Having a wretched time?

I guess the last few postings may well lead everyone to believe that I am having a wretched time.

There is no doubt about it that for a couple of days at least my humour was anything but sweet. I did eventually knock on the big house door, the morning I came across three little stiff bodies on my first round. Three perfectly healthy lambs - lying dead. I knocked on the big house door and requested they looked further into a remedy my vets had vaguely mentioned. My mother would have been proud of me as I remembered my upbringing and my manners, trying to be courteous and managing to hide my anger. It was my last ditch effort to do my job to the best of my abilities, I was clutching at straws, remaining forever hopeful, unfortunately to no avail.

However, life is far too short to let such matters overtake ones sanity (my sanity has always been questionable anyhow). When working with livestock there are always highs and lows, it’s a fact of life, this low was preventable and that caused me much anger and frustration but there are far more positives in life to concentrate your mind on.

There have been some powerful highs – the hung lamb (big fat head sticking out of a ewes backside) which came out alive and she adored it, the gimmer I dropped down one morning from the furthest end of the hill, she was obviously struggling to lamb and I eventually got her into a net; the lamb had a leg back and she was tight, I eventually got her lambed and before I could place the lamb in front of her she licked my hand, sounds soppy I dare say but these cheviots are wild, gimmers (first lambers) more so, here was one prepared to ‘eat’ me in her impatience to get to her lamb, no need to put her in a parrack to calm down, no need to shut her in the net, just leave her at peace with her lamb and her natural kindness.

There was the twin lamb, probably unfortunate to have been the second born to a gimmer and overlooked in the proceedings. Lambed on a hard frosty morning, never licked and never footed, I honestly thought it was dead. It wasn’t, I stuck it inside my jacket and continued on my way. It went in the bottom oven of the rayburn at breakfast time and had rallied sufficiently to be given some colostrum before I headed back out. By lunch time it was footed and by night time it was making such a racket it got shoved out into a shed. It has since been set on to one of the field ewes (there are still 4 left to lamb), a real kindly ewe who adores this little mite, every now and again I pop my head over the wall and check how he’s doing, he’s doing just fine.

I am also extremely lucky to be lambing in such a beautiful area as this. I have a whole month to enjoy the ever changing scenery. I thought a few years back when I found myself lambing in the Breamish valley that I had landed in heaven, I believe I am a step closer in this area. It is breathtakingly beautiful.

The landscape is also quite diverse. Climbing out to 1400ft on the tops and down to grassland and burns (streams) in the bottoms, this also leads to a great variation in the flora and fauna to be found. I’ve noticed the primroses are beginning to show along the bank sides of the burns, the sparsely populated gorse bushes down on a neighbouring farm have been slow to come out but they are almost in their full glory. The daffodils lining the grass verges have finally given a tremendous show of colour and on a warm day the scent is quite pleasant wafting in the air as I drive past.

The birdlife is astounding. I have seen my first ever whinchat, a beautiful and striking little bird. There are the curlews, skylarks, meadow pipits, and even a pair of snipe ( this is dry ground and not ideally suited for snipe) out on the hill tops. There are also Ravens and Carrion Crows (corbies) nasty little blighters who can easily peck the eyes and tongues out of any living thing that finds itself unable to get out of their way, these birds are however useful for locating problems – bit like vultures I guess, can’t help but home in on something in distress – so I suppose you could say they have their uses, pointing me in the right direction occasionally.

Wheatears are dancing around any rocky spot, be it a rocky outcrop or a stone wall, they are in abundance all over the farm.

There is a woodpecker (greater spotted) at the cottage most mornings when I come in for breakfast, drumming away on a telegraph pole at the gable end, it amuses me due to the fact it likes to drum on the metal sign attached to the post, obviously realises the sound resonates far better off metal than wood.

There is a Luing bull in the field back of the cottage and again it amuses me to see the jackdaws ploating (plucking) his back until their beaks are full of red hairs presumably to be used to line their nests, he doesn’t seem to mind in the least, probably only too pleased to receive help in shedding his winter coat.

Birds of prey are in abundance, the area seems to be overrun with them. I have buzzards and kestrels nesting in the planting next to the enclosure the Crunchylaw sheep are lambing in. I also have buzzards nesting over the back. One extremely windy day my attention was drawn to the top of the Dod Law, the ground rises up like a huge carbuncle and above this there appeared to be a kite flying, I couldn’t help but wonder who on earth was braving these strong winds to launch a kite, binoculars to hand I soon realised I was looking at a Buzzard struggling to get airborne with a cleansing (afterbirth) trailing from its talons. Quite a sight.

