Its a saga now.....

How to dehorn a Dexter, first separate your cow from her friends, ear defenders recommended!

Then persuade her that her chosen path is not correct and the path to enlightenment lies elsewhere!

Next you have to coax her down from the slopes of goatanamo without swearing!

Smile as she wrecks the place during the decent, remember its not her fault she's a Dexter and don't panic at the thought of 250 gallons of water cascading down the yard. . Spend best part of day repeating various elements of this routine. Then remember an old tale you read about how Tigers were lured into traps with a live goat. Copy this method exactly and feel smug at the result as foolish Dexter falls for such a simple ploy.

Try not to cry when the vet phones up and apologises that he will not be able to come out and play today as a neighbours Llama feels anxious as it has a tangle in its wool so needs urgent medical attention. Release goat and Dexter and prepare for round 2.

Ready for the off

This poor cows world is going to be turned upside down tomorrow afternoon. Literally. Hetty is a very friendly cow, and especially placid for a Dexter, she just looks mental. Most farmers greet the news that we have a Dexter with a sharp intake of breath and a we used to have one of them but they're nutters type comment. Lucky for us she has bucked the trend and is very sociable, making it easy to handle her, and pretty safe to turn your back on. But she is an armed version. Her horns were left on and they have grown to match the rest of her. Several times I have nearly got the point, and when she decides she wants to do something her horns do give her a nice edge in an argument. So to prevent any mishaps, or accidental goring of me, my beautiful and oh so patient wife, the pigs she bunks with (thats Hetty bunking up with pigs, not my wife, although I do snore so there is a similarity) or any other sentient being at Rock HQ, tomorrow when she goes for her pedicure (her hooves need trimming) she will be given a shot of local anesthetic and a vet armed with a chain saw will remove the offending appendages. All we need to do is convince her its a good idea to get in the trailer to get her there. Simple!

The Dexter has landed

For once I was kept awake excited about the prospect of expanding our animal collection at Rock HQ rather than thinking about office politics. I fought the temptation to get up at stupid o'clock as there was no point, it wouldn't make the allotted hour for cow transport arrive any quicker so instead I listened to an idiot on the radio while the hours passed slowly by.
Trixie trailer (everything is named here, don't ask why its just the way thing are) was hitched without er... hitch, well you know what I mean, Rene reversed straight into the towing bracket and once Tracey stopped me from making new holes in Trixie's rear to accommodate the numberplate by showing me how the fancy number plate holder worked we were off.

Now the smallholders we bought Hetty from are very different from us, for a start they are prepared and have whats called experience. Since we last saw them they had put up a steel barn in their yard that would have covered Rock HQ, they did that in their spare time in between working, lambing, entertaining the grandchildren and brokering a peace agreement in the middle east. These were switched on smallholders. So much so that Hetty was already contained within their trailer, all that was required of us was to back up Trixie to their yet to be named mobile pet carrier, lower the ramps and get the contents to swap theirs for ours. Easy. Especially as he reversed Rene into position for me. We did have one comedy moment when Rene locked him out, luckily the window was open so no need for panic or the fourth emergency service and their big yellow van.

By the time we were ready to transfer our new pet bovine passers by might have thought there was a Bengal Tiger about to be moved given the number of gates, ramps and steel hurdles and people in place to prevent said cow doing whats known in the farming world as a runner. Consideration was given as whether she could jump over the six foot trailer door, I mean they can jump cant they, one of her far distant ancestors cleared the moon so hey, its not beyond the realms of possibility and there was a little dog sat watching our antics so better safe than sorry that's what I say.

Anyway after a cuppa and lots of advice from them and thank yous from us we were homeward bound. Back in the real world where bailer twine doubles as gate hinges and traler reversing causes smoke to come out of my ears and Renes clutch we did wonder what we might do if Hetty responded adversely to the lack of high security measures in the her new home. At the point of transfer from Trixie to the Barn all that was between her and 5 million acres of common land was a five bar gate tied with more twine to some chicken wire fence, another gate the other side propped precariously against an old freezer and a curious goat. Luckily for us Hetty spotted the ideal route from Trixie to Barn and followed the dotted line without hesitation straight into her new bedroom. After a quick look around, a good dump and a very pleasing moo she lay down and had a snooze.

I think she is going to fit in very well here. As long as the bailer twine holds.

