Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Its rollover week!

I did wonder what Ambrose was looking at as I wandered about the smallholding this foggy damp autumn morning. Perhaps he was mourning the loss of breakfast to the ravenous Ryelands. Or contemplating jumping into the field belonging to the militia, or, more likely, calculating the angles needed to, in goat terms, drop the nod on Montana who was busy licking the trough clean.

A sudden movement alerted me to the plight of Roxy, shes the barrel like object upside down to the left of the trough. Now it may seem callous pausing to picture her plight, but as this is Roxy the death wish sheep it seemed only right and proper to preserve for posterity her latest attempt to shuffle off her mortal coil.

Not sure how she managed this, the trough is too big to pose a trip hazard to even the clumsiest sheep, but manage she did and at the point of rescue was firmly wedged upside down in the gap between logs and food receptacle. Left to her own devices her internal organs would have crushed the air out of her lungs and her attempt to be the first of the flock to the here after would have been successful.

Thankfully her guardian angel, yours truly, was on hand to sort her out again, and once the world stopped spinning she boldly went in search of new ways of hurting herself.

Its never boring being a smallholder.


spiderlover said...

How the hell did she manage that! Her next slow-death trick might be by trench foot, looking at all that mud. It's the same here, rain and rain and oh yes, a bit of rain ;)

Tony said...

We have a cunning plan to combat the mud. Concrete!

Roxy has an imense capacity for self harm, somehow she survived 2 dead lambs inside her earlier in the year, she has been found upside down at least 4 times, once at the very door of Death but he was busy so we managed to get her back. Hes waiting for the next knock at the door:)

Anonymous said...

We've now got a poddy calf, 2 goats with 3 kids between them and an alpaca.
The first time I let the calf out of her stall she promptly wiggled through a tiny hole in the yard fence and went gamboling happily through the paddock. The paddock that still needed fences fixed. I ran up to the house to get a bottle made to entice her back. Look out the window, she's still racing around the paddock with glee. Continue to prepare milk. Look out the window again and she's racing down the street with equal glee. Adrenalin hits, prayers that she won't keep going out to the main road are uttered and ignoring the cries of the 4 under 5's I have in the house I run out with half done bottle. Standing in the middle of the road I try to entice wary calf from a distance. Then the slight drizzle which I hadn't really noticed increases to a downpour - which of course gets my attention. Thankfully only 10 minutes passes while I stand in the torrent, shaking the bottle and making pathetic attempts at soothing noises which she probably can't hear anyway and would scare her even more if she could, while I listen to the muted screams coming from in the house. Finally calf's stomach wins and she trotts up to me. I'm able to lead her away still sucking and get her locked up nicely.
Once inside, pausing only to remove squelching boots and socks, I field the excited questions of the 4 year old and attempt to shake 2 screaming toddlers from my legs while getting changed out of my saturated clothes. Thankfully the 3 yr old had stopped screaming by then of his own accord and was calmly playing with some trucks.
Apart from eating some string and the occasional hard headbutt up between the legs that nearly sends me flying (after more milk) that's the only real trouble she's given us.... yet.

Tony said...

Sounds like you and yours would fit in here!

Anonymous said...

Haha, ah yes, reading your blog makes me feel better.