The Golden Fleece

Ryelands are Herefordshire ancient breed, so valuable was their thick wool they used to be referred to as Lemster Ore (Leominster is a local market but you say it as the old spelling) Here Daffodil recreates the Golden Fleece look in her own personal sunbeam!

We are not worthy

Ferny Fern Fern from Fern Town leads the way as the Ryelands pay homage to

Chester, a noble steed who has fitted in at Rock HQ with ease

and is developing

quite a following!

Missing something

Its hard to imagine I know, perhaps it was just too early in the morning, or I was in too much of a hurry trying to shift various animal deposits off the runway, or thinking too much about the days work ahead, or the rain, but somehow for a whole hour and a half I managed to mislay 200 kgs of beef.

Hetty, above, she of the concrete phobia, was suddenly when I thought about it, conspicuous by her absence. Apollo, William, Bella and Berry were watching with interest as I scooped their poop and added it to the doings mountain. Kayliegh the agoraphobic Anglo Nubian hovered in the doorway mewing that the sky was falling in, but no sign of aforementioned bovine.

With that sinking feeling, the one associated with the realisation you are doomed to be late for the real world and you have the office keys (or rather someone else's office keys as you have already lost yours) and they will be stood on the pavement in the rain, I searched for missing cow.

Theres not many places a steak that big can hide but she managed, and should by rights now be the Dexter world champion for hide and seek. Usual haunts were obviously cow free, trough, feeder, water trough, favourite scratching post. If she had jumped to freedom again then my colleague on the pavement was due a prolonged soaking as cow had to be found. The straw store, the one with just enough space for two lambs. It looked odd. The shadow cast by the horse blankets nailed over the opening looked black.

Blacker than normal.

And this shadow had mud on it.

Space for two lambs was now space for a Dexter with mental health problems.

I lifted the blanket, parting around her like theatre curtains she gave the cow equivalent of "Ta-Dah!" and deemed to join the others for breakfast. I didn't get a pic of this extraordinary cow/Tardis achievement but did get a pic of her strutting her stuff on the runway. Perhaps its only dirty concrete she wont walk on.

Trick sheep

Ferny Fern Fern from Fern Town asserting herself over the breakfast table. I took this yesterday as we drove past with our new cooker in the borrowed trailer. The Godfather had made an unexpected visit and as ever, no such thing as a free lunch, or in his case a free cup of tea, slice of cake and hug with his Godson little t, not until he got our huge cooker on and off a trailer, through three small doorways and into place in the kitchen. The slight panic over is it so big it wont fit through the doors subsided when cooker and doorway were introduced and so tea, cakes and cuddles (for small child not me) were taken while we admired the new metalwork. Since it arrived we have at least been able to cook one meal, a nice stir fry, not on the cooker (no electric) but by burning the card and wood packaging it came in.

The new http://www.talesfromtherock.com/ website is slowly coming to life, updates will be regular once yours truly masters the art of sticking stuff on it, there is a gripping tale in compost corner of the new cooker and its mode of delivery. Pig club and other news will follow. Honest!

Vital signs

Earlier than last year, Snowdrops are a welcome sign of the coming spring.

Filthy Pig!

Thor the Boar of questionable sexuality was persuaded to vacate the med bay and visit the ladies in the pig pen. It has to be said he took to the role with some enthusiasm this time and Bridget helped by standing for him. Another secret of animal husbandry was discovered while Thor was making bacon, and that is the peculiar shape of a male pigs bits, like something out a science fiction film, Ridley Scotts Alien chest burster would be preferable than being faced with Thor's weapon of choice. Still Bridget seemed happy enough and again I was hoping that now he had sampled the delights of the pig pen he would stay.


He did stay long enough to get really filthy, and I do mean in the physical coated in mud sense. He seemed to enjoy this, shaking himself like a dog and then rolling around again, perhaps its the pork equivalent of a cold shower, whatever it was he rendered himself unapproachable by any creature with a sense of smell. Finally, happy with his new look he bade farewell to Bridget and climbed the fence.

Pausing only to steal some of the Ryelands second breakfast he set off to bother the horses, investigate Kayleigh, bother Hetty and rub as much mud over as many surfaces as possible. Happy his work was done he slunk off back to med bay where he gathered his straw in a pile and fell asleep. Nice work if you can get it.

Birds of a feather

Hetty has a new neighbour.

They seem to get on.

Both have issues.

Different world

It was one of those days where I had to say goodbye to Rock HQ and join the real world for the day visiting lovely people in far away places. This also meant that the usual routine had to be completed double quick time, mostly in the dark, tripping over sleeping animals and other hazards lurking in the lane. Kayleigh needed milking, Kurry needed feeding ( I now bottle feed two hungry infants in the morning) the dogs exercised and feeding, horses fed and watered, cow checked to make sure she is still in one piece and so on.

Vic delivered me safely to all four of my visits and suddenly I was in a land of cream carpets and no mud. Except the mud I brought with me. Vic is coated in the stuff and trail experts will be able to identify at least 4, probably 5 different paw prints across the body work, roof included. At my third meeting Vic got a real inferiority complex parked next to two gleaming black Volvo's, one the saloon version of him and the other the super duper 4x4. I left them bickering on the drive. Halfway through this meeting I noticed glances being exchanged by the clean Volvo drivers and all eyes were on my footwear. Thankfully I wasn't in my farm boots as has happened before but as I was in a land of concrete and road sweepers the coating on my shoes was as alien in this building as E.T.

"I'm sorry I live on a farm" I offered as way of explanation, my host had seen one once and reassured that what was on my shoe hadn't fell out of a dogs bottom and that I wasn't some dirty shoe fetishist we carried on with the business of the day.

We shook hands as I left and my very understanding host pointed at my left foot and said "The er...the.."

"Goat probably" I said. He nodded and closed the door.