Posie's Blog. Tales of island life on a hebridean hill farm

Posie's Blog. Tales of island life on a hebridean hill farm

Saturday, 11 November 2017

Domnhall Hamish and his ladies

Why is it that whenever the Happy Farmer makes an exit to the mainland all of the animals seem to  take it upon themselves to misbehave?

The first sighting was at daybreak, on the distant skyline, of something decidedly fluffy and black and quite distinctly on the wrong side of the fence, the road side of the fence to be precise, infact not just the ‘roadside’ but the very middle of the road. Binoculars poised, to ascertain if it was dog, horse, cow or sheep, it frustratingly skipped way, over the horizon and out of sight, but paused just long enough for me to see the escapee was Domnhall Hamish, eldest daughter’s new Hebridean tup.

Quick race to get dressed then and breakfast abandoned I leapt into the car in hot pursuit, only to find in my absence,  Domnhall Hamish had disappeared into a field in the distance, safely off the road,  so breakfast was back on the menu, followed by a quick sprint round the fields with the dogs.

Of course Domnhall Hamish wasn’t happy grazing in a huge field all alone. No, when he had artfully skipped over the drystone dyke of the fank to escape, earlier in the day, he had other plans on his mind. With his head full of romantic notions and several fields full of lipstick clad ladies waiting patiently Domnhall Hamish had decided he could delay no longer, romance was calling. While I was running with the dogs, he abandoned the field and was back on his little adventure. He was next identified going for a swift jog along the main road, holding up the traffic on his way.

Finally I managed to locate him and follow him back up the farm road in the car until he came to a halt outside the pottery, exhausted. He stood panting, his long black tongue hanging out, gasping, as I called to him and ran towards the hill gate, thankfully in his exhausted state he could just about manage to trot behind me. I was impressed at him following me, but also, as I am terrified of most animals, especially the farm variety, never having quite made the grade in farming life, I was relieved he couldn’t manage to run any quicker. I opened the gate and he obediently went trotting out across the hill. Result! Sheep are never usually so obedient, in the happy farmer's case they always give him two fingers and race off in the opposite direction. Maybe Domnhall Hamish realised he was being rewarded for his adventures by being released into a field full of hebridean sheep, a few days earlier than the Happy Farmer had planned and maybe I do make the grade in farming after all!

It was amusing a little while later then to see Domnhall Hamish promoted to super star status as the ladies crowded eagerly round him. He was causing quite a stir. However after his earlier marathon about the farm and village, he, on the other hand, looked thoroughly exhausted.

Until next time…..