Anyone who knows me will be aware of the fact that in my free time I can often be found donning my proper farmers wellies (none of these designer brig
Anyone who knows me will be aware of the fact that in my free time I can often be found donning my proper farmers wellies (none of these designer brightly coloured things but proper wellies that are green underneath all the mud and dirt) and mucking in down on the family dairy and sheep farm.
Mucking in can mean anything from literally mucking out sheds, to driving tractors, and at this time of year it’s the combined dread and excitement of lambing. It’s a mixture of feelings because of the sheer volume of work that needs to be done in a very short period of time, on top of the usual day to day running of the farm and this year the wet winter has not helped conditions in that the fields have been looking more like mud baths. Excitement because what’s more fun than having lambs in the fields bouncing round in mobs to remind you that the summer is not that far away.
When we were younger the best part of all this was when you had a lamb to bottle feed which inevitably would become a pet. Pets would often live in a pen on our Grandmas front lawn so that we could play with them and they were nearby for regular bottle feeds. Ownership of these lambs was fiercely competitive as with that came naming rights. Names would range from the plain mean (Mint Sauce and Lamb Chop) to themed years which generally followed names of characters in our favourite daytime soap at the time.
Above I am pleased to introduce “Spot” the lamb that my midwifery skills brought into the world this year.