Looking Back

2014 has been a year of learning and experiences, but one where time became most valued.  We've had births and we've had death.  I'm sure someone has eloquently written a quote about the times when you have most going on to blog about, are the times when you have least time to do it.  But I'm sure you get the picture.

In retrospect farming sheep and a lot of poultry, running Woolsack, starting a business, everything we've been doing on the farm, keeping up with family and old friends and new ....... well, the blog was pretty high up the list of things I didn't have time for.  I've also not done anywhere near as much spinning as I'd have liked, nor growing food, well this list could get very long!

However I've no regrets, and despite the considerable physical challenges and having to learn so much (not least farm paperwork!) I'm glad this is where I am now.  There will be some changes next year, learning from our experiences of this year, but I will keep running Woolsack and even bringing back the events page and adding a new page I've been researching.  As for the farm, well I will try and find time to blog about the sheep because a LOT has happened there.

Orkney is a pretty magical place.  Even when coping with being icebound as we were on 27 & 28 December when the entire farm was covered in sheet ice, (anyone for downhill skating?) we could look up and see the promise of longer days and sunshine.

So now, time to leave 2014 at sunset with images of young Borerays on the moor and the Boreray Boys in the field at the top of the hill.

Season of mists, mellow fruitfulness and unsolicited calls

First the mellow fruitfulness - we seem to have gone from summer to autumn overnight.

One of the joys of moving to Orkney has been a lack of unsolicited phone calls.  In Newcastle, despite being registered with TPS and meticulously searching all forms for that tiny hidden box to tick or un-tick to deny permission for our telephone number/address to be sold to unscrupulous cold-callers we were plagued by them.  Most days we received more than one unsolicited phone call.  Exceedingly annoying when in the middle of a long row of complicated lace knitting to say the least!

Today, along with the mist - time to play 'spot the sheep' - I got a second unsolicited call in 2 days.  Both from a company offering free house insulation.  I'm not sure how much free insulation they think an old stone croft house with solid walls and built straight onto solid rock can use - but then these companies don't actually research who they contact.

 

Anyway, having pressed option 5 yesterday to get through to a human so that I could tell them we were registered with TPS and should be removed from their mailing list immediately, today it was gloves off.  I clicked 5 again so I could get the name of the company.  When I asked that they put the phone down.
So I went to the TPS website.  As I thought, unless you have the name of the company you aren't able to make a complaint.

Which is pretty frustrating when errant company puts the phone down on you when you ask for the name.  However, for the first time I saw the link to ICO (Information Commissioner's Office) and followed that up.  It appeared at first that I'd ended up in some catch 22 since it looked like I was being referred back to TPS, so I rang the enquiry number for ICO.  Which was an incredibly useful thing to have done because I got a very helpful gentleman who explained a lot about the system that I didn't know.  So this is what I'd like to share here because if enough of us act we can move forward the process of making it more difficult for these obnoxious companies to blight our lives and get away with it.

So, first important thing to know, TPS only covers calls made from within UK and made by a human being.  If the initial call is automated, even if you then click to speak to a human being, it's not covered by TPS.  That's point one in my letter to MP and MSP - TPS must be expanded to cover these automated calls and put the wishes of the public to choose not to receive these calls above the lobbying power of the cold-calling companies.

Second, as explained from the very helpful gentleman at ICO, they have never heard of anyone successfully being removed from one of these calling lists even after speaking to a human to request this.  So the advice is NOT to click the button to speak to a human.  Just put the phone down, dial 1471 to get the number, and use the form at ICO to report the call.  Choose the option of an automated call which ends up taking you here.

Next interesting thing I learnt is best explained in this blog post from ICO:  An effective regulator needs effective powers. 

The measures they are able to take are limited by current legislation.  So the more of us that contact our MPs, and MSPs for those in Scotland, the better.  There is a huge industry built around the annoyance and disruption of unsolicited calls and that means the cold-calling industry lobbying our MPs and delaying legislation to give us, the public, what we want and need.  So we need to put pressure on our public servants to put our needs first and get this legislation passed sooner rather than later.

I know from past experience that writing to my MP really does make a difference.  If you don't do anything else this week, please take a few minutes to make a difference for yourself and other people and write that letter or email to your MP.   Read the blog post from IOC first - it will take only a couple of minutes and enable you to put the appropriate content in your letter, asking for the threshold to prove substantial distress from a nuisance call to be reduced or removed.  We shouldn't have to reach the point of  'distress' in order to get unsolicited calls stopped.  This legislation needs to be changed NOW.

