The great outdoors

Tempting isn't it! Not long now until Kobe and Hetty are turned out. Kobe is growing fast and is a friendly chap, just as well considering he is going to be a monster sized dexter.

Guinevere is building a nest in the newly vacated farrowing pen, Morgana is enjoying herself in the new accommodation built this weekend. Piggle is face down in the straw trying not to give birth. I have a feeling its not going to be too long before we have two new litters. Sales are going well, two of Iggles piglets are off to a new home in a few weeks, half of Morgana's litter are signed up for pig club, and today I was talking to a soon to be top chef who is keen on extending the menu with a little help from the rest.

It all happens here

While some urgent repairs were being done to the roof of Rock HQ to make it a bit more weather proof or rather water proof Iggle really did look like she would beat Hetty to it in the birth race

After a night of us hanging over the stable door and bleary eyed three hourly checks all Hetty had managed was a monster number two which she took care of for a few hours.

Then, taking a leaf out of Iggles book she threw herself down and pretended to sleep. As today was D-Day (Delivery Day) the vets were called and within 10 minutes the stable was transformed into an operating theatre. The two builders, both called Steve, but that was confusing so we called one Colin, found their escape route was blocked by several cars and so they were press ganged into being theatre staff, Colin helping me at the business end while Steve held onto the rope holding Hetty's head around the corner and out of sight of the bloodfest indoors.

The vet proved to be camera shy but once she was up to her elbows in bovine innards managed to be snapped plucking a hoof from the visceral debris

and soon our long awaited and very expensive calf was spluttering to life on the straw. The only beef that is more expensive is that Japanese stuff.

Quicker than the vet could sew up its mother the monster calf was upright and searching for food which it failed to find in Colin's crotch but it gave us all a giggle while the vet ( a really nice lady called Caroline) re plumbed Hetty.

Finally stitched back together (and cow hide is really tough so the needle work took a while) Hetty was released from her tethers and clumsily struggled to her feet and junior took its first feed. At this point in time BST Midnight junior is alive and mother is kicking every time he tries to feed. We are hoping this settles down but if she continues I shall break out the body armour (last used to milk the Old English Goats) and get him his breakfast lunch and dinner by hand.

Thanks to all those who made today such an interesting and joyful event. A name will be chosen for junior once we have thought of a good one. Suggestions please.

Day 28 30 30 lvl 12 hill 13.2 km (2112, Rush)

Happy Mothers Day

While the apprentice smallholder made his mothers heart melt by giving her his efforts with blue paint on canvas, several cd's that the cd police are not allowed to confiscate and some chocolates, yours truly was faced with a mad cow making funny noises and looking at me funny. So part of the day was spent moving critters around in the hope that a new configuration would ease the housing shortage for mothers to be. Matters became critical mid morning when Piggle started to build a nest and any idea that she might only be faking pregnancy in order to avoid Mr Whirlpool were dismissed as she has now, along with her sister Iggle achieved the hallowed accolade of pet status, meaning I cannot eat her and I need to find her somewhere to live. Fast.

So, Daffodil was taken along with Mindy from the med bay which also houses the straw in large white bags, and put in what was the old rabbit run but was more lately the goat house (Big rabbits or small goats, you decide) All animals were given a generous bedding allowance which emptied two white bags, the remaining two were placed up on the bank on pallets double wrapped to prevent wetness. This meant Hetty could go into the med bay which really pleased Kayleigh who until today had been forced to double up with Hetty as Hetty kept jumping out of the Corral OK.

After a lovely Sunday lunch with my beautiful and oh so patient wife's mum and brother where little t demonstrated his newly acquired skill with a spoon, I got back on with the new order.
Iggle and Piggle were separated from the three little (massive) pigs (without us spending hours running up and down the lane shouting at naughty porkers who wouldnt go where they were supposed to be, honest) and put in a purpose built substantially reinforced pig pen off the Corral OK where they soon made them self at home in the deep straw bed and we will have to wait and see what, if anything, happens there.

Today's jobs have only bought us some breathing space, we still need more space, or rather the space taken up by the three not so little pigs. This may be resolved by next weekend. By which time there are bound to be new critters here.

