Diary Farmer

Bank Holiday Monday.................

2008-05-26T14:03:00.000-07:00

It’s gusty this morning, so much so that the strong wind helps the waking up process. The fact that I’m down the field moving the electric fence is incidental. I find the time useful to reflect on the events of the weekend, not that anything fantastic happened, but a new relief milker started and my job to try to train him into our ways of doing things. It’s not that we have the perfect way but it suits us. The new chap is called Chris from Welshpool and whilst he is only 17 and is 6 feet tall. By his own admission he carries more stones in weight than years and says he is not averse to being teased about it, and then adds “I put the brick under the trough at the other end”. He says wryly that the lightest he remembers is 6 stone, and not to miss out in this tit for tat banter, I inform him that the lightest I have ever been was 6lbs 7ozs. (It’s an old Frank Carson joke), Chris laughs sympathetically. In the milking parlour he struts up and down the pit whilst waiting for each side to finish not too reminiscent of a gun slinger who has just rolled into town in order to settle a slur on the family honour.

These thoughts are interrupted by a sudden gust of wind and a buzzard circling over a dingle behind Birch Cottage catches my eye. The bird finds it difficult to maintain position in the swirling air and occasionally having to swoop round to get back over the dingle. Then suddenly it is joined by a large crow who appears determined to ‘see off’ the unwanted visitor - perhaps there are young in nests in there. A buzzard/crow dogfight ensues. The crow gets behind the buzzard and with a feint to the left the buzzard turns right – a move of which Phil Bennett, Barry John or any flyhalf would have been proud. The roles are now reversed but I soon discover that I’m not the only one looking on and out from the dingle come carion reinforcements. The buzzard must have realised that staying on is futile and he then heads off up to Marton Crest perhaps to get his breath back.

As it bank holiday there is time to do some little jobs that have been literally piling up. One in particular to tidy up my office desk where there are piles of papers needing to be sorted out and soon the pile of paper to be thrown away is the largest. D suggests that a shredder should be purchased to which I agree. Her cousin has one and says its very useful and then throws the shredded paper under the cows!

We’re having not one but two computers. D needs a laptop for her history projects and the other is a desktop, which will replace the one we bought in the last century (that makes it sound really old). At the end of the paper sorting process I have gained more brownie points than I know what to do with – I shall have to get a new card to put them in. I also know that they can be lost in an instant!!

A Few More Mouths.......

2008-05-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

After weeks of waiting, all the dairy cows are out at pasture and as always there is still hustle and bustle around the farm. We spent last week setting free several groups of in-calf, bulling and maiden heifers onto the hill behind the buildings. Now comes the task of cleaning the manure out of the winter quarters but jobs have to be prioritised as there is only a fortnight until silaging starts (weather permitting). All the Herefords are now in the field by the road showing off their physiques.
This is a favourite time of year, as the stunning shows of blossom especially the brilliant yellow of the gorse bushes. Only yesterday we saw gardens in the village, which are a riot of colour with laburnum juxta lilac – very pleasing to the eye.
Of course it’s not only the flora which have been busy but the fauna as well. The curlews have been warbling with great vigour in the fields around our house. Hopefully they will have had a good breeding season, providing that the predators leave them alone.
We are in the process of putting away machinery used in winter feeding but with a twist. The tractor that is used for chopping and blowing straw on the cubicle beds has a robin’s nest tucked in the roof space of the cab. Every day the machine is used we make sure that it’s put back in the same place so that mum can return to the nest. We were wondering what is happening in the woven mass of hay and straw. So as it’s impossible to look in due to lack of space, I thought my camera would capture the scene in the nest. It was a pleasant surprise to see five hungry mouths facing the lens

Springwatch is due back on the telly, so I thought that D and I could be the Bill Oddball and Kate Mumble of Marton

A Birthday Treat

2008-05-04T12:49:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I asked D what she would like for her birthday at the beginning of May. The question had a two fold purpose – viz firstly to get something that she wanted and secondly to let her know that I hadn’t forgotten. She said she would like a day out, preferably at a property owned by the National Trust. Not too difficult as we are members and also if the cows could come back up to Marton by May 3rd it could be possible. The cows are now in the field bar two. One has a calf, which regularly suffers from bloat and the final cow due to produce a calf. Our stock bull has gone seriously lame – the vet thinks that a course of antibiotics will clear it up. I’m not convinced that he will be able to serve the cows, as it is a back foot. So we made a decision to find another bull. So last week we went to a Hereford breeder near to Bridgnorth who had one which would suit our requirements. After much deliberation we settled on Highfields P 1 Count – a twenty-month-old package of bovine testosterone! I think we will have to find a nickname for him – James or something similar (suggestions on an e-mail).
D’s birthday was on Saturday, so I wondered whether we could collect the bull and have the day out as well. The thought of all this in one day would probably be too much to fit in. She agrees, so we fetch the bull early in the day, then have the afternoon at home before going to Mellington Hall near Churchstoke for a birthday meal.

