HEBDOMADIARY

The Moonlight is Light Enough

2012-01-10T17:09:00.000-08:00

Take my word for it: it is 1.09am
I've just been for a walk in the wood to witness our cows asserting their right to free speech
and
freedom of association
and the upholding of minority rights
and proving that they are not included in human legislation banning the sounding of horns after midnight.
My role is not as dangerous (quite) as that of the brave band of observers in Syria but the propaganda disseminated by cows can be pretty biased and misleading.
However, my interesting and nearly notorius cow who featured in a former blog as the bovine Pimpernel ( and who still values her anonymity) called me over for a hug; she was recumbent so t'was I who had to make the approach, but satisfyingly, she had not one but two pieces of wood between the clays of one foot which I was able, due to the sweetness of her temperamnet, to remove.
A better night's work than watching tv.
It's now 1.22am: am I a slow writer or did I just fall asleep for a few minutes?

2012-01-09T13:34:00.000-08:00

Until recently the skies above the farm have only been adorned with vast shoals of swimming jackdaws, each October to February evening, hurtling about, enjoying life to the full, especially if the moon is out to play with. But now we have a small, elite display troup of Red Arrow-like starlings cutting geometric patterns above the ash trees.
The starlings hardly ever visit the bird table, preferring to reside in the barn owls' oak and the solitary pair we first saw have multiplied and a quick, wooooshing-past head count gives the impression of 60, all of whom join hands to sky dance.
And it's something to wait for and watch for and sigh for:both circuses with their own excitement levels:both teaching us mortals how to live.
Birds know it all:if and when it is going to rain, where to find the best food, where and how to build their nests, when dire weather is on its way and how to show off on a Saturday night...
The daytime belongs to the buzzards and ravens, both angling their finger-feathers to navigate their gliders and to the ever-singing goldcrests, ever-friendly robins, enchanting tree creepers, valley-dipping, prehistoric-looking green woodpeckers, smart, hatted willow tits, and all their friends.

"...and small brown birds, wisely reitterating endlessly what no man learned yet, in or out of school..."(Coleridge)

Grasses and Dark Green Leaves

2011-12-27T00:16:00.000-08:00

Main photo taken by Amy Leech

Last night in near total darkness, walking the two house cows home for milking, Nell, uncharacteristically, dragged her feet (all four of them). She decided she couldn't walk another step without a few mouthfuls of horrid-looking old stinging nettle. Sometimes a cow will eat a whole cubic yard of them without blinking (apparently blinking is good for ones eyes but I don't know if cows know this_I don't even know if cows can blink but today I will endeavour to find out.)
Many a time I have loitered while a sheep or three has daintily nibbled the spikey tops of thistles and of course cows and sheep all actually need the dark green leaves of trees and hedgerows to give them the vital linoleic and linolenic acid, essential for growth. Yet, how many times have we all seen neatly fenced fields where livestock is prevented from browsing any of the surounding greenery?

Merry Christmas Everyone

2011-12-25T11:14:00.000-08:00

A lovel day of indulgence, work and idleness in perfect proportion is about to be rounded off with a walk in the deep,dark wood to find the two house cows.
My guess is they will be lounging around behind one or other of the 20,000 odd trees, waiting for me to find them and we will wander slowly homeward:they forging a true path , with no need of a torch, and me ducking and weaving like a good rugger-player, trying not to get my head knocked off by low branches, pretending I don't need a torch or at least wishing I didn't.
Then to the cowpen and their daily dose of bribery: barley and sweet apples in return for a gallon or more of milk each. They seem happy and I know I am!
It's 7.20pm and I am just going to post this blog but you can bet your life the blogsite will state it is some other, far from true time _such is the nature of technology ( or my inability to convey correct information to this pc)

Little Boy Blue

2011-12-17T17:10:00.000-08:00

'the sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn...'
well, today the cows were in the wood and the sheep went awol: the cows were where they were meant to be and the sheep decided where they wanted to be and upped sticks to take themselves there.
Clever things sheep: good memories, cool decision-makers, fun-loving...hardly need a shepherd or Bo Peep, just leave the gates open...
Nothing could have been more sensible, it's just that they thought of it before I did.
The snow was still lying on the high ground and it's that time of year when the sun doesn't manage to reach one corner of the farm so, one group of ovine youngsters trekked off to pastures new and were finally 'found' even though they had never thought of themselves as 'lost', in the relatively balmy (!), still-full-of-grass L-shaped field, blissfully happy.
And, even better, our three (relatively) ancient ewes who had been living for years, in a paddock with a little house with gates eternally open, suddenly felt the need of sun on their woolly backs and expeditioned up and up 'til they found some.
Now, depite what time this Blog might say it was posted, my computer, in perfect agreement with the BBC, says it is 1.20am and, for no particular reason I feel like writing: 'the primrose path of dalliance'.
I am re-re-re reading Hamlet and oh! how harsh Laertes and Polonius are to Ophelia. Letting the head rule the heart may be good council in theory but the heart has a mind of its own too and can't be kept on a leash indefinitely...
That's it; philosophising over for now!