When I made my report to IOC today I could feel the sigh of relief that I was able to explain that rushing into the house to pick up the phone, thinking it was an important call I was expecting, meant I had to release the bantam I'd just caught.  Next job for me is to try and catch her again -  and it's Medusa, so that is an extremely arduous and distressing task!

Report back - Medusa has made herself very scarce and is nowhere to be seen.  I thought you'd enjoy seeing a photo of my escapologist bantam, but you'll have to make do with my youngest clutch of chicks, also running fast away from me.

Their broody mum is an extremely nervous and over-protective bantam, so I'm not attempting to train them to come to the bucket until they've left her and moved into the teenage chick housing in one of the fields.

My older chicks really enjoy living away from protective broody hens and hanging around doing the chicken equivalent of getting up late and imbibing questionable substances

So, to summarise, feel-good job for as many people as possible to do this week,  for the betterment of all our lives, is to read the IOC blog and then write to your MP.  Let's give IOC the powers to give the spammers the kicking we'd all like to deliver.

End of Summer

The final day of August gave us the glory that is Orkney in sunshine with light wind - plus a smattering of midges, but it's a small price to pay for days like this.

I thought I'd do a photo-census of the 'beasties' as we move from summer to autumn.  The nights are noticeably drawing in now; it's not yet 9pm but I'd need a torch if I went out now.


So let me introduce you to the current inhabitants of the farm, starting with the bantams who have each hatched and raised a clutch of chicks.  Sadly too keen on the grain to pose for the camera - they are Anne, Emma, Harriet and Medusa.  Not forgetting Andrew the Pekin cockerel who fails dismally on the fertilising eggs bit.  He just falls off on the few occasions when he tries.  So sadly no bantam chicks this year.

Then we have Gertie and Gloria who are two year old geese.  They just graze on the lawns and let us know when anyone comes to the house.  Their enthusiasm for hissing is greater than their desire to get friendly with me, but they're pretty easy to be around as geese go.  They did amuse us for a number of weeks with the 'incubating broken crockery' event, but that deserves a blog post of its own.

 Next we have Albert and his harem of 7 ducks.  They provide endless amusement and some rather good eggs.  They even lay in a nest they make every night in the duck house rather than just dropping their eggs randomly on the ground.

 Time to move onto the chickens.  George still rules his roost but with some Marans added to his Light Sussex girls.  They've been doing a good job with eating sheep parasites during the year.  Faecal testing on the sheep has been consistently negative for fluke and only minor levels of other nasties.

George is moulting at the moment so he's not looking his best.  There are chickens in each of the fields and the chicken house on the moorland field is where we keep the surplus cockerels.  Fighting is kept to a minimum by not having any hens with them, but any sign of aggression is a swift move up to the top of the roast/casserole list.  Free range, foraging cockerels of at least 8 months age are totally delicious and quite unlike what you buy in supermarkets.  Plus knowing they've had a fantastic life and a very stress-free, quick end only improves the feel-good feeling about our home grown meat.  Sadly the current inhabitants on the moor were deep in the heather and camera shy this afternoon.  I did allow some of them a little holiday with groups of hens, so not all of these chicks below that we've hatched under broodies are from George.

This is the oldest group above - some of these boys will soon be moving to enjoy many months on the moor.

The two most recent hatchings are still with their broody mums on the lawn, protected from Hen Harriers, Hoodies (the crow variety) and the larger seagulls.  The Maran hatched 10, which was a lovely end to a summer of looking after broody hens.

The black chicks are from our group of Black Rock hens, and these young chicks were fathered by a new cockerel, Gandhi, who is a cross between a Black Orpington and Jersey Giant.  He's also a lovely gentle cockerel, so hopefully that characteristic will be passed to his sons.

I also put some duck eggs under a broody and had 2 hatch - they are now living in the area where we try and grow edible stuff in the hope they will keep the slugs down.   The Saxony, Cherry Valley cross has produced very attractive, large ducks.  These are just 8 weeks old.

So what about the Boreray Boys?  Well they now number 8, the original 5 having been joined last November by a ram lamb of a different blood line and two older wethers, William and Wesley.  The ram was named by my 'darling' children.......... Bollocks.  Well, it had to be a 'B' name since he was born in 2013.

