Surprise Surprise...Smallholdings a lorra lorra laffs!

A smallholders life is not a dull one, its full of surprises, in fact I would hypothesize that the more animals you get the more surprises you have.

Today is a good example, a typical day at paid work, the usual routine, reports to read, assessments to go through, coffee and biscuits to consume and the everyday dilemma of salad or chips for lunch. Now don’t get me wrong I love my job and the team I work with are second to none, but on a sunny spring day like today I only wanted to be at Rock HQ. It didn’t help that two of my colleagues who were working from home reminded me of this fact when they phoned, ostensibly to talk about work but, I suspect, really they wanted to tell me how sunny it was and that they were just going out for a walk with their dog in the woods or going out into their garden just to potter and enjoy the day.

So work time finished and we made our way back to Rock HQ to see what the animals were up to. Surprise number one was discovering a Mexican standoff in the kennels.

Due to lack of space and an expanding number of animals Maggie the mental goat has been evicted from kennel 6. She has now assumed the role of guard goat and sleeps on my coat, up against the door to the kennels and the goat house to ensure no nasty intruder types get in, or more often, that no dog gets out without running the gauntlet of a goat with attitude and the horns to back it up.

During the day our two Berners, Rocky and Reba spend the day with Faith the Gordon Setter, Poppy the Golden Retriever, Pip the mental Collie and two ancient Beagles Preston and Passion safe in the kennels. They all get along nicely and settle down very quickly in the morning and wait patiently until we return and they can have free run of the hill. When the car approaches they announce their appreciation by barking, baying or howling, it’s quite a welcome. Today however we were surprised to find no assault on the ears as we parked the car. As I approached the kennel block it was clear something was amiss.

Kennel 5 and 6 are currently occupied by Ryeland ewes either expecting lambs or having had lambs. So Rita is in 5, with Bonny, a very big bouncy 3 day old ewe lamb whilst 6 is playing host to Roxy and Rosie, two expectant ewes.

Or that’s how it was when we left this morning.

Sheep are very placid creatures, docile, domesticated, wooly non threatening vegetarians. Ours are very used to dogs, they have had to be given the number and size of some of them. Our dogs are very used to sheep, sharing a hill with around 300 of them belonging to various farmers. They bump along nicely, an entente cordial exists between the canine and sheep of Rock HQ. What the dogs haven’t encountered is a sheep protecting its new born. Today they did, up close and personal.

The reason the dogs were so quiet was obvious, Rita had pushed over the temporary barricade separating her from the pack and had intimidated the dogs into submission. All seven of them were crammed into kennel 1 at the far end with Poppy acting as negotiator trying to facilitate safe passage past the killer sheep who was viciously stamping her foot onto the concrete. This accompanied by a nasty tone of bleat had terrified the dogs so much that they had hidden at the back of the block. Rita saw me and immediately broke off hostilities figuring she had done her job of protecting Bonny and food was probably imminently available from yours truly. Rita, as meek as a sheep returned to bay 5 and waited for dinner. Still the pack refused to rush out and enjoy the evening sunshine. Poppy was now trembling in the doorway to the kennel, a few whimpers of terror confirmed that all was still not well in dog world.

Bonny, brimful with confidence was now asserting her authority over the hounds, strutting up and down the block daring the dogs to move. Order was restored when I picked up the recalcitrant lamb and placed her back with her Mum. Breathing huge sighs of relief the brave dogs ran out to run amok and steal eggs from the hens.

A bigger surprise waited in kennel 6, Rosie had given birth and there was an enormous lamb, now called Maude wandering around quite contentedly. Her arrival brings the tally to three from three; two more ewes have yet to deliver, Roxy and Easter.

There were more surprises to come.

We live in an idyllic setting, we call it the Rock, really it should be called The Cliff as we live under a cliff, which in pre historic times was a quarry, several monoliths on far away hills are thought to have originated from what is now our garden. So at the back of the cottage a cliff face looms, attracting all sorts of flora and fauna. As we sorted the sheep dog dispute we saw the cliff now had two new inhabitants. God knows how they got there but Brandy the Brecon Buff Gander and Blossom the Ebden Goose were on a ledge showing all the signs of taking up permanent residence and nesting.

This was not good from a variety of angles, particularly from the angle I was looking at them, some 30 feet below. Not wanting to have them become dinners for Mr. Fox we had to get them down. Not an easy task. Given that I used to be a pretty good climber I set off, deciding to approach them from above, driving them down the rock face to safety. As I closed in on them Brandy showed unique climbing skills and descended beak first, wings outstretched, not flying, but not exactly falling until he crashed into the stock fence at the base of the cliff. It was there he confirmed a long suspected rule of smallholding, that animals can and will get through holes in fences substantially less than half its body size.

He very noisily protested at having to leave a nest he had spent all day building. I was now sliding on my backside towards a very angry Blossom who was welding her backside to the tatty collection of twigs and moss that constituted her new home. Fearful that I might go the same way as Brandy, face first down the cliff I decided that what was needed to speedily conclude matters was a subtle blend of goose psychology and brute force. With a cry of “Comehereyou!” I grabbed her round the neck and launched her sideways over the fence where she flew (fell) through the trees and gently landed on her well feathered backside where she noisily soothed her ruffled feathers with Brandy’s devoted help.

I on the other hand was now balancing on a goose nest above the cottage pondering what the fire brigade might say if they had to save an overweight one armed climber from himself.

Eventually I scrambled back up the way I had slid down and vowed that should any further incursions be made onto the rock face by beasts they would be brought down to floor level with assistance from the gun. Risking life and my remaining useful limbs to save Christmas Dinners was no longer an option.

Lost in these thoughts I was now crossing Oak Bank, Crispy’s home, his patch. Crispy is our pedigree Ryeland Ram, a huge and friendly beast who has never caused any problems since he arrived. I gave him a friendly tickle between the ears and continued homeward.

It was then I discovered a completely new rule of smallholding, never , ever turn your back on your trusty Ryeland Ram, especially if you have been cuddling new born lambs, his offspring, some fifteen minutes earlier. The smell of them must have been all over my clothing and as the sap rises in springtime so does the libido and aspirations of a rampant Ram who could quite easily be called EverReady. He felt a need to assert himself and must have thought I was trying to be the new ram on the block.

I didn’t see him charge me but certainly felt it as he hit me head down in the centre of my back, I managed to deflect the second blow as I spun round by lifting my right leg and allowing him to batter my shin not my testicles. A swift right hook to the jaw stopped his challenge for supremacy of Oak Bank and he retired defeated to the water trough to bathe his wounded ego.

I returned to the cottage singing the theme tune to Rocky having defeated the upstart Ram, it will take a while for the bruising to my right hand to subside but if he wants a return match I’m ready.

There’s only one alpha male at the Rock and its not Crispy.