Day 18 30 30 lvl 15 endurance hill 21.6km (Buckcherry, Buckcherry)

Yes 21.6km a personal best.

Mad cow

Hetty is close to giving birth, one way or another, so we are trying to follow advice from the vet, difficult when those tasked to help keel over laughing when we explain how our mad cow arrived at this predicament. Case in point. Vet asks us to prepare birth area, must be large enough for three grown men (well two at this point being vet and yours truly) to wrestle cow should need arise. Must have lighting in case it happens during hours of darkness, hard floor and two metal fixings on opposite walls at knee height in case cows front needs anchoring and winch needs attaching to other end to heave calf out. What we don't have is ropes. Off to farmers supermarket to buy necessary cordage.

Shop floor mercifully empty.

Ring bell.

Old farmer type appears as if by magic.

So do other customers.

"Can I have a set of calf ropes please"

"Speak up son"

"Can I have a set of calf ropes please" slightly louder hoping wont be questioned as to what they are, size, colour, god knows what else all I want is a rope isn't it?

Farmer behind taps me on the shoulder "Calfing are yer"

"Erm, not personally no, but yes thanks" (acutely aware now going to get the inquisition, my fault for messing with the big boys)

"I got out of cattle"

I nod and look at farmershopkeeper hoping he will bugger off and get the rope.

"You got cows then?"

(Oh no, here we go) "Yes..."

"I got a cow crate I can sell yer, don't have much use for it now, handy for calfing" he leers

"Thanks but we've only got the one...." At this point all real farmers sniff and shake their heads.

"One?"

"Yes"

"Pet is she?"

"Sort of....."

"Got a pretty name as she?"

"Hetty" Someone sniggered at the back

"Jersey is she, good looking..." Definite guffaws.

"No mid legged Dexter" I drew breath looking for the exit, I could see where this was going.

"Ropes for a Dexter?" he said rubbing the stubble on his nose thoughtfully.

"Yes, she got out with a bull we didn't want her to and now shes about to give birth I need the ropes the vet said" I gabbled by way of explanation and in a vain hope of salvaging some credibility.

There was a silence. The farmer grinned and slapped me on the shoulder in a friendly manner (the type of grizzley bear slap friendly) "Don't you worry me lad, she'll be alright, so long as she ain't got in with anything like a Belgian Blue!"

All present bust a gut laughing at this hilarious thought.

I left them too it.

I'll try a different supplier.

Maybe ebay.

Day 16 30 30 lvl 12 gradual hil 13.4km (Fallen, Evenesence)

Well, if its this easy....

Preparations for lambing took on a sense of urgency this morning, when I say preparations I mean worrying about where we are going to house everything as Iggle and Piggle plus the three little pigs are taking up valuable space on account of their still breathing, as Ebony was trailing what looked like an umbilical cord from her tuppence (technical term for a lady sheeps foo) She was eating and acting like any other berserk Ryeland when faced with a feed bucket but the foot long bit of internal plumbing dragging behind was a cause for concern for me if not her. She objected to being turned over (missing breakfast) no sign of having given birth but a search of the local geography failed to locate any offspring or further gory bits. Unsure what was happening I phoned my dad who has helped into this world more sheeps in a days lambing than I ever will in a lifetime of smallholding, his advice was wait and see what happens. So I did and she hasn't exploded, keeled over or expired so the wait continues.

Return from work the plan was to go and look to see what if anything else was going on with the sheep but there was a man test waiting in the yard. A one ton bale of straw. Now not having a tractor with a spike lifty bit at the front I am somewhat disadvantaged in moving these monster bales. There is an epic tale of how I moved one by rolling it halfway up the mountain, but this one was for bedding down all beast, including new beds for new mum sheeps. The jolly farmer who dropped it off some where closely approximating where I actually wanted it (ie. planet earth) and so the test of the evening was to get this unwrapped, deposited in 7 different locations at all ends of the smallholding and store the rest, but, and this was important, it had to be done without waiting any and before it got wet. The rain clouds were approaching across the valley.