This is the only place I’ve been at for a duration where you can look down on these birds and see them from a totally different perspective – quite a treat I can tell you and one which leaves me awestruck every time.

There are birds to be found at the water side, Mallards, Goosanders, Herons, Wagtails and my favourite, the Dipper.

During the spell I was on night shift I often had a Tawny Owl for company, never saw it but we had some grand conversations, cupping my hands together and blowing between the thumbs produced a hoot which invariably raised a reply and often brought the bird in closer.

Over the back where my twins are held in there are pheasants galore. The cock birds are resplendent in their mating plumage; they always fascinate me with their ‘ears’ which stand quite erect whilst in show off mode. There is one bird in particular seems to have a harem of five females and spends most of his time fighting off other suitors, there have been some true cock fights but to date he has always come out victorious.

Animal life is also never far away. I have never been in an area with such a population of hares, they are everywhere and a joy to behold. Almost every morning I have three deer for company on my journey over the back to Little Heugh, I’ve concluded they must be like the sheep and have their own little heft, if the weather is harsh I find them down in the bottom where more shelter is on offer. I rarely don’t see them, as with the hares they are always about.

Mr Fox has been spotted on three occasions, ’he’s’ a dark golden peaty coloured fella of a fair size. One morning he was jogging home at 6am as I headed out onto the Dod Law. I stopped the bike and sitting down wind of him I watched him sauntering along until he dropped into the planting on the edge of the enclosure the Crunchylaw sheep are lambing in, the same planting which is home to a pair of kestrels and buzzards. A couple of nights ago I set him up on the hill ground of the Crunchylaw, he sharp bolted out of sight over the hill top.

There was a stoat one afternoon, I was at the parracks skinning a lamb when a movement caught my eye and there it was, a stoat bouncing around, if I hadn’t had a dead lamb and hadn’t needed to set one on I wouldn’t have been at the parracks and wouldn’t have had the privilege of watching a stoat for a few minutes – there’s always positives to any negative!

There’s also the sheep, I really do admire the Cheviot breed, there is something about the feisty, determined little blighters that strikes a chord in my heart. They can be quite a challenge but a fulfilling one at that. A challenge which both Moss and myself rise to and enjoy.

So? Am I having a wretched time? Not at all, there have been one or two frustrations but then there always will be. To date I have never had to dry my coats, precipitation has been minimal, a rarity and one which I appreciate.

 

I have to share with you the story about the above bird. It is a dipper, it also happens to be my favourite bird which stems back to a miss spent youth; the days when sauntering along the banks of the South Tyne River were more important than attending lessons in school. It was during these days that I became acquainted with the dipper and his cheery bobbing on stones, darting flight along the water and diving for feed into the river. I was fascinated by this little chap, a fascination which remains to this day.

Every morning I head out to the hill at about 6am, my first port of call on my journey is the Dod Law, as already said it rises like a huge carbuncle with one side of it being easier to view from off the road, so my first duty is to drive along the single track road to a turning point where I can view the west slope of this hill. Halfway along the road it runs parallel with the burn (stream) and every morning to date, without fail, on a rock jutting out of the water, is a dipper. Whether it be frosty or mild he is always there or there abouts. Now if that isn’t enough to set cheer into some ones heart what is? Every morning he raises a smile.

Dysentery update

Well, they are still dying but there are live ones too. The twins are getting thinned out without a doubt and I am getting ready to keel the backs of the heads of some lambless sheep if necessary. Red keel on the back of the head is the traditional mark for a geld sheep, makes it easy when looking the hill, you know not to look for a lamb belonging her if she has a red head. That could well be my only option shortly rather than split good twins off the other cuts.

As for the vets? well I spoke to my contact who was going to get back in touch once she'd read her medicine bible to see if there was anything available on the market. To date I've heard nothing. However, I did mention to the shepherd that I was in touch with my vets and wanted some sound facts before I went and knocked on the big house door.

Now whether he took fright at the thought of me knocking on the big house door, especially as I'm not worldly renowned for thinking before opening my mouth, or whether the cogs had been turning anyhow but apparently the big house had contacted their vets to see what was available.

