Tup time again

 

'Tis that time of year again, when the tups get loused (let out). The Shepherding year begins.

There have been tups out in Tarset for weeks now, every farm has different tup dates and lambing dates, although it is fairly safe to say that the majority like their in-bye ewes to begin to lamb in early April and the out-bye sheep to lamb later in April. Five months less five days is the mathematical equation to help one work out when their lambing ought to commence from the day the tups were loused. Like people, sheep don't always stick to their dates, some lamb sooner others later so you can't put your tups out on the 20th November and guarantee you wont have a lamb arrive until 15th April, chances are there'll be an odd one come a day or two sooner.

Shep has gathered for the last time for those needing their tups putting out. The next valley across, in the Rede saw the last gathering of hill ground for the dogs and I, tups are happy, their time has come and they can go forth and multiply so to speak. There are always a handful waiting in the wings. Those who haven't been put out for the first time over, being held back either to cover for any tup which suffers an injury or to go out fresh at second time over (after 17 days). Those who go out at second time over it would be hoped will not have too many sheep to cover as hopefully most will have conceived in the first 17 days.

 

These boys have had a bit of a hair do. Bloom (colouring) applied to them by way of a knapsack sprayer, making it easier to make visual contact with them from a distance. Not everyone does this to their tups but it does help when finding he's missing and he's standing back somewhere with that one special ewe he is far easier spotted if he is psychedelic. I know of one farmer who covers his tups with orange spray. A sheep marking spray can is used to graffiti the beasts - an expensive option in my mind when you have many to colour. Some put stripes of keel down either side of the tups to make them stand out from the crowd, some just don't do anything.

 

As seen in this picture he definitely does stand out in a crowd, and unless he's hiding in the brackens somewhere it is usually quite easy to get your eye on the chap and set him up to all the other sheep ought he to be standing back somewhere.

 

This cheviot tup had just been let out of a trailer, he ambled towards the ewes and started sniffing the air

 

he had to pick up speed as the ewes decided they weren't going to hang around! Sheep are gathered up as often as the weather will allow giving the guys a better chance of catching those ewes which are a tupping, a necessary job where sheep have a fair skelp of ground to go at, not quite so necessary when held in smaller fields. Ewes will hunt the tup out just as the tup will hunt the ewes out. Although it is still necessary to keep a fairly close eye on proceedings as tups may not be working for whatever reason and it always pays to find out sooner rather than later.

 

And so it is, there are many tups throughout the area rising to the challenge, they have waited all year for this opportunity and hopefully they'll manage the task in hand and spread there genes to another generation.

Autumn rise?

 

What's that?

A tick, taken off old Glen on 26th November, one was taken off a sheep just a day or two previously. There is often a fresh rise of ticks in the back end but I'm not too sure about finding them at the end of November. The mild weather is the reason of course, yet another pointer to just how unseasonal the weather has been.

I took the tick off the dog and laid it on the palm of my hand whilst trying to photograph the beast. I soon gave up as it was trying very hard to bury it's mouth parts into my hand, I could actually feel it trying to do just that - ugh! It found itself deposited on the back of an envelope before being cremated on the fire - yup! cruelty to living animals, dare say I could be locked up for that.

Springing into Winter

 

'Tis just a few days since this picture was posted, red sky in the morning, shepherds warning as they say. How true that has been. Taken last Sunday morning whilst gathering, within a week the weather has deteriorated. We've had a great spell of weather but it now feels that the spell has been broken.

 

For the time being I'm going to look back, back to last Sunday. Sheep were finally gathered up and were heading for home, it had been a cracking morning, mist did roll in and headed back out again and for once we were fairly confident we had all sheep off this cut forward and cornered.

 

Looking back (as you do when gathering) I couldn't help but take this photo into the sun. Looking towards the east the sight was almost spring like, sun burning through the early hours of the morning promising a good day to follow, even though we had had the red sky just an hour previous.

