Design Defect

The sudden onset of the cold spell has caused us dramatic problems at Rock HQ.

Late last night I decided to go out and check on the lambs as earlier in the day Sandy had taken a tumble and fallen from the cliff and landed in the brambles (see entry below) and Katy didn't look too bright. I set out into the sleet and snow, unusually for me fully equipped in foul weather gear and with a 2 million candle power torch. It didn't take much effort to find Sandy he was by the gate to the back garden, unfortunately he was on his side and fitting in ice cold water. He was in such a state for a moment I seriously considered putting him out of his obvious misery as there seemed no hope. I carried the wretched bundle of muddy wool into the Kitchen of Rock HQ and whilst Tracey and Beth wrapped him in blankets and stood him by the rayburn I went back out into the night to round up the others. Daffodil and Bonny were easily persuaded to join Apollo in the shelter of his stable. This left Katy to find and after a quick check of the garden the only place left to look was the base of the cliff.

Naturally she was there and obviously ill and unable or unwilling to move. I managed to pick her up and offering prayers to God and all small gods associated with sheep, shepherds and not falling I slowly made my way down the precipitous slope to safety. Unable to see where my feet were going and trying to control a struggling sheep this was not an easy task, snow and darkness only added to the difficulties and two steps from the bottom inevitably my left foot missed its intended encounter with the ground and Katy and I suddenly hit the deck with an ooof and a single word beginning with F. Katy was saved from injury by landing across my chest. A rock distressed at missing its opportunity at playing a major part in this unfolding drama by tripping me took full advantage of a second bite at the cherry and buried itself enthusiastically between my shoulder blades. It was sharp enough to give me a nice neat two inch cut through the Gortex jacket and fleece I was wearing so I am thankful it didn't hit me on the head like I am sure it wanted to.

Inside the house Katy was desperately ill, Sandy had perked up a bit but his wool was falling off him in huge clumps, the kitchen now resembled an animal casualty clearing centre. Bernese Mountain Dogs fussed around the patients while we got more warm blankets and towels to wrap the shivering sheep in. A vet was called and within ten minutes attending to Katy.


It was through talking to her that we discovered a design defect in sheep. They carry a bacteria, as many animals do, in their tonsils and respiratory system that in times of stress, or at the onset of a sudden change in the weather cause respiratory problems. As the vet feared Katy had Systemic Pasteurellosis, no one really knows why this happens, or why its the fit and healthy lambs that tend to get it, sometimes it happens just because they are moved from poor pasture to lush pasture but for whatever reason the first sign is that the lamb is lethargic, difficulty in breathing, this rapidly leads to recumbancy and death in a few hours. Its not preventable and in most cases animals don't respond to treatment.
























The vet pumped Katy full of antibiotics, steroids and the biggest mineral injection I have ever seen, as you can see from the picture above she was up on her feet very quickly and taking advantage of the facilities of Rock HQ, in particular the warmth of the rayburn. The vet only put her chances at 50-50, the mortality rate in flocks when there is an outbreak is as high as 20%. But as Katy had jumped around whilst being injected we were all hopeful.

Sandy was on his feet and positively skipping around the kitchen. Before the vet arrived we had treated him with medicine for liver fluke and had given him a natural remedy containing magnesium (actually one of Tracey's tablets to combat the effects of M.E. from which she suffers) Sandy had a quick shot of steroids and the vet told us that the reason for his wool falling off was the shock of being attacked by the Fox a few weeks ago. He was OK put out with the others in the stable where he demonstrated how rapid his recovery was by mugging Apollo for his oats.

We went to bed just after midnight making sure Katy was comfy by the rayburn, keeping her warm would aid her recovery. I got up at 4am and found her stood in the centre of the kitchen, little lamb mines and puddles were all over the floor, I took this as a good sign that her internal organs were still functioning. Happy I went back to bed.

8am I got up and she was stood against the kitchen door. She had survived the night so I mixed her a bottle of glucose mix as per the vets instructions and tried to get her to drink. She refused and sat down.
I picked her up and put her on the dog bed back in front of the rayburn and turned to get the bottle.
When I turned back Katy was dead. As Tommy Cooper would say, "Just like that"





















Sandy pictured above, the one with mud all over his face is still fighting his corner and fighting Apollo for his breakfast. With the loss of Katy, Daffodil is the only surviving lamb that we bottle fed in the spring. At least she died in her favourite spot in front of the rayburn.

Theres no point asking why or beating ourselves up over it. Its not fair, its very upsetting but its all part of the highs and lows of smallholding.