The result? Well, due to the fact it is no longer necessary to have a serum for new born lambs there isn't one available off the shelf. A fresh carcase could be sent to the laboratories and a serum could be produced from it apparently. I presume by that they must need to have the 'bug' in their hands to be able to produce something to innoculate the new born lambs with.

Anyhow, the conclusion is that by the time this happens, I am writing this on Saturday night (24th), Monday would be the earliest a lamb could be taken in and it would have to be fresh, so what if one didn't want to die on Monday? We both believe there wouldn't be a 24 hour turn around in getting the serum made, probably have to wait a week? By which time it is really too late as the vast majority of the lambs will be born by then.

Hugely frustrating scenario.

What will be will be, it is out of my hands, I am powerless to do anything about it. Fortunately not all the lambs are being affected. I don't quite know how lamb dysentry works but there must be an immunity with some of the lambs. There are more live ones than dead ones and lets hope that is how it goes. The other three cuts are showing no signs, due to the fact that they have all suffered from it in the past and are now innoculated..........

I am singing my own rendition of Queen's hit "Another one bites the dust". Nothing quite like a bit of gallows humour to help the situation along!!

Not to worry, next year all will be well !!!

Colonic Irrigation

I’m sure I’ve heard somewhere that some foolish souls take the detox thing quite seriously. Now Shep doesn’t do nowt like that, this abstaining from all the unhealthy things in life would surely kill me; imagine a life with no chocolate, no tobacco, no whisky or even port for that matter? To be sure, as the Irish would say, there’s more to life than drinking water and eating yoghurty things, after all yoghurt is just curdled milk ain’t it?

Anyhow, as sure as I am that some folk’s do this detox carry on I am equally sure that I’ve heard of colonic irrigation. Now that really is taking things a bit far, unless you’re suffering from watery mouth or something why on earth have your back passage flushed out? And to pay for the privilege as well? The world has surely gone nuts.

Anyhow, to anyone out there tempted with all this flushing of orifices I’ve found a far cheaper remedy. Not just cheaper I may add but actually totally free. The first rhubarb of the spring. Oh yes! Lambing time isn’t lambing time without those first few virgin sticks of rhubarb.

I couldn’t help but ask the shepherd if he had any growing in his garden and duly some very short sticks of the red peril arrived on my doorstep, being slightly tart (bitter) sugar was duly added as I stewed it with mouth watering anticipation. I have to say it was lovely, I thoroughly enjoyed feasting on the first rhubarb of the season.

The following morning, out on the hill, setting a gimmer away in front of me which was hanging a lamb I found I suddenly had an urge to ‘go’. My greed the night before had been my downfall. There are times in life when you have to prioritise, I’m not too sure I got my priorities right but the lamb was born alive and in the future I’m going to steer clear of the natural remedy for colonic irrigation!

Rantings of a lambing ‘man’

 

As you can tell by the above picture there are lambs being born, this pair on the first lap of the morning out on the top of the Dodlaw, catching the sun as it rises.

So the lambs are being born – great news! The ewes are kindly and carrying plenty of milk and most of the lambs are very strong. The 20th saw arctic gales with a flightering of snow in the afternoon. It was a dismal day but fortunately dry. I felt as though the wind was peeling the skin off my face as I went around the hill, down at the steading (farmyard) it was far more sheltered and I couldn’t help wonder what the fuss was all about, that is until I ventured out onto the tops again. Since then the weather has settled down. The air is still very cold and frosts down to -7 degrees in the mornings but with brightness and sunshine during the day, which when in shelter feels very pleasant.

All in all life seems to be looking up......... Except.............

Shep has been losing lambs. By losing lambs I mean they are dying. All belong to the Crunchylaw ewes. The first was a twin, a strong lamb, mebbes 4 days old, totally unexpected to find it lying dead in the morning, I had been unaware of there being anything untoward regarding its health, big, fit, well nourished, healthy lamb, lying dead. Not to worry, these things happen and at least she still had a lamb.

The Crunchylaw are the only sheep lambed in an enclosure, which I am thankful for as they are becoming a lot of work.

A day after the twin was dead there was a dead single in the enclosure. About three days old, well thriven, getting plenty of milk – again an unexpected death.

Then a twin disappeared out of the twin field. Gone. Vanished. Must be fox or badger, not to worry, she still has one.

Yesterday morning (21st) I was greeted by a dead lamb on my first lap around the sheep, again a few days old, again totally unexpected and again a well thriven well nourished lamb and again belonging to the Crunchylaw. I also had a ewe frantically looking for a lamb and a twin which was yet to be walked off into the twin field had also lost a lamb.

