The Great Escape!

A good morning, Springtime our pedigree Ryeland has given birth to Hercules, a little Ryeland Ram. Born at 8 am weighing 5 pound. He's a lucky boy, not only is he going to keep his tackle he is going to be allowed to live longer than 12 months as we are going to let him add to the gene pool.

So he is a pampered lamb.

Springtime is being a great mother, its amazing how they do it so instinctively. Easter, Springtime's sister, watched the whole process with ever widening eyes and when Hercules appeared she looked like she would feint. I suppose she does know that she is going to produce a cousin for him soon. Maggie the goat jumped into the pen for a few seconds thinking there was food on offer but soon scarpered once she realised what was happening.

So now Roxy, Rita and Rosie are housed in the kennels with the dogs. Faith our brave setter was cowering in her bed until the nasty vicious sheep were contained safely behind barricades, only then did she venture outside.

So as the Rock was all in order we ventured out into the world for a spot of lunch with some friends, Adrian and Ann. It was very pleasant and nice to get out amongst normal people for a change. Adrian provided a splendid lunch and offered a glass of chilled white to go with the smoked salmon. I so wanted a glass but had decided not to drink any alcohol for a while and have not had any since Jan 1st 2008. This must have planted a seed because after returning to Rock HQ and feeding and bedding down the animals Tracey and I decided that as it was holidays we would have a glass of the cider given to us by Paul on our surprise visit the day we fetched Rene.

After such a break from the falling down water a well chilled wine glass of cider really hit the spot. Particularly as we had been working quite hard, moving bales, mucking out and so on. Well Tracey had, I'm excused hard labour due to my poorly arm. But it is tiring watching your wife lug buckets around, or carrying a bale of hay under each arm, sometimes I have to sit and watch as its so taxing. Just as the warm glow of the apple beverage really began to rival the woodburners efforts Tracey remembered we had not put Trevor the pony away. Hes a miniature Shetland, about 33 inches high. Shetland is pronounced Shitland, in case you were wondering.

So we forced ourselves out into the cold and darkening evening armed with little torches that really are no use at all, not for finding dark brown miniature horses amongst the gorse and bushes of the common. Just as we were about to give up and return to Rock HQ to start a search up the hill and into the cauldron a very large gorse bush next to the track set off at high speed away from me. Trevor had broken cover! Tracey set off in pursuit but fell arse over elbow leaving me to head the little Shitland off at the pass. As he has a mane like an explosion in a mattress factory there was a lot to grab hold of and I held the struggling beast whilst Tracey extricated herself from the prickly fauna.

Suitably chastised he was frogmarched the half mile back to the house and returned to his stable. His running off confirmed the smallholder rule, theres never nothing to do.

We returned to the warm glow of the fire and topped up our glasses.

Cheers!