New beginings

Happy Easter, and as Easter is about new beginnings it was only right and proper that Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown should deliver a fine ram lamb, now called Bunny (not my fault don't shoot the messenger!) and so work got off to a ultra slow start as we oohed and aahed over this new addition before moving them both to a secure accommodation safe from foxes and crows.

Easter also looked like she was about to explode, we had genuine concern for her health and well being as her abdomen was a tight as a drum skin and whatever it is that lurks inside her (possibly alien) wriggled to get out. For her own safety and our peace of mind she was confined to HQ in the "garden" the thought being that she would be close to the cottage, any life form trying to force its way out would be spotted and we could act as midwives.

Like all bonkers Ryelands she had other ideas and somehow managed to squeeze her fat carcass under the fence and out onto the bonsai mountain again. By mid afternoon we had managed to call in all our sheep and contained them on the Corral OK with one notable exception. Easter was located in a gully across from North Face Gully and "persuaded" to return to barracks. She is now in the stables looking distinctly uncomfortable as is Chester who has been evicted while Easter awaits her new arrival. By the looks of her it will be almost as big as Kobe.

Bleaters corner

Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown is holding an audience with the flock
Crispen is heckling by blowing raspberries from the cheap seats!

DIY disaster

There are a few things that I should learn to leave well alone, these include the "simple jobs" associated with DIY. The day started reasonable enough, a minor disappointment at the local farmers superstore where I found they were not giving away bacon sarnies as I hoped, but I did get a good deal on dog food (didnt taste the same and not recommended for breakfast). Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown had a minor inconvenience which required the bolt cutters to get her free. Will she have learned from the experience? Time will tell.

As the weather forecast was as accurate as Ambrose's headbutts we were well prepared for the snow that fell at midday. This arrival of the white stuff coincided with our plan to spend the weekend on DIY projects in the cottage so being housebound was not a worry.

So soon we had he who cannot be named's room emptied and prepped like a blank canvas for us to create a lovely kiddies room for lil t the apprentice smallholder. Why I chose the weekend the 6 nations started is a masterpiece of bad planning so while all the rugby was on the box I was wielding a paint brush and turning pale magnolia into sky and rolling hills ready for jungle animals and other such child friendly murals to keep him occupied.

I left my beautiful and oh so patient wife applying the finishing touches to the newly decorated room and instead of sneaking off and watching England thrash Scotland decided that I would spend my time wisely and change the toilet seat. This is a job I have been avoiding for ages, even the new toilet seat in its box propped next to the toilet failed to spur me into action. Today was the day, a simple task of undoing two bolts and changing old for new. Simple, what could possibly go wrong.

In fact quite a lot, which was why I had been avoiding the job, that and wanting my moneys worth out of the old seat. Both bolts had corroded on the old seat, but eventually one undid, the other required a hacksaw but was on the point of giving up like its partner, but before it did it had one last trick. I only tapped it ever so gently to encourage it to finally give up the ghost and it did, but the toilet cracked almost in half causing an interesting flood, a plethora of swearwords and most likely means that I will miss all the rugby tomorrow as I will be laying a floor in little ts room in between feeding all the critters and going to B and Q for a new bog.

Santa's favourite

Sometimes I might be persuaded to use hyperbole in order to raise a smile, but this mornings antics where I was eventually found by my beautiful and oh so patient wife chasing a sheep that had a neon reindeer wedged on its head really needs no such exaggeration for comic effect.

Aside from this it was a normal morning at HQ, I was feeling pleased with myself at having coaxed three and a bit pints from Kayleigh while listening to Misplaced Childhood, and then in stroke of genius made a self feeding arrangement for Kurry, thus cutting 15 minutes of the morning routine.

So finding myself unable to get out of the kitchen as the pantry door was stuck fast was a trifle annoying. I had gone indoors to get Kayleigh her warm water with black treacle mix (spoilt? as if) so the door had operated normally minutes beforehand. Running through possible causes, trolls, sack of spuds falling, dog food sack falling over, possibly assisted by dog, I continued to shove the refusenik wooden portal until after one particularly good effort door moved enough to allow visual identification of problem.

FernyFern Fern from Fern town had taken advantage of the open door to the workshop, entered the pantry from the outside and was now stuffing her self with dog biscuits (vegetarian readers better stop at this point)

Several well aimed swearwords were less effective than a swift poke with the broom handle (all jokes about poking sheep are banned) and finally Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown conceded defeat and tried to back out of the store through several items "in storage" which included my prized electric reindeer outdoor Christmas decoration salvaged from a charity shop last yule. In turning to escape the wrath of man greedy sheep shoved her brainless head through neon Rudolf and ran for it, closely followed by man with broom shouting instructions on how it would be in her best interests to stop right there.