We weren't to be disappointed that day, on any counts. Two cuts of sheep had been gathered succesfully. All accounted for which is nothing short of a miracle, especially the cut which often sneak into a planting and hide from the gatherers. Moral was high.

The sheep were sorted and moved to respective pastures in readiness for the tups been loused (let loose), even whilst driving the quad bike the temperature was quite balmy, I was thinking I really didn't need my fleece jacket on as I could feel the heat of the sun through my clothing. The whole day went smoothly, no hiccups or problems, the sun shone, the air was warm and you couldn't have asked for anything better.

I mentioned to the shepherd that this ought to be our last day out here, a day to hold strong in our memories, a perfect day. There are changes afoot on this particular farm, a parting of the ways. Neither of us knows if we'll ever be out here again to gather, let alone be in each others company doing so. This was the first day of many to gather sheep forward for tup time, wouldn't it have been perfect if it had been the last day of many. Regardless, it will be a day which I wont forget in a hurry. 20th November, more like a day in springtime, a gather which generally sees one of us heading back out to collect waifes and strays saw all present and correct, fit and healthy. Was I dreaming?

By the 25th November I could have been forgiven for imagining it had all been a dream. The weather became seasonal at long last. The final days gathering saw us taking shelter, getting wet and worse - getting cold! I'd forgotten what it felt like to get cold!

 

The last cut of sheep to be gathered in for tup time. As seen they have to cross a burn, unfortunately the photo barely does justice to the depth of the ford. The sheep did cross but a fair bit of persuasion was needed, they weren't too keen on receiving a belly wash! Whilst gathering my face had been dropped, chin tucked in, an attempt to relieve the pain of the hailstones which were ferociously lashing down, driving into them just helped the driving force of the stinging little blighters, the wind giving them extra strength. A wind which saw hats blown off and dogs missing commands.

On cornering a planting where the path of the two of us would cross I found the shepherd tucked into the edge of the trees, the hail had given way to sleet, again driving sleet and shelter had been sought. He was probably also waiting to see if I ever turned up or whether I had done my usual and got bogged somewhere, regardless, shelter was appreciated for a short spell, unfortunately the weather didn't look like blowing out straight away and so the gathering resumed, chin tucked in and collar pulled high up my neck off we went again.

The above photo doesn't show the 'orrible conditions we'd travelled through, the weather did finally blow over and sheep were cornered and penned. The wind felt cold. A strong one at that and from a fairly mild art but cold, maybe being wet didn't help, allowing the wind chill to bite deeper. I had forgotten what it felt like to get cold. The usual two layers, a fleecy and a top coat, gloves and hat. Definitely time to hunt those winter jumpers out, the mild conditions of late had led me into a sense of false security, I was not wearing as many clothes as I ought for the time of year.

 

This photo doesn't really portray what I would like it to, it looks like mist coming in but in reality it is a shower and a snow shower at that. Driving white stuff came out of the sky. I watched it land on the sleeve of my top coat and its lumpieness melt off as more fell, the ground remained green as I looked skywards again and saw without doubt it was indeed snow, if not it had to be very thick sleet. Brrr.

The shower passed and there was nothing to show for it's unsocialness (is that a word or have I just made it up?) Anti social behaviour! (Where's Megan when I need her??) The day was coming to an end and homeward bound was becoming a high priority. I was nithered (very cold),I had forgotten what that felt like but quickly remembered! On getting home the wet coats were chucked off and a jumper was put on, whilst the fire was set into motion to try and heat the house and myself, I'm pleased to say the jumper was finally removed as the evening wore on.

So, there you have it, life in Tarset has returned to normal, the seasons are upon us, let's hope not with a vengeance, I wouldn't like to think winter has some catching up to do. I spoke to a shepherd just over the border in the direction of my lambing and learnt we had got off lightly, the ground whitened where they are and right into the house at that. Brrrr. Fortunately it also shifted and is now nothing more than a memory. The 25th November rings a bell from last year..............

The Cairn

 

I mentioned this cairn in the last posting, I promised there was more to come.....

