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!

A bird-tastic weekend

A red kite in Quarryfield (the first we have seen down here), house sparrows nesting in the box we put up in the sheds, and a bullfinch looking through our kitchen window.  We must be doing something right for wildlife.

A short break

With lambing over, we left the farm in Ann's capable hands, the dogs with Robert John, and headed off to Turkey for a break.  A few observations:

#1 - don't climb over the straw bales and drop down into the gap in the corner unless you are tall enough to get back out again, or if you do, have a phone with you (fortunately Ann is resourceful and eventually used the fork stuck into the straw as a ladder)

#2 - if you are going to groom a husky, do it outside (thanks Rob)

#3 - it's impossible to be manly when a ruddy great big snake crosses the path in front of you (Ian M), or when you come across pretty much any kind of oversized insect (me) - I don't care what it is, just make it go somewhere else

 #4 - bats can do the breaststroke reasonably well, but do eventually need rescuing from the middle of the Mediterranean

Time to slow down

It's almost over - just one recalcitrant ewe hanging on to the bitter end, wandering the sheds when she could be outside sunning herself and her lambs in the lush grass (needless to say it's an Exmoor horn; she may look cute, but the devious madam is a cake-head).  And of course tame lambs are a-plenty...there are always tame lambs.

It was bleeding hard work this year and I'm not sure we have come down from it yet.  Between the two farms we lambed almost 600 ewes, some days no sooner had we got pens cleared than they were full again.  It all seems like a bit of a dream now (not exactly a nightmare, but you know, one of those where you wake up slightly disturbed and disoriented, and start looking for missing lambs under the bedclothes).

I have special personal thanks to Sally, for being calm and the best possible lambing partner; to Soggy and Daiz for their hard work, usual dippiness, and the minions (guess who had never seen Despicable Me?); and to Ian and Farmer Rob, for trusting me to do the right thing when I am elbow-deep up a sheep's back end.  We've had 'em every-which-way - my personal favourite, just a tail hanging out.  Also to Sonny for running amok, and the other poor dogs for their forebearance.

Of course, we can't forget Ann - who has some sanity issues in that she likes getting up at 2am, then 4am, then 6am to do the night shift.  We are extremely grateful!

Without further blather, a few photos (unfortunately, I don't have one of the rat Daisy sat on and killed, but that was one impressive bit of vermin control)...

"What are you looking at?"  (One of our Exmoors - they make nice mothers when they focus...)

The Lamb Express out to the fields ("Quit pushing, I've banged my nose!")

Time to find mum again, who incidentally, is only interested in grass.

The day team

Fred tries to hide - a dog with no responsibilities.

[Our friend Simon popped into the sheds one afternoon after a run and happened upon various gruesome sights ... namely a difficult birth, a wet adoption, and a generous amount of amniotic fluid, goop (the official term), and general wetness.  He then witnessed a double make their way into the world without too much drama, and was dead chuffed...so in honour of his first birth, and because we were all a bit shed-crazy, we accidentally named the lambs instead of giving them numbers.]

Introducing Cathy and Simon

Underway again

 

Lambing kicked off on schedule over at Ian's dad's place, and I was drafted in to give a helping hand for the first week (that'll teach me to have annual leave outstanding at the end of the year!)  Sally and I did the morning shifts starting around 5am...checking for new births, feeding, penning, strawing ... and acting as midwives as needed for the badly presenting lambs (legs back, completely backwards, head down, tangled with twin, just too gosh-darned huge etc).  It mostly went well, but I do now have an even greater dislike of dealing with two-tooths.  They have spent too long away from any decent interaction with people and are completely nutty - however, my rugby tackles are improving no end.

Anyone want a tame lamb?

A farmhand selfie

Back at home, Ian has been preparing for our own lambing (only about 350 ewes!) and we have just had our first - a nice double and a robust single.  I am happy that most of the two-tooths are at the other farm, so things may be a bit calmer, but we do have some first-time-birth ewe lambs (last year's crop) - we've not done that before, so it will be an interesting comparison.

Aparently the boys missed me, but perked up when we had a visit from Ali (my university friend), Ali (a friend of both of us from work), and Pipit (a terrier who thinks she is bigger than Cody).  At one point I gave Fred a bone biscuit, which Pipit then nicked from his mouth and ran off with it.  Fred was most afronted, especially when she got the best spot on the back of the sofa, so he decided to get his own back by sleeping in her bed.

Pipit, sunning herself on the forbidden sofa.

Fred, not quite fitting....

We did make time to go to Braunton Burrows for a run about on the beach (leaving poor old creaky Fred at home) - the wind was up and we had a bit of a sand-blasting.  Skin feels great!

Ali x 2, collie x 2, and a very fluffed up Cody

Sonny, sporting the latest Fat Face headgear - cool pup.

More tales to come as the staff arrive tomorrow (Irene and Daisy - are they mad?)