Friday 13th........ Lucky for some!

T'is just as the day draws to an end that it dawns on me it is Friday 13th. Thankfully I'm not unduly superstitious or I may not have ventured forth today but t'was far too good a day to miss. A rosy morning once again with a crisp frost followed by sunshine - what more could anyone ask for?

Was luck on my side? Very much so, of that there is no doubt.

A venture out away out bye, heading onto neighbouring ground to hunt down sheep was the task in hand. Bike and I got stuck in a gateway, now that was fun! Huh! But hey, we got unstuck before the cavalry decided they needed to come and assist - yipee! Then the shepherd and I split, he one way, I the other. Within seconds Shep was stuck again. Aargh!.......

Out of sight of the cavalry and literally just yards from our point of parting I had to cut through a mini burn/slack/drain, what ever you fancy calling it. Basically bike and I had to drop down cross a couple of feet of running water and rise back out. I managed the drop down bit, bike wasn't to keen on the rising back out the other side, maybe due to that over cautiousness I am so capable of. Reverse was hit, the arse end of the bike rose back out of the water, forward gear engaged, more revs and off we would go. Or at least that was the idea.

Sure enough with plenty of revs we managed to cross the water and the front end of the bike rose up onto the banking.......... then we ground to a halt. Front wheels in mid air, rear wheels splashing in water and making no purchase - yipee! (That isn't what I uttered - honest!) Much pushing, grunting and cursing later I had somehow managed to dislodge the bike and ended up at a most peculiar angle in the water, the angle became increasingly peculiar as I attempted to reverse out of the situation which found me dismounted and trying desperately to keep all four wheels and two feet on terra firma, which involved even further cursing. Luck was with us, knees knocking, bike and I got extricated and we headed on our way. Albeit a totally different route than the one I was intended to take.

The different route had me stumble upon some sheep, which may well have been overlooked on the intended route - how lucky was that?

I didn't make the intended rendezvous on time - what a surprise! But not to worry, sheep were in sight and followed on, whilst the shepherd headed further out onto neighbouring ground.

I couldn't help but stop and photograph this cairn, t'was the pointy top stone that caught my eye, it appealed to me and so a quick shot before I continued on my journey. Could it have been at this point that I had lost sight of five sheep?

I headed out in the quest of catching up with those I had chased on when I was making my detour earlier in the proceedings but found I had to stop out on the top to take these shots

The view to my left (east)took in the Cheviots.

Behind me I had the Scottish hills

On my right was Kielder reservoir

and finally, in front of me the view down the valley towards home.

The photos don't seem to show just how clear the day was but then they were taken in a hurry before I resumed my quest to find sheep.

I headed in the direction of where the sheep ought to have gone, could not see them and turned back to be sure they hadn't stood still or slunk back to whence they'd come. Upon returning in the direction of where I'd expected them to be I noticed the other bike and some signalling. Sure enough the sheep had been cornered. Now I could have been sulky when the greeting I received was "You need to go to spec savers, these were just ten yards in front of you when you turned back and you went past five further back there" Instead I just grinned and thought how lucky it was that the other bike was coming from a different angle and had caught sight of the wayward sheep - nowt to do with my eyesight at all!

And so it was then that Friday the 13th proved to be anything but unlucky, the unluckiest part of the day would be the fact I had to travel on that particular neighbouring ground, a task I really don't relish but one which I survived. The day commenced with a beautiful sunrise and closed with an equally pleasant sunset - what more could you ask for?

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.

clarts....

They say mud is good for the complexion, well they do don't they? I believe some folks pay a fortune to go to fancy health spas and get mud packs applied to their faces, we're so lucky out here in the countryside, we get the stuff for free.

Seems at the moment that it doesn't matter which way you look,

or step, there is clart (mud/mess) in every direction.

The brown gooey stuff seems to come in a variety of consistencies, runny and sluttery as above due to many small cloven hooves having passed by.

A more solid mess, tractor tyre tracks churning a gateway, a dry gateway at that!

Gateways take on a fresh look, also a fresh challenge, a great excuse for sheep to be uncooperative, the woolly blighters aren't always that keen to pass through wet, clarty gateways, sometimes encouragement from the dogs is needed.

Them woolly things aint so shy when it comes to feeding at the troughs, although turned every day onto fresh ground the signs of daily feeding are very evident when the ground is as soft as it is at the moment.

We have had some cheery mornings and the forecast for this coming week is promising, already today it is evident that the ground is drying, it has much drying to do but hopefully dry it will. One farmer recently winged (complained) and enquired as to whether it would ever dry up, my reply was "course it will, spring is on the way, followed by summer....."