Cairns are dotted all over our hill grounds, built by shepherds years and years ago, probably when they were out there hefting sheep onto the ground, with others added over the years, many depict boundaries between cuts of sheep or even between neighbouring hill ground, they are like finger posts, directing you on your way.

Cairns come in various shapes and sizes, some extremely proffesionally built, others appearing to be nothing other than a pile of stones, they are all individuals in their own right.

The day I paused at this particular cairn I looked a bit closer than I normally would. The beast was alive - quite literally.

 

Could this be mistaken for one of those aerial satellite shots? A world all of it's own. Patterns which could set the imagination running.

 

I wont pretend to be knowleadgeable about lichens and such likes but they really are quite amazing.

 

And colourful with it.

 

Nature at her best, especially when in need of losing yourself into another world.

Rattling around on the bike my body had stiffened, backside was probably tenderised like a good steak, banging about for hours on the seat of the bike. Knees had been used to take the brunt of the biggest bumps, saving jarring the back. All in all I needed a stretch and due to this the cairn found itself being scrutinised in a way it had probably never been studied before. I could almost feel her blushes.

 

I even peered into her inner being and saw something very familiar to myself, no doubt blown in with the wind, maybe a sheep had used the cairn as a scratching post sometime, the stories this cairn could tell if only it could speak.

 

Closer inspection showed that the mist/fog had managed to weedle it's way into the very centre of the cairn, leaving it's jewels hanging on the strands of wool.

 

There was even life at the base of the cairn, a bilberry trying desperately to survive in the shelter of the bottom stones, I wonder how long it has been growing there, will it ever fruit? So much to ponder upon from a humble 'pile' of stones. I'm not employed to lose myself in another world studying the what fors and whys of things I come across. My stretch had revived me, my mind was focusing on getting on and getting done, the body was moving naturally again and it was time to leave, much to do, weather permitting. I will leave you with one last shot of life upon the cairn, if only we could all find the time to stand back, take five and look, explore and admire.

 

Lost?.......... and found.

 

Where the hell am I?

 

Is that a landmark?

Shep was having one of those days.............

 

I had gathered sheep earlier in the morning, mist rolled in and out but visibility was bearable.

I was now heading out to neighbouring ground. A farm which has an open march, in other words no fence between neighbouring hill ground, and my task was to head to that neighbouring hill ground and set any sheep back onto their ground ready for gathering the next day. Unfortunately the neighbouring hill ground rarely has any sheep on it these days due to environmental schemes, therefore the ground is fresh and sweet and no fence to stop sheep from wandering over and having a good old munch - hugely frustrating but that is 'modern' hill farming for you. Take my word for it 'modern' hill farming is a pain in the proverbial, one day I might get around to letting vent on such issues, for the time being we'll content ourselves with the task which faced me this particular day.

Head out onto neighbouring ground and set sheep back home, the following morning they would hopefully still be at home and we could gather them ready to set the tups out. Easy! Except.......

As the first two photos show, the fog (or is it mist) really rolled in. I knew where I had to head but got lost. Lost? Not exactly, I knew where I was, as in I was out on the hill, I knew where I was meant to be heading, I just wasn't succeeding. Visibility turned atrocious, landmarks were none existant, sense of direction seemed fine, until I came upon a spot, a spot I realised was not where I was meant to be heading, I turned and fifty yards further on came to another spot which I realised was no where near the spot I thought I was at fifty yards back...... Oh hell!

It was time to turn back, confusion was setting in. I found a bike track which I was convinced was taking me back on my route. I bumped into some sheep, the red keel mark on their shoulders immeadiately told me which part of the hill ground they belonged upon and that wasn't the hill ground I ought to be upon - Shit!

There is no doubt, going round in circles does happen in the fog or a blizzard, something I am well aware of from past experiences. There was company out there in the grey nothingness, my dogs, some ghostly apparitions of sheep and the odd grouse, a cackle as they rose up infront of the dogs and vanished into the grey nothingness beyond. I have proof........

