Seeing things

The weather was kind to us today as the concretathon continued in the Corral OK. The ponies and Thor watched from the battlefield of Oak Bank and urged us to get the job done quickly so they could have dry hooves. The downpour overnight meant part of the morning was spent digging the drainage ditch that will go alongside the concrete pad but by 9.45 George was in action.

I must admit to having a bit of a downer for the first four barrow loads, then a whole host of why am I doing this thoughts for the next four, followed by some really dark thoughts as the next four loads combined with the previous only covered the first three feet. As we were doing over 15 feet even with my math it was going to be a long day.
Perseverance is the key and slowly slowly the mountain of dry ingredients was transformed into a very neat concrete pad. Rocky kept me company for part of the day, he replaced Spotty who dutifully watched every shovel full and followed every barrow load and didn't put a paw wrong. Rocky on the other paw thought his best occupation was to be a trip hazard or to drain the buckets of water.
Mid afternoon saw the days task completed. I chose to ignore the mangalitza piglet digging up the driveway, putting it down to a figment on my imagination. This was a very active figment who just before dark climbed the fence and returned to the pig pen when the evening carrots were delivered.

This time Rocky managed to resist the temptation to add an interesting pattern to the concrete pad.

Keep it clean!

I don't know how people show Mangalitza pigs, they are as intent as Bernese Mountain Dogs on getting dirty, how to do keep them clean given this commitment to filth?

If only they could talk

Actually I am quite grateful our animals cant talk, I do sometimes wonder what they might say about me and my antics. No doubt the Berners would have been delivering rubbish jokes today like "Are you sure we are Bernese Mountain Dogs?" prompting the response "Of course" and then " Why do you ask?" to which they would have replied in chorus "Because we're cold!" as today it has been bone chillingly cold.

So cold in fact that Pritch, our intrepid builder, turned up to finish the block work to the annex (the one we hoped to finish in summer) but had to stop at lunchtime as ice was forming in the concrete mixer as it mixed. Personally I think he was just scared of Snowy our very large cockerel who has decided he hates builders and attempts to remove their calf muscles, often with hilarious consequences particularly when the builder is bent over in his van. The sudden application of beak and claw to the calf leads to the most exquisite sounding bang on the head as contact is made with the roof of the van as builder jumps up in agony. How we laughed.

The Technohermit called to liven up the day as he was having a crisis, this was rectified with some turkey soup (the last of the Christmas turkey was eaten today) and me turning up at his abode with my impressively big chopper.

As I approached his cave I could see four walkers braving the ice fields of the bonsai mountain, fully kitted out with Arctic gear setting off along the track ahead. Soon our paths crossed, the Berners got to them first giving them the enthusiastic "What are you doing in my garden!" barks and wags of the tail. I cheerfully wished the walkers an equally enthusiastic "Happy New Year!" to which the man at the back of the group screamed and grabbed hold of his colleague, the one at the front, obviously the leader turned and stammered "Look mate we don't want any trouble" and backed away as I continued past. In all honesty they probably haven't encountered a man walking the hills carrying a big axe before. Especially as the axe bearer had blood down the front of his trousers and all across his boots from dealing with a mortally wounded chicken that had had an accident with a Bernese Mountain Dog only minutes beforehand. The silver foil carrier bag laden with fresh turkey soup might have looked like it contained the severed head of my latest victim, so rather than get involved in complicated explanations that would have inevitably led to me pointing with the axe I left them to their panic and continued up the hill. I chanced a quick glance behind and could see them in a heated debate as whether or not to follow my bloody footprints into the trees.

Much chopping of wood later my canine entourage and I returned to Rock HQ and cooked a pot roast and dealt with the sudden acquisition of the prime ingredient of a cock a leekie soup.