A new species

The sun shone on the light dusting of snow this morning and as Tracey had been superwoman yesterday doing everything on account she married a wimp who hurt himself lifting a paint brush over his head, said wimp decided to let sleeping beauty lie in while he set about the smallholding morning routine, his good mood buoyed up by the fantastic winter morning. Even the antics of goats could not wipe a smile from wimps face as he knew their replacement was being visited later on, Hetty the Dexter Cow. This is her, closest to the camera with her mum and her little sister calf stood watching.

The goats were a smallholders compromise we made, thinking small animal, small amount of milk in return for bed and board, rather than a large animal like a cow, large amounts of food and buckets of milk that we could not use. There was also half a plan to have the billy kids accommodated in MrWhirlpool next to the pigs, deer and poultry that already rest in pieces. The lambs have so far been spared this fate on account they are so small, so cute, usually missing when a decision is made that it is time for the chop (over the hills and far away) or cunningly having been medicated thus rendering them safe from human consumption for 56 days. Bitter experience with goats has led to a lack of vegetables, a vandalised tomato house, a leaking roof, damaged cars and bruises whenever any attempt was made to extract milk from them. Having thoroughly outstayed their welcome they are in the exit lounge until some mug, er... keen amateur wants to take them on.

Hetty on the other hand will be a different challenge, and never one to shy away from challenges Tracey has been volunteered to tame the beast and train it so it can provide the inhabitants of Rock HQ with assorted dairy products. All being well Hetty will pass her TB test which will mean that we can move her here. The plan at the moment is that she will live the life of luxury chomping on hay and other cow goodies before being introduced to the bull. This will then lead to Hetty Mk2 being born, like in the picture at the top, how cute is that calf.

Once Hetty Mk2 is here we will then have milk, half of which the calf will drink, but as the milk yield is around 1.5 to 2.5 gallons of moo juice a day there should be sufficient for all here. She will also produce around two gallons of pooh a day, quite what we are going to do with this additional resource has yet to be decided. Hetty Mk2 will be for beef, no matter how cute it is, and so this little Dexter is a welcome new species at Rock HQ. They are a very docile breed and most usefully, considering the terrain and weather here, very hardy. A cow bell is top of the list of must have accessories, just in case the horns don't work.

Speaking of which she doesn't look the docile and friendly type in this picture, she looks more like paw the ground, snort, charge and gore you to death type. I also have my suspicions as to why Tracey insisted on buying me a red cape.

Oh My Days!

Beth is 21 today, a fantastic day, so many memories and we shared them with Ben who is in Stanners. We had hoped he would be home first week October, now we know different. We were happy he phoned during Beth's birthday supper. Above her birthday cake, below photos of Ben chatting to us.

Other top news of the day, we might be having a Dexter Cow in a fortnight. A very very special friend who supports what we are doing here has offered to help us buy a Dexter Cow, how can we refuse!

Watch this space!

Beth chatting to Holly

Jill chatting to the war veteran

Pritch chatting to his best friend

Mand chatting to Ben!

Total Wash Out

The last twenty four hours at Rock HQ has involved us running for cover to escape monsoon like downpours that have halted all outside jobs. Except for essential feeding and daily checks we have been confined to barracks drinking coffee and moaning about the rain.

Yesterday started off bright enough and as I basked in the early sunshine watching the sheep feeding I had hoped to get a lot done.

Tracey's brother Stuart came over, our plan was to find Mr Fox and lie in wait guns ready to eliminate the pesky critter once and for all.

A search of our grounds found a few signs that Foxy likes our garden so much he regularly crosses it. So regularly in fact he has left a trail behind the remains of the rock fall and along the base of the cliff. This means he passes the fox trap with its now rancid bunny offerings and has the good sense not to venture inside. Meantime we are regularly catching collies and beagles who seem to have turned make their owner climb to the base of the cliff to let me out of the cage into a competition. I did see a buzzard in the tree above the trap and I am convinced it got in and helped itself to a free rabbit dinner. There are dozens of birds of prey around Rock HQ including Buzzards, Red Kites and Peregrine Falcons. Any pigeons in these parts are either lost or very fast fliers.

We searched the hill around the cottage and found amongst the bracken a den used by the fox worryingly close to the chicken coup. I had found it a while ago, while I was dragging Meg back to the track in Sheep Rescue 2, a previous post, but I thought the hole was just a large rabbit hole. Stuart pointed out the tell tale marks of fox habitation which included dollops of fox pooh. This has a magical quality and attracts dogs like moths to a flame. They go into raptures when they find a piece and while Stuart and I discussed the merits of sitting around this hole for twelve hours, arcs of fire, where to pitch the tent, the possibility of hikers straying into the killing fields and so on, my beautiful prize winning show stopping Bernese Mountain Dog, Rocky, took the opportunity to make himself utterly irresistible and coated himself in the foul smelling muck. Suitably streaked in excrement he bounded off to share the wonderful smell he had found with the rest of the pack.