Scraggy, scratchy, itchy sheep

The tell tale signs are once again to the fore, 'tis the time of year, not only trees draped with tinsel but sheep draped with wool

Have to say these two seem to have got somewhat carried away festooning their horns but then they must have been particularly itchy to have managed to gather as much wool.

The bane of lice came into the valley once again this winter, probably earlier than last year, there were signs of sheep being lousy when ewes were gathered for the tup in November, the signs become more apparent as time goes on.

Until the worst affected end up looking a scraggy mess.

Unfortunately, the weather hasn't been the most co operative, there seems to have been much rain coming out of the sky. Once again though I still cannot find any reference on the containers which suggests the product should not be used on wet wool or when raining, due to necessity these sheep found themselves treated when their wool was indeed damp and showers persisted all day, as there are no contraindications on the packaging relating to the weather conditions when the product is used I can only conclude it will not cause any adverse affects.

The seasons come around every year, I find myself once again dealing with lousy sheep, squirting a cypemethrin chemical on their backs to kill off those irritating lice. There is no doubt that this does not eradicate the creatures, or why else would we find ourselves having to treat the sheep as frequently?

Those who plunge dipped in the back end don't seem to be having any problems with lice, unfortunately dip now has a 70 day withdrawal period attached to it which is a long duration to find you can't sell sheep for slaughter. Unless waiting until later in the year when the breeding flock is spaened (weaned) and keeled, this 70 day withdrawal could be quite a hindrance to sheep farmers, preventing lambs and cull ewes from going to market, a great shame when at the moment plunge dipping is the most successful approach to dealing with external parasites.

Once again there are sheep throughout the countryside sporting a stripe down their backs, doesn't last that long as the die does weaken but for a day or two at least it is apparent to all who set eyes upon them that they have received treatment for external parasites.

New Years Day saw me enjoying this view. Like a bear with a sore head I was, not due to over indulgence as an early night had been the call on old years night, more due to a problem with my surround sound system (I'll leave you to work that one out!), anyhow, the fireside for company alongside the view out of the sitting room window was the order of the day.

'Twas the view which kept me amused for quite some time. Sheep (sad I know!) - one commenced rubbing her right side along a stone wall, she eventually turned and scrubbed her left side along the wall, finally she turned her rump to the wall and gave her backside a good old scratch an' all. Was quite comical to watch it has to be said. There was another which singled out a telegraph pole, a new twist to pole dancing - as she scrubbed her way around, turning and trying the pole from a different angle, very sad the things that can amuse one, especially someone acting like a bear with a sore head!! No doubt the sheep in their own right were feeling as uncomfortable as I was. let's hope we all get some relief shortly.

The Amazing Gentleman

You may recall the posting regarding the Hexham Blackfaced Tup Sale, I told you the day was rounded off nicely with a visit to an amazing gentleman, I also promised a posting on the event. Well, here it is..........

I have to go back in time. 2007 I think it may have been, or was it 2008?

A year or two back anyhow and Shep was asked to take some photos. Record shots I guess you could call them, the sorts of pictures I don't usually take - photos of people. There was a stick dresser mentioned. An elderly gent who was going to be retiring from showing his dressed sticks at the Bellingham Show on that particular year (whichever year that was!) Could I possibly go to his home and photograph him making a stick, followed up by him showing his sticks etc,?

For someone who doesn't manage to take photographs under pressure, someone who doesn't feel very comfortable photographing people I found myself in a situation which wasn't really me - but hey! There's nowt like a challenge y'know!

I rang the gentleman up, explained what I required and had a lovely crack over the 'phone with a complete stranger which resulted in an appointment to go and visit him.

A journey of about 20 miles saw me at the door of an old peoples bungalow, warmly greeted and invited in. I spent a thoroughly enjoyable hour or two in this gentlemans company, it was a real treat.

A man who told me he was 94 years old, was widowed, lived on his own, coped for himself and was still driving! He had converted the coal house into a stick dressing workshop which had seen a wall knocked through into his small kitchen so he didn't have to go outside. A tiny space where taking photos proved a challenge, the variety of angles really weren't very variable but fortunately I did succeed in getting a half decent shot.

Business over and a cup of tea was offered and duly made for me, we then sat down around the fire and the crack flowed. I do believe he told me he was the oldest member of the stick dressers association (quite believable), had taken stick dressing up as an occupation very late in life, after his wife died, as something to fill in his time.