I’m not sure who coined the phrase ‘the best laid plans of mice and men’, but the day wasn’t going to go to plan. Yes the bull arrived safely and unloaded in the field with the cows. They came running over to check out the new arrival. There was a lot of sniffing and snorting and after a few minutes they calmed down and all James wanted to do was to eat grass. Later in the afternoon the last cow to produce decided now was the time to expel her infant into the world. Here’s the dilemma – do we stay and wait for the calf to be born or go for the meal and hope that she will hang on until we get back. I certainly didn’t want to cancel, so rang Mellington to explain the situation. “Come early, if you wish” the receptionist said. “Can you turn us around within an hour”, I asked. “Yes”, was the reply. Our neighbour said she would keep an eye on things whilst we were away and would telephone the hotel if there was any news.
The staff was very helpful on arrival and took our order and soon we were seated tucking into our birthday fayre. When we were ordering I was tempted to ask for a crocodile sandwich – and make it snappy. The staff has probably heard all the old jokes anyway! Just as the sweet course is served a lady appears at our table saying in a voice that most of the other diners can hear. “Your neighbour has just telephoned to say that the cow has had her calf, everything is fine and to enjoy the rest of your meal”.
The bill is settled and we are soon on our way home. It’s important to get collostrum into the new-born as soon as is possible. After a quick change we climb into the pen where the newly born calf is trying to stand up. All four legs are a 45-degree angle to its body in order to brace itself against a mother bent on licking every inch of her new-born. The rasping tongue eventually knocks the calf over but it is soon up again. It’s instinct is milk and with a little help finds a teat. Both are happy as the cow can still groom her offspring. We eventually retire to bed safe in the knowledge that all is well. D asks, “are you OK now”. “Pass the Rennies” is my response.

We had our day out today at Brockhampton Estate near Bromyard, perhaps later in the week I will relate our travels

Departures and arrivals

2008-02-21T13:42:00.000-08:00

“Reports are coming in that a sheep in South Wales has bluetongue. The animal was imported from Holland and follows the confirmed case in Dorset earlier in the week”. Such news on the radio sends a shiver down my spine. At the moment there is a vector-free period when animals can be moved out of the B T zone in which we find ourselves to the 'clean' area in Wales. This could end at a stroke with a decision by DEFRA. On the weekend of 9th February we were finally able to get Nutmeg, a heifer that had been sold earlier last summer, to her new owner over the Welsh border near to Wrexham. The number of hoops that had to be negotiated never ceases to amaze and confound and with the help of our vet from Minsterley we were able get through the ‘minefield’. We still had the heifers that were sold in the autumn on the farm. They, along with Nutmeg, were tested for the bluetongue virus and TB and we were relieved when the tests came back negative. The new owner of the pair of heifers was to be on holiday until 14th and we are starting to get anxious about their departure. Then the time was arranged and the two ‘Alices’ were transported to their new home near Llanfair Caereinion. It was sad to see the three of them go, but as D says “we can’t keep them all”. She is, as usual, right but has a special reason for saying this because she has her eyes on a new laptop. Now that monies have been paid no doubt she will be off to make a purchase at the ‘laptopshop’.
On the dairy farm 28 cows have been pregnancy scanned. Not for them gel poured on the stomach but an internal examination with a probe. Perhaps that’s enough said on the mechanics except that we were delighted with the results – 22 safely in-calf. We must be doing something right!
Last weekend two of the Herefords calved. They are the ‘grand old ladies’ of our herd. Caroline is 11 this year and produced a heifer calf, Chicory (her 10th calf), and Alice T11 who is 8,had a bull calf, Albion (her 7th calf). Albion’s front legs were ‘knuckled over’ which meant that he couldn’t stand properly. This not an uncommon occurrence and with a little TLC it usually corrects itself. He needs some help at the moment to get him to suck his mum which means getting up early to feed him before going to milk the dairy herd and then making sure he has a feed in the early evening. Now he is four days old and is able to ‘find the teat’ on his own and those legs are starting to straighten. The more exercise he gets the quicker will be his rehabilitation.