2011-12-09T23:41:00.000-08:00

'...the moon doth with delight look round her when the Heavens are bare...' as Wordsworth wrote, and this morning, as last night, she did just that.
Orion was on her right hand last night, though she outshone him, and this morning, slipping between the western trees she gave me enough light in the kitchen to make porridge and tea.
The farming programme on Radio Four was devoted to talk of trees: community forests, woodland creation, management, regeneration, coppicing, wildife value and enjoyment. A rare combination here to be able to plant to help save the planet, provide jobs and wildlife habitat and physical, spiritual, psychological and social human benefit.
There are so many people fighting to save what we still have, as well as create new sites and Common Ground's long-standing drive to protect old orchards could be helped if any of us with even a single, old fruit tree with a gasp of life left in it, would learn to graft/propogate and thus preserve it.
Bio-diversity is an overused word perhaps, but the simple concept of diversity is essential to our survival.
Vast, mechanised, chemicallly-propped-up food production enterprises_can't call them farms_concentrate on growing only a handful of the available varieties of staple foods, leaving themselves vulnerable to total crop devastation in the event of a pest or disease.

On Being Skittish

2011-12-07T14:43:00.000-08:00

Not a new nationality but a state of being when the wind is not of the prevailing variety.
Cows and horses and people, to name but a few species, are all affected by the wind in very similar ways.
Some winds can make you bad tempered. Some are liberating and invigorating.
Today perhaps we experienced Shelley's 'wild west wind' and the cattle here certainly, because cattle never hide their true feelings, and the people here possibly, because people so often do, felt skittish.
We took hay in a small trailer and instead of waiting for us to arrive, or ambling, walking or even hurrying towards us, today, all the cattle cavorted, rushed, leapt and twisted in abandoned, joyous enthusiam and it wasn't just hunger.
The surge of youthful playfulness was more immediate and creatively fullfilling and often the speed achieved saw the animals over-shooting the trailer, necessitating a silent screaching of four-footed brakes, and the bovine equivalent of a patch of black ice managing to turn a car to face the direction it had just come from, but with the visual reality of an aerial leap and a half somersault they eventually returned to the hay.

The Woodlanders Update

2011-11-24T04:04:00.000-08:00

Two days ago, Jungle Jim alias Tarzan and his mum decided they wanted to try living in a commune (or at lease a community) so they formed an orderly queue by the gate and hoped the first passer-by would open it and he did!
'Oh brave new world that has such (people) calves in it' [he doubtless said to himself [and as several calves have said to themselves down the ages]while coming to terms with the inescapable fact that he was hardly half as big as his smallest new companion...!
If he eats with single-minded determination, he might gain 3lbs a day. I bet humans are glad they can't (or can they?)

The Woodlanders...

2011-11-18T11:05:00.000-08:00

Philadelphia 4th disappeared into the wood, as many a heifer has done before her, and found a charming spot under some towering Red Oaks to calve.
The wood covers 60 acres and I chose to start looking for her at the top; she chose to calve at the bottom.
I was a bit concerned, not to say worried, that she might be needing help, but it was such a beautiful day that I couldn't help enjoying myself.
My purposeful meanderings took me past Beech and Hawthorn, Douglas Fir and Redwood Cedar, Turkey Oak, Ash, Maple, Hemlock Fir ( I think!) and multitudinous, fascinating and dangerous-looking fungi.
Philadelphia had already licked her new son dry and fluffy and he had suckled and settled down to sleep.
She had penetrated so far into the wood that it would have worn her calve's little legs out to be force-marched back to rejoin the herd so I carried hay to her and over the succeeding three days she ate, fed him and he grew and slept.
By the time he was strong enough to walk, (or run) a marathon, they had become so accustomed to their woodland existence, the didn't wish to leave it.
Perhaps the most interesting thing was that the calf believed he was the only calf in the world.
If ever I was a bit tardy, carrying her daily hay, she would walk home and remind me but the calf did not accompany her.
One day she clearly told me that there was something amiss; not much amiss, but something I could help her with. She finished her hay and then walked back towards the wood. Jamie, the young man who works for us, volunteered to follow/accompany her and soon saw that the calf was the wrong side of a fence and could see but could not reach his mother.
Jamie laughed when he recounted to me what happened next.
He approached the calf, to guide it back to its mother, and the tiny little Hercules head-butted Jamie from sheer bravado_conscious, no doubt, of being the only Male in the 'jungle' and fiercely protective.
We are looking forward to watching his reaction when he finally meets all the other calves on the farm: all of whom are larger than he is.