Round two. Taking the pot roast to the hermit involved walking with extreme care across the ever thickening ice with our progress in the darkness vaguely illuminated by a novelty pig shaped torch that cast a poor excuse for a beam of light from its nostrils. This went well, right up to the point on the return trip when I invented a new sport, Ice Windmilling.

The interesting point to note here was that in the time it took to cook a pot roast, three hours maximum, Murphy had arrived and had accidentally burst his water pipe from the well that serves his holiday cottage. This nugget of information, given by the hermit as he gratefully received his portion of hot dinner, leaped from my hind brain a millisecond too late as the poor plastic pig failed to illuminate the safe descent. At the point where the ice covered track was steepest I gratefully placed my booted left foot into a patch of fresh green grass which crunched rather pleasingly under my bulk. As my conscious brain asked "Why was the grass so green, so clean even?" The answer screamed by the hind brain arrived just after the application of my right foot to a fantastic new ultra smooth sheet of ice that came courtesy of a burst pipe. In homage to all comedic falls I did the frantic two foot shuffle, faster than any dancer on ice, simultaneously windmilling both arms around which provided an albeit it weak but none the less recognisable strobe effect from the whirring plastic pig. Whilst the Berners sat and watched the very interesting stop motion effect passing of their master I uttered the universal cry of those suddenly finding physics controlling their destiny of "Ohshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!"

As dictated in moments like this where sudden death is a possibility time stood still, and whilst in reality the whole process took less than three seconds it felt like a lifetime. In my light/dark torment I considered the best way to fall, I even asked questions like will breaking my right arm hurt as much as my left arm did, how did I miss this ice on the way up and most importantly why were the Berners now humming the Ski Sunday theme tune. In the timestoodstillness of it all I decided falling was not an option and I should try and prevent injury by riding it out. Just as I adopted the classic snowboarding stance, plastic pig valiantly showing the way, just as I was starting to enjoy the sensation of speed I came to an abrupt stop. Even in the dim light cast by the pig and the lights from the holiday cottage I could see the cause of my misfortune, Murphy's back. He was surprised to see me slalom past his left ear chased by an out of control Golden Retriever who thinks every sudden movement is a race and watched me cushion my fall nearby in a snowy gorse bush. Things could not get any worse I thought as the Berners ably assisted my embarrassed extrication. It did. The dread laden phrase rang out and froze in the icy air. "I can see your busy but....."

Express Delivery!!

I was wondering who had dug up part of the drive when we got back from work. The answer came grunting from the lane, running towards us from The Cauldron were Bronwyn and Gwendolyn, two very happy Berkshires who had managed to escape from the pen again. This is despite beefed up defences and new toys to play with. The boys were still happily contained within the perimeter fence, not this pair, they have the exploring gene.

For a while the Berners, pigs and goats mooched around the yard/building site until with a squeal of terror Gwen sprinted up the lane closely followed by the Stable Sprite's van towing a trailer with the next months feed.

And the winner is.....

Today we left Rock HQ to attend a local show, a great opportunity to meet up with other farmers, smallholders and wannabes and compare notes. Firstly we met Champ's owners who started three years ago, same time as us, without previous experience and lucky enough to have sold a business to buy their smallholding outright. Champ here is a lovely Shire Horse who works their land in the traditional way. They also keep pigs and so we were able to discuss the rights and wrongs of modern farming and how tasty home grown bacon is. We didn't get her name but, please believe me, he was another Steve, really he was, and the guy who refurbished Champ's cart was also called Steve.

These two lovely dogs were taken straight from their farmyard and entered into the dog show. We thought it would be useful social experience, a small local show where no-one was taking it too seriously. What we discovered was that there is no such thing as a non serious dog show and some of the entrants had travelled from afar to bag rosettes and dog food samples. The first indication that its all a bit serious was as we parked alongside a couple from Birmingham who were in the process of putting up a tent to accommodate their five Cocker Spaniels, cages and mobile grooming parlour.