The lost lambs were never found, the single ewe kept running to one spot and sniffing the ground, a fairly sure sign the lamb had gone. However, I hunted all over, leaving her until well into the afternoon before concluding the lamb was not likely to reappear, it was not in a drain or a rabbit hole and definitely appeared to have vanished. Again fox or badger was held to blame – opportunists, lifting a sleeping lamb whilst mother was away grazing. Highly frustrating but there you go – that’s life!

During the day however yet another lamb ‘dropped dead’, the lap I did after breakfast, mebbes 3 hours since I had first seen them, another lamb had died, again with no reason. I was starting to get concerned. All lambs to date had signs of milky tails, which is good; they are getting a good supply. However, one had shown slight signs of scour ( a paler, waterier yellowness on the tail) but the alarm bells really began to ring when the first of the morning had obviously passed blood prior to dying.

Doubts were starting to creep into my head. The first doubts are that you’re not doing the job right; you’re overlooking the problems, not keeping on top of the job, missing the first signs of something not being right. I’d already chewed over this, given myself a doing for not concentrating sufficiently. However, these were now different alarm bells. I’d seen this sort of thing once before, two years previous and on this farm. Lamb Dysentery.

Surely not. A directive had been passed from the organic organisation and these sheep were now inoculated prior to lambing – weren’t they? The cold wind could have taken its toll, chilling the tummies of the little blighters and possibly causing them to die, that would be a sensible explanation, would it not?

Now I had been lead to believe that these sheep were now inoculated to prevent Dysentery in the sheep, how was I to broach the subject with the shepherd in a way which would not cause offence? It’s not like me to think long and hard about a discreet and diplomatic approach to a problem, but I did. The conclusion? Say nowt, whatever I say will sound like I am accusing someone of something. The problem will pass and all will be well.

As happens daily the shepherd enquired how things were going, my reply was almost non committal, a slight utterance of a dead lamb passing blood, the Bermuda Triangle was mentioned along with the possibility of fox trouble followed with a shrug of the shoulders and an utterance of ‘that’s lambing time for you!’

This morning the proverbial shit hit the fan. I dropped down into the enclosure off the hill at about 8am and came across a lamb in absolute agony and close to death. I knew what the problem was, the same problem I had two years ago which I had finally been told had been Lamb Dysentery. I left the enclosure with a heavy heart. The ewe could wait until the next lap and I’d set a lamb onto her. I was hungry and feeling slightly despondent. I checked the twins and found another one had vanished – there last night, gone this morning – sod it!!

After breakfast off I went to the hill, dropping down into the enclosure just before dinner time knowing I’d have a lamb to set on. I definitely did not expect to find yet another lamb in absolute agony and close to death. My eyes stung with tears, not a thing I’m proud to admit but a mixture of despondency, despair and sheer disbelief struck me, along with anger and a questioning of what on earth I was doing here – anyone could pick up dead lambs.

I didn’t get in for my dinner; I sorted the problems, lifted twin lambs, skinned dead lambs, set on the twins I’d lifted, stomped around muttering under my breath, grumbling at the dog. Poor Moss, he does lick his lips when I’m skinning a lamb! My thoughts were racing all the time, a cloud was gathering. For all I tried desperately to remain rational and logical about the whole affair I was failing dismally.

The shepherd turned up, enquired how things were going................ All thoughts of a diplomatic and discreet approach to the matter went out the window as once again I felt the tears sting my eyes. Trying to hold onto my composure I explained the problems I had been having; multiple sudden deaths and now dying pain stricken lambs, lambs disappearing off the face of the earth - but had they been live lambs lifted whilst slumbering or had they been dead or dying lambs taken as easy fodder?

“Aye, no doubt about it, it’ll be dysentery I’d say” My rantings as to the ewes being inoculated and that it couldn’t possibly be were brought to a sudden halt when I was informed that as the Crunchylaw had never had problems with Lamb Dysentery in the past then it hadn’t been deemed necessary to inoculate them. The wind was momentarily knocked out of my sails, probably a gasp of disbelief followed, I really can’t recall as I turned my back and rubbed my bloodied hands over my eyes.

I was informed that the farmer ( or ought I say owner) of these sheep would be notified immediately, this could not be allowed to go on and without doubt the problem would be rectified by next year – NEXT YEAR?

