A quiet moment

Reba is doing well looking after 8 noisy pups, here she is taking advantage of the fact that they are all asleep by having 40 winks herself.

Proud Mum!

This is Reba, our very clever Bernese Mountain Dog who is managing the shock of having eight puppies to look after very well.

All or nothing!

Thankfully we were allowed to come home by our very kind boss at lunchtime as Beth phoned to tell us that Reba was giving birth!

We got home in plenty of time and at 4.50 the first one was born, so far we have six, two boys and four girls! As this video clip was loading another girl was born, we think thats it.

Not to be out done, whilst I was acting as midwife to Reba, Springtime one of our Ryelands delivered Levi, a massive lamb by any standard, thankfully all was well.

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.

Berner Breakout!

They are fantastic dogs but agility is not one of their strong points!

However, if they get an idea in their heads you have a hard job convincing them otherwise. So today Rocky and Reba were in the conservatory, the bespoke redwood effort lovingly built by the nice man who sold us Rock HQ and they decided that what they wanted to do was go for a walk. I personally think they were egged on by Poppy the Golden Retriever who was with them.

Anyway the dynamic duo shoulder charged the double doors leading into the garden and set off on a great adventure which was only curtailed when The Oracle spotted them harassing Mad Keith for crusts of bread.

The Oracle being the good neighbour that he is walked them back presenting three muddy dogs to Tracey and Bethan who were enjoying hot buttered toast for breakfast oblivious to the mass breakout.

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!

Its a Dog's Life!

There are many hazards facing a smallholder, goats lurking in dark corners to mug you for the feed buckets, Ryeland sheep rushing you from behind as they try to get to the food trough, pigs biting your legs as they mistake you for their breakfast, come to think of it many of the hazards do revolve around feeding time.

Aside from the hazards there are the emotions that you surf throughout the day. The highs, the knowing that you are so lucky to be here on this planet in this very spot at this very time feeling like you do, no one will ever experience it quite like you do and once you recognise that moment its gone. Forever.

Today I note a new emotion, not one I am prone to but as I am about to head out into the dark wet evening to check on the horses, to make sure the goats are shut up safely, to put the birds away before the fox takes another and all the jobs associated with the evening routine I am feeling jealous.

I must say I am not exactly feeling 100%, Ben is back on leave and has very kindly given me an irritating cough, runny nose and all the aches and pains normal for man flu. At least I hope its just man flu, not some weird tropical disease he has brought back with him, currently he is not being a very brave soldier lying in bed claiming he is dieing.

I have manfully ignored the symptoms and got on with the farm, taking the water up the hill by the bucket load to the horses who had the poor manners to drink it almost as fast as I could carry it really took it out of me though and all the while I was watched by the Berners.

Poppy busied herself with a toy lion practicing her retrieve by throwing it and then herself down the hill and then running down after it, running up and down to the point of exhaustion. The thought of putting panniers on the Berners to carry the water did cross my mind, they were after all used for such jobs in Switzerland. Eventually all the jobs done I got back inside to a hot drink and got on with house jobs.

So why jealous, well after all their hard work watching me today the Berners have crashed out around the fire and are stuck there like limpets while I have clearly indicated that they should join me again outside. Everytime I walked past Rocky he really concentrated on being asleep.

And as for Reba!

Does Reba look like she is interested in going out in the rain?

Me and my shadows!

Hooray its a Holiday!!

I am lucky enough to have a generous employer who gives me a lot of annual leave so I home alone this week and catching up on jobs as well as getting ready for Christmas.

Hardly alone, there are some 60 animals here that need looking after aside from Ben and Bethan who are "helping" so its just Tracey thats had to go out to work.

Whatever I do or where ever I am on the smallholding as you can see above shadows are never far away.

Always watching.

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.

Under seige!

I would like to sit here and tell you tales of the last two days that involve humour, my escapades with the two butchers, my attempts to learn how to chop up my pigs, how delicious the pork is, or perhaps the fun we had with the horses yesterday or the glorious weather and how life generally at Rock HQ is fantastic.

Except we are under siege from foxes.

