I most emphatically did NOT roll in any mud!

News from the mud patch

Wintering farming trundles on, with cold hands and an even colder bum where Sonny sloshes water all over the seat of the bike as he excitedly jumps on and off at every gate, making sure he visits each puddle and rut en route.  Now we are taking hay out to the sheep, there's not a lot of room for him...but where there's a will, there's a way...

Sonny - determined not to be left behind.

Meanwhile all of the cattle are inside, and Ian M scrapes up dung twice a week, then straws up the pens.  The little calves love "Straw Day", and soon settle down for a nice snug nap...

Despite the dreck weather, there has been some progress on the house build - not much, but at least we now have a gate and part of a driveway...

To bide the time, we've been taking tree moots and nice chunks from Ann's garden (as she is moving too), and have started a rock garden - it may be the only patch of cultivation we have for a while in a sea of mud.

It's just a start...watch this space (our very own henge).

Of course we brought Buddha with us...

...but are not adverse to a little paganism from time to time.

Most unimpressed.  "What about our walk, dude?"

This year, hedge planting instead of laying

While normal people toasted their toes by a roaring fire at home, we decided that the best time to set new hedges was while it was heaving down during a gale.  Having bought 300+ plants, we wanted to get them into the banks as soon as possible, and long before any cold snap.  It turned out fine, because after the first 50 or so we lost all feeling in our hands anyway, so it really didn't matter how cold and wet it was.

The new top hedge, to be left to grow into decent-sized trees.

The new field-side hedge.

All species were native, and a good mix of food for birds, food for us, foliage and flowers, including hazel, field maple, bird cherry, wild cherry, cherry plum, damson, rowan, hawthorn, blackthorn, spindle, guelder rose, wild briar, wayfarer, beech, copper beech, elder and more.

But it has not all been work - we found an afternoon to go for a hack across Exmoor...

My new mate Smartie (we eventually came to an understanding of sorts...)

...and, despite the howling winds, a group of hoodies went to the Cornwall coast for the weekend:

Simon, Cathy and I brave the elements.

A big hole!

Look what happens when I go away for a couple of weeks and leave Ian M in charge without supervision...yes, we actually make progress.

 Rob thinks this is where our guest room will be - however, he's probably got one foot in the toilet.

Ain't nothin to do with me, gov...the 'ole was dug already when I got 'ere.

 One day this expanse of mud will be a lush garden...but don't hold your breath.

There's even the beginnings of a driveway.

Ian and Rob set up the stock deterrent.

 And farming goes on as normal, feeding straw (and Rob?) to the hungry cattle.

The Naming of Calves

After a lovely blog from Musings of A Suburban Homeboy on the naming of dogs, in memory of our dear Fred who unexpectedly died on the 18th, something on the naming of calves...

Freddy Dingo - missing you old friend

We have started a new venture - raising calves!  Bought in from the stock market, they are all boys taken from dairy cow mothers to be raised by hand - initially on milk, and then onto calf cake.  It started quietly - Colin the Calf (a Friesian) arrived and took up residence, sucking milk directly out of the bucket in almost a single mega-suck.  The next day, he was joined by two Friesian/Belgian blue crosses - who of course had to have French names - Jean-Marc and Pierre.

The trickle turned into a flow - with three more Friesians (me being a Gleek, they were named Sam, Finn and Puck) and three more crosses, with the Belgian theme leading to Tintin, Snowy and Haddock.  Finally, an assortment - the very English Hereford cross George, a Charolais cross Barney, and a couple of Simental crosses, Wolfgang and Snout (guess which one has the dark face with a very white nose...)

The very handsome Wolfie

Once they get used to using a bottle or the multi-teated hanging feeder, there is no stopping them.  Despite being the smallest, Pierre has worked out that if he puts his head under the neck of the next chap along the line, and pushes up, he can sneak in and steal more tucker - vigilance is required constantly!

Finn, Sam, Haddock, Puck and Snowy make the most of feeding time

Of course, the milk allowance is regulated to avoid adverse back-end issues, but fingers are also very tasty...

I came out clean this morning...

Just up the slope from the sheds, where the thirteen boys are settling in, there is to be a change - we finally have planning permission to build a bungalow by the sheds and a big hole is about to be dug...although we may end up living in the hole itself if we don't manage to sell our house to raise the money for walls, ceilings and a roof!

The scene of future construction...

...it's all about the view!

What's the hurry?

You can't rush things in North Devon - if you try to, it only leads to frustration.  There is no such thing as "quickly popping to the market" - after talking to cousin Vanessa, auntie Liz, Celia on the olive stall, Stafford on the flower stall, and assorted friends and neighbours, that's the morning gone.  You wouldn't dream of rushing past without a howdy...that's not the way things go down here. 

It's not unusual to come across two cars side-by-side in the middle of a lane, facing opposite directions, with the occupants passing the time of day through the windows - and happy to move on when someone else needs the road.  I've sat for over half an hour this way, with no traffic coming along, cutting the breeze and catching up on the latest.  If it's not cars, then it'll be tractors as farmers go about their business, or sheep being moved.  Good time for reflection, unless you are Ian, when it's a good time to eye up how someone else's sheep look compared to yours.

A few random observations from the last few weeks...

We have been moving the sheep from field to field as the grass needs eating down, and last time I brought the tudduths from six acres to Gratton, Sonny and I ended up herding our sheep and two male pheasants, who decided to make the trip with us.

We have one calf who has decided that instead of seeking out his mother for his milk, he will stand wherever he happens to be and bellow at the top of his voice until she appears over the horizon.  At 11:30pm this must be somewhat annoying for our neighbours.  Meanwhile, the calves are getting cake now and the mad dash for the pen when we turn up in the morning is a treat to see.

Ian has been away, and of course the cows always decide that this is the best time to give birth.  On my morning rounds, I found one of the cows with a good foot-length of leg sticking out the back end, with no calf readily following it.  After a call to Farmer Rob, we delivered a lovely red heifer - presented backwards, and needing a lot of pulling to get her out.  My first attendance at the birth of anything bigger than a sheep, rapidly followed by a more natural, no-help-required, second heifer at dusk a couple of days later.  Two down, five to go.

The new girl and her mum.

Meanwhile, Ferdi the Friesian calf who was adopted onto Mrs Brown Cow a while back is doing well.

Ferdi and his friend.

Helping Farmer Rob load wool into the trailer the other day, I mis-stepped out of the back and ended up on my butt in the wet in the yard.  Why does this keep happening to me?

We like buying locally - and that includes straw when we can.  I am standing in the yard in the photo below, looking at the straw our neighbour has sold to us - not sure you could get much more local than that!