The sky fell in

The day erupted with a very rare event, a blue on blue attack. While I was tending to the important things in life, teaching the apprentice smallholder the finer points of sausage sandwich construction and an appreciation of Pink Floyd, my beautiful and oh so patient wife was trying to raise the alarm. When she could finally be heard over my "singing" a tuneless rendition of careful with that axe Eugene, little t and I tried to make a sentence out of "Don't know whats going on...sounds like murdered goats.....Trevor"

Poor Kayleigh who is at best of times nervous of the great outdoors due to the sky about to fall on her had been let out of her enclosure by the Pgoor(More likely Maisey standing up leaning on the door and her weight sprang the bolt). Having seen the doorway to a different world Trevor got amongst the goats and with his usual approach of if it stays still eat it if it moves mate it set about trying to create a new species by mounting Kayleigh who would have run away save for Trevor now hanging on and biting the back of her neck. Somehow fully laden (Anglo Nubian's are not pack animals so this was a feat of strength) Kayleigh staggered down the lane and crashed into the front door of the cottage in order to gain attention. In case this failed to elicit the necessary response she gave the universal cry of despair uttered by Anglo Nubian's when being sexually molested by a miniature stallion, which in case you have not heard it sounds like several cats in a paper shredder.

Opening the front door created an interesting mix of randy stallion, terrified goat, excited Bernese and yours truly barefoot trying to avoid injury and protect milk supply. A well aimed wellington distracted sex beast and Kayleigh was given sanctuary in the conservatory while footwear was used properly and animals given a chance for pulse rates to settle. The disturbed goat was taken back to her stall, at this point Easter decided to drop a lamb and so another day began at Rock HQ.

All quiet on the western front a quick headcount revealed that all lambs had survived another night, admittedly Audi and Izzy were in the kitchen all night so were given a bit of a boost, but 5 lambs, 11 piglets, one quail all going strong.

The majority of the day revolved around either building things for pigs, moving pigs, feeding pigs, chasing pigs, getting boar out of large green tank, running away from angry boar who objected to being made to get out of the tank and watching the piglets enjoy their first day outside the farrowing pen. Tomorrow should be quieter, I'm going back to work.

Never say Never Again!

This might look like a dark shadow lurking behind Kayleigh our agoraphobic goat but it is in fact a very well bred animal called Maisey who has just joined us at Rock HQ. She hails from way up north, County Durham originally, before moving to west Wales where she was trained and shown, got pregnant (hussy) had kids and from that point her show career was over as her udder went a funny shape. Not the shape judges admire anyway. So the nice man who sold us Kayleigh (she actually has a very posh Welsh name that when pronounced properly sounds like an angel singing, if I say it it sounds like I have just barfed on my shoe, so we call her Kayleigh) who had trained Maisey called us on the off chance we wanted another garden botherer.

How could we refuse? With Kayleigh giving us enough milk to bath in and Kurry soon to be a tandoori recipe it was obvious we needed another goat, especially as she is also agoraphobic and allergic to gardens. Anyway Anglo Nubian Goats are like chocolates, one is never enough.

So tonight I got to milk two goats. One stood quietly and ate her food while letting me get at the white stuff. The other kicked the jug over, bit my left ear and kicked me in the right. Once I explained to Maisey the options available, compliance or spicy cookery she settled down and I got enough out of her to compensate for the bruises and feed Kurry.

A.N.D.Q!

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.

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)

Stop Gap

We are used to a certain level of mayhem at Rock HQ, some animal inspired, other at our creation (usually mine) but today for some two hours chaos reigned supreme. All thanks to Thor the Boar.

After yesterdays debacle where he climbed out of the new pig pen where the beds were soft, girls aplenty and food twice a day, in preference to standing under his beau, Apollo the Gypsy Cob, plan B was put into action.

Plan B entailed putting him back in the pig pen and then watching to see his favoured exit, heading him off and putting a robust obstacle in the way.

Sorted.

The magic blue bucket of food was summonsed, the door to solitary confinement opened and what should have happened is Thor follow bucket and Plan B enacted.

What actually happened was Thor ran straight to his not so secret entrance to Corral OK, shoved his way through a ring feeder and began courting Apollo. William, the Welsh Cob took exception to the sudden appearance of pork and while I tried to work out why the allure of the blue bucket failed, he began to make life threatening Kung Fu moves on the randy pig.