Sheep trouble

Events conspire to make our week off as traumatic as possible. Tracey's Dad is still poorly in hospital and we seem to either pass the time between news bulletins on his progress either engaged in frantic activity to forget about it or sat drinking coffee planning the next job.

The sheep are being a bother, the top picture is Daffodil demonstrating at least two rules of smallholding, the grass is always greener on the other side and how did an animal that size get through a hole so small.

The bottom picture isn't as gruesome as you might have first thought, its Sandy stuck in the brambles after falling from the cliff. Hes a bit dazed and confused but after a shaky start he made it to the trough for a late lunch.

Katy on the other hand is showing definite signs of illness and after consulting the how to keep sheep book she either has pneumonia or rabies caught from a skunk.

Take Cover!!

Having basked for days in glorious sunshine the weather finally broke with a vengeance.

Yesterday we had to take cover from the sun it was so strong, as did our animals. Maude, one of the Ryeland lambs came back into the yard from the common and keeled over by the stables. Even to my untrained eye it was obvious something was seriously wrong. A close inspection revealed that she was infested with maggots, her back left leg was home to a mass of the crawly flesh eating fly larvae and untreated she would probably die. We were lucky she had the sense to return home as another day and she might have been a goner.

All the sheep had been treated for maggots last Friday, preventative treatment is routinely given. All were checked and clear two days ago, its best to do this especially if a period of hot weather follows a wet spell, it creates ideal conditions for the flies to lay their eggs on the backsides of the sheep, who being messy bottomed types usually have a load of pooh welded to their buttocks.

Clearly the prevention hadn't worked on Maude and she was being eaten alive by the wretched things. After a good trim with the scissors the maggots were revealed, there were hundreds of them in a writhing mass, we killed them with a mix of jeyes fluid and warm water. Once the wound was cleaned and much TLC given Maude returned to her usual self and stood in the feed bin bleating for her mother Rosie. We kept her under observation for 12 hours but in true Ryeland fashion was now more concerned about getting her stomach full than worrying about having backside like a baboon, on account we had sprayed it purple with antiseptic marker.

Happy to be reunited with her companions she is out in the rain that has just started sheltering under whats left of the trees in the lane.

The two characters lurking under the bush are Katy and Daffodil, they lie in wait and as soon as they sense the chance they will try to get in the cottage. Sheep are not stupid despite what people think. They know where its warmest and driest, but as that is where I am they are out of luck.

Feed me now!!!

The laziness continues unabated at Rock HQ.

The sun is shining, the grass is green, the skies are blue, the birds are singing, apart from the ones the cats have got, and all is well with the world.

Visitors are calling in and sampling the hospitality of Rock HQ which includes cake and a rousing welcome from our pack of dogs. Most visitors have got used to the idea that cars should be parked well away from the trees unless you want a goat on the roof. They still insist on wearing tidy clothes or cream coloured trousers, both are a bad idea when surrounded by the magnificent seven.

Trevor and William had a bit of a spat in the field, Trevor had found a handful of oats and was defending them from all comers. He kicked William buckaroo style about six times in rapid succession before William maneuvered to deliver a knock out blow. Luckily he failed to connect with my little possessive pony, lucky as a kick delivered with that much force would have broken Trevor and probably launched him over the fence and into our neighbours field. As I am already paying for torture sessions from an osteopath for a bad back gained from my sheep wrestling I just know fetching an unconscious shitland back across the border would have crippled me for life. Once William failed to deliver his death blow he took cover behind me in a bid to stop further violence whilst Tracey led our little aggressor away.

Trevor is not the only one to be misbehaving, Maggie was caught trying to get inside the rabbit hutch today, if only I had got the camera with me, but in the goat equivalent of trying to get a pint into a thimble she valiantly persisted until it fell on her, the open door saving her from injury. Laugh, I nearly broke a rib.

Our animals are not used to having us around so much, they are a bit confused. This is Katy who crashed into the sitting room earlier demanding we feed her now. Not wanting to upset a deranged Welsh Sheep Tracey took control and sorted her out while I continued to take it easy, I mean nurse my bad back.

Its a dogs life

This is Preston, and this is how busy we have been today.

Once all the animals were fed and watered Rock HQ was declared a work free zone and humans, canines, felines and two ovines found their own sunbeams and chilled out until the evening rounds had to be done.

Katy disgraced herself by taking a leak on my pile of cushions, made worse by the fact that I was lying on them at the time.

Maggie has discovered the apples on the trees and is currently making raids on the orchard, I haven't found out where she crosses the fence yet but when I do it will have to be raised by another two feet.

Looks like bad news on the duck eggs in the incubator, no sign of life, they were due to hatch last Sunday so we are well overdue.