Here are the ‘three graces’ that have gone to pastures new.
L to R Alice 4th, Alice 5th and Nutmeg

I’m reminded of the song by the Everley Brothers recently covered by Robert Plant (ex Led Zeppelin) and Alison Kraus – ‘Gone, Gone, Gone’. I can hardly believe they really have!
We hope that they behave themselves and don’t turn into the three disgraces!!

2008-02-08T14:30:00.000-08:00

As the days lengthen, snowdrops have already bloomed; the daffodils are starting to form in the garden. Our weather girl on the Midlands News said that spring is on its way. That may be so, but it’s only the first week of February. Our ‘spring barometer’ is the curlew. We are fortunate that they come to nest in the fields behind our house and it will be a little while before we hear the warbling of that welcome guest.
We have had the first calf of the 2008 season just two days ago. I have been watching as the young mother to-be gets closer to giving birth. We had a new bull last year so it’s unknown territory as to whether the calf will be too big for the heifer. Two days ago I could see she was getting close, checking her four times during the day. I decide to go to Pontesbury to see the cows, the heifer close to calving is lying down cudding nonchalantly in deep straw. So on returning I thought it best to check her again. Lo and behold, I see a head on the straw and with a final push the calf is expelled. My first thought is to see if the calf is O K. A little trick is to get a piece of straw a put it up the calf’s nose which causes the calf to draw breath. However on this occasion all is well so I go and thaw some colostrum to make sure that the calf has enough antibodies in its system.
Sometimes assistance is required, so we have a calving aid, which is a vital tool to get calves alive. I have a cousin who witnessed his first calving and on seeing his father pull a live calf from a cow, the five year old said “how the heck did that get in there”. In the interests of balance, when ever I have told this tale my mother has reminded me of a similar experience. She would say “what about you, all you could say, I bet he thought it was dark in there”.
However here is the new arrival Alice 7th. She is only 36 hours old but was unwilling to stand still for the photographer.

2007-11-25T12:24:00.000-08:00

It’s not been a week anyone would want be in the public eye. I wonder how those that walk in the corridors of power not only sleep at night but manage to get about with two slipped discs. Poor Mr Darling had to ‘fess up in front of the nation the blunder at HMRC of which he oversees. This being coupled with the fiasco at Northern Rock – not the kind of rock you would want to build your house on! I suppose he should go for a hat trick and take the blame for England’s defeat on Wednesday. It was announced on the news that the police had completed the search of the HMRC premises. The question I would ask is, did they have a woman to do the searching? In my experience, women are much better at this and I would volunteer D for the task! D took some of the grandchildren to see a pantomime in Worthen this afternoon and whilst I couldn’t go as I was milking, I thought that someone should rewrite one of the classic pantomimes with the regard to the recent events. It would be called ‘Alistair in Blunderland’! I’m sure there would many suggestions for public figures to take the roles of the characters.
On the farming front the Hereford incalf heifers were getting short of grass and I didn’t want to feed them outside, as the ground will cut up easily. They are now in their winter quarters. It’s been in good summer on them, like Alice shown here. They don’t drive easily so a ‘carrot’ is necessary in the form of small bucket of nuts. They follow with eagerness into the shed and scoff heartily in their trough not realising the prison door closing behind them. Their diet until they calve is just hay; perhaps someone should start Bovine Weight Watchers!
To round off a busy day, it’s off to Kerry, some ten miles away in Wales for the ‘rock gig’ in the evening. We didn’t quite know what to expect as we were told that the band was a little rusty but had been practising regularly. It was a sell out and as the audience waited eagerly for Blindeye to appear we were ‘entertained’ by the ‘Clun Cowboy’. When they took the stage they were greeted with cheers, whistles and clapping. I’m sure there was a lot of nervousness but once the first chord was struck the nerves disappeared. It was as loud as I imagined, and was reminiscent of dances when I was at college. My philosophy is – ‘if it’s too loud you’re too old’. Blindeye were fantastic, bodies jigged and jostled on the dance floor, which include D and myself. Songs by Quo, Credence Clearwater Revival and Free were in the first ‘set’. Unfortunately I was milking the next morning so didn’t stay for the second half. Late nights and early mornings are getting more difficult to mix. Somehow the radio in the parlour won’t be loud enough!

