Drawing Sheep.....

Having finally taken off his Caribbean beach wear, and put those legs firmly undercover in thick leggings and welly boots, the happy farmer spent a day in the fank with his ladies. He was up early gathering them off the hill, sheep dog in tow. There were those of us who were lucky enough to benefit from his early morning escapades when he returned to the farm house clutching a few sprigs of white heather. The heather is out in full bloom just now, the hills are covered in beautiful purple hues, and to his delight the happy farmer came across a clump of wild white heather, very rare and considered to be very lucky.

A dry stone dyker was at the fank, repairing an old wall that has been reduced to a pile of stones over the past few years. Apparently the wall had been dismantled many years ago, when the happy farmer’s father was just a ‘wee bairn’. His pet rabbit had disappeared through a gap in the stones, and his uncle Hugh had pulled the stones apart to retrieve the rabbit. Yesterday saw that bit of wall getting a professional repair. Hopefully it will now remain standing for many more years to come.

The happy farmer was busy at the fank drawing the old ewes, so I carefully took the pen and paper from his fingers…only joking ‘drawing the ewes’ is apparently the term used when one checks the old ewes above and below, for broken mouths, ie no teeth, and to make sure their vessels are in tact. The ‘old crocs’, as the happy farmer so fondly refers to them, are then dosed and fattened on young grass ready for the market, having just left the heather clad hills. The lambs were also separated from the ewes, dosed, and will be fattened in the fields for market too, Back to the ‘authentic’ farm yard sounds at night then as those little darlings will be bleating for their mothers until they settle.

The happy farmer called in his ‘team’ to help chase the lambs and ewes to the fields. The ‘team’ consisting of the happy potter, myself, and the ‘laid back forester’s’ wife, we were all positioned at various points along the way, and instructed to chase those sheep away from the various ‘escape’ routes. Of course all was going to plan until a group of tourists came out of the pottery show room, on cue, just as the lambs were heading for the fields, the lambs stopped in their tracks, the tourists stopped in their tracks, the lambs scattered, the happy farmer, dog and team scattered, the tourists stood and stared…..Losing lambs left right and centre as they pushed their way through gates and so on to escape from the scary tourists, a harassed, happy farmer, raced around, re grouping and re gathering them,, ever so politely asking those lovely tourists if they could just move ever so slightly out of sight, one was obedient, three were not, and I am not talking lambs here. Three attempts later and a bit of good sign language, and the happy farmer had those tourists herded up, and those lambs in the field.

Until next time….

Things that go 'Woof' in the night......

We were at a fabulous Caribbean party last weekend, setting off, in the ‘mandatory’ beach wear attire, we worried that it would be dampened by the horrendous wet weather that had shrouded the island in mist and drizzly rain for the whole day. Not so. We all had an amazing time, with Caribbean cocktails, limbo dancing, hula hoops, palm tree canopies, spit roast pork and a huge BBQ, not to mention the good company, and the promise of more smoked mackerel from the skipper off the Jura ferry boat, a bag of frozen sloes from his wife, and with a bit more cajoling, the happy farmer thinks he may just be able to persuade him to spill the beans on the secret location, somewhere deep in the island’s woods, that he visits in September for a plentiful supply of sloes. The happy farmer will be washing out more flagons in preparation for his sloe gin making at this rate!

Arriving home much later, tired children sleeping in the back of the jeep, the happy farmer went over to welcome our holiday guests who had just arrived off a delayed evening ferry. He sloshed through the puddles and rain, in the darkness, still clad in his ‘beach wear’ attire, to give them a good island welcome…and those shorts did the trick, he managed to convince them that the weather here had been spectacular for the whole day. As the morning arrived, so did the sun, and it hasn’t stopped shining since.

Sunday greeted us with Mist the sheep dog coming into her first season though. We could recognise the signs, Roy, her male counterpart, was following her around the garden, nose firmly glued to her, sniffing away. We separated them, and Mist had to be confined to barracks for the day. Night time came and the happy farmer took Mist from her kennel and placed her on a long chain in the shed, with her bed and water bowl. Roy reluctantly went to the kennel alone.

At some unearthly hour we were woken by Mist barking outside the bedroom window. ‘Houdini’ had managed to escape from the chain, escape out of the locked shed, and had decided to take herself off to play with the pigs, in the middle of the night. Of course the pigs were not for waking up and joining in with her shenanigans at such a late hour, hence all the barking, as they lay lifeless, sound asleep, refusing to budge.

One weary happy farmer, dragged himself out of bed, got dressed and collected his dog and took her back to the shed, securely shutting her in this time, and returning with legs covered in flea bites, to a robin, flying around son’s bedroom. Much later, ‘de flea ed’ and robin rescued, he returned to his slumbers.

Next night, 2.00am we were woken by one howling, barking sheep dog. We couldn’t sleep for the noise, and despite the happy farmer’s quips that we could charge our lovely guests extra for the authentic farm yard sounds in the middle of the night, one weary happy farmer had to get up and go and rescue his dog from the shed. A lady needs her bed, so Roy, the sheep dog got ousted from the kennel, and Mist duly went to her own familiar bed and fell fast asleep. She hasn’t bothered us since. Roy now has a ‘camp’ bed in the garden, so far so good….and hopefully no puppies!!

Until next time…

White Washed Over....

Picture this…if you can, farmer’s wife, paint brush in hand white washing cottages. Farmer, coffee in hand, chatting to farrier, and as the minutes ticked into hours, disgruntled farmer’s wife just telling happy farmer to get a move on out of the farmhouse kitchen when happy farmer’s friend from the deep south arrives at the farm, having not been on the island for over seven years. So, farmer’s wife, paint brush in hand, painting cottages, happy farmer, farrier, and friend with beers in hands chatting.
‘It’s a conspiracy!’ I yelled.

Farmer’s wife finishes painting all of the bits on both cottages that she can reach.

Farmer’s friend has collected his wife and brought her up to join the happy gathering. BT boys drive into the farm yard, having finished work, to come and help the happy farmer with his painting. Happy farmer, farrier, friend, friend’s wife, BT boys, all sat in the sunshine, beers in hand.

BT boys decide painting must be done before anymore beer is consumed, happy farmer is just about to join them when farm dealer, happy potter and stone dyker turn up. Being a sociable sort of a chap, happy farmer has to leave BT boys to get on with the painting while he welcomes the further guests into the fold, especially when cottage dwellers join the party too, and beer is replaced with whisky.

BT boys return job done. Farmer T arrives.

Huge pot of chilli on the stove, and one hugely happy farmer.

Until next time….

PS Picture is of happy farmer adding his final contribution….proving the point it isn’t all play and no work!!