So life in the garden was settled and calm, a holiday atmosphere reigned and a few ice cold beverages were consumed in the sunshine. Nothing could spoil the day. Apart from the wasp that somehow crawled along my arm and under my watch strap before injecting me with its full load of venom. In spite of having a bad back I can, when prompted move pretty quickly. Spectators would have marvelled at my vertical jump, my sprint to the first aid box not to mention my Karate moves which dispatched the wasp to its own heaven as I went. Additional points would no doubt have been awarded for the volume of my war cry and colourful language.

Luckily I didn't wake Preston.

New camera!

Well our old one died so we bought a new one, ex demo from a nice man on ebay who has a shop called Digitronics.ltd Ace service and ace camera, it has to be a robust pocket compact that sings and dances all weathers. As we are spending the banks money still it was also cheap.

Cheers for getting it to us on time!!

Heres a picture taken five minutes ago on the doorstep of Katy and Daffodil.

They are growing fast!

The only good goat is a curried goat!

Geisha and Maggie are trouble. When they didn't like each other they were a nuisance, now they have formed a bond they goad each other on to create mischief. Geisha the ninja goat is chief nuisance at the moment. Sunday she slid off the cliff into the garden and wrecked every ones siesta. Monday evening she used her ninja powers to get into the house through the front door while three adults were using it. Somehow she managed to slip through completely unnoticed and started to eat a vase of flowers off the mantelpiece in the living room. I just made it across the room in time to prevent a disaster by catching the priceless glass Ikea vase as it dropped towards the hearth.

Suitably chastised Geisha stood on the low wall outside the front door watching us watching her. She obviously plotted revenge because sometime later I could just make out the top of her head as she crept past the front window. Now I don't watch much TV, but I do like the news, somehow Geisha has worked out that the weak point in our already weak TV signal was the connector on the cable just by the front door. By chewing and tugging at it she she can alter the picture radically and get an instant response from her long suffering human. Usually a swift one containing words of four letters punctuated by a volley of wellington boots.

Late last night we knew we were set for an interesting time with her. She had managed to get over the fence into our neighbours field along the front of our cottage. No real problem as she was accompanied by Katy and Daffodil who are prone to launching raids on next doors grass. The difference being that the smart lambs can work out how to get back to the safety of the step to nowhere in front of the stable. Geisha spent a happy few hours munching nettles, she refuses to eat ours but The Oracles nettles are delicious, so after clearing his weeds she suddenly found herself alone, in the dark. She did what any self respecting goat would do when finding itself in such a situation, she freaked out and cried like a baby. Luckily for her she did not rouse her exhausted humans who had stockpiled the wellingtons for such an eventuality.

Sometime in the night she set out to explore the strange dark world of the open field, and several fences later found a flock of sheep, which for safety's sake she gathered around her like a giant protective mutton barrier. Any predator would have to be very hungry to get to her.

Come morning time we found her missing from the step so set out to find her. There she was, a lone brown speck in a confused white sea of wool. I shouted. She bleated. I shouted louder. Her volume increased as well. I started the great trek across to her, her bleat changed to one of relief once she saw me to one of joy when she saw I was carrying a bottle of milk. Overcome with emotion she ran towards me her ears flapping uselessly either side of her head. The sheep suddenly free from their goat tormentor and bewildered at the sight of a man crossing the grass carrying milk for an adult goat turned and fled in the opposite direction. Instinct took over and Geisha turned and joined the sheep stampede having succumbed to flight aspect of the fight or flight response. As she ran away it dawned on her that unlike her woolly prisoners she had no need to be scared and rather sheepishly for a goat turned on her hooves and galloped over to breakfast. A few reassuring gulps of milk later she began the long walk back with me to Rock HQ where she was reunited with Maggie and no doubt spent the day plotting further mayhem.

People ask if it takes a lot of time feeding and sorting out the animals in the morning, you must get up really early they insist. On a good day Tracey and I can sort all the stock out in fifteen minutes. When you have goats you can add two hours to that.

More rain in Paradise

Another day where we dodged the downpours and fretted about wasting the weekend. Working full time limits the amount of time spent working on the farm so being unable to tackle any of the projects currently underway is intensely frustrating.

The rain was so hard the workshop flooded again. This a going to be problem to solve as the water seems to be getting in through a breeze block at floor level just above the damp course. Access to the outside of the wall is impossible as there is an old garage building we us as a junk store, well not exactly junk, more like treasured items store. Things I cant throw away like a broken pressure washer and old car parts for a car I sold over ten years ago. So important are the contents of this building they have been moved at least three times since we moved in. First they were dumped unceremoniously in the ruins of the barn. When that was repaired the priceless artifacts were transferred to the static caravan. When that was dismantled and scrapped they were carefully put into the garage. Its all vital stuff and may come in handy one day, you never know when you will need a steering rack gaiter for a Triumph TR7, or need the parts off one of seven old bikes, you are bound to put to good use a broken squash racket or half a fishing rod so its all best kept on the just in case principle.

