a little wet under foot

The weather just recently has been wet, wet, wet.

This means that the river Dove floods, and our riverside fields disappear from view. The track leading down to the fields also disappears for a day or two, when flooding is really bad.

I remember a few years ago, when the cows were completely stranded, because the stream at the bottom of the cattle drive had become a knee deep, impassable torrent. During these particular floods, we even lost our bull, who got washed away by the river, assumed dead.

Several weeks later came some astounding news via the cattlemarket grapevine: At the time of the floods, a bull had been washed up on the shores of a farm about four miles and two bridges downstream - battered and shaken... but alive. It was a mystery to all concerned as to where he had come from. This was how Henry got to hear about the hapless beast, so went to identify him and fetch him home.

We re-christened our unassuming hero, Robinson bull - who went on to stay with us for another good year or so, fathering many fine calves before gently moving on to a new home.

This time things have not been so drastic, but daily life around the farm is miserable, with wet and smelly coats, gloves, boots and overalls - all draped over kitchen chairs and fighting for best position in front of the aga - main opponents, being dog, cats and me! Priority given to the person who has to go out first, to brave the elements again.

As you might imagine, the cats NEVER want to go back out to brave the elements, but they get kicked out all the same, when we think they can cross their legs no longer!

www.dovefarm.co.uk

food with a face...and a name

'Food with a face' is what many vegetarians seek to avoid, if their choice to not eat meat is ethical, rather than dietary.

But what if the food has a face and a name? - this presents difficulties to even the most enthusiastic meat eaters. Pictured above is JoJo - one of this year's ram lambs and not yet fattened - this one will never be much good for anything, too small and weedy, but he does have a name, so how can we eat him? How could anyone eat him?

Our six ram lambs of this year, were named by the children - big mistake - practically as soon as each lamb was born - all beginning with the letter 'J' which is the registration letter for pedigree Ryeland sheep born in 2007. I thought the novelty would wear off and they would forget who's who, when it came to sorting and sending the 'fat lambs' away to be killed. hmmm....

...and at lambing time, I didn't think about the guilt I would feel later, in selecting by name, who lives and who dies.

It all sounds very melodramatic, but when you keep sheep on a small scale, you get to know them and they get to know you. The answer has to be a bigger flock!

I have agreed to hold on to 'Joshua' our first born ram at Dove Farm, (named ceremoniously after our son.) The girls thought this particular lamb was cuddly, friendly and very fond of his food, and immediately hit upon their brother's name. To keep this animal is pure sentiment on my part, because he's not the best of the bunch, but I absolutely cannot see Joshua cut up into lamb chops.

The 'real farmers' out there will despair I know, but there it is.

I'm the same with farmers markets and similar outlets - I'm all for provenance and traceability of livestock, but I really would not want to buy from someone who was proudly selling body parts of 'Daisy' the cow, neatly segmented and vacuum-packed, ready for the freezer. A name somehow conveys a connection between the person and the animal - and to brandish it about as a selling point for a cut of meat, is just too hideous. For me, it crosses an uncomfortable line, where an eartag number and a place of origin would suffice.

Next spring, we are on track for around 25 lambs at Dove Farm, and I am not making the same mistake again. Registration letter 'K' will certainly help in curbing any prolific naming tendencies. www.dovefarm.co.uk

the edge of chaos

...is a term coined by computer scientist Christopher Langton in 1990, referring to the outer reaches of mathematical variables, and yet how poetic the phrase. For a start, it defines my interpretaion of daily life at Dove Farm, so aptly portrayed by the items sitting on the kitchen side-table today:

1 x pumpkin left over from Halloween, waiting for pumpkin pie recipe

assorted pile of fruit in bowl

basket of eggs

2 x no smoking signs

various items of veterinary medicine

1 x peg basket

1 x can of pink spray-on hair glitter

pair of woolly gloves

dog's lead

1 x sheep skull (with detached lower jaw) found by Joshua.

this is a very old sheep that did not ever belong to us - no need to report us to authorities

1 x torch

numerous and various items of paperwork

1 x empty bottle of red (much enjoyed)

3 x conkers

1 x stale bread roll, destined for ducks

There's definitely part of me that leans towards 'earth mother' with flowing skirts and tumbling hair, resplendent in organic chaos.