PRESENT IDEAS

2011-11-14T00:19:00.000-08:00

Here is a sample of my new range of BIO DEGRADABLE presents for the future, from the past.
They are suitable for all your friends, whether they have everything, nothing or are somewhere in between.
There is NO packaging, so here goes:
1) YULE LOGS:originally a large log for the Christmas fire. This is a lovely present idea if you are spending Christmas away from home. You choose the size and species: oak, ash, walnut, cherry, birch, beech. hawthorn. Holly and Ivy both burn well and you can take a 'token' log of a small, handy size if weight is a problem (tiny 2 inch logs available!)£1 each with discounts for quantities.
2) LETTER LOGS: beautiful slices of wood with grooves to file your letters and calling cards and keep your desk tidy.
'Off the shelf' ie those already cut, range through walnut, oak, ash, silver birch, cherry, pine, holly, ivy and hawthorn. These are all £1 if collected
3) Ditto, custom-cut to your requirements:you choose the type of wood and the approximate size. Prices vary depending on rarity of wood. Ancient oak is the most expensive and pine the cheapest but none will be more than £5 if collected.
All logs are from fallen wood, NO LIVING TREE IS CUT DOWN
4) Unfinished Letter logs with part-cut grooves for the recipient to finish:sawing. planing, filing. peeling, polishing etc
[ALL LETTER LOGS CAN BE THROWN ON THE FIRE EVENTUALLY OR LEFT IN THE GARDEN AS WILDLIFE HABITAT AND EVENTUAL COMPOST]
5) WALKING STICK BLANKS: lovely stick shafts for the 'present' recipient to play with and make a truly unique walking stick: £1 each for hazel..slightly more for holly, ivy, hawthorn, cherry etc
6) TEMPORARY BOOKMARKS: pressed leaves to use as book marks (take a leaf out of my book!) 10 pence each
All PRESENTS for the FUTURE from the PAST are also EDUCATIONAL as well as BIODEGRADABLE
Everyone can enjoy learning and and observing the different qualities and properties of various wood species and by buying these cheap gifts you are helping wildlife by encouraging me to resetart the ancient art of coppicing and encourage woodland butterflies, bugs, beetles and birds.
All wood products are too heavy to post and posting would also defeat the object of my NO PACKAGING obsession.

November

2011-11-10T13:59:00.000-08:00

What is there to be glad about in November?
Here's a brief list:
Ever increasing circles of toadstools in the open pastures and fascinating clusters of fungi in the woods, hundreds of helleborine in the dappled shade of the poplars, hedgerows groaning with haws, charms of magical goldfinches swaying on the thistledown and flocks of flitting yellowhammers, a huge moon on the horizon as I walked the cows in to be milked, berries on the holly, sloes on the blackthorn and playing circusses of jackdaws and rooks, sky-diving, hang-gliding, free-wheeling and generally living-it-up in the evening skies for as long as they possibly can.

I was interested to read on a website called webbcafts that a woman was fined, during the Second World War for 'wasting bread' by feeding it to the birds in Winter. She said she could not bear to see them starve.
How much more appropriate it would be to fine anyone these days for knowingly removing or destroying the wild birds' Winter larder, otherwise known as hedgerows.
Until relatively recently, farmers were paid to remove established hedgerows to make fields larger and they were also paid to plant new ones.
Simultaneously, the demise of many British song birds was being loudly lamented.
I think a good yardstick for judging a new friend would be how much they would happily spend on bird food or how much effort they would devote to protecting the food Nature supplies for them.

How Much Would You Pay for the Best Milk in the World?

2011-10-27T13:03:00.000-07:00

Just milked the two house cows: Nell and Dorothy.

Nell is an angel and Dorothy wants to be one but she's not sure if she is allowed to behave as well as that.

When she was first invited into the milking parlour she was a little bit over awed and had to be coaxed. Now she loves the apples she gets and wants to come in with enthusiasm but has somehow decided that she can't enter unless coaxed.