So unless I take down the garage and rehouse yet again the collection of future antiquities I don't see how the flooding problem can be solved. Perhaps further research in the "How to build houses" book followed by a crash course in "How to demolish garages" is required.

We did have a visitor, a nice lady who came and bought two chickens for a whole twenty pounds! This means that the advert cost has been covered but we haven't made enough to retire just yet. She lives a few miles away and is plagued by foxes just like us. She also repeated the rumour that well meaning people are trapping urban foxes and releasing them on the common. I don't know the accuracy of this statement but more and more people now repeat it as fact.

The day had its plus side though, the video clip was one of them, Katy is a fine specimen of sheep and is still treated to a bottle feed a day just to maintain the sheep shepherd link. She doesn't quite come when her name is called but she does come running if she thinks there is the possibility of a free feed. Daffodil is the same, they are going to replace the breeding ewes Roxy, Rita and Rosie in two years so they have to be very tame to lead the flock back to Rock HQ when we call as we don't have a sheep dog to round them up off the 500 hundred acres of common that we are lucky enough to live on.

The sun came out late afternoon so we were able to pick more blackcurrants. This led to us collecting some rhubarb and the accidental discovery of a meals worth of new potatoes that had self seeded in the compost heap. The rain came back so we resigned to the fact that a long and leisurely Sunday roast of our own lamb with the free spuds and a rhubarb crumble for afters was all we could do for the rest of the day.

Life's so tough sometimes.

Some fantastic Tits!

I was given some feedback on the website today, which is always nice, saying that it was hilarious and heartwarming. Thanks very much, and here are two snippets of life at Rock HQ that may illustrate both points.

Last night we finally got the birds off to bed around Eleven, they try to stay out as late as possible and have to be coaxed carefully into the bird houses or they scatter, and the last thing you want to do last thing is chase the wild geese. Anyway, job done I wandered back to the cottage feeling very happy with the day. Rocky as ever was half a step behind me as I went through the gate and into the conservatory. The front door was wide open, and as I went through the nightly ritual of trying to work out which of the three light switches turns the anti fox lights on it occurred to me that the house wasn't as I had left it ten minutes earlier. House secure I went to go upstairs, Reba one of the Berners was sat looking towards the kitchen and was giving the canine equivalent of "in there!" with a nod of her head. Half way up the stairs I remembered the front door and reluctantly turned back to investigate.

The dining room and kitchen were in darkness, piles of washing loomed from the dining table, apart from that all seemed well. This was pointless I told myself but I turned the kitchen light on just in case.

Frozen in the sudden brightness of the spotlights there were two shady characters who gave up quietly, caught bang to rights Geisha the goat and Katy the lamb had launched a sneak attack on the cottage and were supplementing their diet by tucking into the go cat crunchies. It was they that had pushed the door open and crept in, and as I led them out like naughty children they both glowered at Reba, they would have got away with it if it hadn't been for that pesky Bernese Mountain Dog grassing them up.

Tonight we have had another fantastic evening in the garden, lots more done, its amazing how it can be changed from weeds and wilderness into garden when you can devote time to it and the animals don't undo all your hard work. As usual I was serenaded by the Peep Peep Peep of what I thought was a Chaffinch but it turns out its the Redstart. I carried on my digging, a new birdsong caught my attention, looking up I saw the Blue Tit chicks in the nesting box. It is one of my favourite jokes, look at the Tits in the garden, and variations, Great Tits, and so on, my family never tire of them. The box is around thirty five years old, made by Albert, Tracey's grandad. He died a number of years ago but every year this box successfully houses several broods of Blue Tits, a nice legacy. The current inhabitants look set to quit the box pretty soon.

Anyway, the title of this piece should attract several thousand hits from search engines, while that happens I shall go and eat my steak that's just about cooked on the bar b que. We are set for a fantastic sunset and we intend to watch it with some good food and nice glass of pop.

Cheers!

In this weather!

This is Geisha, Katy and Daffodil giving their verdict on the weather. Normally they run straight past me and try to find Tracey with their morning milk. After four days of rain they are obviously as fed up with it as we are.