As we wandered back along the lane the first signs of bad weather closing in could be seen. Across the valley hills were disappearing into a grey haze as falling rain began to reduce visibility. The Oracle was making his way along a hedge line way below us, he had seen the rain too. He shouted and waved, we did the same. Seeing him so active eliminated him from the likely suspects on the missing old man list the emergency services were looking for last night.

The rain began.

Trapped indoors with a huge jobs list to complete outdoors is not conducive to good humour. So I busied myself reading up on how to keep cows in the ultimate smallholders how to guide produced by John Seymor. The bull pictured above is not the type recommended for a smallholder, its a Belgian Blue, I think. The farmer closest to us has just turned the beast out. It has massive steaks on its backside, you can see them bulging out. They might produce huge amounts of meat but its pretty tasteless. I heard one food critic say it was like chewing your tongue eating one of those steaks. I am going to stick to Dexters who produce exceptional meat and small joints. When I raise the cash.

I also made some blackcurrant jam as this year we beat the birds to the fruit and the first pick gave us enough for four jars of jam. Making jam is so easy, everyone should try it. I just boil in a bit of water whatever fruit I want as jam and then add pound for pound the same amount of sugar as fruit. Boil for ten minutes, allow to cool a bit and pour into hot jars. How easy is that. Last year as jam novices we made 60 jars of jam, mostly from our own raspberries, logan berries, strawberries and plums. The only disaster we had was when I over cooked a blackberry and apple concoction, it turned almost toffee like, and a plum jam which didn't set as I hadn't left any stones in. Reboiled with some stones in a cloth bag it set nicely. So no excuses make some jam!

When the rain eased a bit Stuart and I attempted to get the van started. I had on impulse bought a new battery for it thinking that with a new battery it was bound to start. It might of, had I not left it at the end of the lane uncared for for 8 months. New battery fitted it showed signs of life but when the key was turned nothing happened. Just to spite me the van's immobiliser decided to work and every twenty seconds the alarm went off. How do I know its spite? Well I didn't even know the van had an immobiliser, we drove it twelve months and had never known of its existence. We used the van for all sorts of jobs, including driving to work which caused a great deal of amusement in my staff team that their most senior manager drove a white Toyota van full of straw to work instead of the nice shiney V6MGZT 190 he used to have.

You see smallholding does change you.

Anyway after several hours of pointless fiddling with the vans inner workings Stuart declared the Toyota's condition terminal. As if to emphasize the death of the Toyota it rained harder still. We took shelter in the cottage once again.

It was obvious that sitting out with guns would be a pointless exercise. The downpour was so great even our Ryelands took cover in the sheep shelter for the first time since we built it a year ago. No one in their right mind would be out in that deluge.

So the Fox had a reprieve and we had a beer.

Forward planning

Its been great here tonight, I managed to get a load of gardening done, watering all the plants takes about an hour with the hosepipe. Good job we collect hundreds of gallons from the stream everyday. I have been known to leave the tap on accidentally overnight to discover over 500 gallons of water has drained into the potato beds. That and the liberal helpings of Williams pooh might explain why my potato plants are now over three feet high.

I also managed to weed most of the beds, this aspect of gardening is made much easier by planting the crops a hoe width apart. Its great to see so many of our plants doing so well, the peas, sweetcorn, sprouts, squash, spuds, pumpkin, courgette and onions are flourishing. The cucumbers and cauliflowers are OK, but just like my school report often said, could do better. For some reason the cucumbers look like they are dying and the cauliflowers don't seem to want to grow. I suspect club root. I of course have no real idea and the book only mentions club root as something you should avoid, but doesn't really tell me much more. Apparently burying a chunk of rhubarb under the plant deters it. Failing that rhubarb water might solve it. I have yet to discover how to make aforesaid water but I do know clubroot hates the smell of it which doesn't bode well given my capacity for accidents.

The green houses are being productive, one has salad planted and we have enough for several meals this weekend, the tomatoes are flowering so hopefully will start fruiting. Even the grape vine is producing grapes. OK I lie, its gone out of control again and you need a machete to clear a path if you try to get past the doorway. I have given up trying to get in, there are too many other jobs to do without engaging in battle with an out of control vine. For all I know there are wild animals lurking in the greenery. The grape to foliage ratio is not very impressive anyway so struggling to retrieve the two grapes we have so far discovered requires too much effort and will not yield a very successful vintage.