So the test began, the pigs in the stable got new beds, the pigs at the far end including Thor the boar who by the looks of him has discovered what his purpose in life is, all got new beds, as did Kayliegh, Hetty and the boys. I was still faced with half of the bale in the yard, thankfully my beautiful and o so patient wife, Tracey, reminded me that I might have stored carefully some big white feed sacks in Trixie. Sure enough, right as ever, so the remainder was bagged up and put in the med bay. Success, man test passed, barely a stem of straw wasted, a lot less wasted than from the small bales that we normally buy. As I stood there, sweating like only a fat bloke can who has lugged a ton of straw every which way, contemplating how great I was the patient one pipes up "Well if its this easy we should always do it this way"

Day 7 30 30 lvl 14 outdoor training 13km (Best of Aerosmith)

A kick inside

Look closely, once you get over the dogs panting, the shaky camera angle and recognise the cow breathing, towards the end there is a definite kick from the soon to be with us calf. Preparations are underway, some new metalwork is going to be fitted in the stable this weekend, rings either end so if necessary Hetty's front can be attached to the wall while a rope and pulley will drag the calf out. This is presuming she needs help, she may just dump it on the straw, or she may need a c section. Our favourite vet called this evening to give us the low down on what to look out for and briefed us at which point to call him. Fingers crossed, its not long now!

BBMC training up and over the Bonsai Mountain

Day 2 30 30 Hill lvl 14 12.2km (Alternative 80's mix)

Tight fit

Hetty taking it easy in the bale store. Its a tight fit.

Piggy in the middle

The boys were making the most of the new hayledge, evenly spaced out, but look closely and you will see Thor the Bernese Mountain Pig tucking in. Watching from the heights is Hetty, climbing is part of her keep fit regime, it also means she avoids the concrete. You might also spot the well hung gate.

280 days

We had a visit from our favourite vet today, amongst other things he enquired about our wayward heifer Hetty who disgraced herself with a local lad. As he is much bigger than her there was much discussion over whether or not to let her go full term. Current expert advice is to keep her as active as possible, well as she is still able to jump fences and run up a 1 in 4 slope I think she is about as active as a cow can be, not to feed her concentrates, we dont, she has a concentrate free diet of hayledge, mountain grass and an occasional apple (we all need treats) and on day 275 watch her like a hawk. She might be early. She might go late. 280 days is the gestation time, that means the 28 March is going to be quite interesting.

Missing something

Its hard to imagine I know, perhaps it was just too early in the morning, or I was in too much of a hurry trying to shift various animal deposits off the runway, or thinking too much about the days work ahead, or the rain, but somehow for a whole hour and a half I managed to mislay 200 kgs of beef.

Hetty, above, she of the concrete phobia, was suddenly when I thought about it, conspicuous by her absence. Apollo, William, Bella and Berry were watching with interest as I scooped their poop and added it to the doings mountain. Kayliegh the agoraphobic Anglo Nubian hovered in the doorway mewing that the sky was falling in, but no sign of aforementioned bovine.

With that sinking feeling, the one associated with the realisation you are doomed to be late for the real world and you have the office keys (or rather someone else's office keys as you have already lost yours) and they will be stood on the pavement in the rain, I searched for missing cow.

Theres not many places a steak that big can hide but she managed, and should by rights now be the Dexter world champion for hide and seek. Usual haunts were obviously cow free, trough, feeder, water trough, favourite scratching post. If she had jumped to freedom again then my colleague on the pavement was due a prolonged soaking as cow had to be found. The straw store, the one with just enough space for two lambs. It looked odd. The shadow cast by the horse blankets nailed over the opening looked black.

Blacker than normal.

And this shadow had mud on it.

Space for two lambs was now space for a Dexter with mental health problems.

I lifted the blanket, parting around her like theatre curtains she gave the cow equivalent of "Ta-Dah!" and deemed to join the others for breakfast. I didn't get a pic of this extraordinary cow/Tardis achievement but did get a pic of her strutting her stuff on the runway. Perhaps its only dirty concrete she wont walk on.

Birds of a feather

Hetty has a new neighbour.

They seem to get on.

Both have issues.