Thus began a race up and down the runway with Apollo being chased by Thor being chased by William while Hetty tried to hide on to of the muck heap.

Kayleigh the agoraphobic goat had all her worst fears about outside confirmed when she stuck her head out of her stall to see where her breakfast bearer had got to and saw the above menage a trois hitting her gate at full speed. She bolted before the earth moved, William fell on his backside, Apollo and Thor made the return journey just in time for the magic blue bucket, gripped by yours truly, to regain its former allure and within seconds bucket lay abandoned (ungripped) on floor as cow, pig and two crazy horses claimed ownership.

Drastic action was required to bring some form of order the chaos, Apollo was to be the sacrifice, plan being that he would be led from food scrummage, Thor would see the love of his life departing and dutifully follow and at some point be persuaded to join the waiting sows.

This might have worked had it not been for Apollo's desire for freedom rather than pork and once in the yard bolted down the lane with the amorous sausage factory in pursuit. William watched Apollo disappear and threatened to join him but was persuaded to stay by my beautiful and oh so patient wife's voice of absolute authority.

Just as fast as Apollo disappeared he returned, the cause of his velocity immediately apparent, Trevor the pocket rocket hanging on his tail. As they careered along the lane William redoubled his efforts to escape and at one point had his front hooves over the five bar gate. Chester safe in the stable began to kick the door, add to this the sound of the magnificent seven barking encouragement you might begin to understand why I had a SOHF.

Thor was now oblivious to the equine carnage at one end of the plot and somehow I managed to get him in with the girls. Apollo trundled past, slower now and was halted by grabbing a handful of mane and some veiled threats, he was happy to go back to the Corral OK.

Trevor was happy that no ponies bigger than him were roaming free.

Pulse rates began to return to normal, I got the necessary tools to sort the pig pen and order was in the process of being restored.

Despair took on a whole new meaning as Thor, having been in with the girls hardly long enough for a coffee yet alone form a meaningful relationship, was now back in the lane and hell bent on finding his pony.

I wont go on, but imagine more of the above but with much more swearing and threats to fetch the gun until finally after an hour and forty five minutes a very sulky boar was "persuaded" to get back in with the sows.

This time no chances were taken, Tracey stood guard while I ran (well sort of, a quick walk) to get the fencing tools. In the time it took he was out again, but this time his secret was revealed, he doesn't climb five bar gates, not completely, on two of the gates that make up the pen, the spacing in the top bars is everso slightly wider than the other four, so pig climbs up, pokes head through and then slithers through the just wide enough gap flopping on the floor the other side, he then climbs out over the stock fence.

Several planks of wood hastily nailed into the gap and the boring boar was/is contained. He is now sulking, but at least he is where he should be and not sausages (yet!).

And we were only two hours late to a lovely lunch cooked for us by a very good friend who also gave us some runner ducks to come home with. And a cake for little t, and toys for little t, and lots of happy memories.

Day 4 30 30 lvl 10 endurance hill 12.1 km (Regatta de Blanc, The Police)

Santa's favourite

Sometimes I might be persuaded to use hyperbole in order to raise a smile, but this mornings antics where I was eventually found by my beautiful and oh so patient wife chasing a sheep that had a neon reindeer wedged on its head really needs no such exaggeration for comic effect.

Aside from this it was a normal morning at HQ, I was feeling pleased with myself at having coaxed three and a bit pints from Kayleigh while listening to Misplaced Childhood, and then in stroke of genius made a self feeding arrangement for Kurry, thus cutting 15 minutes of the morning routine.

So finding myself unable to get out of the kitchen as the pantry door was stuck fast was a trifle annoying. I had gone indoors to get Kayleigh her warm water with black treacle mix (spoilt? as if) so the door had operated normally minutes beforehand. Running through possible causes, trolls, sack of spuds falling, dog food sack falling over, possibly assisted by dog, I continued to shove the refusenik wooden portal until after one particularly good effort door moved enough to allow visual identification of problem.