With hair tucked under a John Deere cap, wading about in the organic brown stuff, I would say I am barely half-way there.

On the other side of my brain, lives the more ordered me, just about holding on to my heeled and suited office days, where there was a place for everything, and everything had its place, though if I'm honest, my desk was always on the dishevelled side of organised.

husband Henry is by far the tidier out of us two, in our household. As we share office and living space, we both tolerate a degree of messiness from the other person - but it always culminates in a flurry of swearing and foot stomping, because no-one can locate that vital piece of paper...

This is followed by manic tidying up, feelgood trips to 'Partners' the stationers, attempts at new storage solutions, and the cycle pretty much begins again.

Now, where did I put the recipe for pumpkin pie...?

http://www.dovefarm.co.uk/

no such thing as a free lunch

We all know the harsh truth of this saying, but it doesn't stop you hoping...

I was sat in a lunchtime business seminar this week, where all I had to do was 'lend my ears' for an hour, and I would be wowed and wooed to part with large sums of money for business solutions that could not fail.

OK, it didn't exactly say that on the invitation, but it became pretty clear where it was all going, with peer pressure piling on and subliminal messages coming through thick and fast. A polished act from a talented presenter, but I was not ready for any leap of faith that particular lunchtime.

Back at the farm, our newest hens have been pushing the concept of a 'free breakfast, lunch and tea' to its limits. We bought in these new girls as point of lay pullets back in August (that means ready to lay within a couple of weeks.)

September, October and half of November came and went, and still no eggs. I sought the advice of everyone I knew who knew anything about chickens - but no answers and no solutions, except the person who sold me the birds, very decently promised to replace them.

But how to trade in Henrietta, Milkshake, Daisy, Speckle, Blue and Belle? - that is the problem when you are on first name terms with your chickens. I do however, think they are having a laugh, as they go and clear up the garden bird table and its offerings, after having pecked their way through a bowl or two of layers pellets.

I mentally give them until Christmas...

...then today, on my birthday, one of them wins a reprieve for the 'eggless six'.

Implausible to the extreme, but absolutely true - Blue lays an egg while my Dad is cleaning out the chicken shed, (obviously making sure there is someone to witness the event.)

I use the precious egg to make a cake later that day, and as I crack it into the bowl, it's a double yolker...perhaps my own subliminal messages had been getting through after all. Now all Blue needs to do, is lay on a bit of peer pressure, and roast chicken is off the menu.

http://www.dovefarm.co.uk/

Fireworks for Frodo?

It's that time of year again - all gunpowder, treason and plot. Add to this, a lot of standing around in a muddy field, in cheap wellies, that suck the cold right into the soles of your feet, while you 'ooh and aah' as the menfolk set off the rockets. Sounds ungrateful, but firework displays in general always last that bit too long for me, and I'm usually one step ahead, thinking about a warming cup of mulled something or other, and a baked potato.

It's also 'tupping time' on the sheep farmer's calendar - when the ram is put to the ewes. We all enjoy the arrival of woolly lambs in spring, and in a way, this is the start of the whole lambing process. There is a lot of preparation of animals- from sorting and selecting, foot trimming, worming and 'dagging' - (which is trimming up the mucky fleece around sheeps' bums.) Amazingly, I could write at great length on this subject, but for now, I shall merely mention that we did all that we should at Dove Farm.

The saying goes, that if the tup (ram) goes in on bonfire night, then you get lambs on April Fool's Day.