Coaxing in her case involves popping a halter over her horns and then being led in. To begin with it also involved pulling but now she only just waits for the rope to touch her horns and she speeds in.

The evening fun started with the usual walk uphill to find the two cows but tonight it was raining and foggy and I almost despaired of ever finding them when I spied a whitish shape (grey Dot's white daughter) and honed in to find the herd in an unusual enclave preparing for bedtime.

Fog disorientates us and perhaps it disorients bovines also though I cannot really envisage a cow getting as lost as I once did in very thick version of it!

The Grasslands Trust

2011-10-13T09:36:00.000-07:00

Hi Everyone: I've only just discovered The Grassland Trust and I suddenly feel tis is something I really want to support so I have copied and pasted the piece below for you all to read.
Here at Kite's Nest we cherish our species-rich grassland and if any of you would like to visit it/us please email me to arrange.
Real,old grassland is alive and noisy with insects and it's a huge delight to sit in one!Rosamund

Here's a new easy way to raise money for THE GRASSLANDS TRUST that does not involve parting with extra cash.

Everyclick.com has launched a new way to donate – it’s been christened “Give as you Live”. It means you can search the web, shop on line from your favourite retailers, trade on eBay and raise money for THE GRASSLANDS TRUST.

You get great search results from Yahoo!, content from leading shopping providers and access to all eBay auctions. Every search you make creates a donation for charity.

Our special address is http://www.everyclick.com/the-grasslands-trust/ct7258, all searches, shopping and eBay activity made from here will raise money for us.

Make sure you sign up so you can track your giving – it updates every 3 minutes, you’ll be amazed how quickly it adds up!

Everyclick has already raised over £2,182,540.45 for a wide range of charities around the UK, and Everyclick was voted website of the Year 2008 and has been recognised as a top 100 media tech company 2009.

Discover the new way to give to THE GRASSLANDS TRUST. Give as you Live.

'Fresh Woods and Pastures New'

2011-09-25T13:45:00.000-07:00

I am not the only being on this farm who loves woods; a cow called Dizzie does too.
And, if I do and she does, there is a pretty good chance that a host of other living creatures do too.
Revenons a nos vaches...
I went in search of Dizzie and found a totally empty field. I knew this meant she must be in the wood...somewhere (!) By amazing luck I chose to look in the right place first (possibly the first time ever)
She had chosen the most perfect woodland clearing in which to calve and in order to have attained such bliss she had traversed serious (Cotswold) jungle.
Furthermore, she must have planned in advance and discovered the one break in the fence which enabled her to reach this uncharted territory, for she was actually (and I hope my neighbour doesn't read this) in my neighbour's wood.
Dizzie had made herself well and truly at home: she had a nesting area, well trampled, lying dry, with a pleasant view and surrounded by sheltering trees and shrubs of varying heights and easy access to a never used old pasture with myriad different herbs and grasses. She had, in fact, the equivalent of her own chemist's shop cum wholefood store in case parturition was problematic and she needed to self-medicate.
She looked the picture of health, and smug and naughtly and happy and proud: her bonny calf was gold with a white tail and she had no wish to come home.

Watch this Space

2011-09-22T02:23:00.000-07:00

In late summer next year, probably in August, I intend to organise a Rural Skills and Crafts Fair here and if anyone reading this would like to help, please get in touch.
I am hoping to include demonstrations of making sticks,hurdles and woven fences and there will be cheese and sausage-making, wool spinning, stone carving, scythe-making, wood carving and whittling, knot tying and lots more.
The food will be good, wholesome, local REAL food (see Michael Pollan's book 'In Defense of Food' where he neatly shows that many so-called edible products are not really food at all but clever concoctions of taste and colour which mascarade as food and con people, who then become fat, nutritionally deprived and probably irritable, depressed or worse)
With luck there will be 'hands-on' opportunities and lots of 'materials' to buy and take home: wood for carving, sticks etc, willow and reeds for baskets, wool for spinning and dying and the equipment needed to make your own cheese _a hugely satisfying and rewarding experience which will also save you money. Lovely lumps of Cotswold stone will be available to buy and there will be an irrisistible array of delicious produce, apart from the eat-on-site catering which will be worth a visit on its own.
We may even have a wonderful tepee-maker here who makes tepees to order for camping at festivals etc
I'm so full of ideas I may have to pay someone to slow me down so, today I will pick blackberries; in the not-too-distant-past I waited until dusk to make the whole experience more of a challenge but today I will go in bright sunlight. The cows usually come to watch and pick their own at he same time; I take apples for them which gives a whole new slant on the blackberry and apple theme we all love!

