of an impact than others - and bulls are long-lived and lone, holding a special place on a farm. So we are off into the unknown for a while, with artificial insemination and all that may entail.

Remembering younger days, when he was a mighty beast.  Goodbye old buddy, and happy trails.

Mizzle, mizzle, mizzle

Yup, it’s raining again down here in the south-west.  I know it keeps things green, but that would still be the case with a quarter of the water and I fear that the only way I am going to get the lawn under control is with a flamethrower and a dose of Round Up, followed by several tonnes of concrete.  Today the cows decided that they are in for the winter...the sheds have been open for them for a week or so, and they have been wandering in and out…but they seem to be fed up with the weather too.  There is an upside, though – some spectacular sunrises, with colour-washed clouds resembling the roiling surface of Jupiter.

Animals are on the move – fat lambs to the place that shall not be named, spring calvers over to Farmer Rob, followed by early lambing ewes.  We’ll have the two vet students with us this year, so lambing has been brought forwards…starting over there mid-March and with us towards the end of the month.  And old Billy Big Balls (aka Comet) will take his final curtain call sometime soon, as is the nature of these things.

Vast flocks of starlings have taken over the fields during the day, and fieldfares and redwings are back raiding the berries.  The usual suspects hang around the house, and we had a great spotted woodpecker checking out our rockery tree moots recently.  Leaving seed heads on the flowers has encouraged goldfinches, blue tits and sparrows to hang precariously outside the window – it’s amazing how unaware of us they can be sometimes.  Or perhaps we just don’t look that scary.

Ned the Nipper is growing fast, and a lovely character…but yet to learn anything of any importance.  My attempts at training have led to him simply sitting and staring at me.  He is quite well behaved, despite this stubborn streak.  We’ve almost made it through the house-training stage…almost.

Ned is ambitious, to say the least...

Meanwhile, Cody has taken up drinking to cope.

I am the Wicked Wolf.

Someone else has just turned 40, and our lovely friend Cathy made him a birthday cake - not bad for her first try at decorating one!  Happy Birthday Farmer Ian.

Ann's Diary 3

While we went away to Kefalonia for a week, woken daily by the gentle tinkling of goat bells on the hillside, Ann held the fort, with an incontinent geriatric Joey and widdling nipper Ned.  Ann in charge?  We all know what that means…another instalment of Ann’s Diary!

Day 1 Saturday

Your lovely clean house was wrecked by 3pm.  Played fetch with Ned for a while, who promptly peed on the floor when he got in. You said to leave Joey behind on the evening walk, but how?  He trotted most of the way and even barked on half a lap of 7-Acres. He ambled behind for the other half.  Late back from my evening out to find Ned’s racoon completely disembowelled.

Day 2 Sunday

Paid the price for going out.  Two alarm calls from Cody at 2:15 and 3:30, but all good as there were no heaps (or otherwise) to clear up in the morning. A beautiful day and all went well until I got to Ball Allotments.  One of the rams seemed to have a shoulder injury and was playing dead until I got near, then hobbled away. Joey spent a lot of time in the garden with me and Alan, then came in to poo on the runner.  I fear it may need a dry clean!

Day 3 Monday

Well, everyone slept like tops last night, me too until I heard the wind rising. I spoke to dad this morning and he is going to bring the teaser ram from home to go in with the tudduths. He brought calf muesli and we went up to Ball to look at the lame ram in case he needs replacing – still lame, but ‘working’ so I think he’d been fighting.  I now have the Landover for a couple of days as we did a car swap so Kat has something to drive when she is over from Sardinia.  Hurricane Ophelia has been gusting all day, but not too dramatic. We had a really amazing orange sun and strange light for a while…it turned out to be Saharan dust picked up by the winds. One of the cows in Edwin’s was behaving very spookily when I drove around them.  Feeling a bit concerned, as she should not have reacted to the bike, I took dad for a look – we decided to start them on some wedges of straw. No accidents from the dogs today, but I did lose Cody for a short while – found him in the pond having a cool down.  Question: how much water does a husky fleece hold?  Answer: enough to flood the utility room floor, as I was not quick enough to stop him running indoors.

Day 4 Tuesday

Red kite at lunchtime.  All good today, although the Welsh Black is still keeping an eye on me.  Joey has had morning and evening walks so far, on the lead on the way out, then free-trotting on the way back – just like a pony when you turn it to home.