Dotty who had never been on a lead until today, seen children or hundreds of adults before coped very well with being prodded and poked by the Judge but steadfastly refused to walk the ring. She came a very creditable fourth and got her first rosette. The Judge told me after that I had a lovely Bernese, for Gods sake get her ring trained. OK.

Next to enter the arena was Rocky, her dad and pictured above psyching himself up for the competition hes on the left). Thankfully the Judge missed him slipping his lead and running away, when Tracey finally cornered the brute and dragged him back he did his circuit of the ring and came first, then fourth in the all comers arena. So we are very happy with them both and Rocky had a reward of a bowl of ice cream. Their rosettes are proudly pinned to the Bernese tapestry in our lounge.

On the way home we called in at the Stable Sprites smallholding. It looks a bit different to the last time we were there, basically he has been let loose with a small digger and cleared a vast area of trees, rocks and anything he hasn't liked the look of. The desolated site will be seeded with root crops for his pigs. Another of his sows had dropped a litter overnight. Here you can see one of the Berkshire sows having a snooze with her piglets at her tail. The larger piglet in one that is from the other sow and only three weeks old. They grow so fast!

Endurance training!

So much happens at Rock HQ its hard to keep up with events. For instance in the last twenty four hours the old car and van have gone to the great re cycling plant in the sky,I made our bed, spoke to the BBC about a programme they are making involving fostering (they are apparently sending me the scripts to look at, a daytime TV programme called Doctors) tried to speak to another BBC researcher about a smallholding programme they are planning and a five bar metal gate fell on Springtime nearly squashing her flat. Luckily Tracey was on hand to free the dazed and confused sheep.

Making the bed was not a simple task when it arrived wrapped up in bubblewrap and sticky tape. years of making Airfix models meant that the A5 sheet of paper containing hundreds of sketches of how to bolt G to subframe J and crossmember underhanger 19.4 x 7 was no match for me and within two hours, under Tracey's patient supervision the whole thing was assembled. There then followed a titanic battle of wills, ours versus the new mattress which refused to cooperate and go upstairs. Eventually it was beaten into submission and installed in its rightful place. The old one is currently in the conservatory, its fate uncertain. It was going to the tip as it was so uncomfortable to sleep on it forced its replacement. I found this hard to accept as it is a very expensive make, the one with the hippo and duck label where they both sleep peacefully without the hippo ending up with the duck as a badge on its jimmers. As we battled to get the old one downstairs I found a very interesting label which basically translated to "this way up" meaning for the last year Tracey and I have been sleeping with it upside down which might explain why it was like sleeping on a metal grid. The right way up at the bottom of the stairs and it was back to being supremely comfortable.

It was Ben's last day with us until sometime in December (he is going somewhere very dangerous beginning with the letter A, they make nice rugs) so I took the day off to spend some time with him. After running through several options for the day we settled on some endurance training.

This entailed setting off at a brisk pace across the ridge, with heavy packs and two Bernese Mountain Dogs as company, in the summer rain. Once at The Whetstone we climbed onto it and began drinking whiskey. Task over we managed to make it to a pub where we introduced the locals to the largest border collies they had ever seen and continued our endurance training by trying all the beers. It being a real ale pub there was a lot to choose from and after two and half hours of serious hard work we emerged into the sunlight and walked back to HQ. This took longer than it should thanks to several seemingly good idea detours and an encounter with one of the local militia who wanted a chat to break the monotony of his day.

By the time Ben and I were on the top of our hill it was almost tea time and after a final whiskey we set off down the insanely steep North Face Gully, disturbing a large dog fox sneaking up on our smallholding in the process and getting home just five minutes before Tracey did. A quick shower and we were all off to the pub, how we managed to fit into Tom's car without bursting it at the seams is as big a surprise as how the poor cars suspension managed our combined weight but soon we were at The Harp dining on the best steak a human being can find.

