The sky fell in

The day erupted with a very rare event, a blue on blue attack. While I was tending to the important things in life, teaching the apprentice smallholder the finer points of sausage sandwich construction and an appreciation of Pink Floyd, my beautiful and oh so patient wife was trying to raise the alarm. When she could finally be heard over my "singing" a tuneless rendition of careful with that axe Eugene, little t and I tried to make a sentence out of "Don't know whats going on...sounds like murdered goats.....Trevor"

Poor Kayleigh who is at best of times nervous of the great outdoors due to the sky about to fall on her had been let out of her enclosure by the Pgoor(More likely Maisey standing up leaning on the door and her weight sprang the bolt). Having seen the doorway to a different world Trevor got amongst the goats and with his usual approach of if it stays still eat it if it moves mate it set about trying to create a new species by mounting Kayleigh who would have run away save for Trevor now hanging on and biting the back of her neck. Somehow fully laden (Anglo Nubian's are not pack animals so this was a feat of strength) Kayleigh staggered down the lane and crashed into the front door of the cottage in order to gain attention. In case this failed to elicit the necessary response she gave the universal cry of despair uttered by Anglo Nubian's when being sexually molested by a miniature stallion, which in case you have not heard it sounds like several cats in a paper shredder.

Opening the front door created an interesting mix of randy stallion, terrified goat, excited Bernese and yours truly barefoot trying to avoid injury and protect milk supply. A well aimed wellington distracted sex beast and Kayleigh was given sanctuary in the conservatory while footwear was used properly and animals given a chance for pulse rates to settle. The disturbed goat was taken back to her stall, at this point Easter decided to drop a lamb and so another day began at Rock HQ.

All quiet on the western front a quick headcount revealed that all lambs had survived another night, admittedly Audi and Izzy were in the kitchen all night so were given a bit of a boost, but 5 lambs, 11 piglets, one quail all going strong.

The majority of the day revolved around either building things for pigs, moving pigs, feeding pigs, chasing pigs, getting boar out of large green tank, running away from angry boar who objected to being made to get out of the tank and watching the piglets enjoy their first day outside the farrowing pen. Tomorrow should be quieter, I'm going back to work.

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.

Finally!

Last night was, for the time being, the last night of interrupted sleep at Rock HQ for a while as Easter has finally condescended to give birth. She delivered at 9.10 BST a strapping ram lamb called Ivor, who alongside his cousin Levi will be brought on and sold as pedigree Ryeland rams later in the year, thus ensuring Crispen has done his bit for the Queen and contributed to the gene pool of this ancient breed of sheep.

Mind you given the trouble they have caused since their arrival at Rock HQ I can see why they are unpopular amongst mainstream farmers, the single large lamb takes twice as long to mature as commercial stock and giving birth to such large lambs is an eye watering experience to watch so it must be excruciating first hand. No wonder they delayed it for as long as possible!

Easter is an extraordinary ewe, she has all the mothering instinct of a Dyson Hoover, which she is ably demonstrating in the clip above. Instead of communicating with Ivor in the low grunt sheep use solely for talking to their lambs Easter is busy stuffing her face with the fresh hay put down to make it cosy for her labour. Last year she gave birth to twins, unusual for a Ryeland, and she refused to feed them. We didn't realise this was happening until it was too late so the lambs missed out on the vital colostrum milk feed so one died and the other, Daffodil, now thinks she is a dog after being bottle fed and running with the pack instead of mixing with her own kind. She is the one in the picture a few posts below stealing the biscuits from Poppy.

Ivor is doing well despite Easters limitations and we made sure that he had a substantial feed before we left them to it to start the days chores.

Spring cleaning! The only drawback of the season as far as I am concerned! The workshop hadn't been touched since last December so was way past a clear out. Pass the broom.

We'll weather the weather...

....whatever the weather...

......whether we like it or not!

Its been a mixed bag today! It made feeding the animals all the more interesting! Life would be boring if it was sunny, there would be no mud to slip over in, no bottomless mud pools waiting to claim the unwary wellington, no stinking stagnant ditches brimful of festering foulness that the dogs just have to wade through before rushing back indoors to dry off on the sofa.

I mean if it was sunny the pigs might be outside rather than wandering around the barn aimlessly nosing around, moving old tyres that contain their feed buckets until that got boring and they found the huge 6 inch oak beam, the type that is key to the ramshackle building being able to continue to carry on defying the forces of gravity, the beam that was buried several feet into the floor of the building. I say was as its now swinging precariously, hanging by an assortment of ancient rusty nine inch nails that fasten it to the roof support, as the dear little pigs have found that they could dig down and around it and move the whole internal wall one foot to the left. What they thought they were trying to achieve is lost on the casual observer, perhaps a better quality dirt to roll in, however the damage is done and had it not been for the fact that yours truly "refurbished" the falling down outbuilding when we first arrived which luckily involved building a substantial door frame that now finds itself holding the door as well as a substantial portion of the roof.

If it was sunny I wouldn't mind the fact that Easter, one of our Ryelands, resolutely refuses to take shelter with all the other sheep in the goat houses and is currently lay on the compost heap in the pouring rain showing every sign that this. for her, is the most suitable place to give birth.

Life's so much more interesting with our weather, don't you think!