Day 5 Wednesday

The black cow ate straw this morning, so all fine.  Ned has been good(ish) – the runner, however, is getting a few wees…even when he has just come in from outside.

Day 6 Thursday

I fed the calves and cows before nipping into town for a coffee and some shopping.  I managed to get all the rest done before the rain set in.  Dad bought cake, and also checked Common and Ball Allotments for me as they had been fog-bound in the morning.  Another casualty – the ancient piece of blue string on the quad bike keys!  I have replaced it with a bright orange shoelace just in case they are dropped in the straw.  Dad says he hopes a rat doesn’t run off with them…now I am worried.

Day 7 Friday

Not a great night – very wet and windy.  Joey had the gallopers so he asked to go out a couple of times.  I lost Cody and just before I got dressed and went out to find him, I saw him looking through the front windows to come in – the side gate had blown down.  All good outside.  The ram is walking around again, but I am not sure how much he is working – though he was in hot pursuit when I saw him.  5-Acres was looking bare and I moved the sheep on, especially with Storm Brian arriving tonight.  Tried to get a photo of Ned and Cody playing, but they stopped as soon as I got my phone out.  Just at the moment, there is a wren picking flies out of the window frames.  I have seen several rats today – quite young ones.

Day 8 Saturday

We all overslept, but managed to get our walk done before any rain arrived.  Joey wasn’t keen this morning.  I have been hand-feeding him to get him to eat – sorry!  Much squealing…more rats – time for the air rifle.  All good outside.  I spent an hour trying to make the house look as though the dogs had been at the kennels all week.  Hopefully, it won’t look too bad by the time you get back in the small hours.

Goodbyes and hellos

Blue skies, happy cattle, the moon and Sonny.

It’s not the same once the swallows have gone.  Not long ago they were chasing each other around the house, chittering with excitement and keeping the insect population in check.  Our gang flew south and were temporarily replaced by fellow travellers from the north, but now my swallow wire is empty and it’s time to clean the crap off of the walls.

However, nature always provides a new distraction…in fact, several.  The stags are getting a bit frisky and we can now hear their ghostly moaning some nights.  Dad’s telescope is coming in very handy for remote-spotting.  At our latest pub quiz, Ann excitedly reported that she had seen a barn owl at our Cross, and lo and behold it flew over my head when I turned into our drive as I came home.  Imagine my surprise the next morning when I found it sheltering under our porch, lifting off on silent wings to glide away gracefully across the valley.  You are welcome back to eat our vermin any night.  An hour later, I disturbed a snipe in the field just below the house…an exciting day.

Farmer Ian was looking after his dad’s place for the weekend, so I was left in charge.  Saturday was a real stinker for weather – Sonny and I got drenched.  Ian had bought me new leggings, but while labelled as large, they were clearly designed for someone a lot taller and wider than me…so I waddled around with the cuffs turned up (which filled with water) and three inches of the waist tucked into my jeans.  Fortunately, I did not come across anyone on my travels.

The teaser rams are in and performing their services.  Their vasectomised role is to get the ladies ready and receptive to the amorous advances of the rams with functioning equipment.  A plum job I would imagine for some – lots of sex and no child maintenance.  Not that the other rams do much different, I suppose.  I’ve also come across some very sleepy sheepy in the fields – several times I’ve had to drive up to a “corpse” and shout to get a very startled sheep to wake up and smell the hay.  And of course there is the occasional animal with its head stuck in the fence that needs a wiggle to get it out.

The Sunday was glorious, and a reward for not getting too grumpy the day before.  The mist hung in the valleys, while the hilltops were in blazing sunshine.  I felt a bit sun-struck by the end of the day, having engineered being outside most of it (and helping Ian do hooves – always hooves – when he got back).

Looking across Devon.  Autumn is beautiful...and so is Mrs Cow.

We’ve also been cutting logs as “Winter is coming”.  My dad is probably very excited seeing these pictures.  I’ve never met anyone so log obsessed as him - he would bring huge branches home from outings to the woods.

Love the chainsaw!

That should keep us going for a bit.

We also had an unexpected visitor in the garden...Bonnie helped us keep the clover down when Innes popped in for a cuppa.  Might borrow her more often for grass control...

Ian keeps Bonnie out of the flowerbeds.