Not the best news

Cast your mind back to June, sunny days, yes they were, blue skies, really they were, and a mad miniature cow with an amazing ability to jump fences.Hetty our mid legged Dexter followed the call of nature and overwhelmed with the desire to procreate she abandoned a life of chastity at Rock HQ and took a giant leap forward (several) into the lands of the militia to find true love, if not then a quickie behind the cowshed.
Thankfully we rescued her and saved her from deflowerment, and with the help of The Oracle separated the lovesick Hetty from the lustful advances of a big brute of a Belgian Blue Bull. Life returned to normal, Hetty looked out cross the lands of the militia with longing, but refrained from venturing into the unknown. She did call him, but he had long gone. No flowers, no letters, nothing. Hetty put this down to experience and moved on. Or so we thought.
Two days ago Hetty was behaving very oddly, more so than normal (having conquered her fear of concrete and adorning her cowsonage with garden furniture) so oddly that it looked like she was about to give birth. Impossible.
Our favourite vet called today and gave several animals an MOT. One of his tasks was to check what was wrong with our Hetty. Now I have always had a lot of respect for Paul the vet, but the way he managed to insert his left arm past his elbow up Hetty's back passage while she walked around her shelter was modern art. Hetty was surprisingly relaxed about this unexpected intrusion and once over the initial shock settled down to eat breakfast while Paul did his vet thing. Verdict. Six months pregnant. Right on the money with that announcement it being the 23rd of June that Hetty, as we now know, allowed the Belgian Brute to have his wicked way.
So now we have choices. Abort the calf, or let her carry a calf that she is not likely to be able to give birth to and risk her life, and the calf's, with a cesarean section. We are sleeping on it.
More bad news, Paul had a look at Bliss, the Berner who has grown in size in the right places, got fussy over food, built a nest, produced milk and chased the cats. Shes not pregnant, shes faking it.

Hetty is the small one in the middle, the Belgian Brute is lurking behind.

Head count

The annual paperwork has arrived, asking us how many sheep and goats we have on our small patch of the planet. This prompted a quick head count of what critters actually freeload, I mean, live with us at HQ. From a shaky start 6 years ago when we had a geriatric cat, a Gordon Setter, a Pathetic Triever, three ancient beagles, two rabbits and a bucket of fish rescued from a pond we now have four vermin cats, 9 of our own dogs, one foster dog (two on holiday as well) two shetland ponies, two larger cobs, a horse, six rabbits, 18 sheep, 10 pigs, 20 birds of various makes and sizes, a goat and a cow.

All of which co exist in and around the cottage adding to the general excitement of life.

Hetty, our cow, really added to the excitement today, behaving very strangely, like she was going to give birth. We already have a Bernese claiming pregnancy so we can do without a cow having a maternal breakdown. She did get in with a bull six months ago, so it cant be that, so we are in the wait and see what happens stage of smallholding. As usual.

Digging her heels in

Hetty is still refusing to use the concrete, even though the boys are showing the way, pointing out its totally safe and the best way to reach the new hayledge bale she can be seen digging her heels in and staying on the muddy patch.

MIA cows and carpet bombing pigs

As dawn began its hike over the Bonsai Mountain I was already repairing fences. The three little pigs had been making their presence known by leaving craters all along the grass verges of the drive and across what was left of the "garden". Access to all areas had to be prevented hence my early appearance with various bits of wood, wire, screws, nails, staples, power tools and several sharp or heavy objects that, given the lack of daylight and my capacity for self harm, in normal circumstances would have required me to have at least supervision and more likely, help. However these were not normal circumstances, today was a big day, we had the final day of skills to foster training to deliver and an exhibition to put on inviting applications from would be fosterers. Time was tight, the fence repair went smoothly and all would have been well except for one minor detail. Repairing fences on pig pen should not go smoothly, there should be a cow shaped fly in the ointment.
Fully prepared for that eventuality I had taken along with all other fence repair essentials a bucket of feed to keep said cow occupied rather than have her investigate (read get in way) of repairs. Hetty was conspicuous by her absence. Rocky took advantage of lack of cow by eating a hearty breakfast. Search of perimeter was cowless, cow was definitely MIA, last seen 11.40pm in greenhouse asleep.
Clock ticking search pattern widened to militias field.
A dozen or so black cows grazed in the half light, none looked guilty.
Not ours then.
Clock ticked on.
Retraced search and extended to The Cauldron, if cow not there then search will have to abandoned.
Several high speed sheep exit the entrance to The Cauldron gave a tiny clue that a tiny cow was playing chase. Hetty thundered into the lane to be confronted by me in my finest matador pose. Thankfully she skidded to a halt and right turned into the back of the Corral OK where she was treated as hero by the ponies. Chastisements for all will have to wait there were lots of jobs to do.
Exhibition went well, lots of meeting and greeting, lots of interest and application packs dished out along with free pens and cards.