First snows of winter

2007-11-18T14:30:00.000-08:00

In the last few days we have experienced such a variety of meteorological conditions. We had just retired to bed when I was sure that one of our cows was bellowing near our house. D thought I was imagining it, but I couldn’t rest, got dressed to go and check. Outside it was so foggy that my torch cut through the darkness, it was like being on the set of Star Wars. Eventually I found the cows, counted them – yes they were all there, cudding under the oak trees at the bottom of the field as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Then I heard the bellowing again; it was coming from a neighbour’s farm, so I could retire to my bed without worrying. On my return D asked, “ well, were they alright”. “Yes they’re all fine” was my reluctant reply. D says that she can be talking to me and suddenly I’m aslee………. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
This weekend, apart from the farm work taking some of the Hereford heifers to their winter quarters, D and I have been visiting family on Saturday and a gathering of people researching the same surname as D on Sunday. We went to see Aunt P on Saturday night, not only to see her but also to collect the tickets for the‘Blindeye’ gig next weekend. I’m never sure at what point you should ask a lady her age, but there come a time when the information is volunteered, “I’m 87 you know, 88 in the Spring” she imparted with glee on more than one occasion. It’s always good fun to visit her and after a short while she produces a little light supper. Sandwiches, raspberry tart, cake and copious amounts of tea to wash it all down. It was more a meal really, after we left D and I were quite full, but we slept very well almost like cats in front of the fire.
On Sunday we gave a lift to a distant cousin of D’s to this researchers day at Cleobury Mortimer. Going over Clee Hill it was so foggy D thought we were in the clouds. Twelve people were there from different parts of the West Midlands – Tamworth, Birmingham, Ledbury, etc. Bren from C M was the hostess, providing places for those attending to put files of their research for the rest of us to pore through. She also provided a soup and sandwich lunch and, rather fittingly, mince pies as it had started snowing. We left in the early afternoon, the snow on Clee Hill was quite bad by now and the roads very slippery coming down to Ludlow at little more than 5 mph.
Later on The North Shropshire Methodist Youth Choir was at our church in Pontesbury – they were very good. Everyone stayed for a cup of tea afterwards. Then it was home to revive the fire in the grate then to sit and watch ‘Cranford’. D was enthralled by it and I was thinking – back to work tomorrow for a rest!

A Post Prandial Stroll

2007-11-11T12:55:00.001-08:00

Sunday is the only day of the week when we have dinner at dinnertime. That reminds me of a story told to us recently by our local electrician. He was up on the Long Mountain quite a while ago doing a job, when he noticed a donkey in a field with its owner. The animal was not carrying a lot of flesh, Trevor said “ that donkey has seen more dinnertimes than dinners”. He was taken aback by the reply, “ well he’s got the view, what more does he want?” Nowt so queer as folk I say! Anyway back to the plot, feeling rather full I went for a walk on the hill behind our house before going to milk. The leaves on all the deciduous trees except the oaks are now on the ground following the recent high winds, nevertheless the oaks and the spruce trees are still stunning.
There is a derelict house, the only one left of all the properties that were once inhabited on the hillside. This is Birch Cottage where once lived the Maddox family. I wondered if only the house could speak what tales it could tell. The joy, the sadness, the hope and even perhaps despair. On this Remembrance Sunday it is rather poignant to mention that there were two Madddox boys killed in the First World War. No one has lived in this house for almost 50 years and now it is fenced off so the unstable building won’t fall on any of the cattle in the field. During the wet summer I went to check the ‘dry’ cows only to find that six of them were in the back kitchen of the house. Since then the front has fallen out, so the fencing was necessary.

Further up the hill is another casualty of the summer an old oak tree. It was struck by lightening many years ago and so water has collected over time in the crack in the trunk, this summer it gently split down the middle. No cleaner cut could have been made with an axe. Oddly enough the part on the right died and the left side was still living.

It was time to go and milk ‘the girls’ then afterwards home for tea. Sounds a bit like Enid Blyton, but I hope it’s not triangular salmon sandwiches and fairy cakes!