This is some of the damage caused by an old dog fox to two of our lambs in the garden at lunchtime two days ago, the wounds are serious enough for them to be housed and given not quite intensive care, but care enough to prevent the shock killing them. We first thought it was our dogs that had done it, unlikely given they have learned the hard way from rams and over protective mothers to avoid the lambs. When dealing with this aftermath I saw out of the corner of my eye what looked like a fox dash past the gateway, I didn't really believe I saw it but today at lunchtime Tracey saw a ginger animal streak across the garden, our fat ginger cat cannot muster an amble to the food dish yet alone a streak across the garden. With the poultry away its looking for easy pickings and Sandy and Bonny are tiny Ryelands, smaller than the turkeys and Geese the fox has already taken.

Last night we saw a fox walk towards the top of the field, a couple of shots at it only made it break into a slow jog before slinking into the woodland.

Tonight, well Reba the Berner has just come in from the garden stinking, she has found fresh fox pooh and made the most of it by coating herself with it.

They are out there and they are watching.

False alarm!

Four weeks after catching Rocky and Reba up to shenanigans in the bracken we took her to the vet to be scanned.

She has shown signs of pregnancy, morning sickness, tendency to only want to eat premium cuts of meat as opposed to her usual dog food, loads more sleep than usual and a sudden urge for anchovy and strawberry jam sandwiches.

So Andy our ace vet had a bit of a rummage and then to be extra certain he shaved her tum and had a quick scan.

No puppies.

Shame, we were looking forward to being parents!

Hot under the collar

This our big Bernese Mountain Dog Rocky cooling off in the stream.

His mate Reba is in season so he feeling a bit frustrated, she is too young for them to breed just yet so we have to keep a close eye on them both.

This is his version of taking a cold shower!

Its a dog Holmes!

As its the weekend I did plan to lie in a bit longer than our usual morning routine allows. I should have known our tribe of critters would have other plans. The Bernese alarm clock went off at around half five and then the dawn chorus of hungry goats bleating under the bedroom window put paid to any thoughts of sneaking back to my bed and grabbing another hour of much needed kip.

Never mind I thought, this will allow me to catch up with a few garden jobs and I can have a long and leisurely breakfast. Again the plan and reality differed greatly as Reba, pictured here, decided to take off over the hill forcing her hapless owner to abandon his full cooked English and find her.

The hill is currently covered in five foot high stems of bracken so making it impossible to see anything unless its the size of a small elephant. Much calling and silent swearing failed to produce the missing pooch. Swearing has to be silent as Tracey has a swear box, a pound an expletive towards her new dog. Tracey joined the search, we found out why our sheep have suddenly stopped turning up for breakfast, The Oracle has taken to feeding them as they look so cute. So our fat Ryelands have persuaded a grizzled border farmer to part with sheep nuts, as he says they are now his friends for life, or rather as long as there are sheep nuts in his bucket. After a light breakfast with him they then bother Mad Keith for bread so no its wonder we don't see them.

Tracey decided to go back to Rock HQ while I was ordered to go up to the technohermits collection of shacks to see if he had seen our dog. I don't know why but as I approached the ghost house today I felt distinctly uneasy, the sun shone through the leafy canopy of the trees as they arched over the path but it was noticeably colder. Rabbits were grazing ahead, not actually going onto the lawn of the white house in front of me. No one was home, as usual. For the first time since we have been here I let the stories of the house influence me and I turned back from the path and headed home. I didn't, just like instructed by the stories look back. Anyway with rabbits on the path it was clear my dog hadn't ventured that way.

She was on the hill, probably adding to the legends and ghost stories that abound in this area. There is for instance a huge black dog that terrorises the hills, if you come to Rock HQ you will meet three real live ones, but this legend has been around since the fifteen hundreds.
A local Lord, a nasty fellow called Black Vaughn was on the losing side at a battle and beheaded. His ghost tormented the locals until thirteen priests were summonsed and were so frightened as they tried to exorcise his ghost from the local church that they lost their minds. One did however manage to reduce the ghost to the size of a fly and catch it in a snuff box, which was then thrown into a big pond on top of the hill next to ours. Some local sap let the fly out of the box and Black Vaughn's ghost manifested as a big vicious black dog forever roaming the hills and scaring the locals, usually on their way home after they had been to the pub.

Some chap called Sir Arthur Conan Doyle heard this story and published it as The Hound Of The Baskervilles. Now you know.

Anyway our hound of the Baskervilles was found by Tracey sat in the conservatory covered in sticky bods and reeking of fox pooh. Obviously she had picked up the scent and set off to investigate rolling in every turd she found along the trail.