FernyFern Fern from Fern town had taken advantage of the open door to the workshop, entered the pantry from the outside and was now stuffing her self with dog biscuits (vegetarian readers better stop at this point)

Several well aimed swearwords were less effective than a swift poke with the broom handle (all jokes about poking sheep are banned) and finally Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown conceded defeat and tried to back out of the store through several items "in storage" which included my prized electric reindeer outdoor Christmas decoration salvaged from a charity shop last yule. In turning to escape the wrath of man greedy sheep shoved her brainless head through neon Rudolf and ran for it, closely followed by man with broom shouting instructions on how it would be in her best interests to stop right there.

Order was restored by patient and beautiful one shaking bucket of poultry feed, removing decoration from easily diverted sheep and threatening to take out an asbo on anyone using threatening language in the yard. Thankfully Santa's favourite survived his ordeal and was put back in a safe place until his services are ever required one foggy Christmas Eve.

Dawn of a new ice age

An extraordinary sight greeted us this morning, the ground, trees and most slow moving critters were coated in frost. Mid January and frost? Who ever would have thought it? Why it was plus 13 the other day, I was outside at midnight wearing only a t shirt (well not only I had trousers and boots but you know what I mean) and here we are minus 6! Somebody should do something about this sort of thing. I blame the Government. So it would seem winter has finally got fed up with spring trying to push in and has put in a late appearance.

I was happy about this as it meant less sloshing around in knee deep mud

and even the mundane became more attractive when coated in ice crystals.

Jobs of the day included some real therapeutic stuff. Chopping logs is always fun. And butch. Much more macho than milking goats and I am embarrassed to say that I am getting goat maids grip, a sort of cramp that occurs from repetitive squeezing, however this is a small price to pay for the lovely creamy milk on my soggies this morning. I also realised late last night that the startled looks on the faces of colleagues when I left a late evening meeting saying "I'm sorry I have to go and milk the goat" was from them thinking this was some new form of euphemism for something unsavoury.

Time was spent with the new arrivals, and after a trip to a Gate shop (yes there are such things)we look like, for once, we are organised as the new hurdles will keep Kurry from the milk bar (he has been helping himself) and when we add the rest of the hurdles there will be lambing pens aplenty. Much much different from our first lambing in 2007 where one ewe was separated from the other by old rabbit hutches and string. We thought we were doing well when we used straw bale walls last year, but these metal hurdles with interlocking ends and clip on hay racks are the bee's knees and almost as much fun a Lego!

Tomorrow there are a lot of moves planned, the new goats go into a bespoke goat house with patio (just in case the agoraphobia is cured) The three now not so little pigs plus Iggle and Piggle move into the space vacated by Kayleigh and Kurry, (where they await the quick trip to the clestial sty and Mr Whirlpool) Thor moves out of what was always supposed to be the dairy, but is usually the med bay or emergency shelter, and down to live in the pig pen with Bridget and Pamela. What we hope will happen is that there Thor will forget his love for Apollo and do the business with his own kind. This might be wishful thinking but we are nothing if not optimistic at Rock HQ.
Not sure what Apollo will think of it.

USP

Some of our readers have felt compelled to email over the last 24 hours, the theme being, given my allergy to goats, and the blatant prejudice demonstrated toward the species on the new webpage under the title "Goats. Why bother?" , what then would possess me to seek out and buy some more.

Well rest assured my desire to be as goat free at Rock HQ is as strong as ever. A quick look down the "garden" where you can review the detritus of battles lost against the ravenous hordes of milkless horned cloven hoofed pestilence who stripped the fruit trees of all vegetation,fruit and bark, who ignored the no entry signs on the veg patch, conquered the goat proof fence and decimated all signs of life, or the smashed up greenhouses that contained the almost ripe crop of tomatoes devoured in an instant, is more than enough reason to get rid of all goat like creatures lurking around the smallholding. Ambrose is in the exit lounge as I type, he having only a few days left before sampling Caribbean cookery.

So why Kayliegh and Kurry?

Were they such a bargain I could not refuse?

Well not really, they cost a fair number of beer tokens.

Was it the thought of all the milk, yoghurt, cheese and Ice Cream made from Kayliegh's contribution to her keep (not to mention the replacement curry ingredients from Kurry thrown in free) well partly, the fridge does contain 4 litres of the white stuff, the dogs have had a fair share and Kurry has been fed. So Kayleigh has already contributed and done some good work for goat kind.

No, this goat has a unique selling point, one so appealing that even I who has suffered at the hoof of goats for five long years simply could not resist.

Kayliegh is agoraphobic.

The garden is safe.