Rain, rain, go away

And it has. Unfortunately, to be replaced by snow. 

A first dose of real winter on an upland farm: trudging through drifts several feet deep, head down into the blizzard, still dark, dragging an old cake bag of hay behind. Needless to say, surrounded by wide-eyed and joyous dogs. 

So far, the quad bike can still make it to most places, despite a few exciting moments as it grounds in the deeper snow. Failing all else, we can use the tractor to take bales of hay out to the girls – precious little grass is visible, even under the hedges, so we're on to emergency rations. The ewes on the higher ground were brought down early last week in preparation, leaving the moor-side field abandoned to the ravens. 

Rams enjoying a tasty snack

Snow-wear adds an extra layer to the already numerous items of clothing (like Russian dolls, from inner vest, T-shirt, fleece and jumper to outer coat). Add snood, balaclava or hat, and gloves. Then in the pockets: keys, phone, knife, baling twine, lighter, torch, notebook, pencil, dog leads and lip-salve…with whatever assorted junk has been picked up over the last few days, including at the last inventory: black plastic, an old ear tag, a random bolt, and a broken 'tine' from the hay bob. No poaching pheasants for me – there just isn't room in the coat. 

Ian M sports the latest farm chic

The upside of this weather is that the landscapes are beautiful - and with appropriate gear, walking the fields and moor is a breath of fresh air (literally). However, if we get much more, I may be singing a very different tune later in the month.

Start of a new year

New Year has been and gone, and now the days are starting to lengthen noticeably, reminding me of something that I never realised before I moved here – it gets dark 23 minutes later in North Devon than it does in Cambridge… we're almost half a time zone away. 

The fields are still waterlogged after weeks of rain – ponds appeared out of nowhere, clear water sluicing across the grass as the soil had no further capacity to drain it away.  Even the River Mole in our village burst its banks for the first time in living memory, flooding houses and blocking roads.  I will carry with me the enduring memory of our neighbour wading through the torrents in wellies and Barbour, prom dress tucked very practically into her knickers.

The daily routine of feeding, cleaning and welfare doesn't stop for Christmas – Rob and Danaë helped us move some of the girls down from the fields near the moor to spread the load.  The grass is poor and the fewer head of sheep per acre the better.  Sonny had fun (all photos in this post courtesy of Danaë Sheehan). 

Sonny before and after

He has turned into an excellent herding dog, with a good instinct for his work.  However, on the occasions when I have taken him to the fields, I'm sure he rolls his eyes as I try to deal with "Come By" and "Away" in relation to his point of view instead of mine.  

Onwards into 2013....

Winter routines

Autumn has gently wandered into winter here in North Devon.  Grey, damp days are interspersed with icy mornings, bright and crisp.  The house sparrows chirrup around my frozen birdbath and dash back to the roof cavity when I come out with replacement water – no doubt they are snug in our insulation, and welcome residents at that.

The farm routine has settled again, revolving now mostly around the cattle rather than the sheep.   Ewes should be pregnant, last year's lambs are setting off in batches to their final destination, and the rams are breathing a sigh of relief and hanging out in their all-male gang in Little Field.  Apart from scattering cake and the occasional pedicure, their needs are simple.

The cattle on the other hand take a lot of looking after now that they are in the sheds for the winter.  Twice daily feedings, regular shovelling of the results of their feedings, spreading of straw – our back muscles ache and we smell even less pleasant than usual (especially when slipping over in the yard).  Sonny positively hums – it's very hard to cuddle a dog that desperately wants a hug when he smells rank.   But we do our best.

Even now our thoughts are on lambing, although we don't start until the end of March.  It'll be the first time in many years that lambing has taken place in our sheds and we have to plan our approach…with 350+ ewes expecting at least some form of midwifery or post-natal care and attention (even if it is just feeding), we need to be on the ball and have any repairs completed, the kitchen up-and-running…

I also realised something interesting - when we lamb depends on Jesus.  That might make sense anyway if you are religious, and plenty of farming-related activities traditionally revolve around the Christian calendar.  However, I don't mean it quite so theologically.  Our season depends on Ian's dad's season (so that we don't overlap too much and we can help on the other farm) - that in turn depends on when the veterinary students are available for their two weeks of training - and their availability depends on their Easter holidays - which depend on Jesus.  Or maybe that's just interesting to me.

To everyone who has time off over the holiday season, make sure you relax and recharge.  Joey and Freddy plan to (and no, they are not allowed on the sofa!)

The cattle are lowing

No, I haven't suddenly had a burst of excitement for Christmas.  The cattle really are lowing…as well as belly-aching, moaning, snorting, and fog-horning (which is appropriate for the weather).  This spring's calves have finally been separated from their mothers, and both cows and young are complaining vociferously, although I would have thought that six months of udder-feeding was enough for any mother.  However, peace reigns when we fork in the silage – just the comfortable sounds of chewing, with the occasional chirp from visiting chaffinches and robins, and the soft splattering of the inevitable reaction at the other end of the beasts.  Contrary to expectation, the sheds have a heady and quite pleasant aroma of fermented grass and hay – from the silage and cow breath.  Unfortunately, so does our kitchen where the wellies and overalls live.