The University of Life

2011-08-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

Well, thank you. I had two lovely, detailed responses re 'gathering nuts in May...'
The nuts referred to are the bulbous roots of the umbellifer Pignut.
I contemplate digging one up to sample it every year but thus far, never have.
So,
Here's an invitation to any serious lover of wild flowers (and weeds!!)and an advocate of eating what nature's bounty has on offer: arrange a day next May and we will cautiously and respectfully unearth a pignut or two [while singing or at least muttering the Nursery Rhyme) and then, maybe, have a little taste.

There is more than one definition of a Bender

2011-08-15T02:35:00.000-07:00

We've got nine and a half million hazel bushes (okay, if you don't believe me, you count them...)
Anyway, the point is that even though we have nine and a half million hazel bushes, we never get a single nut as we've got nine and a half million squirrels_ approximately!
It would be 'fair game' if they waited til the starting whistle went as I could give any squirrel a good run for its money, but they have already started, long before the nuts are ripe, and that is just plain cheating.
So, rather than be left totally empty-handed I'm going to choose the hazel wands not bearing nuts (I mean, I don't want a single squirrel to go to bed hungry) and try my hand a t constructing a tiny bender: just big enough for a seven year-old friend.
I expect everyone who is anyone knew all about Tinker's Bubble long before I did. However, I know now and am captivated. What's more, the amazing Simon Fairlie, about whom and about whose diverse and 'spot on' activities I thought I already knew a lot, was the instigator. [If he only live a bit closed I'd love to get him to harpen my scythe; it's at least 35 years since I last used it...]
By the way, can anyone expain the nursery rhyme 'Here we go gathering nuts in May'?

Coppicing

2011-08-10T12:21:00.000-07:00

It must be at least 35 years and probably a great deal more since any coppicing was carried out on this farm.
Today I fought my way through a jungle of very aggressive nettles, slid down a steep bank, jumped a stream and clambered to the pretty inaccessible bit of the woodland to reappraise the old coppice.
I read last night on the Internet that in some parts of southern England sweet chestnut is coppiced and that it makes very fine fencing stakes as the ratio of heartwood to outer wood means it is more resistant to rotting.
Wonderful stuff wood.
In our little piece of wood Paradise I can see only the old stools of coppiced hazel and ash though in a different part of the farm there are magnificent willows which might be able to be brought back into the rotation.
I'd love to live in the wood, learning the craft by trial and error:leave my mobile at home and just have circling, mewing buzzards overhead for company.
I am fired with zeal to make a hurdle and then to make dozens.Not to mention bean canes, fencing stakes and somehow learn to cleave the larger bits for rails.
Youtube is a brilliant and altuistic idea and I've been absorbed in videos of men, often in pouring rain, drilling holes in old logs, hammering in hurdle uprights, weaving whip-like hazel branches and twisting and coaxing round and round to strengthen the structure every six inches.
I'm wondering if it's too late now to restart; maybe the branches are so strong they would not want to regenerate if I cut them, at an angle of 20 degrees. We shall see. I won't be able to resist cutting a few. Afterall, it only takes seven years (for hazel) to see if I've succeeded and a mere 12-15 for ash. I'll be able to weave a few hurdles while I'm waiting for the regrowth.

The Farm's Brimming O'er With Butterflies and Moths

2011-08-08T16:11:00.000-07:00

A grasshopper, scabious, exotic-looking silverbirch and a nostalgic elm log

REST HARROW

2011-08-01T14:26:00.000-07:00

Small blue butterfly
and
Cranesbill
and
Purple Helliborine

Dorothy Pretending to be Asleep

2011-03-19T16:55:00.000-07:00

Dot had a daughter and she certaily didn't need me. By the time I arrived, maybe half an hour after the birth, the calf was washed and 'dressed' and ready for school. Who needs people anyway?
This titch is the great great great grand-daughter of Dorothy who graces the front cover of my book The Secret LIfe of Cows and Dorothy is only just 10 and still looking wonderful.

Trees' Shadows Before the Leaves Come

2011-03-17T11:03:00.000-07:00

Frogs singing in the pond, violets hugging the roots of the sycamaore, primoses squeezing through the winter bareness and decorating the sloping hill and hazel catkins dangling everywhere.
Spring?
Dot lookd as if she would calve 3 days ago but she still can't be bothered so we keep watch, tactfully.
and now I'm selling copies of my photographs: the ones on my blog and a choice of many more. 1GBP+50p p&p for an A4...ancient trees beguile me....calves captivate....birds entrance....hens sustain.....deer, cheer....frogs fascinate: they were here before us....and before the first dwelling here...and someone built, maybe around 1485, a house on their traditional 'marching route' so now they wait by the door for us to allow freedom of passage to the back garden.....