Goodbyes were saved until five this morning when Ben donned his uniform and prepared to leave. It was hard not to get emotional about him leaving but as we agreed a long time ago, there really is no point worrying. He loves his job and whatever he does he will do it well. All of us are immensely proud of him and we all look forward to him coming home safely.

Pig Surprise

We were lucky enough to have another gloriously hot sunny day, most unlike the usual Welsh Summer weather we have endured the last two years, and whilst the job list is almost as big as a disgraced MP's relocation allowance we took time out from doing stuff to doing nothing but sitting and chatting to friends who came over to visit.

First to arrive was Mr 20% and his lovely wife, swiftly followed by The Stable Sprite, his apprentice Gremlin and Chocolate Lab called Minnie. Whilst we sweltered in the sun, eating a sample of Rock HQ's sausage and a slice of the newly created Bacon there was a rustle in the hedgerow, but we weren't alarmed, it wasn't as first thought a spring clean for the May Queen (sorry inadvertently had a Zeppelin flashback) no it was Blodwin, one of the piglets.

The Berner pups rallied to our defence and whilst we hid the evidence of pig consumption they held her at bay until bored, Blodwin had a quick swim in the pond and then set off to tell the other piglets her version of Tales From The Rock, or Narrations From The Stone as they say in Germany.

Goodbye Flash

This is Flash and his new owner, also called Flash (strange but true!)

Flash aka Shane drove over from Dublin with his friend Greg to collect his new charge and from the looks of the posh motor they travelled in the future looks bright for this young pup. It has been a bit of an ordeal saying goodbye to these puppies but the fact that they all have such nice new owners has helped us say goodbye.

Human Flash is a bit of a TV star in Ireland, who knows maybe Flash dog might appear with him one day. Human Flash seems a decent sort and sponsored The Great To Do by buying 6 miles!

Don't forget you can follow the Dolyhir Berner Clan on the sperate website linked in the margin, or those of you on Firefox can follow http://dolyhir-bernesemountaindogs.blogspot.com/

New links!

If you would enjoy seeing how these pups get on in life.

See what a tough life they have as Bernese Mountain Dogs.

Follow this ones adventures as he goes overseas.

Or just keep up to date with Dads non stop routine as he helps run the smallholding check the link at the side of this page, or go to http://dolyhir-bernesemountaindogs.blogspot.com/ to see more photos, videos and stories of the Dolyhir Berner clan.

Top Mum!

Tonights addition to the rockery!

Real Mountain Dogs!

The pups trying to get to their dad.

The Bernese Wall

In an impressive attempt to outdo Phil Spectres Wall of Sound the little Berners are singing for their supper. We haven't yet had to resort to ear defenders to cope with the dreadful din but it has led to me exploring the possibility of creating a canine toffee which you give to the dog when its making a racket and as its jaws are machinating the beef flavoured sweet it cannot make a sound other than the odd whimper for help.

Such was the activity in the whelping box that we dismantled it and built The Bernese Wall which is a vast wooden construction that segregates the East and West dining room. Residents of the west have free access to the kitchen and all the facilities the cottage has to offer, those in the east have a floor, a door to chew and wet room for regular character building cold showers. When we visit the east we have had to adopt a peculiar way of walking, rather like the Stingray Shuffle, a method adopted in Caribbean countries when walking in the sea to ensure you don't step on the Stingrays business end. We have to move slowly sliding our feet so as not to injure the paws, tails and heads of the eager eastern bloc residents who desperate for news of relatives in the west throw themselves at our legs in a bid for attention. I sense the residents of the east are in fact plotting a revolution and I am thinking of approaching NATO for a missile system to defend the border against incursions. They, by way of getting in their retaliation first leave dozens of puppy mines in random patterns which take an age to clear several times a day.

Meanwhile the Berners continue to grow cuter by the day despite the inbuilt noise generating systems which I hope will be switched off when a prospective owner comes to visit.

Happy Family

At last, all eight sat still for long enough to get a cute picture!