Meanwhile, elsewhere the autumn calvers are doing just that.  Three new little-uns in the past week.

 One of the new calves

While the cattle are enjoying their winter quarters, the sheep are still out and about in the fields.  The twelve weedy lambs are now looking good, thriving on extra cake.  It's not quite a mobbing when they are fed, but their enthusiasm is infectious and cheering.  Their bigger brothers and sisters are having a little extra too – it doesn't pay to be too greedy though, as the fatter you are, the quicker you go off to fulfil your destiny.

The rams have gone in with the ewes here and elsewhere – across the county you can see sheep with coloured bottoms.  During tupping, the rams have complicated leather-wear for courting, marking their conquests with grease-paint.  On the way to Tiverton we saw one sheep that was completely red - I shall draw no conclusions.

Our girls in the fog

In absentia - Ann's diary

Autumn is here and, having been on holiday to sunny climes, it was a rude shock to return to colder weather and turning trees.  However, the animals made us feel back at home very quickly, each in their own way.  Cody brought us a pheasant for dinner (not quick enough off the mark, he was grabbed by the tail-feathers and dispatched posthaste), sheep wandered out into the lane after someone left the gate open, and later in the evening a cow and calf made a bid for freedom through a dodgy bit of fence.

While we were away, Ann held the reins.  Her notes for us of farm-related happenings deserve a guest spot on the blog, so here are some highlights…with explanatory comments from me in [brackets].   A lovely flavour of the ebb and flow of the farming week.

Wednesday 10^th.  You have been gone for two hours and the calves are breaking out between Cathy and Paul's and Rabbity Gate.  Was on my way to wish Cathy a Happy Birthday, but changed into wellies and went off, armed with baling twine!

Thursday 11^th.  Awake at 4am worrying about calves getting out and being away from the farm until lunchtime before feeding the stock.  So got up and fed the cows at 5:30!  I still got to market on time.  Dad came out to mend the fence.  Horrendous rain – for the second time in 20 years the backyard flooded.

Friday 12^th. Waited until daylight today, and yet more rain. Went to check stock, but dad had forgotten to turn off the battery, so no tractor!  And no quad bike as it was behind the tractor as usual.  OK, so I thought I'd use Peanut [the pickup truck] and jump leads, but we now need to add them to the list of things that were stolen.  Wheezy ram is not looking very well.  On a much lighter note, Sonny has just moved the lambs from 5 Acres to 7 Acres in a very steady fashion. 10 out of 10.

Saturday 13^th.  Everything OK today except the calf is still lame. More rats in the cake bag [not Victoria sponge, but nuggets of goodies for stock], so I had a session venting my fury at yesterday.  Banging rats with a plastic tube is very effective.  Three dispatched and one escaped.

Sunday 14^th. Wall-to-wall sunshine!  Well almost.  Cows and calves all lying on the hillside.

Monday 15^th.  Yet more rain, particularly after lunch.  Dad came up to inject the lame calf, although it was not as lame as Saturday.  We put up the creep gate [to let calves in and keep cows out] on the left-hand side of the sheds.  Went back later to make sure all was OK.  All calves lying in a bed of straw with their eyes shut!

Tuesday 16^th. We did 15 Acres calves for worms and 3 lambs for maggots.  The weedy lambs are now in 4 Acres, and the black-faced 2ths [last year's ewes that were kept for breeding, pronounced tudduths] are in Cleeve.

Wednesday 17^th. The lippy lamb [swollen lip – obvious, really!] came for cake this morning, so I hope he will make it.  Mr Trick came to trim the road hedges.  Two cows and their calves arrived from Catcombe Auction – very good looking.

Thursday 18^th. Still a few showers.  Lippy lamb not going to make it.

Friday 19^th. Dad came to do everything today as I had to be elsewhere.  Lippy lamb died – sorry!

Saturday 20^th. A lovely day after the fog cleared!

Sunday 21^st. Just a bit of fog, then wall-to-wall sunshine.  Everything now basking in the sun at last.  Barney [Ann's name for all bulls, so this is Comet] has been coming to the crossroad gate for cake, and we usually manage to do it without the cows seeing!

Coming to a burger near you

Buffalo Bill hoofed in to take care of the cows' conjugal needs while Comet was incapacitated – saved from a trip to the abattoir for another year of hanky panky, a final fling in his old age.  But alas the season is over and a final destination has been found that can deal with such a huge beast.

So Bill is gone, the cows are lowing a sigh of relief as his bedside manner was a bit brusque, and Comet is back with his girls.

Buffalo Bill RIP 2012