 

You didn't seriously think I could manage to photograph them did you? Be content with their droppings, proof in itself that they were there. There were also a couple of deer, lying resting in the gloom, almost giving me heart failure as they sprung to their feet and shot off, white backsides standing out before being swallowed up in the surrounding greyness.

I stopped the bike, switched off the engine, rolled a fag and took five. 360 degrees around me and the sight was the same, grey, bland, quiet. Like a wall. It felt like an impenetrable wall, solid, ungiving, unrelenting but peaceful. Panic wasn't setting in but concern was, I needed to get a grip, set out in the right direction, homeward bound was my desire, which way is that? I had 7,000 acres to roam around on, I needed to make the right decision.

The weight in my pocket reminded me I had a 'buddy' on board. A GPS emergency gadget, it had been insisted that alone on the day the gadget went with me. Press the help button and certain 'phone numbers would receive a message that help was required, along with a grid reference. Press the emergency button and probably air sea rescue would be scrambled, again following a grid reference. Useful gadget should I still be concious if I happened to roll the bike or such likes, not a great deal of use when lost but not lost if you get my meaning.

I turned the headlights on on the bike, a usual occurence when two of us are out there, easy to see whereabouts of the other person from a distance. I was alone, why turn the lights on? Was I hoping the beam would cut through the gloom and offer me some visibility - a shining light to follow? No, the 'buddy' had got into my head and I thought if I did happen an accident mebbes I'd be found easier if the lights were switched on, a beacon for rescuers to home in on. Was I beginning to feel vulnerable?

Eventually I turned the bike, I'd made a decision, head in THAT direction, away from those sheep, that has got to be the way home.

 

Boy! was I pleased to stumble upon this trig point. A landmark at long last. Not where I thought I was going to be but who cares - I knew where I was! I was at the trig point. Yipee. Now which way?

 

It seemed a long way through the gloom but this sight really lifted my spirits, a well worn bike track and a well known cairn, at last, I really was heading home.

 

The cairn a humble pile of stones, probably built by a shepherd who is long since forgotten. I could have hugged it, relief, ecstasy, a mixture of emotions. At long last I really knew where I was and where I was heading.

 

The gloom was lifting, there was greater visibility 'home' is over there, but not before I took five, and spent some time with the cairn, I doubt she has ever been scrutinised so closely since she was built, more on that to come.....

 

Heading back in I turned to look back on the ground which had caused so much grief, the mist (or is that fog?) was lifting, there was blue sky. What had all the fuss been about? Ought I not turn back around and resume my journey, try and complete the job in hand? After all, it doesn't look anywhere near as threatening any more.

I had had enough. What if the grey stuff returned? we were heading into the afternoon, daylight hours were getting shorter, time was getting on, I had clocked up 13 kilometres (about 8 miles), used up two hours and achieved absolutely nothing. Time to quit.

 

Thankfully my decision had been the right one, an hour later and conditions had once again worsened, I had set some sheep down off enclosed land after lunch, but had I? I saw some, then the greyness returned, I bumped into them, huddled up and hiding in the gloom, they moved on, never to be seen again. Did I set them off one enclosure and into another? I honestly don't know, only time will tell.

 

Occasionally a watery sun smiled down on the dogs and I, beautiful in it's own right but not strong enough to give much help, although useful to take directions from when the need arose. There was no doubt that Monday 21st November had been a frustrating day, it felt like little had been achieved. I eventually departed the said farm, took 'buddy' out of pocket and pressed the button which relays the message "shepherd is okay" and set of to do the 'night' shift.

 

The days are short, a farmer a few miles away required lambs sorting and tagging for auction the following day, thankfully there was a shed and artificial light, I got out of the gloom of the day and into a shadowy existence commonly experienced on dark winters evenings.

Upon finishing the job, letting lambs out to the field, tidying up and leaving the shed I was reminded of Sherlock Holmes films, crossing the farm yard the mist was swirling around in the glow of outside lights, shadows, greyness, darkness, a mystical beauty.