There are a 130ish sheep on the Crunchylaw, they’ve been lambing for just short of a week, to date I reckon on a loss of 15%, there are still many left to lamb and “we’ll have the problem sorted for next year”.... unfortunately that is how it seems to stand.

A quick reference to my bible – the TV vet sheep book – tells me “this is without doubt the most dangerous of all sheep diseases, it attacks lambs under a week old” seemingly caused by some clostridium germ which multiplies in the small intestine of the lamb and excretes highly lethal toxins and apparently the first signs noticed are sudden death, the book goes on to say that once symptoms have developed then treatment is a waste of money and time. It also goes on to say that “obviously this disease must be controlled, and it can be by vaccinating the ewes”.

I was beginning to feel like a pawn in some sort of evil experiment. A disease which is talked of often by the older generation and never seen by the rest of us due to a revolutionary vaccination which was introduced years ago and here I was seeing it, but for the second time on the same farm – humph!

I eventually got into the cottage for lunch at about tea time, the radio annoyed me; wittering on about politics, the status quo tape was played instead. For someone who enjoys peace and solitude an overwhelming feeling of loneliness overcame me, the four walls of the kitchen seemed almost overpowering and claustrophobic. I felt a desperate desire for human company.

The shepherd walked in and said all was sorted with the owner of the sheep, he was down at heart too, which instantly made me feel so guilty, a lovely guy who’s suffered many hardships since the turn of the millennium and a guy who does seem to get down in the dumps anyhow and here he was looking his age, weary and low in spirits. Chocolate was immediately administered – my answer to everything – good ol’ chocolate!

I have been around the hill tonight and my mind has once again been racing, I’m hired to do a job which I am paid to do to the best of my abilities. It isn’t really my place to tell someone they may as well get rid of the lambing man and let nature take its course – which is exactly what I did say and to be honest with you that is how I felt. I don’t know whether the inoculating issue is due to the organic organisation which this farm is involved with or whether it is down to the idealism of the owner of the sheep, what I do know is I am awaiting a phone call from my vets to see if there is anything these new born lambs can be injected with to give them a fighting chance against being hit by this curse, I am hopeful that there may be as a serum is mentioned in my ‘bible’. Once I have hold of the facts I will attempt to bring them to the attention of the owner of these sheep, after all, I’m here to do the job to the best of my abilities and should that mean catching and injecting every new born lamb then that is what I will do.

You may not have reached the end of this posting, it is undoubtedly long and quite possibly depressing but it has done me the power of good to get it off my chest. I have slowly accepted the worst possible scenario, I have also accepted that it is no reflection upon my abilities; I am also hoping that it is a blip, probably brought on by the stress of the weather. Tomorrow is another day dawning and life may well be looking up.

In the mean time I’ll end on a high. I saw my first swallow today (22nd April), totally unexpected and in an unusual spot I thought, it would be roughly 7am and was sitting on the fence wire of the field that lies at the bottom of Little Heugh, the field that I put my twins into over there, the frost was just beginning to give and I’m sure the little chap was dreaming of Africa at the time.... If you look closely on the photo below, not only will you see a live lamb but also behind the ewe, on the fence wire, is a swallow, summer is coming! I’m told the swallows were in Tarset on the 13th.

 

Thank the lord for small mercies

That is how I feel at the moment; we need to thank someone for small mercies. Why? I hear you ask. Well, because it’s dry – it’s not raining, that has to be something to be thankful for.

Let me explain.

I did say in a previous post that things were looking up, specifically meaning the weather. We’d experienced a mini heat wave. The ewes had settled on the hill and no longer chased the bike looking for feed. It was short lived.

Temperatures have once again plummeted. There is a strong, bitterly cold wind astir and what little grass there is has a blue look about it. heat would be good, heat with moisture would be even better. Unfortunately where I am it is actually cold enough for snow. Now I can’t speak for Tarset, but as in the past we generally have slightly better weather up here in the Borders than them I can only surmise life ain’t much better down there either.

I am writing this on the eve of the 20th April. The winds are of a northerly aspect and strong with it. I set off to the hill with three base layers on, a fleece jacket followed by waterproof and windproof jacket followed by down filled waistcoat (gilet to posh people) – I’m sure I must resemble the Michelin man. I also don gloves and hat. It’s nearing the end of April and I’m wearing the same as I had on in January – what is life coming to?