She was feeling very pleased with herself, not nearly as pleased as the cats were feeling after helping themselves to my unattended breakfast.

Bathtime for Berners

Its been a strange day at Rock HQ, not much got done because of the weather, yet again all jobs were rained off. We were supposed to be showing Rocky and Reba at Newport show but as our hay is ready we cancelled our trip to lug 300 bales into the not quite weatherproof barn.

Unfortunately it rained all night, the baler man didn't turn up and best laid plans have been ruined once more. Plus I really hurt my back wrestling Meg back over the fence, it was bad anyway, now its agony. But at least I showed her who was boss! No jumping fences on my watch.

So we did some admin, yawn, and when the dogs rolled in something that smelt worse than fox pooh we took the drastic step of bathing them all. So a production line was set up and Tracey was locked in the wet room and not allowed out until the dogs smelt better. Rocky immediately took exception to being clean and dug a pit under the bush and rolled in the dirt until he achieved a satisfactory state of uncleanliness.

By now the sun had dared to break through so we took advantage of our enforced idleness, ignored all the jobs and sat in the garden.

This was fine until Trevor the Shitland decided that he wanted the hammock and made a valiant attempt to climb into it despite the fact that Tracey was occupying it at the time. Forced to shelter from the attentions of an over amorous pony once more we settled down to more, yawn, paperwork and packed all the stuff sold on ebay to buy our cow(s).

At least its done.

Thanks Trevor!

I got in a bit of a mood last night. The rain gods have conspired against us and for the last six days we have suffered torrential downpours with heavy showers in between. These have been particularly heavy first thing in the morning and after 5.30 pm, times which coincide with our routine on the smallholding when we set about our other job of looking after the animals. There are only so many times you can put on your wet waterproofs and soggy boots and remain happy about it. I was cheered up as usual by the antics of the dogs running about the smallholding, chasing or being chased by goats and sheep. They all get on so well, even Faith the grumpy Gordon Setter has been adorable for the last few weeks, not so much as a raised lip yet alone a growl. Perhaps she has finally grown up!

Speaking of which here are two pictures of Reba the Bernese Mountain Dog demonstrating how much she has grown in 12 months and also how much we need to redecorate the conservatory!

Some fantastic Tits!

I was given some feedback on the website today, which is always nice, saying that it was hilarious and heartwarming. Thanks very much, and here are two snippets of life at Rock HQ that may illustrate both points.

Last night we finally got the birds off to bed around Eleven, they try to stay out as late as possible and have to be coaxed carefully into the bird houses or they scatter, and the last thing you want to do last thing is chase the wild geese. Anyway, job done I wandered back to the cottage feeling very happy with the day. Rocky as ever was half a step behind me as I went through the gate and into the conservatory. The front door was wide open, and as I went through the nightly ritual of trying to work out which of the three light switches turns the anti fox lights on it occurred to me that the house wasn't as I had left it ten minutes earlier. House secure I went to go upstairs, Reba one of the Berners was sat looking towards the kitchen and was giving the canine equivalent of "in there!" with a nod of her head. Half way up the stairs I remembered the front door and reluctantly turned back to investigate.

The dining room and kitchen were in darkness, piles of washing loomed from the dining table, apart from that all seemed well. This was pointless I told myself but I turned the kitchen light on just in case.

Frozen in the sudden brightness of the spotlights there were two shady characters who gave up quietly, caught bang to rights Geisha the goat and Katy the lamb had launched a sneak attack on the cottage and were supplementing their diet by tucking into the go cat crunchies. It was they that had pushed the door open and crept in, and as I led them out like naughty children they both glowered at Reba, they would have got away with it if it hadn't been for that pesky Bernese Mountain Dog grassing them up.

Tonight we have had another fantastic evening in the garden, lots more done, its amazing how it can be changed from weeds and wilderness into garden when you can devote time to it and the animals don't undo all your hard work. As usual I was serenaded by the Peep Peep Peep of what I thought was a Chaffinch but it turns out its the Redstart. I carried on my digging, a new birdsong caught my attention, looking up I saw the Blue Tit chicks in the nesting box. It is one of my favourite jokes, look at the Tits in the garden, and variations, Great Tits, and so on, my family never tire of them. The box is around thirty five years old, made by Albert, Tracey's grandad. He died a number of years ago but every year this box successfully houses several broods of Blue Tits, a nice legacy. The current inhabitants look set to quit the box pretty soon.

