Gathering the Sheep

As I ran out the hill in the sunshine yesterday I met the happy farmer and his dog on the quad bike gathering in the sheep. Even the lazy dog gets to sit in luxury, in a fish box, on the back of the quad, as the happy farmer makes his way over the boggy ground and around, up the back of the steep hill.

He didn’t need a hand with gathering them yesterday at all, the girls were perfect, and followed each other in a big herd meandering down the hill. I think they must have known that it is clipping time. The girls are going for a hair cut, their fleeces will be shorn today by our team of New Zealand clippers that come over to the island every June and July to sheer the sheep. The happy farmer used to clip all of the sheep himself, but it is a back breaking, thankless task. They use electric sheers now, in years gone by the sheep were clipped by hand, I remember old Hughie and Baldie sitting for hours in the sunshine, a sheep at their lap, a pair of clippers in their hand, chatting away as they skilfully removed the sheep’s’ fleece. The sheep positively skip out of the fank after their hot, heavy fleeces have been removed. The fleeces are then packed into sacks and sent away to woollen mills on the mainland.

The happy farmer was up bright and early this morning, ‘as always,’ he says leaning over my shoulder. He was slightly caught out though when our son answered the phone to Mike, the clipper, and told him dad was still in bed, but could make it to the phone. He will be in for a bit of a ribbing later on!

Farmer T came racing into the kitchen; he had been out the hill checking his cows

‘Quick grab your wellies, I forgot to shut the gate, the sheep are all out over the hill again’
The happy farmer fled from his chair, grabbing those wellies, cursing Farmer T as he went, only for Farmer T to fall about laughing
‘Only joking!!’
So coffee was poured instead.

The sheep were out in the far away field for the night. The happy farmer took the children and dog with him this morning to bring the sheep across the farm to the fank in preparation for the clippers arrival. Youngest daughter has just arrived in, her fingers are frozen,
‘Why does daddy always need us to be a sheepdog?’ she asked as she placed her cold hands in mine for warmth. Of course the hot sunshine of yesterday has given way to torrential rain and gusty wind, a problem if it continues as the sheep need to be dry before they can be clipped; with electric sheers it would be dangerous to clip wet fleeces. The weather forecast last night promised it would clear after lunch. The happy farmer is busy making a huge pan of tablet with the children, as a thank you for their help. I am away to make a huge pan of curry to feed the clippers and their helpers as we have our ‘after clipping’ feast this evening. Fingers crossed that rain stops.

Until next time….

The photos are from last year's clipping.

Pup's paradise

I have put the hours into the vegetable patch this weekend; it is starting to look promising. The potatoes are getting ready to burst with flowers. I thinned the carrots. The courgette plants are beginning to flower, the broccoli is beginning to burst out, the cabbage and cauliflowers are growing good healthy green foliage, and the onions and leeks are beginning to grow taller. The salad leaves I have begun to gather proved irresistibly delicious for lunch and worth the sore back I had from hacking away at the weeds that were appearing in all corners. I am of course covered in clegg bites, the horse flies happily tucking into a feast of flesh as I worked away, oblivious to them.

Mist our sheepdog pup is not so little anymore. She is growing bigger by the day and the old sheep dog seems to be getting thinner by the day. I think the feeding arrangements will have to be changed; she is definitely getting more than her fair share, obviously stealing his food when she has finished her meal. We went out to lunch today and arrived home to find her sat smiling and wagging her tail on the front doorstep. She had managed to jump over the garden gate; even eldest daughter’s woodwork skills to extend the gate have failed to contain her. Luckily she had chosen not to venture too far from her home, although she looked very muddy, so I think she must have been away digging somewhere. She is going away soon to live for a month with the shepherd we got her from, for some intensive sheep dog training. The happy farmer doesn’t spend so much time working the sheep these days, so the opportunity for her to be with a shepherd working with sheep all day will be a huge bonus. We will miss her though, even if she does chew everything in sight, pulling the washing off the line, digging up the flower beds and eating the children’s shoes!

The farm house has been very quiet for the last few days. My son is away on an outward bound trip, and although the girls had friends over it doesn’t quite fill the emptiness that surrounds us. He is due home tomorrow, so chaos and noise will be restored, and I can’t wait!

It is going to be a busy week ahead, the schools close here on Friday, and the head teacher of our primary school is due to retire. It is always a mad, hurly burly rush to the end of term for the children and then whoosh we will have the seemingly endless summer holidays stretching ahead, I do so love that feeling, unfortunately they always go by far too quickly.

Until next time…

Duncan's funeral

We made our way over to Jura for Duncan’s funeral today. The happy farmer, the happy potter and me, the happy farmer couldn’t resist taking us on a quick detour as he drove over the verge chasing the chickens away from the pottery on his way.

There was a stream of cars queuing for the Jura ferry when we got down to the Port. Duncan was an extremely popular man and many had travelled from the mainland to come and pay their last respects to this special man.

We meandered along the road to Craighouse where we met my parents, and I handed my father the black tie I had brought across. They had sailed into the bay last night, returning from their recent sailing expeditions to come and say their goodbyes to Duncan.

The church was full and outside many of us stood in the warm sunshine as we listened to the service via a speaker that had been erected outside.

The happy farmer gave a beautiful speech full of memories and funny stories about his friend.

We all made our way to the small graveyard, tucked away in the hills, with beautiful views of the bay, and stood a while as Duncan was laid to rest, a lone fiddler playing. Oatcakes and cheese were handed out and whisky poured, a Jura tradition at funerals, as friends, family and the community gathered together and remembered their friend Duncan. The celebration of Duncan’s life will continue on well into the night, as pipes and accordions are played, a ceilidh in the bar for Duncan.

Until next time….