Get a hankie ready

Last week, Farmer Ian was moving sheep from 8 Acres into Gratton. All of the ewes are doubles, and one has a blind lamb. As usual, the moment Neddy appeared they all shot off, lambs in tow, charging through the open gate...leaving the blind one behind, with no-one to follow.

Suddenly his brother appeared at the gate and called for him, leading him to the promised land (of milk and...erm...grass). How gosh darned cute is that?!

Caught in the act ...

… but not quite sure what she was up to?

Lambing is coming to an end

A mere handful of recalcitrant ewes remain in the sheds, holding on until the last moment ... most likely to make the most of the cake! We seem to have been at it for all living memory, and we now emerge blinking into the light. Without further ado, some photos.

Stockman Mack and a very Easter lamb.

Sporting the latest in ovine hairdos ... or don'ts ... the comb-over.

Irene and a very fuzzy lamb.

Kate, with Goliath. Mum was somewhat unimpressed with having to give birth to such a monster.

It may be lambing, but Buddy still needs his milk.

A lovely warm place to sleep in the sun. (Don't worry, the red is the paint brand...not anything more sinister.)

A first foray into the fields.

The team goes off to work ...

First batch moving on up the hill to summer pastures.

Beautiful misty morning across the valley.

The yellowhammers have been with us all spring.

After hedge-laying, an explosion of foxgloves in the now-open areas.

This rowan is already blooming, laid in the autumn.

What happened to February?

Seemingly in a blink of an eye, February was over.  We went from cold winds and snow (and a minor argument with a hedge in the car), to rain, to a couple of glorious weeks of sun, and now back to grey and good old Devon mizzle. The view from our hillside has been ever-changing, and I would be hard pressed to name many of the incredible sky colours we have seen.

The sheep are getting ready to lamb (two weeks to go) and the cattle are roaming outside again, over a month sooner than last year, but with the option to retreat into the sheds when the rains batter down. The early sheep are also inside, and toasty in their straw, while the later girls are mostly in the swede field, occasionally breaking through the electric fence to roam.  Only a few more swede-weeks left, much to our chagrin as they are sweet, cook quickly and put boughten roots from the supermarket to real shame.

Much of our time has been spent managing stock (including some incredibly fussy cattle in the top shed who turn their snoots up at even the best silage), laying hedges before the March deadline, and catching up on house/garden chores, such as finishing the veg bed and building a deck (now christened The Prosecco Deck).

Farmer Ian went to look after the other site when Farmer Rob and Sally went on honeymoon, taking Harry with him.  Contrary to expectations, he settled in very well and set up camp in front of the Aga, occasionally on Sally's armchair (which is not generally an acceptable place for dogs to park their behinds). T'other Rob came to visit and we put him to work then sent him home exhausted but happy. And of course, Shackleton is missed immensely, but is all healed and back to full steam ahead.

Whether we'll have time to report during lambing depends on the likelihood of us still talking to each other, or anyone else for that matter...so in the meantime, photos from the last few weeks.

Mini-daffs looking good - spring has sprung.

Liberties being taken on the new deck.

Scout waiting for her Prosecco.

Harry doesn't quite understand what the kennel is for.

Dirty Harry!

It's been a busy day.

Hedge ... laid.

The girls in the swedes.

Rob helps with the new veg bed...

...while the dogs "help" Farmer Ian prepare the ground for the decking.

The adorable Mr Shackleton, home, healthy and happy.

Incarcerated, for being a nuisance.

Please let me come and harass the sheep ... I promise I'll be good (at it).

Who knew the car was orange?

A third letter home from Shackleton

Dear my-humans

Time has passed quickly here, and I am very excited that I will be coming home at the weekend.  I've had lots of fun, but miss you and Luna.

The big news is that I had a bit of an accident on the moor and managed to cut my pad on who-knows-what while rushing about. However, I don't think it was too much of a problem for the Beards as they said it was typical that accidents occur outside of normal veterinary hours ("bloody typical" in fact, but I assumed that was because of all of the blood). I was very brave, and we rushed over to Bideford for the out-of-hours service with Badgerbeard holding my wound closed in the back, while Gingerbeard drove carefully so as not to make us sick. The nurse and vet were very nice to me, and I had to have sedation, stitches and antibibliotecs, which is why I haven't been near a library all week (sorry, Badgerbeard made me put in that joke, and is currently laughing all on his own somewhere).  I've had to have my foot wrapped every day, and can only go out with a plastic boot - we now have a posh one, but here is a photo of me with the make-shift version at the start - as you can see, I'm still a very happy chappy.

We've been to the vets several times for check-ups, and the receptionist gave me a treat! She also said she was sorry that Badgerbeard was back in again after last year, but he was quite upbeat and told her that with four young collies in the house, over a two month period the law of averages meant we were bound to make some kind of visit, and that he was simply going to get his wages paid into their account directly. She laughed, but probably doesn't know he is currently not working so there are no wages. However, all will be fine apparently as I have something called insurance - otherwise I would have had to work down the mines for a month to cover the costs.

Life on the farm carries on, and the sheep have been brought down from the field next to the moor. Some have already been shut in ready for lambing, which seems to be a hot topic of conversation down here...although I find the sheep a bit boring.  They either walk around eating grass, or sit down chewing grass. They also have a complicated set of marks on their wool, which Gingerbeard seems to be able to translate.  Badgerbeard has not yet learnt that foreign language, and often grumbles about it. Personally, I think it might be more useful than Italian in the short-term, but I keep quiet.

Ned has been working hard while we play about, and I have yet to find a photograph where he is not perched on the love of his life, the quad.

So that's it for the moment. See you at the weekend.  I hope you have brought home a candied albatross for me - they do look rather tasty.

Much love
Your Shackie
xxxx