Everyone’s a critic (06:51 from Tiverton, reprise)

I find myself once again on the early train to Paddington, gazing out of the window as other people’s land flies by. Farmers spend an awful lot of their time checking out what their neighbours are up to … are their sheep doing better than mine? Have they got their silage in yet? How many bales did they make this year? I am no different, mentally critiquing as we rush along.

Not impressed with that hedge-laying, more like hedge-murdering.

Wow, nice house of bales for those lucky red piggies; very practical and easy to dispose of at the end of the season, but not cheap with the daft price of straw these days.

That chap’s sheep aren’t going to stay in his field for much longer if he doesn’t sort out that fence.  

Those rams have been busy, all of the ewes have got red bums.

Wiltshire parkland is stunning; the cows look very happy under the enormous trees.

Won’t be much grass left soon if someone doesn’t move along that herd of deer.

Winter wheat shoots already flushing green in that field!  

Bloody hell, that swan almost flew into the window - forgot how big they are close up.

The autumn colours are amazing - yellow larches and poplars, purple reeds, chocolate soil, henna bracken, and more hips than you could shake a stick at.

Horses really do make a landscape more beautiful; Alice Walker was right.

Llamas - why?

And just outside Pewsey, a fat sheep dead on her back with all four legs in the air - a tad embarrassing.

First frost

This week we had our first hard frost, good news for swede lovers and a sign that Ann and I can start raiding 6-Acres, which this year has been laid up for winter root forage. However, not good news for working outside as winter farming is harsh on the hands - gloves, hand cream and zinc and castor oil have come out of various hiding places. We also had our first hail, which happened to coincide with both of us being on the shed roof fixing leaks. Kismet or sod’s bloody law?

It’s been a bit of an annus horribilis all round for farming (and note that second n … quite a different meaning without that). Early on we had persistent heavy rain that left the ground (and us) sodden. Just as it all dried up, the Beast from the East made its appearance before lambing, with a week of desiccating freezing wind that killed many of the plants and froze the water pipes, followed by two bouts of snow (Frozen be damned), leaving us with poor grass and all sorts of other (and udder) issues. June and July we also had problems with no water…lack of rain meant no grass again, and poor hay. It was touch and go at times as to whether or not we’d have to abandon some of the fields, and it doesn’t help having to dish out winter fodder at the height of summer.

August got rainy again, and a warm, wet and humid autumn followed, ideal conditions for flies and pneumonia. We heard reports of October lambs getting flystrike the day after being born. Where are the swallows when you need them?  Oh right, Africa.

How to get rid of grass cuttings from the lawn...

The rams have gone in with the ewes now, so we can do it all again next year…and this spring we’ll be lambing ALL of the sheep chez nous, instead of some being over with Farmer Rob. I am sure there is method in our madness, instead of just madness, but I’ll be devilled if I can work out what.

The pups are now almost fully grown, and occasionally doing what they are told. We have also ended up with a stray cat in the barns - a rather scruffy small grey fluffy thing that is helping keep the vermin down (although the rats seem to be committing suicide on a regular basis in one of our water troughs…I guess even rodents occasionally see the futility of life and have existential crises).

Harry starting to learn the dark arts of sheeping.

So onwards into a winter of hedge-laying and fence-fixing, and the exciting arrival of my log splitter. Plus I bet I am heartily sick of swede by Christmas!

Brand new chainsaw trousers...because Scout disembowelled the previous pair, which is why she looks so guilty.

Ned's message...

...to all who think Scout is cuter...

An exuberance of mushrooms

A bit of rain after a dry spell, and voilà…our swede field is suddenly filled with mushrooms. We’ve fried them, baked them, added them to stews and, waste not want not, put some into oil for later in the year.

Ann and Second Stockman show off their trugs.

Meanwhile, Farmer Ian juggles dogs on the bike (which is far harder than juggling chainsaws…)

Ian and Cerberus survey their ballywick.

Joseph Jones

Not unexpectedly, but still with huge sadness, dear old Joey made a final trip to the vets today.  He'd almost reached the grand age of 15.  He came from a tatty farm in Wales the day before Christmas Eve, and has ended his days on another farm in Devon via many adventures.  It's a consolation that he is now back with his best buddy Freddy in the great romping grounds in the sky.  Joseph Ffairfach Nathan Jones, we will miss you and thanks for being a longtime companion.  With love.

Joey and Freddy - an amazing double act.

Photographic evidence that Joey did occasionally help on the farm (here with Jack and Bonnie).

Not the best choice of cooling down spot ... from the point of view of smell.

Young, thin and full of energy - the Hatley St George years.

Best buddies take a rest ... on the forbidden sofa.

Hey you up there!

Stop being boring, and come out to play!