Age was getting the better of him, he struggled to stand for long durations and was pained with arthritis and so he intended to bow out of the stick dressing circles and concentrate on painting instead. We talked for a long time, I found his life history fascinating, his warmth and kindness shone through, he was just a treat to be in the company of. He was interested in my real job, once he realised that photography was not an occupation. Having worked on farms for a fair duration of his working life we found we had much in common.

The conversation came around to Cheviots (what a suprise!) and eventually I asked him if he'd ever dressed a Cheviot tups horn.

 

The gent was unaware that Cheviots had horns, he had dressed Blackfaced tups horns and Swaledales and of course the darker buffalo horns but had never realised you could get a Cheviots horn and would quite like to try one before he hung up his tools for good. I said I would see what I could do on that front and finally we parted company. I had thoroughly enjoyed my visit to this complete stranger, it was way beyond my expectations.

On returning home I was full of admiration for the gentleman I had spent an hour or two in the company of, relaying all aspects of the meeting to the other half I found I was getting my leg pulled. I have always got on very well with older men and am often told I 'collect' them, the other half just couldn't help but leg pull about my latest acquisition!

Eventually I tracked down a horn, a stick dresser over the border very kindly gave me a good sized Cheviot tups horn to give to the gent.

The show that year was cancelled due to bad weather, the gent didn't get to exhibit his sticks for the last time at Bellingham Show, I didn't get the opportunity to photograph him setting up his exhibits, or winning prizes, I also didn't get the opportunity to give him the horn I had acquired.

The horn rattled around in my car for a year, forgotten about for most of that duration. I convinced myself that the gent had probably died and a year on handed the horn back to the kindly soul who had originally given it to me. I felt a bit rotten about the whole thing, kinda making a promise and not keeping it, I don't know why I'd decided the gent was no longer around but it was set in my head that indeed he had passed away and would never have the chance to make a stick from a Cheviot horn.

Then one day the person who had initially asked me to take the original photos mentioned the gent and informed me that he was indeed still alive and well. Oh my god!

I drove over the border, knocked on the door of the person who had originally given me the horn which I had returned a year later and enquired whether or not they still had it. Horn in hand I then drove back down over the border and kept going until I arrived on the gents doorstep. I knocked and waited.

There was some confusion, he could recall me but told me he no longer made sticks but was teaching someone the craft. Finally I told him to take the horn, he could either come out of retirement or enjoy watching his apprentice make it into a stick.

A week later I received a 'phone call, 'twas my elderly gent, he thanked me profusely and told me that he had decided to dress the horn himself. A fair old crack ensued over the 'phone and I wished him well and hoped he'd enjoy the challenge.

Prior to the tup sale this year I received another 'phone call, again from the elderly gent, asking if I would call and see him, an appointment was made for the afternoon of the tup sale.

I was warmly greeted and again a cup of tea was offered, upon enquiring as to the age of the gent he informed me he would be 97 in a week or two - 97! Good grief! A man who had commenced his working life ploughing with horses, a man who was thrilled to realise that I too had worked with heavy horses although had never ploughed with them. He had moved on to tractors and even travelled by ship with a demonstrator tractor to Canada to do some ploughing - wow! A gent who had harvested the old fashioned way with a thresher and sheaves and humped 16 stone(100kgs) bags of corn up the granary steps, a job which he blamed for his aching body. A gent who had presented one of his sticks to HRH Prince Charles, a highlight of his career which came with photographic proof. A quite, unassuming and very humble individual, a pleasure to be in the company of.

He brought out the stick to show me, explained that due to the snow and frost over the past winter it had taken much longer than he had thought to make as it was too cold for him to work in his adapted coal shed. He went on to explain how grateful he was to have been given the opportunity to work with a Cheviots horn, it had given him so much pleasure.... and then........ he asked that I accept the stick as thanks for my kindness. My kindness? It had taken me years to get the horn to him, I'd even convinced myself the fella was dead!

My eyes were stinging as he insisted that I ought to have the last stick he would ever make. He even apologised for the heaviness of the head, strong for a hand as small as mine but a fault line was beginning to come through as he filed the horn down and had he gone any further he explained he would have gone into the soft and the stick would have been ruined. A fault that is not obvious until you begin working with the horn I was told.

 

 

I love the pink in the horn, fault or not I feel it gives the stick character.

And so it was then, after the tup sale I found myself sharing an enjoyable few hours with a gentleman who was closer to 100 than he was to 90. I found myself gobsmacked at his kindness and generosity, a man who had presented a stick to HRH Prince Charles had also presented one to me. A stick I shall cherish. I own many, they all have stories but this stick and it's story are extra special. Upon leaving a hand was offered to shake, I asked if he would mind receiving a hug instead, he did not decline the offer.