 

 Bollocks is on the left of the photo above - note his splayed horns which come from his English father.  Rams from the Scottish bloodlines have tighter horns like Boris.  William is the grey sheep just to the right of Bollocks.

All the Boys are looking very smart in their summer fleeces - I'll post more photos another time of their glorious winter fleeces, now all rooed or blade-sheared off.

 Here they are following me up the hill - in front is greedy William, then Bollocks and Bertie, Boris behind them, and the 3 in the back from left to right are Wesley, Bilbo and Brookes.  Broder is just out of the shot, but here he is below with Brookes, both hoping I'll hand feed them a little treat.  These 2 twin brothers are my tamest sheep.

Many of you will know that Boris fathered twin ewe lambs from a lovely Shetland ewe we had.  I will blog about her story, but if you can't wait then Sue shared her story here.  Warning - you may need a tissue.

Here are the lambs with Zena shortly after their birth on 14 April.

 Penny is on the left, Tuppence on the right.

Here they are today, 4 1/2 months old and around 2 feet high at the shoulder.  Too heavy for me to pick up now.  Affectionately known as the Heffalumps due to their size and large rear ends.........

In both photos Tuppence is on the left and Penny on the right.  They will be getting friendly with Bollocks in late 2015 in the hope that motherhood will settle them down a little.  Early signs are that both have some degree of their mother's gorgeous fleece.

So now we start getting ready for winter - lots of things to tidy up and tie down outside before the September gales start.  The 'beasties' are all enjoying the glorious sunshine while we have it.  For around 6 weeks in mid winter the sun won't make it high enough above this hill to the south of us to shine on the house or any of our fields.

Novice Shepherd learns on the Boreray Boys

So 19 September dawned and it was time to address the results of the droppings samples I'd taken to the vet.

The Boys had roundworm, which we were advised to treat with 'clear' wormer.  Bob had said that they'd had 2 courses of Heptavac, but that if they were looking 'off' a 3rd one wouldn't come amiss, so we were armed with the bottle of that as well and syringes.  I also wanted to dag Boris and any other sheep that had been scouring a bit, partly so I could better assess if the worming treatment was successful, and I thought it would be a good opportunity just to check their feet. 

The Boys were unaware of the excitement ahead of them.  Oh, I should add that the yet-to-be-named one does now have a name - Broder.  A modern version of the old Norse name for brother.  Very apt since he and Brookes-Wright are the only pair of brothers in the group and they do like to do things together.  Broder is the last one in this photo, taken as we gently walked behind them, encouraging them to go up the length of the paddock towards the pens we'd made using borrowed sheep hurdles.

It was actually easier than I'd anticipated to get them into the pens, but I realised the long, narrow shape of the paddock was perfect for calm herding into the pens at the end.

Then it was time to get hands on - and here I must confess to taking time to appreciate the quality of the fleece in the sheep I was holding.  Can't wait for next year when I get their fleeces off them!

 Here feeling around their feet and between their toes to check for anything that shouldn't be there.  A minor bit of foot trimming was done where the outer edge of horn had grown down and bent over the sole - easily removed leaving a nice rim of horn lower than the sole and no toe trimming needed.

Giving the wormer and getting it down the back over the tongue turned out to be much easier than I'd feared, and I sensibly got 'assistant shepherd' to stick the needle in them, which he did with no problem and very quickly so it was over before they knew.

Only Boris, Bertie and Bilbo needed any dagging, and Boris got a good wash round his rear end as well.  Interestingly the two brothers, Brookes and Broder were completely clean.  I'm quite sure that 'proper' shepherds don't go round their sheep's mucky rear ends with cloths and warm water (making sure not to rub and felt the fleece of course) but it did leave Boris really clean, and hopefully more comfortable.

So that's Bilbo and Bertie both done and just the 3 larger Boys to do.  Having carefully read in my Sheep Book for Smallholders the correct way to turn sheep into sitting positions to work on them, we realised that with sheep this small there were alternative options.  For any other beginners out there, it goes without saying not to just copy what we did, but to consult knowledgeable sources about the correct way to lift and turn sheep of all sizes.

While I'm sure the sheep didn't enjoy this, we did manage to keep them calm throughout.  When they were all done, we gave them a couple of minutes at the 'treats' bucket (beet nuts) while pondering the big decision - was this the time to let them into the big field?

