Danger UXG!

I should remember that Fate watches over us and when bored or provoked intervenes. I must have woken it with my cursing directed at our goats, who, since Saturday have eaten all the tomatoes (and plants) the fig tree, the grape vine, smashed the back out of the one greenhouse, eaten all the Jerusalem Artichokes and strawberry plants, the rocket and the final courgettes that had been allowed to become marrows. Having polished off all that they continued to help themselves from the various deposits of hay and solid feedstuff strategically placed for pigs, sheep and horses. They are partial to the dog biscuits as well and yours truly has to fight them off with a few well placed right hooks as I try to get to the kennels through the goat horde.

Each morning is a rush to get to the feed store, fill the buckets and get out again without being detected or trampled. The goats have an internal radar and can home in on any bucket carrying biped with uncanny accuracy come rain or shine, in full daylight or darkest night you know full well you will encounter a goat as you navigate the smallholding.

Not this morning.

All quiet on the western front.

As the cliche says. Too quiet.

Feeding the pigs unmolested was a new experience but one I wish I hadn't had when I found Archie spreadeagled on the floor, looking like a goat who had suffered a parachute malfunction, flat out, bleating miserably. The trail of green mucus ridden pooh a clear sign he was about to shuffle off his mortal coil. I picked him up and took him to the stable knowing he was about to be an ex goat. He had entrotoximia, he had exploded. It soon became apparent that dotted around the smallholding were the rest of the herd, all UXG's (unexploded goats) but reaching critical mass. We needed urgent veterinary help, time was short, especially for the goats.

The UXG's were carefully led into the stable and the vet summonsed. Work was called, we would be very late today.

Entrotoximia is a fatal illness, swift in onset, as little as two hours and the goat can be dead. Symptoms for it listed in the how to keep goats book include dead goat. Its that certain. Ours are vaccinated against it but this offers little or no protection. Its caused by the rumen in the stomach changing from alkaline to acid, this triggers a massive rise in a bacteria the goat has in its stomach which eats the stomach walls away, causes shock, septicemia and death. The cause of the sudden change in ph is usually caused by eating to much rich food or too much of a different food. The goats had been pushing their luck with the garden foraging but survived, the raid on the food store was now, in all likelihood about to prove fatal. Juliet the dominant female was the worst off as she would have defended the food store against all comers, until stuffed, then the others would have got a look in. Archie, one of the kids lacked the constitution of the adults and so succumbed quicker. By the time the vet was called Archie had died.

Paul, a very knowledgeable vet (unusual for a vet to know so much about UXG's anyway) donned his protective gear and entered the stable. Maggie and Geisha, the high maintenance Anglo Nubian's had begun to rally and were even cudding (chewing last nights food again) so they were deemed safely diffused and let back outside. Juliet, Bravo and Ambrose were in a sorry state and their life clocks were ticking away. Massive quantities of anti-biotic and minerals were injected into their backsides, Ambrose cried like a baby at this point. Its an unnerving sound, a goat sounding like a baby crying. All were given a milky type solution that stank like vegetable soup which was designed to get their rumen the right side of the ph scale. Paul was very good with them and we liked him, not sure what the goats thought of him but he had done medicines best, what happened now was up to the small god of the goat universe.

We went to work knowing that two out of six were fine. Doesn't sound good but its the first time that Fate has been beaten here as far as goat illness goes. We also thought that two more might be saved, Ambrose and Bravo were showing signs of recovery. Juliet was only fifty fifty as to whether she would be alive when we got back.

On return Maggie and Geisha were in the tree line like nothing had happened watching us with interest, ready to intercept any buckets destined for other animals. In the stable Ambrose began to eat the fresh hay we put out. Bravo moved to it and stuck her muzzle in it, not eating but still upright and breathing.

Juliet was in the corner, her breathing a horrible rasping sound, she looked around the same as first thing but was now off her legs and it doesn't look good.

Ambrose is recovered, I think its safe to say, Bravo perhaps 60-40, if she can be persuaded to eat I would be more hopeful. As for Juliet I think there is only a slim chance she will be alive by morning.

Half the herd saved, maybe more but its not a game I want to play often, if at all. Fate plays rough with smallholders and likes to win.

How to make friends and influence people!

The goats further endeared themselves tonight when we got back from work. On opening the tack room door, where the food is kept, Juliet staggered out, totally stuffed having gorged herself all day from the feed bins. Maggie was next to waddle out leaving Barry the lamb stuck fast. He had also helped himself but had got tangled in the reins of a bridle. On seeing the state of her saddles and horsey bondage gear Tracey agreed that its time the goats went.

All cut up

Its not a good idea to burn the candle at both ends as a smallholder, early nights with a cup of horlicks is the order of the day if you want to make progress on the big jobs planned for the morning. So spending a very nice evening over dinner with Mr20% and his lovely wife, the Stable Sprite and his lovely wife and yours truly who has the loveliest and most patient wife ever was a great idea right up until 5.30 am when I got up to go and fetch Rocky (Spot) a Berner pup we had sold who was coming back to live with us, see the Dolyhir Bernese Mountain Dog pages for the full story.