Living the High Life

2007-11-10T12:46:00.000-08:00

Why is it that there are often no plans for the evenings, then suddenly you have no nights in all week? Such has been the social reverie here in the valley. Between us D and I have out every night this week culminating in a bangers and mash fund raising event at our village hall with entertainment from a local one-man band – Alan Herbert. How things have changed since Don Maclean sang ‘Rosie’. For him it was all his instruments were strapped about his person – drum on his back, cymbals between the knees, kazoo and mouth organ on a frame around his neck. Now it seems like live music meets karaoke meets disco. Mr Herbert had a laptop with songs and pre-recorded backing tracks whilst he strummed along on an electric guitar. He was good though, evident by the numbers on the dance floor - a real hip place to be. The ‘punters’ were mostly senior in years, and no hip replacement failures. They are quite a resilient bunch as many were up and about early this morning.
On the farm, the cows are now in day and night and because they are very dirty, it is difficult to read the brand numbers. We have clipped the tails and numbers of the low yielding group. It’s not a pleasant job at the sharp end or should I say the blunt end.
Our Herefords are still out at present but we are getting the sheds ready should the weather ‘go pear shaped’. Unfortunately we aren’t able to use the winter housing on the Long Mountain as it’s just in Wales. Annoying, as all the winter fodder is there ready so it will have to be moved to another location as and when required. As we turn down the lane to the buildings up there it is possible to catch a glimpse of Mountainear Towers – nestling in a little hollow on the eastern side of a small ridge. In the days of threshing, it was necessary to have a team of eight horses to get the threshing box back up to the road. The farm was one described as lowland farm in the uplands.
For our next piece of musical entertainment we are going to a reunion ‘gig’ by a local band (D’s cousin is in it) to raise money for the Air Ambulance. They do cover versions of well-known songs of the 70’s and 80’s including an all time favourite – All right Now by Free. I’ve still got the hairstyle but not the flares. It seems to be the ‘thing’ to reform – if it’s good enough for Take That, enough said!

That was the week that was!

2007-11-03T14:15:00.000-07:00

Whoosh! A colourful streak of light rises skyward illuminating the night sky. There are red, green and blue starbursts reminiscent of flashes of glitter. “Oohs” and “aahs” are to be heard from the eager spectators on the ground. Hope the animals nearby are safe and well. What a contrast to the beginning of the day when as the sun was just starting to break into the darkness, there were pink high clouds, Bromlow Callow was silhouetted against the sky. A lone aircraft with a short vapour trail was flying south. It’s been quite a week and the chance to relax with friends is a welcome break. The hospitality of our host in Marton is as usual second to non, starting off with a welcoming drink, followed by soup and hot-dogs. It was difficult to see who was serving our fayre in the half-light in the field where the bonfire was being held. I never imagined that we would be eating ice cream for afters let alone on a balmy night in November.

Last Monday I took an opportunity to move our Hereford stock bull to a friend’s farm for the winter, and in return he lets us have a shed for some of our cattle. We were due to have our annual TB test which had been arranged for Wednesday morning so not having this rather large beast to sort out on the day was welcome. Naturally we try to do as much as possible when they are captive in the holding pens, so after the testing the vet checked the cows as to whether they were incalf. The one I thought was empty proved to be so, the rest safely incalf. Soon we shall decide what to do with her for the future. A trip to ‘Mr Macdonald’s Farm’ is one of the options on the agenda!

Today we collected one of our bullocks, which went for slaughter three weeks ago, from our processor. The meat comes back labelled, weighed and vacuum packed ready for us to put into 10kg packs previously ordered. We managed to get everything sorted out quite quickly, some having to be delivered almost immediately with the help of an invaluable octogenarian pater. The vet was coming to read the TB test at 12.30; thankfully he was on time and fairly quickly declared that the test was negative.

We are expecting the DEFRA lady and her sidekick to appear at any time. It seems so ridiculous that because I lend a bull in return for a shed we are classed as a bull hirer. Two people from the ministry come to inspect one piece of paper pertaining to the bull, just to check that it is filled in properly and look at the movement records since she came six months ago.

Recently I came across the following little rhyme,
When land is office planned
And fed with streams of ink
And ploughed by men with fountain pens
What shall we eat or drink.