Deciding that the benefits to them of being on 'clean' ground while their wormer worked outweighed the difficulty of catching them again once outside the paddock, the gate was opened.

Then the fun really started.  They went around closely examining the fencing round the field.

Now, I'd not put extra chicken wire on the bottom gate because the gap below the bottom rung was far too small for a sheep to get through..........

Yes, that's Brookes-Wright enjoying identical grass on the other side of the gate - and he's one of the larger sheep!  I actually witnessed him going under the gate - does he have no respect for his belly fleece dragging himself across the ground like that?

Then of course Brookes realised he didn't like being separate from the rest of the Boys so stepped back and took a running leap at the fencing - this is full height shire wire with 2 strands of barbed wire on 5'6" stabs....... he didn't make it.  As I charged down the hill I could see that his head was trapped between the 2 strands of barbed wire with his horns hooked over the top strand and his back feet trying to get support on the shire wire.  I managed to get to him and take all his weight but couldn't get the wire off his horns while holding him up.  Fortunately my 'assistant shepherd' wasn't far behind me and he managed to do the unhooking.  At this point Brookes' safety took priority over photographs.   It was a miracle that Brookes appeared completely unharmed in any way, but very close inspection revealed that he didn't even have a scratch on him. 

So then I spent the rest of the day putting chicken wire on that gate as well (it was already on the paddock gates and the all-important gate to the driveway and road) and putting more fencing bits where the burn goes under the fence.  There may be vertiginous sides to the burn there, but I was leaving nothing to chance with these Boys.  Bertie and Bilbo had already shown great interest in the plants growing in that area.

Finally, exhausted, and with great respect for all the shepherds and farmers who grow our wool and number their flocks in the hundreds, all the jobs were done and I could enjoy the evening.  Yes, it was a full moon - and I do wonder if that led to Brookes trying his most stupid jump.

 There have been no jumping attempts from any sheep since then, and they are now very happily settled in the big field with it's huge selection of meadow plants to eat as well as the good grass.  They seem to spend about half of their time grazing on non-grass plants.

The Morning After The Storm

I was up and out of the house this morning as soon as it was just light enough to see - we had a storm last night.  Well, it's been going since Sunday with another couple of days to run according to the forecast, but last night had the Met Office wind warnings.

Our neighbours had advised about what to tie down and the best place to position the trailer before tying that down.  We'd also gone round the garden and fields picking up all the stuff that might blow around.  I wasn't worried about the ducks or the hens, but my Boreray Boys....... they look so small and are a little more limited for sheltering options in the paddock than in the big field where they'll be spending the winter.  So I gave in to my 'just bought the new baby home' feelings and put a bale of straw where it would create a cosy sheltered corner from the direction of the wind.  Firmly tied to a strainer of course!  For those who know as little about fencing terminology as I used to, strainers are the big posts like telegraph poles that are gate posts and at the corners of fencing.

First to see the ducks, which as usual were pottering about the lawn looking as if they'd been doing that all night.  They do everything in a close gang and their main objective in life seems to be to keep as far away from people as possible.  More about them another time.

 Then a quick look at the burn and pond - normally a lovely quiet place with a gentle trickling of water and a nice stone walkway across it, well above the height of the water.  I could hear from the other side of the lawn that the trickle was now a roar.  Only one of the stones is still above water.  It seems the stone seat has survived the storm though.

 Then further along the drive to the entrance to the paddock.  It was the Boreray Boys I was really concerned about.  We're still at the stage of creeping up on them since I've not been able to get closer than about 10ft so far without them shooting off at high speed.  Anyone thinking of staging spectacular sheep racing should use Borerays.  Or North Ronaldsays, which are equally fleet on their absurdly dainty legs.

A heart stopping moment - there was a motionless white shape lying on the ground by the gate and the wrong side of the bale of straw.  I could see the other 4 sheep comfortably cuddled up in the sheltered corner, which was easily big enough for 5 sheep.  Had my smallest sheep, Bertie, succumbed?  I had to get close enough to check.  Of course they heard me and all, including the previously motionless white shape, shot off down the paddock.  It was Boris the ram who had been sleeping unprotected from the wind.

Relief that they'd all survived the stormy night was slightly hampered by guilt at having woken them.  I must learn to be more trusting of the toughness and intelligence of these Boreray sheep.  Of course I'm a little anxious by the fact that their droppings are now marginally less firm than they should be.  No mucky bums that I can see (some of them have dark fleece on their tails) and a little tummy upset is normal I guess after the huge change in their lives, but I shall be watching them closely till things look at peak health again.