Help was at hand, the apprentice smallholder and The Godfather kept the troops entertained and in all the day was a great success. A good group completed the training and we had a brilliant buffet lunch where everyone chipped in with a plate of goodies. I ate more than my share of fresh crab and apple cake (two items ate separately, not together, that would be weird) I locked up and set off home a happy man, especially as the pigs would have been thwarted in their attempt to defoliate the garden.

Unfortunately the pigs had other ideas and had attacked en masse.

The resulting damage looked like the "garden" had been carpet bombed.

How had this happened?

Had they breached the extra security?

Had the repair work not held?

No, it was all intact.

They had simply used the almost barn door as an exit.

A barn door left open.

Left open by someone in a hurry.

In a hurry looking for a cow.

Cows in glass houses

Hetty has taken to sleeping in one of the greenhouses, for reasons which I hope are blindingly obvious I have not sought to capture this image of bovine domesticity as the vets bill caused by

startled cows reaction to sudden flash light of camera in the dark can only be imagined! Plans are afoot to rehouse her in more suitable accommodation, but to do this we need a big man in a big digger. Watch this space!

Stupid Cow

The day got off to a slow start as we had friends over and this called for a full cooked English on the helipad. Any excuse to stuff myself with our sausage bacon and eggs! Once they moved on to their next destination I got on with trying to get jobs off the jobs list without adding to it.


I didn't even know we had a green plastic chair, but Hetty found one. She also found an interesting way to attract my attention, jumping the garden fence and playing silly buggers with the greenhouse. Thankfully she only broke glass in the already broken one, but hell bent on creating chaos she returned from having a smashing time with aforementioned headgear. Never having had to remove garden furniture from demented bovines it was all a bit of a learning curve. This started with taking a firm grip of chair before realising that this was a bigger mistake than forcing ones head through a small hole in a plastic chair.

Now their is form in the Rock HQ clan for getting stuck in a chair. He who cannot be named, eldest son, aged 9 decided to see if he could fit through the back of a chair, a contortionist trick he managed with some finesse until he passed it from his waist, squeezed his shoulders through and was found in the first stages of death by plastic school chair by a panicking teacher. Teacher did the obvious if faced with a blazing inferno, or horrific life threatening accident, and phoned the fire brigade. They dutifully turned out the jaws of life, a huge hydraulic cutting device, and made to free first born. He had a sense of humour failure and a kindly fireman wiped away his tears, covered his head in fairy liquid and removed chair from sobbing child. The school phoned me to tell of the crisis and thought it very bad form that I had hysterics and thought the whole episode v funny.

Back in present crisis on third circuit of garden I decided to let go of mad cow before one of us was seriously hurt and resorted to the old combination of applied psychology and extreme violence. Lulled into a false sense of security by the sudden appearance of an extra feed and my bonne homme, Hetty paused in her canter around the garden and stuffed her face. This provided yours truly with the opportunity to grip the chair and in a super hero type way break it with my bare hands. I am not sure who was more surprised, me or the cow, but she was certainly grateful that the plastic add on was gone and even more thankful that I hadn't used the sledge hammer on a better safe than sorry principle.

The day calmed down a bit, one of the Ryeland Lambs took up residence in Mr Whirlpool, we went over to see Stable Sprite to wish him a happy birthday (presented him with a Rock HQ special, a letter rack painted like a Berkshire pig) did a bit of last minute shopping and entertained Beth and Rob in the evening. I'm hoping for a quieter day tomorrow!