I thought I heard a cuckoo yesterday but can't be sure so still not properly heard one this year. I did see a bird that I have never seen before though, a Redstart, an amazing Robin shaped bird with orange red plumage, blue wings and head and a white cap. I'm not a twitcher or anything weird like that but you do tend to notice things when you are outside a lot of the time. So even in the wettest weather there are rewards.

Today I have to leave Rock HQ, hopefully only for the day, having some metal work removed from my arm. This will hopefully allow it to get a bit more movement and I have a mental physio on stand by to twist and stretch it into shape one the surgery heals. Its taken nine months to get to this stage, I thought it would only take nine weeks to get back to normal, but I've always been an optimist!

Where's my breakfast!!

These two are growing up to be really spoiled, spending another night on the sofa instead of outside. Its a tough life at Rock HQ!

Katy and Daffodil play fighting

Katy and Daffodil checking the facilities of the new stable.

Daffodil. Katy and Buddha

This noisy pair are shouting for their dinner from the patio. Hope Buddha likes having his ear nibbled, might be why he's smiling! You can just make out a naughty beagle in the conservatory, his name is Preston and he is a git.

Happier days.

This a couple of days ago, the view from the kitchen at Rock HQ. The strange noises you can hear are the Bernese Mountain Dogs Rocky and Reba scoffing their dinner. Jess, Daffodil and Katy are on the bank under the cliff at the back of the cottage sneaking up on Cosmo one of our cats. Katy is the bouncy one, Daffodil is the big bruiser that finally makes Cosmo run and Jess is the one that gets left behind as the other two chase after him.

As previous listing says Jess died tonight, no idea why, it may be a twisted gut we wont know unless we have a postmortem done and we cant afford that, it would be unlikely to be conclusive anyway. Sometimes healthy animals do just die, we found a perfectly healthy looking lamb dead in the garden last year just behind the wood pile. No obvious signs as to why it had died, it had just wandered in from the hill and lay down and died. There were no tags or identifying marks on it so I didnt know which farm it was from so I was a loss to know what to do with the corpse but the problem was solved by the foxes who carried it away.

We have to dispose of Jess' body as per Defra rules, so despite the fact she was a pet we are not allowed to bury her so she has to go to an incinerator or to the local hunting pack where she will be served as a light snack. The circle of life and all that.

Life goes on though at Rock HQ, all the other animals needed feeding and watering so we couldn't spend too much time moping over Jess. Its strange seeing two lambs on the lawn though.

Dinner tonight was one inch thick gammon steaks from the local butcher, served with potato wedges and a nice fried egg on top. As I was cracking the eggs I could hear cheeping. The incubator, 6 hatching out, others moving. New life at the Rock.

Its a funny game this smallholding lark.

Feeding Frenzy

This is Daffodil the Ryeland lamb who we are bottle feeding as her mother Easter abandoned her, and her sister Primrose, just hours after they were born. We didn't manage to save Primrose but Daffodil is growing very fast and is a very healthy pedigree lamb. This is her second bottle, we used to struggle to get 150ml of milk into her with a feeding pipe, now she can now drink a litre of milk in one go. Katy and Jess are waiting, not very patiently to get their breakfasts while Rocky, as ever, is making sure they are all safe, hes a great big softie.

Katy playing with Doffodil in the rockery

Posted because they are so cute!

It's a hard life

So to expand the theme of things you get used to, as per previous posting, I suppose I would find it hard to explain why there are three hardy hill sheep sat on the sofa after eating their dinners watching me type this. Having said never to the idea of having a house sheep I find Jess the white faced lamb on the right following me around the house watching me prepare her meals, in fact watching me cook dinner, one of her relatives in all honesty but she seems to cope.

Every time we put them out, where they are supposed to be, amongst the buttercups and daisies of the grassy bank that makes up part of the garden they race back to the sanctuary of the sofa.

Threatened with banishment to the goat house, now empty of ewes waiting to lamb, one of them feigns illness. Jess is the current faker, and she is without doubt a right little faker. Off her food for three days, only eating if Tracey feeds her, they do seem to have bonded, bless, she started losing weight. Instead of gutsing down a litre of milk a day she's been on 200ml a day. Not enough to grow big and strong and not enough it would seem to allow her to go and endure the inclement April weather, and as they are a family group they have all got to stay indoors. Enjoying comforts such as the sofa, the cat blanket in front of the rayburn and the dog beds by the radiator.

I am used to spotting and avoiding lamb mines and mopping up their little widdles, no point in house training them as they are not staying long. Are they?

For some inexplicable reason the central heating has been put on for them, the central heating hasn't been used since we moved in, whatever the weather we refused to use it, part of our economy drive and greener lifestyle, yet somehow the pretty likkle lambs have persuaded it on.

We breed em hard up at the Rock.