2011-02-15T19:30:00.001-08:00

They know how to get me out of bed, my cows
Piercing the night air
and my deaf ears
with their spikey moos

Get me out of bed
If I were there
but get me outside
anyway

And always there's a reason
And an inward smile to be savoured
When I can solve their puzzled wonderings

Into The Calves' Den

2011-01-27T13:12:00.000-08:00

I've often wondered how Daniel must have felt when he was in the lion's den; the picture accompanying this blog shows an indistinct, night-time image of my friend in the calves' den_an altogether safer experience.
Lambs make totally gorgeous companions and are a joy to rear even though ones period of 'ownership' is tiny as they become sheep so quickly. Calves run them close for gorgeousness and sitting in their night club once they have come home from grazing on the hill, and have put their pyjamas on and are all cuddled up waiting for someone to read them a story is a pretty magical treat.

2011-01-22T14:57:00.000-08:00

GFW is the accepted accronym for General Farm Worker if one is searching the jobs columns of the farming press and today one of our GFWs, who we have not known very long and who is, in fact, only occasional, proved to be exceptionally useful simply by being good at communicating.
Some GFWs discover a problem and try to solve it single-handed and some, fortunately, come to describe the problem to one of us so that we can attempt to solve it together.
Today, this thoughtful young man came to tell me that one of the cows was mooing loudly and was definitely not happy. My initial request for a description of her merely extracted the word 'muddy'.
Muddy black? muddy red? muddy grey?or muddy gold? I implored. Grey was what was needed and a short conversation followed in which I described her calf and her particularly devoted attentiveness to him and the young man was able to tell me that the calf in question was indeed separated from his mother and had been a victim of mistaken identity, and had been put with the wrong group of cattle. Suddenly a stressful situation became a clear and easily remediable one.
Bravo to the young man for neither trying to act alone nor simply ignore the mooing and bravo to the cow (as chance would have it, Dizzie by name and 'celebrated' in an article in Home Farmer and in a photo, with her calf, on my blog) for making her problem so public.

A Line of Calves

2011-01-14T16:57:00.000-08:00

'A Line of Calves' is not the most inspiring of collective nouns; 'A Nest of Calves' describes their nighttime luxuriating more neatly.
A Calf Creep is, perhaps, self-explantory and we certainly did not need to explain to the calves why we had made one or what they should do with it. Inside the haybarn where all and sundry congregate to munch the night away is not much fun for tiny calves who only wish to sleep or tell each other stories.
So, the broken metal gate/unmendable hole became the enticing 'door' to an evening world of blissful comfort and extremly daring fun as some stretch out in total abandon and some mountaineer up the bales to perch on a hay ledge to survey the munching mothers.
The cows can keep an eye on their offspring but only the calves can decide when to come and go and their decision-making is faultless.

The Story Behind This Picture

2010-12-09T15:11:00.000-08:00

Got no time to blog, sadly.
If anyone would like to read the story of the calf in the header picture it is in the Christmas Edition of Home Farmer magazine.
But,
as the January issue has also already been published I'm not sure how easy it will be to find a copy!
Snow and frost and ice make work on a farm...

The Ash Tree

2010-10-29T04:41:00.000-07:00

'Ash wet or ash dry is fit for a queen to warm her slippers by..'
The most elegant and useful tree, the ash; no other will yield up sticks to light a fire when new, green, damp or wet.
We have many ash trees, at all stages from tiny to gigiantic and some of the most magnificent are out of sight, in the wood, having grown taller than they might otherwise have needed to because of the competition from faster growing species. One 'remarkable' specimen is so tall, and on such a steep incline, one has to go on all fours to 'worship' it and because of is position, no camera can capture more than a third.
The one in this picture is unusually tall and growing on a rise of fairly poor soil.It has already lost several massive limbs and one day will fall and gradually the wood will make its way home for us to use. When she finally falls, some branches will crash and crack in to pieces that will fly and bounce and roll down hill and some large bits will stay where they are. And the cows will eat the leaves and crunch on the twigs and rub and push and play and bit by bit, over the ensuing years it will all come home.