The biggest hello has to be reserved for the new man in my life.  Neddy arrived just over a week ago from the neighbouring farm, and I am completely smitten.  He has fitted in (although the other dogs might disagree and just refer to him as “the little shite who keeps nipping my ankles”), and adores Sonny.  He seems very bright, and has a stubborn streak in him that will be interesting to deal with as it develops.  He’s already met cows, sheep and a horse, and while cautious, is not fearful…which is what you need in a sheepdog.  The house is a mess, and Ned thinks that the log basket is simply full of toys to be taken around the house and stripped of bark.  The indoor plants are for shredding, and Joey’s bed needs a thorough killing and disembowelling.  I made the mistake of putting down a new roll of kitchen tissue (on its spike) while I mopped up a little accident…and he Andrexed the whole thing across the room.  That’s my boy!

Ned with Sonny; Cody is not really impressed; Neddy poses; exhausted; and totally hyper - get off the bloody sofa!

Ned becomes more dog-like in the week between two photos: with Jos, then with Hannah; Joey is resigned; and finally, a minute of peace...

...until he's back in your face again!

Invasion of the seed snatchers

So...

...our sparrow breeding programme is going well...

A week on the farm

Recently Ian M went to Sardinia to meet his new nephew Sebastiano, and left me in charge of all things farmy.  As Ann does, I write a diary to bring him up-to-speed on his return...

Tuesday

The sheep in Cleave want to move and are hanging around by the gate - will shift tomorrow. Gave a magnesium bucket to the cattle Below The Farmhouse and a salt lick to the Quarryfield lambs...there are some shitty backsides on the rich grass, but no maggots.  A ram in Little Field had a scrape on his back that was attracting flies - wrestled him to the ground, got covered in crap, and blue-sprayed him.  If the flies persist, I will spray properly.  Did a limpy lamb (pre-foot rot) in Raceground - blue spray, blue dot on neck to ID him, and 3cc Alamycin.  Got to Common to find only 17 cattle instead of 18 - finally located the missing calf haring about in the field below (Ball Allotments East) and faffed about for a while trying to get him back over the hedge.  Tied up the hole. Cody killed a pheasant in 7 acres...why do they fly right into him?  Young and stupid, I guess.  Have started feeding the Quarryfield lambs twice a day now, half each time, as they seem to need a reminder to go over to the troughs and the rain is ruining the cake if left too long.  Caught the black-faced limpy lamb - there is nothing obviously wrong, so sprayed his hoofs and 3cc.  Blue dot on neck. All in all, a quiet first day...

Wednesday

Moved singles from Cleave to Gratton - much happier now.  Billy Big Balls had a small sore patch on his back attracting flies - what is it with the boys, first the ram, now the bull?  Needless to say, did NOT wrestle him to the ground. Snuck up on his blind side as he was gazing into the distance, sprayed and ran.  Two rams had bloody heads where they were fighting, and it's not even tupping time - gave them a talking to, but could not get close enough to spray.  Sod them.  Low cloud on Common, so it took me ages to find the cattle as I had no idea where I was in the field most of the time (Sonny loved it).  The sheep got short shrift.

Thursday

Cody killed another pheasant...ditto to Tuesday.  Pity they are young, otherwise that could've been dinner. Blue sprayed the bull again. Brought in a scouring and pathetic lamb from Edwin's (the one that has always been pathetic), shaved his bum, drenched and sprayed, then took back out. Lost my anti-insect goggles somewhere...probably Edwin's.  Raceground needs topping.  Lanes smell of honeysuckle and meadowsweet on the way up the hill.  Sonny is missing you, but we helped Richard and Andrew move some sheep as Dan is now too old to control them properly and Trev too young (he was so excited).  A bunch of wayward ewes started off down the wrong road and Sonny retrieved them perfectly - I think he was showing off to his captive audience.  Counted 42 sparrows and 3 baby bunnies in the garden.

Friday

Absolutely drek day, but managed to get the stock done before the major downpours (although still got very wet).  The baby swallows were sheltering on the window sills.  Moved the Below The Farmhouse cattle to Over The Road - as there were no animals in sight, I stood at the gate and called, and they soon crested the ridge at full gallop.  If only there had been someone there to see it - very impressive stock control!  Moved Edwin's hogs and ewe lambs to Below The Farmhouse - lamb from yesterday was still pathetic, so I carried him and parked him under the hedge.  Not sure he will make it.  Didn't find my insect-goggles.  Did foot and injection for the lamb we treated before in Ball Allotments West as he had a maggotty hoof - he was hard to catch, and I fell on my arse again.  The heather is flowering along the top road, and it was so windy at Common that the buzzards were riding the gusts to hover above the field.