Time is of the essence

2007-10-28T14:27:00.000-07:00

It’s always a strange weekend when the clocks change. I am working with a different colleague at the moment, which means a change of practice. Normally we forget the hour change for the morning milking and then lose the extra hour during the day. One way is use it in a postprandial nap after lunch in front of a roaring fire! We have struck a compromise by starting half and hour later especially as the high yielding group are bursting with milk as it is, so they would benefit from this regime. After a quick tea, a wash and brush up and it’s off to the village hall for a concert by Colla Voce – a local quartet. They were excellent, performing songs from the shows i.e. Les Miserables, The King and I, plus others like ‘On the street where you live’. This had been organised to help raise funds for the ‘new hall’.
The population of the village has changed little in the last 140 years particularly as there were a lot of properties on the side of the hill with large families in them. At one time there were two blacksmiths, two shops, two pubs, a garage and one of the pubs, which also sold petrol. A gallon for the car and a pint for the driver! The post office had once been in the blacksmith’s shop until there was a fire. You might say that ‘hotmail’ started in Marton. The post office is now under threat in the remaining shop – there seems to be some suggestion that we might lose it in the cutbacks and possibly the shop if all goes ahead. Any good gardener would tell you that growth would be impossible if roots are pruned. Our more elderly residents, some of who are unable to drive, would have to go by bus to Chirbury. This is the penultimate stop on the Montgomery route so anyone travelling to the shop would only 20 minutes or so until the bus returned. The thought of our senior citizens hanging about in Chirbury would set a bad example to the youngsters in that village. The mind boggles – OAP hoodies!
Sunday morning, milking completed, breakfast done and time to get ready for church. We are to give a lift to the preacher at 9.45. The extra ½ hour has come in handy but still a little pressed for time. D shouts up the stairs “have you seen my cheque book?” There seems desperation rather than hope in her voice. For once I do. D is stunned when I produce the book of money vouchers. I am euphoric as this is a rare occurrence – I will have to note this day on the calendar! Usually the boot is on the other foot. Recently I was looking for a ‘phone number left on a piece of paper the size of a stamp on the desk by the phone. D was called in to find it after I spent quite some time looking for it. She produced it in a trice. I was admitting this fact to the man on the other end of the line and adding, “she’s a real treasure you know”. Ben said “ theym useful things to ‘av, but yo munna praise ‘em up too much”. “Rule with an iron rod”, I heard myself saying. All that was expressed from the kitchen was – PAH!
My euphoria is short lived when I meekly ask D “have you seen my shoes”.

A Grand Day Out

2007-10-24T14:05:00.000-07:00

A weekend off from milking, perhaps the last when the sun is shining with at least a little warmth. It may be that the cattle will be in soon too. Saturday normally tends to be a day of catching up with little jobs and this particular one, we were getting sheds ready to receive their occupants for the winter. Sundays are generally laid back when we only ‘do the necessary’ even on a milking weekend. This Sunday D and I have decided to get away for the day to Aberystwyth, only an hour and a half away in the car. We have been feeling a little deflated as we now are in the protection zone for the Bluetongue especially as the heifers that were sold from the advert in the Farmers Guardian are to go into Wales, so they can’t be moved. Sunday is to be a sort of ‘pick me up’ day. We set off shortly after 8.30, the fog is quite thick down in the valleys, so from time to time as the road rises the fog thins and we can see the road in the distance. Then we go down into another valley, the fog thickens. It’s like being a dolphin coming up for air. Then after about ¾ hour it all clear, the sun is shining just after Llanidloes. Today there is very little traffic; perhaps it’s because England lost in Paris perhaps those who watched the game have been commiserating too much! My own team, Wales, didn’t do too well. Would I go and see them play? Definitely not, they wouldn’t come and see me when I’m bad!!
When we got to Aber, coffee was the order of the day before we go to St Michael’s Church for the morning service. St. Mike’s as it is known locally has a large lively congregation with a ‘band’ which lead the music for the service – guitars (acoustic, bass, lead), trumpet, cello and a piano. It was announced that the BBC was to broadcast the morning service on Radio 4 the following weekend (29th October).
After the service we found a very nice little café for lunch followed by an ice cream and a stroll along the prom. D. relived her time at Aberystwyth University with such as “that was my room up there in Carpenter”. The day flew by and so it was time set off for home before many of the others who were in Aber that afternoon had the same idea. We got home in time to feed the cattle and get set to watch the Grand Prix. Well Lewis didn’t win the race or the World Championship but we’d had a good day. Hardly Wallace and Grommit but it had been a ‘grand day out’!

Life's sums

2007-10-18T01:46:00.000-07:00

TB + FMD + Bluetongue PZ = Depression!

Where are those emigration forms?