Biodiversity, Human Health and Super Dairies

2010-10-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

I imagine everyone (yes, everyone!) is more up to date than I am...however, I stumbled upon the website for birdlife.org and surfing around, discovered they have a book that one can download free all about the absolutely vital importance of preserving biodiversity.
What is so obvious to 'mere mortals' seems to evade politicians. Time and again we hear of the demise of a species which can be attributed to chemical pollution of rivers or farmland but no meaningful attempt is made to ameliorate the situation.
Nature could solve most if not all of the world's problems if it didn't have to fight the greed of human beings. And not just greed but ignorance...
Dangerous chemicals are NOT needed to grow crops. Human health would improve exponentially without them.
People need real food to eat and as Michael Pollen, in his latest book 'In Defense of Food' makes so clear is that most of what can be found in shops, waiting to be bought and eaten is definitely not food.
And, just as people need to eat what their bodies are designed for, so too do animals and COWS need to GRAZE grass, not have it cut and brought to them in PRISON as is being proposed at the gigantic super dairy near Nocton.
Is there anyone out there rich enough and concerned enough to try to get a high court ruling to enshrine in law a ruminant's right to live as a ruminant?

photo Jo Pomeroy@2010

2010-10-21T12:42:00.001-07:00

Exuberance

2010-09-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

This evening, just as it was preparing to get dark, we went to visit the herd. Most of the bovines were still grazing and many came to 'have a chat'; a few were settling down for the night.
The baby calves however decided it was play time.
There is no doubt that they can see in the dark as accurately as they can in the daylight and the tiny adult cows, having enjoyed their first week of life tucked up under their mothers' chins were now ready to launch into independant nightlife.
One would stand up and stretch, look back over its shoulder to check that its mother was contentedly dozing and trot off to call for a friend.This duo would then meet up on the 'street corner' with two titches from the next field and excitedly skip, dash, gallop to where it was 'at' this particular night.
Games of pure joy, celebrating speed and grace and dexterity as they sped and fled and zigzagged between and around the darkening shapes of older siblings, aunts, cousins, ex-babysitters et al.
All too dark for my camera but imprinted on my heart.

(spoof) Ph.DThesis

2010-09-22T04:25:00.000-07:00

This (spoof) Ph.D Thesis is on the subject of Cattle Droving with particular reference to one small cow, who cannot be named for legal reasons but who, we can reveal, is the daughter of the anonymous cow referrred to in a previous blog about a bovine Pimpernell.

Background

This cow, known only as 7 has been extremely happy and friendly since birth. She survived the separation of her parents (and she still sees both of them) did all the usual bovine things...

Main body of text of thesis (to follow!!)

Summary and Conlusions

A study lasting three years (and at zero expense to the tax payer)has come close to proving conclusively that 7 has decoded the human psyche.
If she is part of a herd being moved from A to B for a bona fide reason she is totally content to move. However, if she is being moved for a dubious reason or being brought in to some sort of confinement she senses this, no matter how hard the humans perpetrators try to hide their motives (shades of The Midwich Cuckoos?). She remains friendly, unafraid, calm and compliant-on-the-surface BUT after walking a few hundred yards she notices a lapse of human concentration or a momentary diversion and speeds off in to the sunset or deep dark woodland, whichever is the nearer.

My Sky

2010-09-08T17:23:00.001-07:00

Believe it or not

2010-07-08T17:22:00.000-07:00

I was too occupied with newishly born twins, new born red heifer with a white tiangle on her forehead and very newly born black heifer to watch The Private Life of Cows with Jimmy Doherty. However, once I realised I had missed it I stayed up 'til 3am to view it on the Beeb's i-player and was absorbed.
I'm not at all sure it would have convinced a non-believer that cows are intelligent but then a non-believer would obviously not be intelligent enough to understand much anyway.
When I was writing my first book, The Secret Life of Cows, there were quite a few incidents I did not include because I felt many readers would simply not believe them.
This blog is for believers only:revenons a nos jumeux...
Dorothea gave birth to twins only 10 months after giving birth to her first calf_that was a mistake_ the consequence of which was that she had no colostrum to give the twins.
Luckily, we had some in the deep freeze (and one day I might blog in more detail about this)
D grazed with a purpose and produced as much milk as she could but I could tell the twins would like more and supplied colostrum (in a bottle with a teat)for three days (or was it four?!) and then gave the milk from one of the house cows:3 bottles each, once a day, at teatime.
The fact that a routine developed, rather than a haphazard proferring of milk, I believe, did not escape D's attention.
Grazing in the heat of the day, even in a shady paddock, was not much fun as the flies were a biting menace so D developed her own routine and brought her children to the cool of the barn for most of the day, munching hay while the twins dozed, and returning in the evening to eat while the twins played and slept, grazing on through the blissful colder-ness of the night while the twins slept soundly, grabbing a few hours sleep herself ( a maximum of four, I learnt from the programme last night) and grazing again in the thrill of the dawn with the thrush leading, and often drowning out, the morning chorus.
For some reason today, D came home with only her son and when I went with the milk, he was boucing around like a gazelle and had clearly consumed ALL his mother's milk and wanted none from me.
It took half an hour's search to find the heifer (who had been fast asleep in long grass) and all three looked happy in their little field while I went home for the milk.
In the meantime:
D brought only the heifer back up the road she had just travelled, to meet me,knowing, as she did, as she would (NO, I can't prove it )that her daughter was hungry _of course she knew_ what mother wouldn't?_and knowing that I was the one who could remedy that, and remedy that I did.
Next week (as if the Beeb needs me to advertise for them) apparently, the intelligence light is being shone on hens. It's almost enough to make one think there are still some people out there who don't know how very intelligent hens are...and some of those people actually keep hens...help...