So having shot down the paddock they settled down for a good graze.

 I must say I was not amused though to see a patch of mud on Bilbo's right shoulder.  As soon as I've got these boys tame and listening to my every word we'll sit down together for the 'fleece management' lecture.

Finally the hens, and this seemed to be the only casualty of the storm.  Their metal water container, which I'd made sure was full and heavy to lift, had blown over.  Fortunately that was easy to refill and move nearer to the windbreak on the west side of the hen house that had protected their feeder.  The girls had wisely decided to stay inside but of course came out to see me when I was spotted.

You'll realise that some of the boys have names now.  Well all but one, and I really mustn't leave the one unnamed for any longer. 
From left to right they are Brookes-Wright, Bertie, Bilbo, Boris and yet-to-be-named.

Boris was named even before I met him and as you can see he's the largest of the Boys.  He was a singleton.  The others were all twins.  He has a red mark on his rump, a black nose and what looks like eyeliner round his eyes.  He also has a nice pair of fleecy testicles for future work as the tup.









 Then there is Bertie, the smallest.  He has a green mark on his rump and a similar coloured face to yet-to-be-named but his horns are lighter.  He is a very sweet lamb and is the first to have taken a step towards me.

 

Next there is Bilbo, who has been named for his possible escapology tendencies.  He's been all round the paddock closely examining the gates and fences and can often be seen gazing at the fields beyond.  He's got a white face with black nose and eyes and a blue mark on his rump.









Yet-to-be-named looks quite similar to Bertie but he's larger and has a distinctive black streak at the base of his horns.  I feel very bad that he's not got a name, but to be honest I'm confident none of the others realise they have names yet so I suspect he's not feeling left out at all.  He has an orange mark on his rump.

Finally there is Brookes-Wright.  He's possibly the easiest to recognise from afar because he's got a dark brown face and his horns show up very well against it.  He's also got patches of dark fleece.  He too has an orange mark.

Those of you who know your horned sheep will already have spotted something - he's got horns as big as Boris the ram........ yes, he was either born a rig and just had the one testicle removed, or one of them escaped out of the scrotum and into his abdomen just after banding.  So he has testosterone and is growing ram horns.  The errant testicle is now clearly felt just under his skin, so he'll possibly be seeing the vet for a minor procedure in the future.

Anyway, with all this complication in his life I decided he needed a name to match.  Several of my ancestors in the 17th and 18th centuries were called Brookes Wright.  Most were Yeomen and land owning farmers.  Some were publicans and one organised boxing matches.

From a 1743 newspaper:
'This is to acquaint all Gentlemen Wrestlers, that at Brooks Wright's, at the Black Swan in Great Brington, near Northampton, will be wrestled for, on Whtison Monday, a HAT OF ONE GUINEA PRICE,  a Free Gift: no less that twelve men to wrestle, and all to wrestle in Pumps, or shoes without nails: to put in by Twelve of the Clock the same Day, and to wrestle at One.  Brooks Wright being a Gamester, is excluded from wrestling himself.'
and

In 1747, a Statute Sessions was held at the Black Swan in Great Brington:
'for hiring Men and Maid Servants; and for the Diversion of all Gentlemen, Ladies and others, on the Statute Day will be the famous Blakesley Morrice at the same Place, where everyone may depend on good Entertainment, and good and Civil Usage, from their humble servant, BROOKS WRIGHT.'

One of the earliest Wrights had this in his will:

"to William Chambers, my old jacket and petticoat (an undergarment for men): to Richard Masters, another of my old petticoats: to Pettifer, my old hose: to Peter Turlington, a new petticoat: to Richard Kenning, a fustian doublet: to Thomas Hatton, a russet coat: wo William Wright, my best violet coat or my best russet coat, whichever one of them he will choose: to thomas Russell, a russet jacket and a green jerkin: to John Hatton, my oldest green jerkin: and I bequeath to Thomas Sampson, my older violet coat that I wear every day.

So I'm sure you'll understand why I felt it was most appropriate to name my gorgeous coloured-fleece rig, Brookes-Wright.

Here are all the boys relaxing together - before the storm!

From left to right, Yet-to-be-named, Boris, Bilbo, Bertie, Brookes-Wright