The wanderer returns

It's tup time, so the wanderer would of course be a sheep - well? wouldn't it? After all, sheep are wandering with a mission at the moment, either ewes looking for a fella or the tup looking for a floosie. We are just getting into second time over on the hill tupping front and I would imagine all shepherds have their fingers crossed that there won't be too many ewes a wandering; looking for a fella to fulfill their desires. Now the boys ought to be wandering, desperate to find that elusive ewe who slipped the net first time over and desires the company of an amorous male. Time will tell just how the boys faired first time around.

You may have noticed Shep has been missing for a spell, I did make the return trip from Dalmally away back when (so long ago I can barely recollect) and since then there has been much to do and coupled with the fact there was no broadband connection for a fair duration this blog has found itself put on the back burner so to speak. Hopefully some normality may return, I once again have contact with the outside world which is a godsend as the weather has been somewhat arctic of late, making travelling and visiting a no go for those of us who are wusses on the roads, unless they are perfectly dry and the sun is shining!

Shep hasn't had time to partake in any winter sports, it's fair to say that a fear of 'getting hurt' would probably ensure I wouldn't wish to partake in any winter sports other than making a snowman, but regardless, there hasn't been time for such frivolities to date. I did manage a little bit of sledging however..........

Tup harnesses - awful things! A contraption worn by the tup (sire), strapped around his belly and shoulders to keep a coloured crayon in place on his brisket. Why? Well, when he jumps up onto a ewe he very kindly leaves a crayon mark behind to confirm he served her ( it is hoped that is what it confirms, in reality it only tells you he jumped up onto her back).

It is fair to say that over the years Shep has had little to do with tup harnesses, hill tups rarely get strapped up, it seems to be some form of in - bye bondage, the hill lads aren't into that fancy stuff!

It was necessary this tup time for Shep to strap a suffolk tup into his breeding attire, now that in itself was a challenge, working out where all the straps went around his huge bulk. He wasn't even a friendly beast, and had me dancing around the pen as some form of shepherd baiting took place, his head was definitely harder than my legs. It was a relief to get him backed into a corner and tied around the neck to a rail in the pens, my legs might get to see another day and not find themselves snapped like matchsticks.

Unfortunately, squashed up to the railings in the sheep pens meant only one side of him was free to work on at a time, so the battle ensued to get tup harness contraption untangled and re tangled around this heavyweight chap. There was much chuntering and head scratching went on I can assure you and after a fair duration I concluded that all lose ends were tied up and the crayon was in the correct place, right between his front legs sitting on his brisket - success!

It was a huge relief to release the chap to a field full of ewes and let him get on with the job in hand.

Two days later I noticed something was amiss, a ewe that had been 'served' seemed to have a crayon mark on her hip rather than on her rump and sure enough good old friendly suffolk tup was tracked down and it was noticed he was now wearing his crayon under his nearside lisk (okay, simple terms - left hand arm pit!). More head scratching ensued, from Shep, not the tup. How on earth did that happen? Pretty obvious really, my incompetence at dressing the beast had caught me out - humph!

I was going to have to get a hold of the fella and redress the situation. Memories of shepherd baiting flashed back in an instance, this fella really didn't appreciate the feminine touch the first time, he probably wasn't gonna walk up to me in the field and ask for assistance was he? The sheep pens were a fair old distance away, the roads were solid ice with a  covering of snow and any vehicles brave enough to face the treacherous conditions wouldn't be happy to find a shepherd and flock of sheep on the road would they?

Not to worry, I'm sure greed would get the better of the fella, a bag of cake would surely take his attention long enough for me to be able to get a hold and so I duly returned with a bag of cake (sheep feed). The ewes soon came forward and started guzzling the pile I laid on the snowy frosty ground, the tup? well of course, he held back, suspicious, memories of being tied up in the sheep pens fresh in his mind. - Humph!

More piles of sheep feed laid out, in a tight circle, more ewes guzzling............... eventually he couldn't help himself and did indeed come forward and joined in with the feeding frenzy, unfortunately every time I felt I was slowly closing in with bag in hand as a decoy he backed off, neither of us really wishing to get to close to one another.

I concluded I was going to have to spring into action, attempt my infamous rugby (sheep) tackle and hold on for grim death until he succumbed under my enormous weight - easy!

More little piles of cake were laid out in an increasingly smaller circle, yet more ewes guzzled and finally he dropped his head in amongst the melee, I pounced, fingers locked around the harness which was strapped around his chest and off we went. I tried desperately to throw all my weight upon him and wished instantly that I'd had enough common sense to have started this daring ambush on the level, not the steep as he careered down hill, his 100kg bulk gaining speed with every stride with me skidding along beside him on my belly, side, back,...... bouncing off every frozen bumpy bit hidden under the covering of snow that the field seemed to possess (why is it fields look flat and smooth?), it seemed every angular bit of my body was managing to clatter against something frozen and hard as I trailed along at increasing speed and totally out of control of the situation.