It was very relaxing in the garden, listening to the heavy breathing of the Bernese Mountain Dogs waiting patiently by the garden gate, the melodic sounds of the birds singing in the trees and the deep rumbling sound which initially I mistook for an earthquake but turned out to be four Berkshire Pigs snoring their snouts off by the trough after a particularly large dinner. I have not gardened before, other than a few cress seeds scattered on cotton wool on the windowsill I have never grown anything before. Faced with a vegetable plot the size of Rock HQs was a daunting prospect but it can be managed provided you never ever let your mind think about how big the job ahead actually is. If you do that you are doomed, frozen into inaction by the enormity of the task. So I break it down into small bits, one bed at a time, and now all the beds are either full of plants or ready for whats in the greenhouse to be put out.

One thing I did allow myself to day dream about while out manfully tilling the soil was the little calf pictured above. Our plan to get some Dexters is gathering pace, more sales of my toy soldiers on ebay have yielded enough cash for the back half of the little cutie, I mean beef calf which as you can see the calf is only knee high.

How sweet is that, a miniature cow!

I mean great potential for steak.

After all it wont be a pet.

Beef is on the menu

Tonight we had beef. Fillet steak. Not just any old fillet steak but fillet steak from a Dexter Cow bought from our favorite butcher.

Stuart is probably what everyone ever imagines a butcher to look like, a larger than life jolly red faced man who is totally committed to producing excellent meat. I bought a piece of fillet off him last Friday as we had dinner guests on Saturday night. It was a complicated menu as one of the guests, Mr 20%, well his wife didn't eat lamb and as another guest was the Stable Sprite who built the wondrous wooden construction housing our horses (who have had a mental moment and chewed through one of the walls) who also keeps pigs, in fact sold us the pigs we are now eating, and sounded dreadfully disappointed when I said we were having pork, we needed an alternative meat. It couldn't be pheasant as Annie, Mr 20%'s wife has made friends with one in the past, it couldn't be horse as we are British and the Stable Sprites wife might kick off served her favorite animal with seasonal vegetables, that left beef.

Stuart happily supplied a piece of beef to make a beef wellington, pictured above, the piece of meat was about the size of a small chicken and I only had to sell one kidney to buy it. Beef wellington was chosen as the dish of the day as by some strange coincidence I found while talking to the Stable Sprite one day that he knew Mr 20% who I also knew. Apparently Mr20% had promised the Stable Sprite a beef wellington eons ago and had never delivered. I felt this was a wrong that needed putting right so I organised the dinner.

It was a great evening, good food, good wine and great company, Mr20% was armed with a camera that is far superior to mine and has given me some excellent photos that will feature in later blogs. Anyway the beef was excellent, it was without doubt the best beef I have ever tasted.

This has now made me more determined to have a house cow, in fact get a small herd of Dexters. These are half sized cows, standing about a metre tall they are hardy, self sufficient and produce good milk and meat from basic rations. I have toyed with the idea of having a couple of Highland Cows but after tasting Dexter my mind is made up.

Unlike previous animal projects this one is going to be well thought out, planned and executed properly. We have in the past bought animals, like pigs, built the sty and pen around them, found out the legal requirements, bought the transporter to take them to the abattoir, learned how to tag and care for them as we go along, ended up with 500 pound of meat which just about fitted into the freezer that we collected the day before the meat arrived. The whole exercise was fantastic but was constantly a game of catch up, it cost us loads and we are just about to run out of pork so the next batch are in the barn. Its a Pavlovian response but every time I go and see them my mouth waters.

So, Dexters it is, and after talking to Stuart the Butcher it looks like we could even make this project cost neutral as he will buy any spare animals. So if we have two, sell one to him that should pay for the food they both have eaten. Four will pay for the food and will cover the cost of purchasing the animals. Selling one to our friends as joints we might even make a profit. We will need five though as we will need one for milk, six really as we need one as a pet, and then, right stick with two to start with or we will get in a spot of bother from the start. Cheap hay has been sourced as we wont have the grass all year for them, but as we stay here longer the more of the common we will reclaim as grazing from the bracken. So as you can see its been well thought out, we are even getting a herd number before the animals arrive this time.

A slight fly in the ointment is that the bank are fed up with us spending their money so we are officially broke. As I sold one kidney to buy the last Dexter joint, and spent all my pocket money on five steaks tonight for a celebratory dinner as Bethan had finished college (finally!) I am wondering how to fund this project. Tomorrow I shall search the attic and sell my toys on e bay.

Star Wars Lego anyone?