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...

First lamb of the year

In anticipation of lamb chops, roast joint and a nice piece of liver (with Chianti and fava beans, of course), Farmer Rob and Ian had their eye on a two-year old blind wether (castrated male) who had been happily munching his way round the other farm for a year longer than his compatriots.  Butcher Olly was booked, and the freezers were ready.  Just before the day of reckoning, said wether had a lamb - a great strategy to avoid a mint-saucy destiny!  This can mean only one of three things: a miracle of Biblical proportions; someone didn't check the undercarriage and assumed she was a he; or a bit of ovine gender-realignment surgery took place at some point unbeknownst to us.  I shall pass no judgement.  (Incidentally, had to look up fava bean to see what it was...boringly, just a broad bean.)

Lambing has not yet started here, but the sheds are heaving with swelling bellies.  The singles and late-lambers are still out in the open air, but are now being fed cake daily.  Shy and retiring ewes suddenly become emboldened...and a walk across the fields can turn into a veritable procession.

Spring is here, and the daffs are up.  We are now woken at day-break by Philip the Pheasant squawking and rattling his feathers as he has made our garden his territory (good move - plenty of grub).  Gerald the Partridge sometimes joins in, and then the yellowhammers, sparrows and such.  Not long after, the cattle belly-ache for cake, and the ewes join in - there are a few minor downsides to living right next to the sheds.

And finally, the carpenter is gone (Bye Scott - thanks!)  The last bit of cladding was attached, the windows framed, and our ramp installed (a building regulations requirement, but we quite like it).  While the DIY is no way finished, it was a nice marker to pass.