I dare say teeth were clenched, I know there were no swear words uttered, it took me all my time to get my breath, steely determination set in as we neared the roadside, fortunately the roads were very poor for driving upon so hopefully no one would be trundling by, but I could still feel my pride hurting. Time to take control, I managed to swing my legs past his and he cowped (fell) over, there was a huge feeling of relief, elation and success which quickly evaporated and was replaced with a deep feeling of despair as I found myself lying there and with the tup up on his feet and his heels kicking up dust (snow) as he disappeared into the distance, harness flapping around his lugs (ears). The strap had snapped, pulled out of my hands and left me quite literally downtrodden - so much for sledging!

Moral of the story? The lazy mans way isn't always the easiest........... he found himself gathered up, out onto the roads and down to the sheep pens, tied to the rails and sorted. He's never come forward for the cake bag since!

1st December

Shep was heading into Cumbria today. Toast and coffee on the front seat of the car due to a refusal to climb out of bed. I was still managing to leave at the optimum time to arrive at my destination when expected I just hadn't allowed time for the porridge and leisurely cuppa, something to do with dark mornings and probably a late night.

I had an hours journey in front of me with headlights cutting through the gloom. Cumbria is west of where I live, now obviously I mustn't have been fully awake as I was driving along viewing the rising sun, very faint to start with getting stronger as time went by, it caught my interest as did the bird of prey which rose from the edge of the road with something dangling from it's talons. A fleeting glimpse of something the size of a sparrowhawk but what it was I do not know. My attention returned to the rising sun.

Why was I driving into a sunrise? Did I not say Cumbria is to the west. Does the sun not rise in the east? I was going in the right direction wasn't I? It has been known before to head off in the wrong direction, thankfully to date I have realised in good time and can't recall arriving at the wrong destination. I yawned and drove on.

I kept driving on, the colour was getting stronger in the sky in front of me, trees were silhouetted against it, ought I not stop and take a photo? Every time I considered this I had passed the photogenic spot - dithering, whilst still working out why I was heading east.

Eventually I found the sunrise was behind me, I was leaving it behind, probably even more distracting as it was getting very strong by this time and the urge to take a photo was getting equally as strong coupled with the relief that at last I was heading west. For years I have travelled this route, why this morning of all mornings I spent so much energy considering which direction I was heading I do not know, unless my body was missing that early morning stretch and breakfast, brain still heavy with sleep mebbes.

The urge overcame me and I pulled over into a car park designated for a historic site. Quite a large historical site really. Housesteads Roman Fort, built on Hadrians wall a stretch of which I was following along this particular route.

 

There you have it, the sunrise on the 1st December. Now what is it they say about red sky in the morning? Okay! we're safe - it's an orange sky, all will be well!

The day remained dry, cool but dry. Far better day than a day or two back when I got soaked to the britchy arse. I didn't quite end up doing the John Wayne walk that day but definitely had a very wet backside which gave cause for a 'phone call to local agricultural merchants to please deliver a new pair of waterproof trousers this coming weekend. There's nowt quite like one of those piss wet days to make one realise the waterproofs are no longer waterproof and believe you me, soggy backsides ain't the best of company.

The task in hand was to fluke dose a flock of mule ewes.

 

The ewes were run through a cattle race to allow me to manhandle them and give them their oral dose against them nasty little fluke blighters. Critters which thrive on wet ground and attack the liver of both cattle and sheep, critters which are becoming more and more of a problem in our area and possibly more so this year with the mild conditions which have been experienced of late.

 

I did grin to myself. The above is a suffolk, one of the tups which have been running with these ewes, he's actually just a lamb but a big one at that. The hanging lugs is what made me grin. How often do we say "it's hanging it's lugs" which basically implies the beast is off colour and here we have a breed which is meant to have 'hanging' lugs. By 'eck, I do think they're ugly! Give me a texel any day.

I also mused the fact that these tups services now appear to be no longer required, their job is done, fertilisation has occured and they now have the rest of the year to swan around and do nowt. How seasons vary, in Tarset some tups have only just recently been let out to the ewes, these boys were let out weeks ago and now find themselves redundant.

My return journey saw me heading east, (before turning off and heading west) it was too late for a sunset but I did see the glow in the sky which I had looked upon this morning and from the exact spot where I'd taken the photo - light pollution, a phenomena we are unaccustomed to in the North Tyne but one easily seen tonight as I looked towards the glow coming from the conurbations of Hexham and beyond to Newcastle, I preferred the sunrise this morning - far more natural.