From the Edge of Exmoor: February 2021

January and February this year, Mother Nature seems to be having a fit of pique and is throwing everything at us. We’ve had snow, sleet, hail, sun, rain, mizzle, drizzle, howling gales … and that was just Monday. The last few days the ground has been frozen solid, and we’ve been swede-less as Farmer Ian can’t get them out of the ground. Our bird population has moved into the sheds, eating bits of fallen sheep cake, seeds in the hay and silage, and in the case of the blackbirds, the cat food. My poor plants are suffering desiccation, and many a daffodil has poked his head up too early, only to be decapitated by wind. I remain unimpressed.

Now most of the ewes are inside, with just the late doubles and singles out in Big Field with the swedes. The ewe lambs are having a lovely time in Cleave Shed … it’s warm, dry and has a nice stack of hay bales for them to climb over when they inveigle their way through our increasingly pathetic attempts to keep them off. Our main problem, however, has been frozen water pipes everywhere … which just makes everything unnecessarily more bothersome. And during all of this, one of the cows decided to calve.

Yesterday was bum trimming day – Gavin the Shearer came in to do it, as in previous years it has taken us (mainly Farmer Ian) ages. Almost 550 short-butt-and-sides completed, clearing the way for clean and clat-free lambing. However, with this cold wind, I bet most of the girls were less than happy that they were forced into mini-skirts (an Ann-ism). We’re feeding most of them every day now, and it’s just a month until lambing. Blimey, that came round again quickly!

The dogs have been loving all the work, and I had Scout and Ned working quite well together a few days ago – I could see them each watching what the other was doing and adjusting tack. Of course, they have their adrenalin hyped moments when no amount of shouting gets through. Harry is a perfect yard dog … calm and unphased surrounded by curious ewe lambs who want to touch noses with him. Ned wouldn’t put up with such nonsense.

On those days when we are soaked outside or frozen to the bone, we remind ourselves that we are incredibly lucky to have outdoor spaces like these, and that some folks stuck inside would give their right arm to be drenched, covered in dung and smelling “interesting” – or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.