From chilblains to sunburn

Phew! has to be said Shep is feeling a tad hot and bothered. To think just a week or so back I had an attack of the chilblains, nasty little itchy blighters which rise to the fore in cold weather. Now I am finding myself frizzled to a frazzle and foolishly more than just a bit pink in the process.

The previous four lambings to this past one I travelled over the border with my car full of belongings and paraphernalia which included my ski pants, y'know, them things skiers wear when they're out on the piste. Now Shep does not ski, although I did once have a half hearted attempt, but I have found that when sitting astride a quad bike in the deep mid winter ski pants are indeed a god send, they keep the chill off and the chilblains away.

As said, the previous lambings and ski pants were indeed loaded into the car, it was generally cold and snowy when I headed north at the end of March for the six weeks lambing stint and I always like to be well prepared. I don't truly recall ever wearing these super warm overtrousers to any great extent at lambing time and so this year, with the hot spell at the end of March, I decided that really I had loaded enough stuff into the back of my car and there was no way I was going to need them there ski pants, they were left behind.

How wrong can you be? Those bitterly cold easterly and north easterly winds didn't half bite hard, coupled with the fact I donned the more holey than godly leggings on one of those piss wet mornings which ensured I got a good soaking to the skin - a very cold soaking at that, which very kindly rekindled the chilblain curse. A problem I haven't experienced for at least 12 years, one which I hadn't missed that's for sure!

Chilblains always make me think of toes, presumably coz that's where normal people suffer from the blighters, of course, not being exactly 'normal' I just have to be different. My toes have never suffered from the blighters (my ears have however). No, Shep gets chilblains on her legs, I just like to be different y'know! Where the top coat finishes and the legs begin, basically a third of the way down the outer thigh and there you have it........ nasty itchy chilblains. As said, I cannot truly recall when I last suffered from the blighters, I have to go back many many years to the days of lambing away out bye when I very rarely wore leggins due to lambing on foot and not liking to be hot and bothered. The sharp frosts very early in the morning, coupled with being caught out in an odd shower, plus any cold winds which blew would inevitably cause the chilblains to rise to the fore. I eventually gave in and wore leggins in an attempt of prevention and spent much time putting them off and on as I got hot then cold, but it worked and the problem was resolved. What a surprise then to get caught out this year, the leggins just weren't warm enough when sat on a quad during this past lambing.

I've forgotten the chilblains now, the weather has warmed up. Well and truly warmed up.

We seem to be receiving extremes of temperatures. The last week of March saw temperatures soar to 26 degrees Celsius, then plummet to low single figures for the duration of April and half of May, this week has once again seen them rise to ridiculously high levels. Tuesday was our first hot day 32 degrees no less. (bear in mind our outdoor thermometer does sit in the full sun from 4.30 pm onwards), I did think Wednesday was beyond a joke at 36 degrees but today tops it all at a sweltering 38 degrees.

My mother informed me that she had once been told that the easiest way to convert the temperature into what she calls "old money" in other words Celsius to Fahrenheit is to double the figure and add 30, for those of you who are pernickety the exact equation is to multiply the figure by 1.8 then add 32 degrees (mothers rough guide seems simpler!)

Anyhow, that then gives us temperatures of 89.6 / 96.8 and finally........ today (Sunday 27th May) .......... 100.4! A quick chase around the world with the help of Google tells me we are hotter than Greece and would probably have to shoot across to Saudi Arabia to match temperatures! Alternatively, we could just sit in the shade and find 26 degrees Celsius or 78.8 degrees Fahrenheit!

The heat is a welcome break from those increasingly distant memories of such a cold, cold lambing season. Bare fields are springing to life as the wet ground warms up and the grass shoots away, although some are already finding ground which lies close to rock with little soil cover is beginning to burn off - it seems almost unbelievable!

There's nowt like getting the sun on your back to give you a lift, both stock and man feel so much better when the sun shines down, or do they?

Sheep are heavy in wool, left to their own devices they are more than happy if shade can be found and we are lucky that there is a draught blowing, yup! the wind has got up which does help to cool one down, it also seems to help drive the burning rays into you as well.