I’ve never introduced you to the hill ground yet. There are four cuts of sheep which Shep is responsible for. The Dodlaw, Auld Faulds, Little Heugh and the Crunchylaw. The first three are lambed out on the open hill, the latter being the only cut held in an enclosure to be lambed.

This is the third year I have lambed here and it is interesting to compare the behaviour of the sheep over that duration. The first year was a wet one, Auld Faulds and Little Heugh were lambed in a field, it was exposed to the weather and got quite muddy therefore the following year (last year) I opted to lamb them out on the open hill. They were settled, there was less trouble with pinching of lambs, it was a ‘growy’ type of spring and the ewes were content. This year these two cuts are quite a handful.

Opting to lamb on the open hill once again as the field was bare (no grass) and basically the sheep fare better out on their own ground. They are nowhere near as cooperative as last year. Once the mini heat wave subsided they took to running to the bike once again, causing mayhem amongst any twins which were strong enough to head in with their mothers. (After a few days the twins are walked in off the hill to a field, none of these sheep are pregnancy scanned).

Now these sheep have taken to heading onto the Crunchy Law as the ewes are off there and obviously these two cuts of sheep must think there is more grass on that side of the hill. They really are terribly unsettled. I have thought of barring them into the ‘lambing’ field but then that is so bare of grass it is pointless. I did open it up for them to rake into in the mornings, which was fine for the first couple of mornings; however they’ve taken the top off the field now and aren’t quite so enamoured with the idea as they first were.

Where the hell is the grass? Now you may well have cut your lawns and be wondering what I am rabbiting on about but bear in mind that there is nothing grazing your lawns. The sheep are eating any fresh growth as soon as it is showing, they’re almost standing over it waiting for it to pop it’s head up ready to munch it off as soon as.

We definitely need to be thankful. When it is as cold as it is at least we don’t have driving rain too, even hill lambs could succumb to that.

Talking of which........... I saw the news tonight – on the telly!! It was quite exciting to see the telly again and watch a weather forecast. Anyhow the Scottish news channel had coverage of the bad weather experienced at the end of March beginning of April. There have been many, many lambs lost, and ewes too, amongst the earlier lambing flocks. One farmer in the Peebles area reportedly had two one ton dumpy bags loaded with lamb carcases waiting for the dead cart to collect – heart breaking, another in Aberdeenshire reported losses into three figures. The Scottish Government are subsidising the collection of dead stock and looking in to the cost of the winter to their farmers, it’s good to hear that those in authority take the situation seriously, makes me wonder what the British Government might consider doing for their farmers?

Glen, the sheepdog, and his chequered life.

As said previously Glen was born in September 2000. A winter pup, he grew up through wind, rain and snow. I remember coaxing him over a drain (ditch) in flood when he was a tiny bundle of fluff, once home he got towelled off and allowed to dry on the hearth.

All my dogs are kenneled outside until the time comes they need more comfort in their lives. This little pup used to be wet and clarty (muddy) would be towelled off and allowed to have a spell on the hearth rug before going to bed in the kennel. This could be a give away to his rather 'soft' nature.

To this day if he can creep into the house and get on the hearth rug he's happy, he almost manages to flatten himself and lie absolutely still as though in the hope you wont notice him and put him out!

All his life he has required a fuss, more than capable of getting anyone to give him a stroke and they're not allowed to stop, Once you've stroked him that's it, he just wants more and is very adapt at nosing his head under your hand and lifting it up so as it drops down over his brow, he really can make you stroke him!

Rightly or wrongly pups go with me and the other dogs everywhere, they walk to the hill and if they tire they'll find themselves inside my jacket and getting a lift, they'll be tied up at the sheep pens out of danger of being attacked by the sheep and watch what's going on, they'll sit on my lap on the quad bike until they are big and strong enough to sit unassisted on the back.

If they reach an obstacle they're not happy of they have to work a way around it. A shut gate for instance can be quite a challenge to a pup, I coax and wait patiently until they have the job sussed, I make them use their brains, I do not want an adult dog which I have to go back and retrieve because it can't find a way through.

And so it was for Glen, in the cold winter months as a little pup he was introduced to all sorts of obstacles and weather conditions. Feb 2001 saw a tremendous fall of snow, five foot drifts and Arctic conditions, Glen was 5 months old and had to learn how to accommodate snow. At 7 months old he was walking the hill on a chain at lambing time, often abandoned - tied up to a sprig of heather or fence whilst I dealt with any problems.