Saturday

Ungrateful lamb died.  Sprayed a handful of lamb hooves in Quarryfield, but no injection as nothing obviously wrong - probably strip.  Another foot-rot lamb in Raceground - and yes, I slipped over again on the wet grass and sprained something.  I'll live.  Weather ok this morning, but storms predicted for later.  Huge rat in the flowerbed when I got home!

Sunday

Got absolutely drenched - Sonny loved it.  Moved sheep on from Gratton to 13 Acres, and they were very happy to be munching fresh grass - I think we spoil them.  Got a lamb's head out of the wire where it was stuck.  Put all of the Gratton buckets into 13 acres so no-one has any excuses to get mineral deficiency.  In the afternoon I brought up a Quarryfield shitty lamb for drenching, feet and a proper spray.  I have blue hands again.

Monday

There is a half-blind ewe in 13 Acres (black-face), but needless to say we'll need to get them in to treat her as she is too fast for me.  Your pregnant cow has STILL not done anything - udders have not even begun to bag up.  Spent the afternoon clearing up the top yard.

Tuesday

Common and Raceground need buckets when you are back (we have run out).  The ewes are ready for weaning as they are kicking away their lambs. A ewe and her twins belonging to Andrew are in Allotments West - I've informed him.  Other than that, we're set for a hand-over back.

Swallow Tales

A goodly while back, on a clear Wednesday morning, we decided that the weekend would see us finally complete the roofing under the large covered area outside our kitchen - our room outdoors.  On Wednesday afternoon, a pair of swallows started poking around, and by Friday evening, there was a nest in our rafters - effectively scotching any chance of construction until the autumn.  Chittering (and shittering) away, mum and dad finished a nest, she laid eggs, and every morning we were blessed with the sound of the swallow family doing their swallow things.

Last week the three chicks fledged and, using our rotary washing line as a staging post, made their way out into the big, wide world.  The whole family now perches much of the time on our swallow cable between the house and sheds (Ian M insists it's the electrical supply to the house, but I know better...it was put up ESPECIALLY for the birds).  Last night I did my usual check to see who was up in the rafters outside the bedroom window, only to be confronted by a row of twelve bottoms - clearly our family was hosting guests and we have been given an Expedia 5-star rating.  It makes all of the poop stains on the wall worthwhile (although Ian M was a little foolish to leave his boots out there one night).  A second nest is almost finished, in the next alcove along, so if this is a successful brood, we'll have hosted the production of another 6 or 7 swallows.  Probably the most important thing we achieve all year.

Not only do the swallows swoop around the house all day, they follow us across the fields when driving sheep or riding the bike, picking up tasty morsels as we disturb the insect fauna.  If we drive slowly enough, the fly-bys are wonderul!  Other field denizens remain unfazed.

It's not only swallows who have been using us as a safe haven for breeding.  Sparrow gangs roam, having bred in the sheds.  Mum sparrows are now back on the nests/in the boxes, while the dads take out their progeny and show them the ropes - it's not unusual to see three or four males with twelve plus youngsters incautiously cavorting about and dust-bathing during the dry weather (even more so now, given that I found an extra bucket of oats at the back of the barn).  Our pied wagtails used my car as a feeding station for their four fledglings, and we know we have also had breeding in the garden or sheds chaffinches, blackbirds, wrens, yellowhammers, collared doves, whitethroats, and robins.  While not nesting nearby, one buzzard regularly sits on a post in the garden looking for tasty morsels of the rodent variety.  We've also seen fox cubs and fawns from the house (with dad's telescope being most useful)...

...speaking of which, recent planet-gazing was most satisfying, clearly seeing Saturn's rings, and even being able to take a photograph of Jupiter and four of its moons.  In real life, it was much clearer...but you get the picture!

[Just watched a male blackbird pounce into my flowerbed, grab a snail, and beat the heck out of it - bravo buddy!  Keep that up!]