Farewell to Will

2007-10-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

Our senior Hereford stock bull, Will, has finally gone to his new home. It’s been a long saga since the spring when the farm where he was had a T B reactor so I was unable to sell him. Then after the farm had two clear T B tests, a buyer came ‘out of the blue’. Ben arrived on the farm with his son to see Will. After a short time discussing and haggling, he decided to buy the bull, subject to yet another pre-movement T B test. Will passed the test only to find for the second time we were under FMD movement restrictions.
Then at last the day came to move Will to his new home near Whitchurch. At the farm Terry was waiting to help load the animal. Terry had been farming at Hill Farm for many years. Will was cooperative, walking into the trailer without too much fuss. As he went in Terry said
“ ‘e’s bin a good ‘un”. “ He inna as well known as the other ‘un”, he added. Terry was referring to Will’s predecessor, Henry or rather Oakedge 1 Braveheart. Henry had been in the BBC programme ‘Green Green Grass’ as Rocky.
Back in the ‘60’s I had been in school with Terry at Lea Cross. Our family moved from Shropshire to Rickmansworth in Hertfordshire. At that time it wasn’t ‘the done thing’ to speak with a regional accent, so we were sent to elocution lessons. The result was that accents we had weren’t like the people where we were living and when we came back to Shropshire for holidays we didn’t fit in there either. Then a few years ago I moved back to within a stones throw of where both of my grandparents had farmed.
I was taking a man to Shrewsbury who had recently moved into the area. Just to make the journey more interesting I pointed out various things of note. I found myself saying, “ the house just up here on the right is where I was born”. As we drove passed, out of the corner of my eye I noticed my travelling companion mouthing the name ‘Cliffdale Residential Home for the Elderly’. It wasn’t long before he asked, “how old was your mother then?” I laughed, “it was a nursing home many years ago. I’ve often thought I should get myself booked in so that I can end up where I started”.
The tailboard closing noisily brought me back from this daydream. Our journey over to Wem was uneventful. Will hardly moved in the trailer. At Ben’s farm Will was unloaded into some Friesian heifers. On the way back I was thinking - Will has some new friends, Ben has a new bull, and I have a cheque. At least we will be able to eat this week!

Highs and Lows

2007-10-05T21:48:00.000-07:00

There can be hardly a better start to the day than an absolutely stunning sunrise. The morning sky was almost cloud free save for a large cloud. It was tinged with white with pink and orange blended into it. There were vapour trails criss crossing each other each with the same colour scheme. Such a pity my camera wasn’t at hand. Isn’t that often the way?
We’ve had three problem cows this week. One was unable to get up post calving, partly due to milk fever and an injury. We have been hoisting her up each day so that she can get the circulation going. Once up she gets about. We have been keeping her in a paddock by the parlour so that she doesn’t do the splits. This morning success, she is able to get up on her own – hurrah. It makes all the effort worthwhile. Another has a twisted stomach or as the vet describes it, a D A (displaced abomasum). The vet is operating on her today. A third is off colour, the vet is unsure what is the cause.
The vet isn’t coming until late morning, so there is time to check the cattle on the hill beforehand. This is a favourite job as the views are a treat, particularly on a day as this. The Rea Valley runs southwest to northeast. To the east it’s possible to Haughmond Hill near Shrewsbury. Panning round it is possible to catch a glimpse of The Stiperstones, then round to The Kerry Ridgeway and finally the hills near Dolfor above Newtown. Such a vista!
Two vets arrive, scrub up and prepare to operate on the already tethered cow. An incision is made on each side, hands are thrust inside. One says, “just as I thought it’s a D A”. They pull and tug to get the offending piece of anatomy sorted out and then proceed to sew the cow up. Later in the day the cow starts to pick at some silage.
That was all yesterday. Two of the three cows are on the road to recovery, which is a 66 per cent success rate. Had this been a GCSE that would have been an A*!

Heifers for sale

2007-09-28T13:33:00.000-07:00

“Farmer’s Guardian classified, my name is Julie, how can I help?”
I was taken aback because I didn’t expect to a human being so soon as normally you have to listen to a list of options only to get to the end of the list realising you can’t remember which option you wanted. This usually adds 2 or 3 minutes to the call and would seem to add a couple of quid to the bill!
“I’ve 2 heifers I’d like to sell”, I said.
“That’s good it’s my department”, she said. “Have you advertised with us before?” “Not since 1994”, I reply. “Then you won’t be on our system, let me take a few details. What’s your postcode?” Julie then tells me where I live, this is scary. The only positive thing is that it reassures me that at least I went to the right house for breakfast!
Julie has a Lancashire accent and seems very pleasant. I suppose there isn’t much call for anyone to do her job with the bedside manner of Atilla The Hun. “Can I have your full name and telephone number?” I fulfil this request. She then proceeds to address me by my Christian name.
Call me old-fashioned but I dislike the casual familiarity which is now commonplace. In general the use of first names used to indicate a degree of friendship beyond normal social intercourse but modern usage blurs that distinction.
The lady then requests the details of the advert which I oblige. She repeats them back to me to check that they are OK. “Now then” she says, “if I could just have your credit card details?” “I would like to pay by cheque”, I say. “I’m afraid we don’t do that”, was her response. “See what you can do”, I urged. It’s all very well being asked for these details, I’m expected to trust them, but they don’t trust me to pay by cheque.
Julie then says she has put everything through and it all seems alright.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, it’s my beloved. “You’re wanted on the other line”, she says. “The BBC want to know whether you would like to take part in the next series of ‘Grumpy Old Men’”.

