Ever had the feeling it’s going to be ‘one of those days’…..?
Yup, it was.
For a start the hens only laid two eggs – hardly inspiring – but at least the ducks cheered me up with a ‘full house’ (grand total of two!). Meanwhile Roberta Goose is still kicking eggs out of her nest; although having put a vast amount of straw into the Goose House today she sorted the nest out once & for all, & settled down at last to brood her clutch. However I’m not certain how many eggs she’s sitting on; even if she moves off Dave makes a big thing about anyone going near his potential family – so who am I to argue…?!
Although the weather wasn’t too promising I still reluctantly turned out the ewes & lambs, as the ewes were yelling to go out & feisty little Headcase was trying to jump the Lambing Shed door. But it was really a day to be indoors; so I concentrated on compiling my next article for ‘Smallholder’ magazine, for which there is an imminent deadline.
Just as I was about to tuck into my lunch I had a visit from Wynn (one of the contractors), to collect the final payment for the groundworks his staff had completed. So alas; another cold meal, on another cold & inhospitable day.
After an amicable ‘chewing of the fat’ & my chewing of the congealed fat of my cold repast, I did my lunchtime check of the grazing stock & found that Bilberry – our largest wether – had got his head firmly wedged in the sheep netting adjacent to the caravan, very close to the same spot where poor Bogbean had met his demise. What is it, about that area of hedge?! For some reason it seems very popular with our apparently kamikaze sheep.
So after a great deal of grunting exertion on my part I managed to successfully complete a solo extraction; however whilst this is the first I doubt it will be the last time, I carry out such a blackthorn-barbed operation.
The aain concern of the day however, was little Bechan; the kid I’d snatched from the jaws of death when her mother Apricot gave birth a few weeks ago & the poor little thing had emerged into the world without even the strength to take a breath. Since the she’d come on in (literally) leaps & bounds – until, it seems, today….
She only had about 150mls of milk at breakfast, & drank even less as time ticked on. Concerned, I brought her into the house to spend the night with Corrie the Cade, & Frog’s discarded daughter Blodwyn; but although she still refused any milk she did have a high old time with her new pals, bouncing all over the sofas & playing ‘chase’ around the coffee table. So I don’t think there’s too much wrong there, fingers crossed…