Normal service has been resumed!

Our Broadband signal has been down but a very nice man in southern India has just fixed it. He is a dog lover too, having five Dalmatians and and a Labrador.

No Kidding!

Its been a strange week, one which started with our new goats being delivered, the trauma of thinking our prize pedigree ram was dying, the mystery of mutant sheep resolved (they don't have upper incisor teeth) the ferrets making them self at home (they are collies really but they look and move like ferrets) our goats pretending to give birth three nights in a row meaning only three hours sleep at a time if we were lucky and last night the arrival of a new foster dog, a terrified Rottweiler who cowers at her own shadow and hides every time you move.

Add to all this a bit of gardening, all the feeding, cleaning and maintenance at Rock HQ, mix in full time work and you can see its been a busy one.

How has it ended.

Our gorgeous Bernese Mountain Dog Reba has just come back from the vets with an interesting diagnosis.

She is pregnant.

Spring is going to be busier than ever here!

Black Sheep

First glance you may think that Rock HQ has taken delivery of two large glossy long haired black sheep. Readers will know that we do indeed have a coloured Ryeland called Ebony who stalks the hills for sandwiches and frequently adds to the legend of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Closer inspection will reveal that these are not black sheep but Rocky and Reba the Bernese Mountain Dogs helping themselves to second breakfasts with the lambs.

The lambs are still being pampered since Bonny and Sandy were mauled by a dog fox and most of their wool fell out. Daffodil the biggest one closest to the camera was the only survivor of the orphan or abandoned lambs from last spring. Currently they are all in the old pig sty knee deep in hay, and with the forecast of heavy snow on the way its probably the best place for them.

The hen that Kitler attacked yesterday survived the night despite the hideous wounds on her back and seemed to like her new accommodation in the old rabbit hutch. I checked the cliff behind the cottage today just in case Kitler had been mortally wounded by the plastic food scoop. As I expected he wasn't and hopefully he has learned not to mess with our birds.

Ground hog day

Ben and Beth went to town today and are not returning to the sanctuary of Rock HQ until Sunday when we hope Tracey's family will come over and help eat the turkey leftovers.

Its been a very sunny and pleasant day and the sunshine prompted me to move the barrow loads of fresh offerings from the horses bottoms to the garden. This sudden attack of green fingers ended with a coughing fit that almost produced a lung to garnish the fresh steaming horse offerings and so with my desire to breathe stronger than my desire to be the new Alan Titchmarsh I gave up the garden and spent several hours brushing the pony, trying to get rid of the tide mark from his forehead and just sitting and watching the pigs.

Patches has cottoned on to the idea that its best to make friends and influence people and so allowed me to pick her up for a bit of a cuddle before being returned to the trough to continue stuffing herself with fresh veg, fruit, pig nuts and unexploded popcorn. Pixie, the one closest in the picture maintains her vigilance against human pig contact and explodes with mock piglet rage if you try to touch her by surprise. I am sure she will settle down, especially once she considers the alternatives.

The pigs were not the only ones having treats, below you can see Apollo on his knees in excitement at a bucket of carrots, a present from friends down the road whose dogs we are looking after while they are in America.

So once again there are ten dogs at Rock HQ, five of which are Bernese Mountain Dogs, all sat around the fire. We saw The Oracle while we were collecting the dogs, he was celebrating Christmas, full of Christmas spirit in his yard having just come outside to walk his dinner off as he missed it yesterday. I waved at him in the dark as I drove Rene through he jovially shut the gate for me. I didn't think to ask why he had missed yesterday, well you don't ask those sorts of questions round these parts.

Dog tired!

Unable to shake off this flu which has now developed into the sorest throat and worst cough I have ever had I could not face work today. So I spared my colleagues an opportunity of listening to me cough until I vomit or witness the sudden temperature fluctuations my body inflicts on itself so one moment I am wrapped in thermal mountaineering gear the next stripped to shorts and t shirt and looking like I am in a Turkish bath. The only positive I see of the last week of illness is that I have lost weight, and had I been able to prepare all the treats and goodies for the Christmas period would have been able to gorge myself back to full health.

