If starlings were a cash crop, we’d be golden

While the sheep hunker down under the hedges and the cattle enjoy their straw beds inside, our fields have been taken over by thousands of starlings – at times the house seems to be in inside a swirling mass of birds as they rush past the windows and head south in the mornings, whirring back overhead as dimpsy sets in.  Other birds brave the gales, determinedly collecting our scattered seeds with their heads into the wind, except this year’s pheasant, Squawky, who seems to like a draft round his nethers as his tail feathers flip into the air.

Poor heifers locked in the shed - they look so unhappy...rather be out in the rain.

The weather has been atrocious, although we’ve had a few lovely clear days recently.  The bottom of our drive is a mud pit, and just when things begin to dry out a little, the heavens open again and the clouds descent.  The rain is bearable, but what will finally unhinge me is the driving mizzle – horizontal, invidious and relentless. Hopefully, this colder clearer weather will prevail.  The snowdrops and daffs are up, while the roses are starting to leaf, and the hellebores are flowering nicely.

Erm, don't we only have two ponds normally?

Over the winter we moved a lot of Ann’s fruit trees from her splat into our garden – they were not thriving (partly because it’s a bit humid and airless at times, but mainly because the bloody rams keep eating the bark, despite being wired out). We now have an instant orchard.  Ian is buying interesting things to add, such as mulberries.  Hedge-laying is progressing, and there are some oaks with impressive ivy in the woods alongside where we are working.

We’ve been having dog trials recently – not the fun summer entertainment, but rather trials and tribulations.  Joey is becoming more out-of-touch on a daily basis, and wanders around lost a lot of the time.  If we can get him to settle, he’s quite happy…but the tapping of his claws on the wooden floor is like Chinese water torture as he goes back and forth.  Meanwhile Cody has been found to have a swollen liver – must be all that drinking.  It’s not particularly good news or reversible, and he is most unimpressed that he is now on a hepatic diet…which apparently sucks.  Still, he seems reasonably content most of the time and shows his happy tooth when given a load of fuss.  I’ve decided to ignore the vet and give him a bit of what he likes – if he’s not going to be around for much longer, then he might as well enjoy life.

The other two are fine.  Neddy is learning sheeping, and not doing badly at all. He does have his strange moments, like when I was laying on the floor trying to reach his chewed sticks under the sofa, and he came over and sat on my head.  Sonny rises above it all...still always filthy, and leaving his tail art on the walls.

"Wadda ya mean I'm not supposed to be on the sofa?"

Farmer Ian has badly sprained his ankle, so is limping around.  Yesterday bedtime, he was hobbling across the living-room followed by a string of damaged ducklings – Sonny, all creaky because he’d overdone it during the day, Cody with his bandy old back legs, and Joey tottering about on his old barely working pins.  One of those moments when you wish you had the phone ready to video…

In the sheds, the sheep are now mostly in and enjoying their warm residence.  We have a temporary bull, a youngster with only one testicle who was due to go to the place-that-shall-not-be-named, but had a reprieve.  Let’s hope he makes the most of this opportunity to exercise that one ball.  We also have a calf who is probably the most dopey that I have ever met.  Clearly we had to name him Doofus.