By 8 months old he no longer got to see sheep on a daily basis. 2001 is a year etched in my head. Foot and Mouth. Many sheep were slaughtered.

So for Glen he found himself wandering around aimlessly, still learning about the everyday obstacles but missing out on the sheep thing. He learnt to swim! There is a linn (waterfall) near at hand which I would go and splash around in (I'm a poor swimmer), anyhow the 9 month old pup decided to join me whilst old Tyne stood back totally perplexed. To this day Glen will take to water like a golden retriever. He absolutely loves swimming and has to be watched if the burns are in flood. It's a great way of cleaning him off when he's had a dirty day in the sheep pens.

By the time Glen got to see sheep again on a regular basis he was well over a year old and seemed unsure of life with sheep. However, eventually, it all clicked together and off he went, in fact he basically taught himself and was always biddable, stopping every time he was asked to (usually young dogs try it on and like to have a bit of fun).

I always thought him to have a poor out run, he didn't run as wide as I would have liked and I never felt totally confident on big areas of hill ground. I always took Tyne along too. The shepherd out bye told me to take Glen on his own and leave the better dog behind. Unfortunately I never did this, my confidence in the dog wouldn't allow it and I continued to take both together. Tyne always got there and did the job whereas there was always a question mark hanging over Glen and his capabilities where there was a large expanse of ground to cover.

Eventually Tyne got old and weary, Moss was very small and I was left with Glen, the younger fitter dog. I had to gather vast expanses of ground with the one dog, the dog I never felt was capable of doing such a thing. I was proven wrong. He worked a treat on his own, did have a good outrun and could gather a big hill. If only I'd listened to the shepherd from out bye! Obviously Tyne (who was the apple of my eye) had the upper hand of the younger dog and had him beaten into submission. Poor Glen who had been so maligned.

However, for all these years Glen had his place in life. Tyne was a powerful, strong headed creature and could be too much for field sheep, whereas Glen who was so biddable and steady was ideal for field sheep. Horses for courses.

So, eventually, at six year old, Glen came into his own, was top dog, could handle any gather that was necessary, good in the pens, perfect at lambing time - life was looking up. Until......

He had an accident........ Tup time 2007, Glen was now 7 years old, Tyne had passed away, Moss was coming on but Glen was top dog, capable of anything asked of him, living life to the full until I set him down a bank side to turn some sheep, he stumbled, went arse over tit and rose with a limp but continued to go around the sheep and turn them back. I rested him but he didn't come sound. It was ten days before I took him to the vets to be told he'd snapped the ligament in his 'ankle', I think it's called the cruciate ligament.

Now I acted like a tough dog owner and weighed up the pros and cons. Would he ever work again? How much will it cost?

All credit to my vet, he wanted to get the dog back to work and did eventually succeed.I was told the injury was worse than a broken bone. An operation which involved drilling the bones on either side of the joint to enable an elasticated 'tendon' to be fitted whilst the original was stitched together. Glen returned home with a plaster cast on his leg.

He got to lie on the hearth, he had an old quilt under the table which was his bed and he was to have no exercise at all, only allowed out for the toilet. Within a week the better half had had to heighten the fence around our garden, Glen had jumped out, pot leg an' all, nothing was going to stop him in his quest to find something dead and rancid to eat!

During all this time the dog never let on to being in pain, he is a softie but is actually really tough, throughout his lifetime he has never shown self pity, always wants to work even with a serious injury. I've prodded and poked a lame foot and he doesn't even wince, he never fails to amaze me at how tough he can be (Moss will squeal like a pig if you pull his hair, Glen would put up with anything).

Plaster cast for six weeks, dressings changed for even longer, five minute walks, then ten minute walks and so on for weeks, many friends and neighbours rallied and let him out whilst I was away working, took him for his five minute walks (on a lead), his ten minute walks and so on. Some even collected him from the vets, I always tried to take him in on a mart morning, the vets would keep him until a farmer could pick him up and fetch him back!

The vet thought hydro therapy was a good idea, I didn't admit to this being in the cold water of the burn but Glen was happy, swimming away like a good one.

The vets were taken with him as a patient, initially I had to leave him to have his dressings changed, however, once I realised this was to allow the anaesthetic to wear off I had words with them. You can literally do anything to Glen and he wont retaliate, I asked them to give it a go and they were impressed. Apparently he would lie down, roll over and put his bad leg in the air to allow them to deal with it - no need to subdue him with anaesthetic. The perfect patient!