Lack of sleep really helped the long drive but by 9.30 we were back at HQ and getting on with the jobs. Concreting was planned but our number one concreter had locked himself out of his house so was stuck the other side of the county. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as there was no way I felt like that much hard work today and the routine jobs that needed doing, getting water to the horses, pigs and so on all ate into the daylight hours and before we knew it the day was over. Messing about with leaky pipework that couldn't hold the pressure of the water from the bore hole without falling apart stiffened my resolve to contact Steve and see if my brilliant idea of a pump in the well is actually that.

In between walking up and down the hill connecting and reconnecting pipes, rushing back to turn various valves and taps to regulate the water pressure I thought of many things, not least of which was can you buy a 20mm to 25mm connector at 4.30 on a sunday afternoon. The local Spar I suspect would sell me many things but not this very necessary item. As 20million gallons of ice cold water shot out of the suddenly disconnected pipe hitting me with the force of a water cannon soaking me from the waist down I dutifully forced the pipe back in place and adjusted the pressure of the flow with one of three taps placed along the length of pipe, once harmony had been achieved with the three taps the water manages to stay within the confines of the pipe and into the various containers and drinking vessels used by the inhabitants of Rock HQ. The three taps being on two separate pipes and thirty metres apart just adds to the entertainment that can be had running in water filled boots.

As the water started to arrive in its intended destinations I perused the pigs fate, soon to be part of the food chain, these pigs have grown to be the friendliest pigs ever raised at Rock HQ. Plans are afoot to build some proper pig pens and do it all properly next year, which will hopefully lead to an opportunity to raise some revenue by animal husbandry rather than lose it like we usually do. This was a topic of last nights dinner, aside from the many ways you can butcher a pig, how do you make smallholding pay so you can do it full time and not work elsewhere.

As I squelched back up to the disconnected pipe for the fifth and final time of the afternoon I really knew that this was what I wanted to do, its so much more fun than work. Its hard, chaotic, messy, fills you with hope, then despair, but I have never been happier. So, much thought will have to be applied to this puzzle, how can I do this full time. Meantime I shall continue to buy lottery tickets.

No prizewinners

The remains of the tomatoes after the goats found them.

How many more times?

It had been a great day, the Stable Sprite and his apprentice Gremlin took me from the sanctuary of Rock HQ to a BNP rally. This one was not attended by skinheads of limited intellect, rather a gathering of pig fanciers intent on buying and selling the finest pork on its trotters the country could offer. The British National Pigclub was having an auction.

For once head ruled heart and I sat on my hands as others bought the magnificent animals. The BBC were there filming, Jimmy of the Jimmy's farm "reality" TV programme was there and spending what was hopefully his own not license payers money on potential pork chops. Stable Sprite also refrained from bidding, at one point it our virtual auction we would have been coming back to the ranch with 19 assorted pigs, luckily the van wouldn't have taken that sort of cargo and we had forgotten our credit cards.

On the journey back I plotted how to get rid of all the goats, sheep and hangers on, build new fences (having just forked out for a post bodger it would be silly not to) recycle the tin roof off the "barn" to build proper pig proof fencing, using an old water tank as a pig ark and getting Steve to install a pump in the well to provide clean water to all the animals rather than rely on my Heath Robinson water collection system from the stream.

Back at HQ I did my rounds, feeding and watering. I had seen the goats were in the garden again but the constant battle has worn me down so I left that encounter til last. When I finally faced that challenge their antics had left the one greenhouse with three smashed panes of glass, basically the back wall gone and the tomato house devoid of its namesake. The only greenery in either house was stalks. Chewed.

This was a camel back breaker.

They are now destined for sale or curry.

Enoughs enough!

Feed me now!

My extended weekend got off to a good start as the pigs, probably upset that I hadn't fed them as early as I usually do, broke through the wall of the chicken run and rampaged around the yard stopping now and then to grab mouthfuls of hay.

For a while chaos ensued as dogs, goats and poultry all either fought their corner or ran about excitedly letting me know there was yet another pork incursion. These have to be the most persistent pigs we have had for breaking out, but the most amenable to bucket following pigs ever. They dutifully followed yours truly back along the lane where they were temporarily corralled in the overgrown chicken run while I got on with my day.

As I cleared the lane and bank of twigs and branches and disposed of them on a huge bonfire the pigs busily grubbed around and snouted out self sown potatoes and scoffed yards of nettle roots. Midday saw white van man venture into our domain with a special delivery. Not the happiest of chaps when the magnificent seven bundled inside his van and launched themselves at his half eaten chocolate bar. I tried to jolly him along by pointing out the damage to his front drivers wing and headlight. Apparently yesterday had been a bad day too, today got worse when a goat of dubious parentage tried to make off with his sandwiches and a very fast thieving collie ran off with his crisps. I mumbled my apologies as he snatched back his electronic delivery book and clambered back into the safety of his van.

The packages were quickly opened.

Weapons of mass destruction had arrived. The chainsaw and hedge trimmer were soon in action until rain stopped play.

No goats allowed

Earl having a close encounter with the goat proof fence.

Another year!

Its nearly three years since we took the leap of faith and began our smallholding adventures. It doesn't seem like anytime at all, its raced by. The evenings are drawing in, dark by seven, dark at seven in the morning and it only seems like yesterday that we were waiting for spring to sprung and yet its autumn already! Our third one. Actually I can only remember two on account of being off my face on drugs autumn 2007 for pain relief and infection control but that's another story. We are currently enjoying some fantastic autumn colours on our hill.