Drifting into summer

Lambing seems like it was months ago.  Farmer Rob says if we had to put the rams in the day lambing finished, we wouldn't...but by November we'll have forgotten how we felt by the end of week two and merrily look forwards to the next round the following spring.  We're half way through shearing, which involves a lot of moving sheep around and avoiding the weather (not wet, not too hot), and today Ian M has started the hay-making.  It soon came around again.  It's wonderful to smell the cut grass drying, pollen-heavy as it is, and it feels like summer is properly here now that the storms and wind have abated (they will undoubtedly be back at some point).

Ian mows in Quarryfield, while Sonny goofs in 7 Acres

Wildlife margins are not only of interest to wildlife!

It's too hard to resist a nap in the grass.

A few visitors chez nous...

Charlie (Bunny Prince Charlie) chances his arm...or foot...or whatever.

A baby robin stares at me through the office window.

One of the many yellowhammers, looking splendid for summer.

The invertebrates are benefitting from our wildlife areas (yes, even the wretched slugs)...

Hoverfly bank

Bee bank - look at all that clover!

Taking a few minutes out, I recently sat on the bench outside the kitchen and tried this "being mindful" malarkey - being more aware of my surroundings and in tune with the world.  Closing my eyes I concentrated on my other senses.  I could smell the grass baking in the field, with a delicate undertone of dung. I could hear the wind soughing in the trees below the field and the crack as the chaffinches broke open the oat husks I put out for them.  But it was kind of spoilted by Cody panting like the Flying Scotsman, the bubbler turning on for the septic tank (a gentle hum...but I know what it's doing...), and some spanner on a quad bike haring down the hill (oh wait, that might have been Ian - I take back the spanner bit if that's the case).

Overall, though, the main problem was an annoying inner voice that kept saying "Concentrate on being mindful" and "Boy, this bench is hard on my bony arse".  I do irritate myself sometimes.

Wildlife not always welcome

The swallows are back swooping across 13 Acres, linnets and goldfinches pull apart the dandelion heads on the bank behind the house, and this morning a buzzard and raven were aerial fighting for something tasty as they careened past the window.  We are always thinking of ways to encourage wildlife...but not all wildlife is welcome, as was evidenced by my foul language on finding out that mice had eaten all of the planted bean, corn and squash seeds in the greenhouse.  It's bad enough having slugs chomp through tender seedlings.  Pending finding the mousetraps, the most vulnerable edibles are balanced precariously on a wide tray hiked up on breeze-blocks.  I am giving the rabbits in the garden the evil eye too, reminding them that their fluffy-bunny-ness will only go so far to stay the shotgun if sharing the vegetable patch rights are not balanced out with responsibilities.  I have yet to decide on how tolerant I am going to be of the mole - he very well may find tea-tree soaked cotton wool balls dropped into his holes to encourage gently a move elsewhere.

More seriously, a rogue fox has been taking lambs here and from our neighbour Matt.  Mostly foxes leave the stock alone, but occasionally one gets the taste for fresh lamb (who can blame them) and can take one every day.  Matt dispatched a posse one evening, and Mr Todd will be bothering us no further. While we like to see the occasional brush chasing across the fields, there are limits.

Dropping off doubles in 7 Acres has become a ritual challenge.  A crazy pheasant (not Philip, who is very well-behaved) has decided that the red quad bike is a rival and chases it everywhere, looking pretty murderous with his spurs and indignant scarlet face.  He'll only relax when we've been seen off down the road, and I am convinced we'll find him dead in the gateway having testosterone-ily given himself a heart-attack.

My final unwelcome visitor was rather more home-grown.  The white-faced Hereford cow out in 13 Acres has decided that the grass is indeed greener on the other side of the fence and has now broken into the garden twice (that we know of).  The barbed wire is a mere distraction.  Erecting a more sturdy fence has rushed up the "round to it" list from low 20s to the top 5.

Some photos from the last week or so:

Moving the girls towards higher ground.

Danaë perfects the fine art of standing in the way.

Ann and Danaë bring them up the final rise to Common Field.

Another group take their place on Raceground (to be lead up the hill next week).

These two were born on the same day.  Pity the mother of the black-faced one.

Sonny is camera shy.

Daisy picks out two tame lambs to start her own flock (thereby lies madness).

Three random items:

While moving lambs the other day, they were making a hell of a racket.  Strangely, one didn't so much as baa, but said the word baa instead.  Most odd.