Anyway, the title of this piece should attract several thousand hits from search engines, while that happens I shall go and eat my steak that's just about cooked on the bar b que. We are set for a fantastic sunset and we intend to watch it with some good food and nice glass of pop.

Cheers!

Watching patiently

This is Rocky on the left and Reba on the right watching patiently as Tracey and I erect a fence around the vegetable garden to keep the goats out.

That's the thing about Bernese Mountain Dogs, they are so interested in what you are doing they always stick close to you.

It seems the web page is having problems with video so you will have to wait patiently to see the video of William below.

Bernese alarm clock

This picture is of Reba our Bernese Mountain Dog bitch in her new hiding place, the soon to be goat dairy on the back of the stable block. She gets a bit hot so likes to find a cool patch to lie on away from the rest of the magnificent seven.

Looking at her butter wouldn't melt in her muzzle but she has her moments, like last night when Tracey went into the kitchen and found Reba sat bolt upright by the back door, a picture of innocence. As Tracey was about to leave the kitchen she just spotted that Reba's nose was white instead of its usual glossy black, she also had white around her mouth and on the top of her head. Behind her was an open sack of lamb milk powder which she had been dipping into as a little Berner snack. She is also not averse to stealing eggs, but will take them from the bowl on the kitchen work top unlike the rest of the pack who try to beat their master to the nesting boxes.

She is without doubt top dog of the magnificent seven who live at Rock HQ. We never thought she would achieve this status, particularly when you consider that Rocky and male Bernese Mountain Dog is here and top dog was undoubtedly a Gordon Setter called Faith. Faith didn't relinquish the top dog honour to Rocky but has definitely been moved down the pack order since Reba became an adult.

Reba didn't have a good start at Rock HQ. We got her from a breeder in Cornwall with a good reputation to be a mate for Rocky. Bernese Mountain Dogs are an exceptional breed and are fantastic companion dogs so we decided that we would like to breed some of our own one day. I collected the puppy from the breeder and put her in the back of the car. For the next hour and a half she howled and cried in protest against being taken from her litter mates. Exhausted she fell asleep and when she woke up she was meeting the pack at Rock HQ.

Rocky immediately fell in love with Reba and since they met they have been inseparable. Faith for some reason hates puppies so we were very careful to supervise her when she was around Reba. Unfortunately such close supervision couldn't prevent Faith lunging at and biting Reba as she walked past one evening. Pandemonium ensued as Preston dived in to stop Faith and Poppy joined in a spirited display of pack unity. As I tried to separate the dueling canines Tracey picked up the wounded pup from under the table. A nasty bite by the eye and a cracked tooth, she would live but Faith was banned from any contact until she was bigger. Faced with a wounded pup who was missing her mum I relented and let her sleep in our room, on the proviso she went back to the pack when she was better and bigger.

However due to further accidents and incidents she never got better and still sleeps in our room despite taking up nearly as much room in it as I do.

You see Reba was to accidents and misfortune as a magnet is to iron filings, you couldn't keep her away from them. A few days after the bite incident I was in the garden watering the salad bed when I heard an awful yowl and the noise of a puppy in pain. I dropped the hose and ran to the house expecting to find Faith finishing the job she had started on Reba. Tracey was hugging Reba by the front door. The puppy had climbed the stairs, got into the bathroom, climbed onto a radiator, onto the windowsill, out onto the conservatory, and fell off over the front door with a thump onto the concrete.

Three days later I was in the lounge and heard a strange gurgling sound and found that Reba was in the conservatory where she had climbed onto the back of the sofa, fell off and was hanging by the neck off a plant stand. Another near miss, like the time a while later when she fell into the pond and swam with all the grace and buoyancy of a brick and was rescued on the point of drowning.

It was around this time that the pack leader at Rock HQ decided that is was unfair that Reba had a bed inside our room if Rocky didn't as well. Knowing better than to argue I agreed and Rocky joined Reba and they sleep very contentedly on their beds either side of our bed.

Our bed is definitely out of bounds.