I often wonder where my common sense lies. Working in a vest on Wednesday, out in the middle of nowhere, unaware the sun was blazing down in the high nineties Fahrenheit I suddenly became aware that my neck and shoulders were frying. I did have a T shirt in the car but that was a couple of miles away. I had a ratch around (hunt about) and unearthed a paper feed sack, then hey presto! a length of baler twine. Problem solved!

There was much hilarity and leg pulling as I tore the sack in half, poked a couple of holes in the top and then commenced threading baler twine through the holes which I then duly wrapped around my forehead. I dare say I looked a sight, I was indeed told I looked a sight but the following couple of hours in the afternoon sun were far more comfortable with my home made hat come cape than they would have been without it.

So! The sun on your back gives you a lift, it also brings with it its own problems. Sheep need gathering before the heat of the day gets up, early mornings will be the order of the day to get sheep into the pens safe and sound, once in the pens they too suffer from the heat, just as we do, then there is the question of returning them to whence they came. Time and patience is needed when moving and handling stock in the present conditions. Most importantly there is the welfare of the dogs to consider, they too suffer, running their hearts out in extremely hot weather is not kind on them.

Having said all that tho' it has to be said that it IS good to get the sun on your back, aches and pains subside and humours lighten of that there is no doubt!

Moss the sheepdog has a birthday

Yup - Happy Birthday Moss. 20th January 2006 was the day when Grip (his mother) gave birth to her litter of three pups, one of these pups being Moss, one of the others became Kales mother a few years later.

GRIP

Moss' father was Tyne, my dog, the only responsibility Tyne took in the fatherhood thing was when he shared an hour or two with Grip in the back of a Landrover, he came out smiling and that was it. Not like the human race, where the male is supposed to be supportive, Tyne had an easy life, until that is a little fluffy bundle turned up at Shep's house!

TYNE

Was due to the kindness of the out bye shepherd that Moss came about, a desire to keep my bloodlines going saw me being given the opportunity to line a bitch with Tyne. Tyne was clocking on at this stage, it was an opportunity I was extremely grateful of and a succesful one at that.

So here he is, 6 years on, middle aged, at his prime and about to go past it. Hard to believe it is six years - time doesn't half seem to fly.

Moss is very similar to his father in appearance, his leg markings are a mirror image of what Tynes were, if one ear didn't stick up he would look almost identical facially to how his father looked. As for character wise........ well, he possesses the same strong will, but is no where near the dog his Dad was. Don't get me wrong, he is a fine fella, but he isn't quite as hard as Tyne was, he is capable of turning off sheep if he feels threatened where as Tyne would never back down. Moss did unfortunately get bashed by a Swaledale ewe in his youth and I do believe this has caused his 'yellow' streak. Having said all that though Moss is still a more than capable hill dog and just like his father he is just a bit strong in fields, he needs a good outrun to knock the wind out of his sails!

Unlike Glen, Moss is beginning to show his age, grey is beginning to show on his face. A kind face it would seem, however this is not always the case.

Moss is a very fortunate dog. As a pup of 5 months of age he bit someone, not a play bite - a real bite, with needle sharp puppy teeth. Unfortunately last year, five years on since his last misdemeanor he once again bit someone, in fact the same person. It was malicious and uncalled for. He is indeed a very lucky dog.

It is of little consolation to me that Moss only seems to like to sink his teeth into one particular person. I own a dog which cannot be trusted. A dog which had it not been that he is a good working dog and provides me with my livelihood would have been put down, or at best sold on to a farm away out in the back of beyond. I am fortunate the recipient of the bites showed compassion, the dog ought to be even more grateful.

Moss adores me, which isn't probably the best should he decide to be over protective. We don't exactly live on a knife edge, he does seem to like almost everyone he meets, however this can never be taken at face value. He is a dog who cannot be trusted. Will never be able to be trusted. So, on his 6th birthday he ought to be thanking his lucky stars that he is still around to appreciate life, I know I do!

