Shear fun in the real world!

Back in the real world, the one where Tracey has had to do all the work while I stroll around the countryside with my friends, there is lots of work to be done. Yesterday passed slowly as I recovered from the exertions of the trek, both feet had swelled from bruising so I spent a jolly day with them in a bucket of cold water reading and drinking a few beers. We went to The Harp to celebrate and had the usual fantastic meal, once again David cooked a steak that could not be surpassed in any way shape or form.


Sunday dawned, along with a new batch of aches and pains but the shearing had to be done so no more lounging in the garden. Typically instead of being in the yard for breakfast the Ryelands were all over the place so very slowly the round up began. By the time this butch itinerant shearer arrived we were missing last years lambs, Sandy, Hercules, Maude and Bonny, two ewes, Roxy and Ebony and our Suffolk cross, Meg. Tracey volunteered to walk around the hill to seek them out whilst I kept up a steady supply of tea and chocolate hob nobs for the Shearer Man. Some of you may recognise him, for he is famous, not for being the sheep equivalent of Vidal Sassoon but for being the captain of Hereford Rugby Club.

Whilst Tracey was doing the Bo Peep bit he manfully wrestled the sheep and gave them their annual short back and sides, all the time keeping them calm by singing to them (see photos above and below)

Tracey returned with the missing flockers apart from Meg. Now we have already lost three Suffolks since we have been here, see postings for M.I.A.s to read the full story, and again it looked like Meg was now M.I.A and probably on her way to a pie filling plant, caught up in the annual roundup.

Job done the Shearer Man waived his fee donating it to the Prostate Cancer charity, a big gesture as the amount would have bought him five miles, so many thanks Pritch, you cant sing but you are a generous soul.

Once the sheep were over their trauma they wandered off, cooler if not happy.

Early this evening I took Mad Keith his dinner. Whilst we were chatting a lone sheep wandered down the trail towards the rest of our flock gathered on the technohermits lawn. Meg had returned, safe and crustless. She now has a choice, stay hot all summer or allow me to shear her by handshears, and does anyone remember how that turned out our first year?

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.

New Age Sheep

Looking a bit frayed around the edges these two scruffy individuals are recovering from their traumas in the derelict remains of the old chicken run. Bonny on the left, Sandy on the right are both doing well, both still losing their wool from the shock of the mauling they had off foxes, but seeing as a few weeks ago Sandy was literally knocking on Deaths door they are doing a lot better than I expected, putting on weight and enjoying their new surroundings.

As you can see Bonny is doing her best to blend in with her surroundings.

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.

No idea!

Quite what Bonny, the lamb, is up to in these two pictures is any ones guess. She lay like this for five or so minutes before getting up to run around with the rest of the Rye;ands.