During Glen's long winter the young Moss came to the fore, he soon became top dog and as I was totally reliant on him he came on leaps and bounds, poor Glen, under the shadow of another dog once again.

He wasn't fit enough for lambing time but a farmer's wife took him to walk twins out of fields and do light duties. By the summer he was fittening up well when an infection got a hold. A stitch from the operation had decided to try and dislodge itself. Once again Glen was laid up.

Eventually he was fit and well. The vet had succeeded in getting him back to being a working dog, the bill had been less than the cost of replacing him. Life was looking up. By now he was 8 years old.

Glen came back to full working fitness but unfortunately has slowed down, he is getting older after all. He does gather hills but only the kinder ones, he's back to being number one field dog. Where I lamb the ground is very steep and this worries me, he has been lent out to others at lambing time who are working kinder ground.

This winter was a struggle to him. Once again he went lame, on his 'bad' leg. Gathering in the snow he fell through the crusty surface and duly carried his leg, again he was rested, again he didn't come sound. Again he found himself at the vets. He had injured his foot but it appeared to be a soft tissue injury. More rest required. Glen lost fettle, appeared to be depressed, lethargic and off the stott. Finally he surfaced one morning with a fat face. Antibiotics and dentistry work fettled that, another x-ray on his leg showed bad arthritis........

The good news is he is happy again, putting on fettle, living on anti inflammatories and most probably being molly coddled. It seems very likely that by next winter he may well have his life long wish of lying on the hearth mat at night!

Life is looking up

The weather is at long last picking up. In fact we seem to have had a mini heat wave. Wellies and leggings have been discarded, with boots being the order of the day. Top coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up – life really is looking up, long may it last is what I say.

When I think back to the 2nd of April, my first morning off to the hill here in Scotland to feed the hill ewes, it now seems a lifetime ago.

“The snow lay all around, nice and crisp and even”

I have to say the beauty of it all that sharp frosty morning was absolutely stunning and the ewes were pleased to see their new shepherd.

The last of the snow shifted on the 10th April and the ground is now more as I remember it from last year.

The 10th April brought another change, not only had the snow finally all disappeared from every nook and cranny but the sheep settled down also.

Every morning when I headed out to feed them they came charging towards the bike, desperate for their cake, so desperate in fact that some mornings the next cut of sheep would appear over their hill top (which would be at least ½ a mile away), like a bunch of wild Indians they would charge down the hill side towards the cut I was feeding. A hungry bleating almost sounding like a war cry as they careered towards me. The dogs valiantly managing to cut them off at the pass and turn them back to where they belonged.

These sheep are never going to knock you down to get at their cake, they may well chase the bike and get over enthused at the thought of food but they truly are wild. I walk along, tipping the cake out onto the ground out of the bag and these sheep run around and around you in sheer excitement and anticipation of receiving food but all the time keeping their distance, never prepared to drop their heads until you are well out of the way. The wild instinct is never far away, doesn’t matter how hungry they are they still refuse to make contact – sheer bliss I can tell you, being able to feed sheep without the fear of being knocked to the ground and trampled.

So for a good week I had ewes desperate for their morning feed, then it stopped. I found myself having to set them all in to a spot to feed them, they no longer chase the bike, they no longer try to leave their ground and join the cut being fed before them. They have settled. They have to be gathered with the dogs to receive their feed, no longer volunteering to be first at the ‘trough’.

What a great feeling. The ewes are due in on the 17th and I was becoming concerned about their well being - and mine! Normally the feed is knocked off them once they begin to lamb, it can cause mayhem with little lambs running around out on the hill so the ewes no longer receive the hard feed, there are mineral/feed buckets available for them ad lib but no cake. It was beginning to look like I may have to cake them at lambing time, I didn’t relish the prospect.

Mother Nature has waved her magic wand and here they are, settled and content with what the hill ground has to offer them. The warmth has fetched a fresh growth of grass and the ewes are more than happy to eat this - the natural approach. Hill sheep ain’t so stupid; they know what’s good for them. Let’s hope this really is spring on the way, it ought to be after all we have waited long enough.

P.S The ewes started to lamb on the 13th - they came in early last year as well so this is nowt fresh. The weather cooled down but remained dry and to date the ewes are lambing away merrily.