Homeward Bound

Apollo stretching his legs while we clear out his stable.

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.

When the wind blows

Winter arrived early today and unfortunately a bitter north wind, rain and snow coincided with a visit from Mr20%, his lovely wife Annie and their friends and sproglets. They were en route for the Red Kite feeding centre and called in to meet and greet the animal clan of Rock HQ.

Things started well, some Ryelands looked suitably cute chomping their way through the haystack, Apollo wandered lazily around looking gorgeous and Trevor didn't bite the hand trying to feed it. Geisha goatfully stood up when they oooed and aaahed over the stable door absolutely milking the sympathy vote by limping over so she could be fussed.

The guided tour was cut short by the weather, sloshing round in freezing mud, avoiding stepping into various animal pooh whilst patting belligerent animals is an acquired taste that's not made sweeter by driving rain and biting winds and I could see that extolling the virtues of a self supporting lifestyle to captive visitors with drips on the ends of their noses was not the way to make new friends or influence people.

Trevor scuttled back to his stable, the lambs hid and I could see my guests had suffered enough so I relented and let them adjourn to the comfort and warmth of Rock HQ. Spirits were raised by hot beverages provided by Bethan and bacon rolls provided by Gerty. The adventurous amongst the group tried the venison and smoked garlic burgers courtesy of Bambi. Having convinced them all of the benefits of home cured bacon I managed to sell some plastic bags with free bacon and free pork in, the bags are so expensive to replace so I have to charge for them, whilst the children watched videos on the blog of the main ingredients.

Baby Blues

Reba, one of our Bernese Mountain dogs, has convinced herself she is pregnant. Nine weeks ago she was up to mischief with Rocky in the bracken, luckily she didn't end up pregnant but so sure of her imminent motherhood she has started to produce milk, built a nest and has become very defensive of the house when visitors arrive.

She has two "puppies" who she attends to, a toy highland cow that moos disconcertingly when she squeezes it and a toy lion that purrs when its moved.

Here are a couple of pictures of the depressed and confused want to be mum looking after the lion, I dread to think what she will be like tomorrow, its her due date.

Only fools and horses.

Actually this is a film quiz.

Match the titles to the pictures. Death Wish. Death Wish 2. Death Wish 3.

The evil glint in Trevor's eye is real, not computer enhanced. This is little Steve trying to remove a bramble from a ponies tail.

How this ended happily I shall never know but somehow Trevor forgave him and didnt stamp all over him.

I imagine when little Steve grows up he will swim with Great White Sharks, just because he can.

Coming through!

Apollo and Rocky playing chase!

A quiet day in the country

Tracey has gone to stay at her Mum's to help with her Dad who is still in hospital so I have been left to run the farm by myself. The bonfire from yesterday was still going but that was nothing compered to the conflagration Bethan and I started by mid morning.

When JJ and Kay came up to stay we cleared the hedgerow that kept the garden in eternal darkness. The branches were piled along the lane as at the time we were too busy to clear them properly. These have now been annoying me for a few months now, you can see in the top picture. Today was the day that all changed. For once Bethan was persuaded to come outside after I promised her the sky wouldn't fall in and the strange yellow ball in the heaven was nothing to worry about and she set about the task of clearing the lane with manic enthusiasm.

By lunchtime we, well mostly Beth, had removed the offending branches from the ditch and they were burning furiously on a bonfire by the barn. Our efforts were appreciated by Daffodil our pet Ryeland lamb as each pile of branches moved revealed a nice fresh patch of grass for her to devour. Job done Beth and I had bacon butties and I was wondering what to do next when Steve the electrician appeared in the lane with his little boy. This child knows no fear and once I get his parents permission I might publish a set of pictures of an angelic looking child trying to tug a bramble out of an angelic looking shitland ponies tail. Messing with the dangerous end of Trevor is ill advised at the best of times, however this spectacle was being played out some twenty feet up at the base of the cliff at the back of Rock HQ. Had Trevor done an impression of Buckeroo the little lad would have followed a trajectory like Tigger on acid and may, if lucky, have had his fall cushioned by landing on a fat one armed bloke taking photos. Steve would have been equally unable to assist solve his son's plight as he was carrying a cup of tea and a mug of chocolate milk. If the child survived he would at least have something to take the taste of hooves and blood away.

Why was Steve visiting, well he was lending me a chainsaw.

Me, alone on the farm with a chainsaw, what could possibly go wrong?

I started the beast and remembering the words of Tracey my beautiful and oh so patient wife before she left "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" I decided that what she would do before attacking the trees by the stables with a borrowed chainsaw whilst balancing on a broken ladder using the chainsaw one handed Tracey would practice. So I shouted Bethan to come and help and set off up the lane to prune the Sycamore that blocks all sunlight into the corner of Willow rise. As you can see from the bottom picture the footpath was only blocked for a few hours.

I decided to leave the trees by the stable.


For now.