Friday the 13th

The reason why Springtime, not Easter, was so gigantically massive became very apparent this morning when I did the rounds. My initial feeling of joy was followed by an immediate sinking feeling as Springtime ran along the runway to get breakfast followed by a solitary lamb. Given her size she had to have had twins, where was the second. Having fed and fought off the rest of the greedy flockers I spotted a crumpled blob of white motionless on the hard concrete floor. Not good, the lamb was freezing cold (we had a frost) but the last vestiges of life were refusing to leave so I stuffed it into my jacket and was about to fetch help from my beautiful and oh so patient wife who was feeding and watering the infant when I saw another lamb lying on the straw in the shelter. This lamb was massive, dead massive, the birth sac had not cleared its nose and it suffocated, not far away was another not quite so big but equally dead lamb, this one with no sign of cause of death, just lifeless. Panic set in, were there two ewes that had given birth? A quick check of the lined up backsides (the fronts were hoovering up breakfast)revealed that only one had given birth and she had had all four. This is unusual, especially in a breed that almost always has one large lamb, rarely has two, but four!

The lamb in my jacket was now needing urgent attention, days gone by we would have stuck it straight in the rayburn but since its forced demise I stuck the lamb in a box on the cookers plate warmer with two hot water bottles and an angle poise lamp for good measure. While that was taking effect I milked Springtime to get the vital colostrum milk for the ailing lamb.
The one with mum was now feeding, good news. The one on the cooker was responding well to the heat and took 25ml of the milk. This was followed by several other small feeds and at this point it is snoozing in the kitchen under a heat lamp while the one with mum is warm and cosy in a deep straw bed. Hopefully both will be with us in the morning.





The journey to work was also eventful, and very productive. A ewe was on her back in one of the militias fields so I did the decent thing and tipped it the right way up. It was very grateful and no doubt will name one its lambs after me. Not too much further down the road I got over 30kg fresh of venison thanks to a driver who was obviously vegetarian and left the victim of their sudden meeting for me to pick up.

Vegetarians

It might come across sometimes that I consider all our stock as meals on the hoof but there was a time I was a vegetarian, yes by choice and for quite a while, around five years and I was cured dear reader by the Royal Navy.

Sara who was here only a week ago, seems like longer, is also a veggie and we had a veggie meal, a lovely vegetable casserole with cheesy scones, tomatoes and mozzarella with chili beans. Altogether delicious, admittedly it would have been better with a thick Rock HQ Berkshire pork chop with a chili glaze but for one night I harked back to old times and ate a meal that hadn't been eating a few weeks before.

Why I became vegetarian was as a result of watching a documentary about intensive pig farming, the squalid conditions these poor animals are kept in turned my stomach and from that day on I shunned all meat unless I had hunted or killed it myself. This meant that in the not quite five years I kept this pledge I only ate one pheasant that I accidentally run over. It was quite a chase, up the grass verge through the hedge and across four back gardens but eventually I got it.

One of the primary reasons for smallholding was to ensure we knew where our food came from and that any animals we kept for meat were kept in conditions where their welfare was ensured and they led happy if somewhat shorter than natural lives. So well cared for, and as a result so tasty the meat some of our friends who have been vegetarians for years, like Sara and Kay have been tempted to try some of our pork and bacon.

How the Navy cured me was while I was on HMS Norfolk I had a dinner. I was for years a reserve officer, I have in fact only just resigned my commission as my arm will never repair to a level that I could carry out my role, a rescue coxswain. Whilst you can drive a boat with one hand hauling boats in and out of water demands two arms, hauling wet sailors out of the sea requires a crane! Anyway for some reason as I went past the galley I smelt the cooking and asked the chefs what was on the menu. Lamb chops. I explained I was a vegetarian. They laughed. The smell was overwhelming, I asked for a plateful. Three platefuls later I was cured.

I will miss the Navy and the scrapes and adventures I got into, accidentally having dinner with Prince Andrew was one of many weird days, I wont however miss the the lunches they gave us, pictured below, prisoners got fed better!