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.
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