Close encounter

The day the old tups went through the pens the youngsters also found themselves having a trip around the pens. Tup hoggs, last years lambs, hopefully going to grow out and become breeding tups themselves. These fellas are spoilt somewhat, living indoors in comfort. A shed, with straw to lie on, hay to eat and sheep feed in troughs, giving them an opportunity to grow into strong adult sheep, or so it is hoped.

Once again young Kale found himself the dog of the moment, learning the ropes in the pens, teaching the hoggs how to respect a dog at the same time. He was in his element! All other dogs barred up he was having a one to one with me and close encounters with sheep. A happy young dog.

He truly did have a close encounter, this one tup hogg seemed to be intrigued by this big black hairy creature which was hanging around, the others weren't too impressed with the idea but this young guy was bolder, going where no tup has gone before!

I watched almost spell bound as I really wasn't sure what young Kales reaction would be, he has never had a tup (albeit a tup hogg) come up to him to make friends before, I have to admit I half expected him to have a mouthful of tup but no, he just stood and took it like a man.

My imagination started to wander and the more I look at this picture the more I wonder what the young sheep was saying to the young dog. Whatever it was it did the young dog the power of good, he didn't back off with fear, neither did he lurch forward to give fear, he just took the encounter in his stride. I was impressed.

Kales reward was to be asked to move the tup hoggs further up the pens, to show his authority, act like a sheepdog, go around the back of them and push them further up to the working pen. A reward which he seemed to appreciate.

Tups off

Aye, the boys are back home, they've had their fun for the year, it's now all over for another year and gathered in they are. Not everyone fetches their tups in, some seem to leave them running with the flock, I've never been accustomed to this, the tups would always be fetched off the ewes, you always knew when the lambing would draw to a close, it can help the sanity in the spring, knowing that the lambing will come to an end.

Once all gathered in off the ewes the boys found themselves going through the sheep pens. A bit of a health check was required. Much to young Kales pleasure, he found himself with the opportunity of working in the pens or ought that be learning in the pens?

Some of the fellas found themselves heading off for a journey to the mart, never to be seen again, they may have been old sheep or maybe just spares which had been kept should an emergency arise at tup time, regardless, if they are no longer wanted there is no point in feeding them, off they went.

Those remaining found themselves walking through a footbath, horns checked and sorted (will write about this sometime), dosed and of course squirted for lice, although they seem to show no outward signs they will indeed be infested, the ewes were so the tups will be also.

Tups in a tight area are not always the safest of creatures, young Kale found himself on the wrong side of the gate on purpose, his enthusiasm could see him hurt, if not him then probably me. There are some bolshy characters and I didn't wish to see either the young fella or myself get injured. He watched the proceedings with great interest and a longing...

Finally all the doings to the fellas had been done, left to stand on concrete for a short while to allow the chemical which was in the footbath to soak into their feet, odd ones started to hold a foot up - a good sign, obviously they had a touch of scald (similar I guess to athletes foot), for all they had been showing no outward signs, in other words weren't limping, they must have been starting with something, the bath would hopefully sort this up and prevent it from worsening.

The last of these boys were fetched off the ewes on 4th January, allowing the five months less five days thing you would say the ewes would cease lambing at the end of May, however, we all know that some carry their lambs over their due dates, it will be fair to say that by the end of May/beginning of June there'll be nowt left to lamb - hurray! But then these sheep wont be bothering Shep as she heads elsewhere to go lambing.

The boys eventually found themselves returned to their pasture

much to young Kales delight, as he found himself being allowed to pretend to be a sheepdog, he hasn't had the work he ought to have over tup time but proved to be enthusiastic and willing when given his chance.

He can run faster than I of that there is no doubt, still learning the ropes he did very well with the boys. They are ideal to work a young dog on, due to their bolshyness as much as anything, they can teach a keen fella a bit of respect, whilst the keen fella also teaches the boys a bit of respect, the arrangement works quite well.

The boys get their reward for the inconvenience caused to them, Kale received a well deserved pat for listening and learning and walked out of the field feeling he'd achieved something.

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.