Mistaken Identity

2007-09-26T13:29:00.001-07:00

209 has calved AND she’s got a Hereford calf, how’s that happened?”
Statements and questions at this time of day when my brain cells haven’t warmed up yet.
The words echo and are like verbal jump leads. I am just starting on the mechanics of artificial insemination, when I hear “no, no, no’. ‘She was supposed to be in-calf to Friesian.”
Erm 209, ah yes, I remember she was difficult to get in-calf, so used a Hereford in desperation. “That’s OK then”
209 was the sort of cow that when you saw her in the AI stalls your heart sank mainly because she did nothing for conception rates. I remember thinking, if you don’t hold this time you can go on a little holiday. The threat worked.
We’re DIYers. No not putting shelves like DIY SOS, but we trained to do the inseminating ourselves. This was following the Foot and Mouth in 2001, we thought we wouldn’t get caught out again. It’s not possible to train in this country now due to rules and bureaucracy. Should you want to do it now you would have to go to Poland. (I’d better stop there, I sense a rant coming on). Anyway it’s been worthwhile – Foot and Mouth couldn’t happen again – could it?
Back to reality, calves to feed. To hear them it’s like being at the World Nectarine Eating Championships. Slurp, slurp.
I continue in my own little world, mulling over all sorts of things when I hear another colleague say,
“209 has got Hereford calf”
In the words of George Bush Senior, "read my blog"

That Monday morning feeling

2007-09-24T13:46:00.000-07:00

An abrupt start. It’s always down to earth with a bump after a weekend off. I can hear the rain lashing against the window, can’t start the day without a cup of tea. Arriving at work, most of the milking cows have had the sense to come up to the cubicles for silage and shelter. It’s important to note that I work for someone else during the day and normally do the ‘outside’ jobs in the morning and milking in the afternoon during the week and all the milking on alternate weekends. Currently there are 26 calves to be fed with milk. They are always pleased to see whoever is feeding them am or pm. It’s just cupboard love. They slurp every last molecule of milk out of their buckets and often suck each other’s faces to get a final taste of milk to last them until the next feed.
It’s getting light now, so time to look at the calving cows in the field. There’s a cow on her own and in the gloom a little black and white face can be seen hiding tucked under the hedge. The quad bike is a necessary piece of equipment together with a small trailer – the calf in put in the trailer and I set off with the cow following behind mooing and calling her calf. It’s light enough to see Corndon in the distance. It has some cloud around it, which would suggest that, its going to be an unsettled day – no need for John Kettley. The locals would say that ‘Corndon has his cap on’.It never ceases to amaze me how local people have sayings, which often are right. In the Potteries they would say “ its black over Bill’s mother’s”.
I came across a herdsman over at Minsterley a few years ago. He often said, “if cows had to tidy up behind themselves, they wouldn’t make such a mess”. “Bydd popeth yn iawn”, Dyffi is Welsh, not that there is anything wrong with being Welsh, Gymro ydw I hefed. However another well used saying ‘red sky at night, your house is on fire’.
After all the parlour is returned to its spick and span state, just one job left to do – feeding yearling heifers at ‘Lewis’s’. Where the troughs are rabbits and pheasants gather. The heifers come thundering up to the gate, wildlife are scattered in all directions.
The post has come – yet another chequebook (it’s a long story) and with the return of my prodigal penknife it looks as if it could be a good week.

Cows and Castles

2007-09-23T12:05:00.000-07:00

What a busy weekend! A time off from milking cows, a persistant wife and I set off for the Michaelmass Fair at the nearby town of Bishop's Castle. Like all towns locals tend to shorten the names, as in this case to 'The Castle'. One of our interests is local history,and as part of the 'Fair' there was an exhibition of churches, chapels and village halls in S W Shropshire. A lot of hard work by the Historical Society.
There were many other events going on including a procession of steam engines and vehicles wonderfully restored, gleaming from any amount of spit and polish. Doreen noticed one of the drivers whose hands were as black as coal. She said "I'm glad you don't come home with hands like that". Well what is on my hands is a little easier to get off, although it does keep the sinuses open!
The nights are drawing in with a great speed. We keep our Herefords by the Shrewsbury to Montgomery road during the day. In the evening they follow me down to the night pasture away from the road. They are easily tempted by a few cow nuts. The cows at their troughs and their calves rush to the creep feeder. They arrange themselves inside and all that can be seen is a row of bottoms. Having read elsewhere 'a moment on the lips a lifetime on the hips', I hope that that is certainly true