Summer time and big tongue days

I started writing this post almost exactly a month ago, the day before Farmer Rob took an unexpected sabbatical from work.  In the interim, things have been pretty busy, with shearing, hay-making and other stock-related activities taking up much of our time. Our mornings now include Flossie, who is staying with us from the other farm, and a racing pigeon who has adopted us (along with the cat). I've told Farmer Ian that feeding said pigeon will only encourage it to stay, but he clearly has a thing for beady unblinking eyes.  

Flossie

Anyway, back to the original update and a load of pictures as an excuse for not typing more. [From early June] The rain teeming down outside rather dents my credibility when waxing lyrical about the beautiful weather we had recently. With clematis and roses ripped from the side of the house and all of us looking like drowned rats after moving sheep and cattle down the hill, those glorious days seem ages ago.  However, there is photographic evidence as Robbie, Pete and I took a day out to go to Braunton Burrows with the collies and Pepper the puglet in tow.

Harry and Scout are excited that we're off on a road-trip.

Ned - once a collie, always a collie.

Of course, rushing around in the heat means another Big Tongue Day...

[Back to the present] After the sun, then the rain and wind, we've now had almost no water at all in July. We're planting more swedes this year (Swede Carol reprise at Christmas!) and rolling with the tractor is dusty work.  At least the dry weather has meant that hay-making was easier.

Farmer Ian before shower.

Farmer Ian during shower!

Harry guards the hay.

Although it's a bit hot for larking about.

Elsewhere, the results of our hedge-laying look good, and in the woods we had an exceptional show of bluebells then foxgloves because of the increased light and air.

In a bit of a quandary about carbon emissions from burning the waste we are not harvesting for winter logs, anything by the woods was dragged in to rot down slowly, while the rest was burnt until charcoal rather than ash.  To cool it, Farmer Ian then had to bring it across the fields with the tractor, douse it, and put on the dung heap to be spread across the fields.

Our log piles continue to grow.

Shearing at both sites came and went, and we were mightily grateful to have help from Liz and Bryan, Ann, David and Oli (who always seems to visit when we have loads of work to give him).

Hard at work.

Perhaps not so hard at work.

We had baby bird week when everything fledged at once - sparrows, blue tits, blackbirds, dunnocks, wrens, swallows, goldcrests, and the great-spotted woodpeckers.  Magpies and crows were gently encouraged not to attend the party (by me banging on the window). Our swallows have had a brood of 4, one of which decided to throw itself out of the nest a few days early and skulk around on the floor.  Concerned for its safety, I caught it and put it back on our drying rack where they like to roost ... he promptly flew off, around the shed, past Farmer Ian's head and into the pile of pallets ... where the cat lives. After much faffing and cursing, we retrieved him and reinstalled him.

Goldcrests feeding on my sorrel.

Dad keeping an eye on Junior.

Finally, young Neddy was a bit of a noodle and ran into a sharp spike on the tractor that was sitting quietly in the yard minding its own business.  The unfortunate outcome was a foot long gash down his side and a lot of stitches (a picture of which I will spare you).  He's pretty bonny about it all, but hates the Cone of Shame.

Hopefully things will calm down a bit soon and we'll get a few more beach days.

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).