Order was restored by patient and beautiful one shaking bucket of poultry feed, removing decoration from easily diverted sheep and threatening to take out an asbo on anyone using threatening language in the yard. Thankfully Santa's favourite survived his ordeal and was put back in a safe place until his services are ever required one foggy Christmas Eve.

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!

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!

Batten down the hatches

I spent far longer with the pigs today than I meant to, curiously two had chosen to sleep outside and were very reluctant to give up the two foot deep litter straw they claimed as their own.
The forecast isn't good, 100mph winds and the almost barn is not looking in a good shape but fingers crossed it will survive another winter. The critters don't have the access to technology we have but seem to sense that things are afoot weather wise, predictions are that its the worst weather for 30 years. Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown has bagged a prime spot next to George, the other 18 Ryelands are all crammed in to the same sized space next door.

Who turned out the light?

There is a certain routine to smallholding, the usual jobs have to be done, the usual suspects fed and watered. But its never really boring. Sometimes it is a bind having to go and see to the needs of the critters before sitting down to dinner, or when the rain is horizontally washing the windows its a bit of an effort to leave the warm dry cottage and round up geese who should know better and have gone to bed in the safety of the goat house rather than sit in a wagon train style circle in the cauldron. They do this presumably so that each gets a good view of the fox choosing which one to have for supper.

So today while attending to the pigs, there I was measuring out 18kg of feed from Trixie trailer. I had left four sacks inside her, partly through running out of time on the morning I unloaded her, and partly as she is parked next to the pig pen it seems logical to leave few bags in there to save carrying feed down to the pigs and running the gauntlet of veracious Ryelands. Normal circumstances involve feeding the Ryelands first, as far as possible from all the other critters which gives a window of opportunity to navigate the smallholding without tripping over sheep with their begging bowls out.

As I filled the feed bucket unmolested by the Ryeland who had fallen for the above ploy, again, there was a sort of crump sound from the rear of the trailer, closely followed by a pitiful "MeheeeeeeeHHH!" I really would have helped Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown had I not been rendered helpless by laughing. I also knew that if I helped her she would help herself to the pigs breakfast so I decided to be cruel to be kind, and left her too it. Fern must have a better sense of direction and keener sense of smell than I gave her credit for because as I carried on measuring the feed she, bucket still attached, tried to get a share.

Come on down!

Little Misty leads the charge, William, Apollo, and the pocket rocket, Trevor, brings up the rear while Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown as ever does her own thing!

Come back and play!

Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown is a Sheep who thinks like a dog and sometimes gets a bit carried away and plays rough. The Berners are a bit confused by her antics. To see more of this log on to the Bernese site in the margin

Follow me!

Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown is a fan of George Bernard Shaw.

Think Harder!

Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntowns leadership took a serious knock when she led her little flockers into a gate that wasn't there.

Clearly it was there, as it was a serious impediment to progress, but yesterday it wasn't, so technically she was right by thinking this gate wasn't there when she led her merry band down the Bonsai Mountain, behind the reservoir tank, under the fence behind the stable next to the big black water tank that used to hold orange juice, down the slope under the pipe and.... into the gate that wasn't there, which now was as a result of a maniac cow insisting on trying to jump over the stable. The access to the launch pad denied by strategically placing a spare gate in her path.

This confused them for while and they tried to imagine it not being there, as life without the gate was so much easier, but that didn't work so they had to resort to bleating pitifully for help until yours truly gave up laughing at them whilst photographing their plight and moved the gate allowing Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown to muster up the last of her dignity and lead the way to the trough. William looked on hoping his gate would suddenly disappear allowing unfettered access to the goodies in the trough but he was to be disappointed. Some gates are meant to be.

Creature comforts

Fern is getting bigger every day and has come on a long way since she scared us all by nearly dying.
Here she is bouncing around the living room playing Queen of the Castle on the coffee table and choosing a magazine to read.

Fern is getting bigger every day and has come on a long way since she scared us all by nearly dying.
Here she is bouncing around the living room playing Queen of the Castle on the coffee table and choosing a magazine to read.

Brave new world, for some.

The two Ryeland lambs were put out to grass today with their mums Easter and Springtime. They all seem to be doing well, the ewes need to put on a lot of weight so they are getting extra rations but the lambs are bonny enough.

Fern on the other hand is a cause for concern, she is off her food and has a rasping breathing noise which may be a sign of an infection. Past experience tells us that if this is the case we are set for a rapid decline and probable death despite injecting with anti biotic and overdosing on TLC.