Auntie Liz has coined a new word for us.  ULI - Unidentified Lambing Injury.  This is most helpful when talking about the cuts, scrapes and miscellaneous bruises that you find on your body and have absolutely no idea where they came from.  I rarely bruise, but had a stonker on my wrist with no recollection of how and when.  However, the aching Adam's Apple was from being head-butted in the throat by a crazy ewe-lamb in the wee hours.

Dad's telescope (borrowed for star-gazing and deer-gazing) has proved to be a most useful remote sensing tool for lambing.  Sheep up against the hedge on its own in the Over The Road field?  Simple...check it out with the scope and head on out only if required.

Blacktail Lodge lives up to its name

Vermin control took an unexpected turn in the sheds recently.  This year we've been reasonably (reasonably...) pest-free and we now know why.  Out from the straw pile ran a rat, with a stoat (blacktail) hot on its heels.  A squeak and a brief struggle later, off trots said stoat with dinner.  We've seen him (or her) several times since, including under the porch - and fingers crossed we have dancing kits on the patio later in the year.  Other visiting wildlife has included linnets and goldfinches, and a big water beetle that made its own way to our new pond (and scared the bejeesus out of me when I accidentally picked it up thinking it was a stone).

New pond with intrepid pond-maker

Lambing is progressing well, and now that Irene is here, all is ship-shape. 

Number 1 goes out into the fields

This is my ballywick!

Tame lambs waiting for a new mum

The night shift is usually Ann's domain, but we have all had a turn.

A good night goes as follows: get up at 03:00, go to the sheds and check everything is ok, top up a couple of needy lambs with milk, and come back at 03:30.

A less good night?  Get up at 03:00, go to the sheds and check everything is ok.  Find two newly born doubles mixed up in the top shed - two ewes, four lambs and no idea which goes with which.  Try various combinations until everyone stops bleating. No spare pens, so cobble together two more out of the dregs left.  Find two doubles in the middle shed, with an extra lamb.  None are triples, so search for an additional mother while the sheep keep walking around and around the feeder to get away from you.  Find another lamb under the silage, and finally mother starts bleating.  No free pens.  Put one set in with the straw, evict an older family and install a new one, and set up a makeshift pen by the alley.  Meanwhile another ewe starts lambing.  Deal with her, evict another family, and install.  Check the lean-to shed - all is quiet, but everyone needs water.  Drive the quad over to Cleave Shed to find another two doubles.  Chase everyone for five minutes to catch and pen.  Copper sulphate the navels (to avoid infection) and remember that everyone back at the main sheds needs copper sulphating...go back and do it.  Meanwhile, another double lambs.  Evict, install.  Feed five lambs colostrum and give some milk to the tame lambs.  Fill more water buckets.  Dust oneself off, and head home...only to hear the pained straining of a ewe-lamb in the lean-to.  Investigate, help birth, get kicked in the balls as she struggles to get away and then runs off, evict another happy family and put lamb in pen.  Chase ewe-lamb around the sheds and rugby-tackle to the ground.  Heave her into the spare pen, and both of you sit there panting.  Get her water and silage.  Dust oneself off again, and head home - to find it is 05:30 and time to get up.

Release the beasts

Sometimes the animals round here take liberties.  Gerald (the partridge) has decided that our porch is by far the best place in the world to take a dust bath, and no ungainly human wandering about nearby is going to scare him off;  Philip (the pheasant) engages in battle with his mortal foes outside our living room, with much a-squawking; and Cody (the very bad and in disgrace husky) thinks nothing of nicking a pork joint off the dining room table (and would have got away with it if I hadn't heard the tiniest of chinks of collar tag on plate).

Other critters are better behaved, and Matt's sheep across the valley sent us a message of love (if you look hard enough, squinting, out of the corner of your eye)...

We've had a run of nice days, with a cold easterly, which has dried up the ground.  So today was the day the cattle were let out of the sheds.

Sonny and the new ewe-lamb mules and black-faces look on expectantly...

And here they come...

The calves have a wonderful time chasing Philip around the field (who must have forgotten that he can fly)...

And of course, Sonny does the good neighbour thing and makes friends over the garden fence...

Meanwhile, old Big Balls has a good scratch on the first available post.  There will definitely "be words" if he ends up in the garden.

Currently holding our breaths until lambing beginning in earnest...although some are probably more excited than others...