We re-introduced our chap, Frodo, to his 'ladies-in-waiting' on 3rd November, which is the night we held our own mini firework display. Can't say it was exactly 'fireworks' for Frodo. He was certainly keen to get started, though the ewes were distinctly under-whelmed. There was a lot of excited 'giggling' from the ewe-lambs over the fence, which was greatly appreciated by Frodo, an easily flattered, pedigree Ryeland ram. He paced up and down the fenceline, allowing the excited youngsters to 'baa' round him, whilst casting a backward glance to the ladies in his own field, who looked on with mild interest, but nothing resembling desire.

I guess all reticence is worked through in good time, as Frodo has not disappointed us up to now. If all goes to plan, we look forward to a crop of strong healthy lambs at Dove Farm from April fools Day onwards. www.dovefarm.co.uk

back in the saddle

......so to speak.

It's not the fact that nothing has been happening on the farm lately - far from it - life has been exceptionally busy for all of us, but I have just not found the words to capture any of it.

Writing a blog is, for me, a pleasurable jotting down of thoughts and events, and the moment that starts to feel like a chore, is also the moment when all other tasks previously considered undesirable, seem to take on immense significance. Examples being, preparation of two-year budgets, getting the carpet cleaning machine out, and writing business profiles for on-line marketing. I have done all these things since last blog entry, and am now treating myself once again, to a small slice of farmlife prose.

Thought I would kick off with the donkeys, as they seem to have kicked off with me. The big idea (well, this big idea in particular), is that one day soon, these two unruly chaps, will walk quietly on a halter, alongside guests wishing to enjoy the company of donkeys, in a relaxing and gentle manner. No-one could accuse me of not being visionary. The journey to reach that point, is admittedly, taking a lot longer than anticipated ....

On those days when I am feeling less than hopeful, like when Rusty refuses to walk through a field because there are cow pats, or when Dandy quite literally, digs his heels in, head down because he wants to eat grass and not walk either - I try to think positively and persuade myself that progress has been made.

I remember when the donkeys arrived at Dove Farm earlier this spring. Training was basic - starting with wearing headcollars, which neither donkey especially enjoyed. I came to put on Dandy's headcollar one day, to discover that he had reached through the bars of his pen, to where the 'tack' was kept, and had taken the purple headcollar which was his. He had then hidden it in a clump of nettles, in the far corner of the field. It took me a good while to find it, because I wasn't thinking 'sabotage' in a donkey kind of way.

Needless to say, husband Henry didn't buy into this equine psychology stuff and told me not to be so daft (using other words) - but I never underestimate the donkeys' perceptions or actions since this incident.

I have resorted to bribery with carrots on frequent occasions, and yes, it does work, but like all of us, donkeys appreciate a bit of variety in incentives used, and will not willingly co-operate unless they feel safe and secure, no matter how many carrots are dangled. Now then, how to tackle the presence of cow pats?

http://www.dovefarm.co.uk/

bragging not blagging

Yes, it's official. Dove Farm has just scooped the Gold Award for best 'tourism website' in the East Midlands Tourism Awards 2007. Check us out on www.dovefarm.co.uk

I would be the first to admit that our website is not edgy, flash or big budget, but it does show business integrity, it's light and bright and easy to find your way around. The judges commented on accessibility, ease of use, our clear and unambiguous pricing structure, the fabulous local information section...and of course they loved the dove farm blog!

The most amazing thing about the evening itself, was for Henry and I to be out together, after dark, and all dressed up. Excitement enough! Like all the other category finalists, we came along to the event, not knowing what we would walk away with. With this added element of risk and uncertainty, it was little short of a miracle then, that I had managed to hijack husband between tractor cab and armchair, and coax him into the glitz and glamour of an evening at 'the Oscars'.

I really had practised my 'congratulations to the other person who is the winner' look - as so beautifully demonstrated by Helen Mirren on the 'Jonathan Ross show' recently - so I was genuinely taken aback, when it was announced that we had the 'gold'!

Not that I feel we are undeserving - far from it, but it is just the best feeling to be rewarded for something that has so much personal belief and value invested into it. I invite you to take a sprint through our website and hope you will agree that we're not blagging, and will allow us our brief moment to brag!