You will be surprised though how gently a fifty five kilogramme dog can tread when they apply themselves. You would think it unlikely that she would be able to get onto the bed without waking its occupants, especially when they are remaining vigilant against fox attack so wake easily. There have been a number of occasions when I have rolled over half awake and put my arm around Tracy to find she had a thick fur coat or an impressive set of teeth and whiskers and a very wet nose.


Normally though, just like Rocky, she sleeps quietly and wakes when the alarm goes off, waiting quietly to be let outside where she asserts her authority over the pack. She has grown up into a very fine Bernese Mountain Dog and is the friendliest canine you could wish to meet and if you like a lap dog that will crush you she is definitely the dog for you. She will spend hours sat next to you ensuring as much of her is in as much contact with you as possible. As I type this on the laptop her head is across my left forearm which cramps my typing style somewhat.

This morning though she changed tactics regarding the morning routine. Instead of waiting for the alarm she decided to be one. Nothing subtle like sticking her cold wet nose somewhere she shouldn't, or a big soppy wet kiss to rouse her owner, no, she thumped me on the nose with her front paw.

Just once.

That was all it took really.

That reminds me, I must change the pillow case, its got my blood on it.

Two firsts in one day!

Dilwyn village show!

The mecca for want to be cowboys and vintage car enthusiasts. The theme this year was The Wild West and there was a lot of entertainment provided by some very dodgy looking country and western fans.

Rocky and Reba took to the crowds like veteran show dogs, you really couldn't tell that it was the first time Reba had been anywhere so public as she was so well behaved and didn't over react when the cowboys had their fast draw competition with their very authentic replica cap guns.

Neither could you tell that Rocky was going to be a show dog as he tried his best to get his clean coat covered in cow dung deposited by the previous inhabitants of the field.

Both dogs gained lots of praise and patting from people who had never seen the breed before, you have to admit they are a striking looking dog the tricolour contrasts so well.

One bonus of the show was meeting the man who inspired me to get a horse, Doug, who runs heavy horse logging, a very nice man with lots of time for complete numpties like me who can only just tell one end of a horse from another.

We gathered at the show ring, eyeing up the opposition. There was a huge Pyrenean Mountain Dog, we thought the Bernese was a big dog but he was massive. I nearly asked the judges to check it wasn't two dwarfs in a pantomime costume. Finally we were called to our class, Working and Pastoral, quite a big group. We did our bit, Rocky performed well standing patiently while the Judge prodded and squeezed various bits of him. He also ran round the ring well on a lead, this was his first time out on a lead as we have no use for them out on the hill. Our time in the spotlight over we stood and waited for the Judging to finish. The Judge started waving at me, I waved back, the second Judge called me, Rocky had won! First time and a First! Second was a Husky, third a Rottweiler and fourth a Puli. The dwarf imposter's masquerading as a Pyrenean didn't get placed.

We left the ring, only to go straight back in to try our hand and paws at the Open Class, there were all sorts in this one and he was bored now, at one point I thought he was going to fall asleep. He got placed in this one as well, a third. fantastic effort from Rocky, the young upstart from the hill took his standing ovation from the crowd, a fairy tale story. Unfortunately by entering the open class and only getting a third the kennel club rules mean that he was excluded from best of show. If we were serious players we would have known this and would have withdrew so we would be eligible. As it was the KC Judge thanked us for our sportsmandog behaviour by staying in a class we entered. We know for next time though!

We let a friends daughter enter him in the junior class, by now he was tired and very fed up so she did a really good job keeping him in the ring, even when he slipped his collar she managed to get him back and finish the circuit.

Back at Rock HQ I went for a walk with our new prize winner and took Faith and Poppy. Ben was out on the hill somewhere training, carrying his kit and pushing himself to do an eight mile circuit in an hour and forty minutes. Not wanting to show him up I decided to give him a head start and meet him on the ridge. I couldn't find him so I set off back down the track. My radio crackled into life, Tracey was asking me where I was, just off five way track I replied, she was by Mad Keith's shack on her way round, the opposite way I had walked. Great! I set off to meet her, a very nice surprise. A bigger surprise was that she had got William with her, his first time around the hill. He was puffing a bit but seemed to be enjoying the new views. We carried on around back up to five ways, that's where we saw Ben. Given the choice between running back to the Rock or walking with us, the dogs and the horse he took the sensible option and we all chatted about the day, life, the universe and the meaning of life for the next mile.

Living where we do inspires conversations like that.