Tracey is also whats technically known as in a right state so I insisted she stay at home as well, there was no ulterior motive as I am more than able to stagger to the kettle and make my own cold cures. On the subject of which the only one that has done any good so far has been a three parts orange juice one part whisky warmed up and sweetened with honey. After a couple you really do feel different if not better.

Being ill has made another rule of smallholding apparent, never be ill together, one of you needs to remain fit enough to deal with any emergencies, that or you have a support network close by. I can do the usual feeding round first thing in the morning in around twenty minutes, going slowly and allowing for time wasting such as tickling piglets noses it takes a maximum of forty five pre work minutes to establish that all the critters at Rock HQ are accounted for and have enough food and water until we get home. Today it took me an hour and a half what with coughing until I wretched, leaning on solid objects feeling sorry for myself and finding Reba and Poppy.

Perhaps sensing I would be unable to shout them, I find speaking in anything other than a raised whisper difficult at present they waited until I was suitably distracted by Apollo who for reasons known only in his tiny foal like mind had piled pooh all around his stable and had done diving forward rolls through it. His white bits were Khaki, all the way up to his forehead. As I tried to salvage the situation and chastised myself for getting such a feces obsessed horse I could see Rocky our male Bernese Mountain Dog sitting quietly by the wheelbarrow clearly adopting the stance of whatever happens next I wasn't involved. I shut the poohy pony away and approached Rocky who went from it wasn't me to being clearly guilty and out into fresh fields of please I tried to stop them don't shout at me. We faced each other over a barrow of pooh, tumbleweed rolled across the yard as the wind whistled through the bare branches of the trees. Rocky gulped and looked down the lane showing me where they had gone.

Great I rasped. Rocky shrugged, cocked his leg on the barrow and went into Rock HQ. He had been helpful enough in his book.

I tried shouting but a strange sound like Faith chewing a live chicken came out, the embarrassment of making such a noise coupled with the pain caused by trying to summon the missing dogs put paid to any further attempts. Incidentally Faith has chewed another live chicken. For some reason she feels the need to rid the world of grey hens. Her latest is currently converting into pate in the rayburn, it was destined to be coq au vin anyway but the poor thing didn't deserve death by setter.

Finally I found Reba and Poppy, flirting with a no eared collie called Ben down in The Oracles yard. He's no good to them having lost more than just his ears in an encounter with a vet a long time ago but he was as keen as they were. I mimed you put that away and get back home to bed you naughty dogs as Ben shot off back to his kennel and the two dog tarts set off at a brisk pace with their tails between their legs. They could tell I was cross with them as I didnt say a word all the way home.

I'm still not speaking to them.

I cant!

A touch of frost

This morning the usual routine demanded special care and attention as the whole yard was a sheet of ice. Not the pretty sparkly ice crystals as in the picture above but the deep black thick treacherous slip you up type ice that eagerly awaits sudden impact and breaking bones.

Negotiating such a hazard took skills I last used on Mt Blanc and at one stage while I was considering my next step across the sea of ice to the safety of the stable block I really did think about returning to the workshop and putting on my crampons.

Once I made it to the sanctuary of the stable block all was well until the return trip to the cottage. What was a gentle slope as I approached it uphill now looking back resembled a treacherous crevasse and there was no way back without risking serious injury.

I solved the problem by scattering a hundred pound bag of sand over ice field which instantly transformed it into a non slip surface. Now I could approach the front door with confidence, I was safe, I wasn't going to fall over.

Pity I missed a Bernese Mountain Dog who was intent on being first to the front door. He didn't miss me. You would be amazed how quickly a 55 kg dog can disappear when they have to.

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.