Piggin rushing about

I didn't have the camera with me, unusual I know, so there are no pictures of last nights escapades with Hetty the love sick bovine. She escaped Rock HQ a few weeks ago and was ravished by a Belgian Blue Bull. It was her own fault and she jumped three fences and terrorised a hundred sheep before she managed to get in a position where he could have his wicked way.

Three days ago she jumped in with the Berkshire pigs Morgana and Guinevere and seemed happy enough, but given her capacity for show jumping we thought is good idea that she should be shut inside for her own safety while the time to bull passes. It was going to be very straightforward, Hetty would follow the bucket of extremely appetising feed up the lane to the small enclosure at the back of the kennels, and as I had Stable Sprite and his apprentice Gremlin as extra cowhands what could possibly go wrong.

Well as it took over an hour, we covered several miles, got The Oracle involved and ended up cornering the beast (cow not the Oracle) in the garden of the Ghost House under the watchful eye (only one) of the Witch who lives there (don't look back) quite a lot in reality. Thankfully with my careful management and Gremlins unbounded enthusiasm we got Hetty safely indoors, the Berkshires back in the pen and the Ryelands out of the conservatory. As Stable Sprite said as he fired up his aging magic white chariot, its never easy, but then again why would I want it to be. What else is there to do? Watch Telly?

The drought ends......for now

The rain sent everything diving for cover today, including us, and at one stage there was quite a collection of animals under the eaves of Rock HQ, perhaps they thought it was an Ark.

Hetty made herself useful by licking the front window clean, the deposits she left behind took the shine off her efforts though. Ambrose who has been released from maximum security by my beautiful and oh so patient, yet too soft to goats wife gave him the born free moment. He totally ruined this by getting into the veg garden and rooting up the new strawberry plants. Suitably chastised he is hiding, once found he is back in the stockade.

As we were confined to barracks we sorted out the pigs. 140 pound of sausage bagged up, belly roasts rolled and stuffed, various offensive looking bits of pig were cooked for the dogs, and as is traditional a nice slice of pork belly was in the pan while the rest of the pig was delicately placed in Mr Whirlpool, who is now back in action thanks to yours truly fixing the fuse box. This had the added effect of fixing the pantry lights, so no more groping in the dark for gin and settling for baked beans.

True to form Pam has refused to deliver little piglets, even though its D-Day (due day) but she seems to have changed shape again, and maybe producing milk. As we have no stool low enough I refrained the urge to milk her, we enough milk in the fridge anyway. Its easier to get it from the Co Op than risk losing your fingers milking a pig.

Feel the tension!

Part of yesterday was devoted to Hetty who being our house cow takes this title seriously by hanging around the front door when not leaping fences. The plan is that she will go to the bull, another mid leg Dexter, have a calf and provide us with much amusement and injury as we try to claim our share of milk for their bed and board. If she is anything like the goats she will have an acute aversion to sharing and will kick the bucket over or attempt to maim the milk thief.

But we have faith, and in an exercise of optimism over experience are persevering and have embarked on the journey that will hopefully lead to home made beefburgers and ice cream. Step one is halter train your cow, this is essential as Vets are sometimes timid and will not venture into cows range without having a rope around cows head while they fiddle with its nether parts. Hetty's training has gone well. She took to the halter like a fish to a bike and after the rope burns and gravel rash healed I was ready for step two. Get Vet to TB test the belligerent bovine. This involves sticking a sharp object into cow, twice, she second time is harder than the first as cow is usually airborne or in stable rafters, but after second jab they measure the lumps made by sharp object. The Vet then comes back in three days to see if cow is a "reactor" if she is then cow is summarily executed and thrown away, the smallholder receives a gold leaf embossed scroll from HRH or big Dave saying thanks for service to cowhood, supreme sacrifice etc and heres a tenner to getting another one.

Needless to say both Hetty and yours truly are a bit concerned, especially given our run of bad luck over the weekend. The thought of our pet cow being put down because she has TB is not an easy one to come to terms with.

So meantime she is chomping through the green stuff and I am emailing pics of naughty motorcyclists to the Police. We will know Hetty's fate Thursday, meanwhile cross everything!