2010-06-19T07:11:00.000-07:00

Ulysses a few hours old

Yesterday, Ulysses (no less) knocked the cap off his horn; it looked awful!
I blogged about his birth _see blog for Apr 26th 2009_
We brought him and his mother down from the fields to the yard and left them for a while, eating hay.
In the cool of the evening I went out to entice him into the cattle crush. He is a cooperative youngster and trusting, but his bare horn was so sore and tender he was wary of entering any enclosed space.
Once again the grooming brush came into its own and as I brushed and crooned and pushed just a little bit, we gradually inched nearer to the crush.Once inside I carried on grooming as if that was the whole purpose of the exercise and gradally he relaxed his tense, arched back and began to smile (!)
By this time the blood had coagulated so I wiped his cheek and ear clean and applied a lemony substance intended to deter flies and then invited the pair to go back out to graze but Ulysses decided (and hs mother concurred) to spend the night eating more hay in the barn and did not go out until well after the dawn chorus was done and dusted.

Brilliant

2010-06-15T17:20:00.000-07:00

I have occasionally wondered whether IQ tests have any merit: surely we all know when we meet an intelligent human? Well, tonight we 'met' two unbelievably intelligent bovines.

Every early evening we drive among the herd of cows doling out pieces of apple.
In winter when the grass has little or no goodness in it, our arrival seems pretty popular and we are hailed, harried, mugged, waylayed, pestered, thanked, chased and outwitted by almost everyone.
At this time of year most of the cattle don't even look up when we enter the field. The grass is sweet and delicious, the air is soft, the view is bosky and peaceful and it is just our stalwart apple eaters who race to meet us.

Waiting nearest to our point of entry tonight were Dizzie Lizzie and her nearly one-year-old daughter_officially Dizzie Gold Clare but usually answering (!) to Gold Dizzie, both super keen for their allocation, but both so polite, sweet-natured, gentle, unassuming, unconceited and unaggressive, they were both swept away by a little tide of their assertive, self-assured peers.

We progressed round the field in an erratic zizag delivering to any who had 'booked a delivery slot'.

We headed for home leaving everyone contentedly watching the sun set and the new moon quietly talking to its nearest star (which is probably Venus anyway but I don't really want to know that much astronomy: the moon's enough for me)and there, waiting sweetly and patiently and happily by the gate were Dizzie Lizzie and daughter having neatly and brilliantly avoided the huggermugger scrum of greed/desire/expectation,manoevering themselves into a position of tranquil pleasure to consume apples in peace and even both remembering that the driver's window had jammed so apples would only be forthcoming from the passenger's side.
[having just looked at the preview of this post I am surprised (as usual) that this computer puts the posting time in mid afternoon when my clock says 1.58am!]

The Secret Life of Cows_an open secret now

2010-06-12T15:03:00.000-07:00

There are more than twenty Common Spotted Orchids blooming (almost) unseen in among tall grasses by the side of the fast-flowing stream but I bet they are not common any longer; they are staggeringly pristine and aristocatic in their quiet beauty.
I did not have my camera with me today so the Early Purple Orchid on the header of this blog is a red herring, so to speak!

However does anyone mange to live without cows?

I suppose animals, and pets in particular, might well be surprised when they meet an aggressive or stupid human, if they are lucky enough to live with an affectionate and/or clever one, but no person should be surprised, once they are on first name terms with a herd of cows, to find that some are boring, clumsy, selfish, bossy while some are cultured, careful, caring, polite, grateful and damned good company?

And yes, I can prove it.

If researchers and scientists, in whom governments have such unshakeable faith, spend a great deal of their professional time observing (as I believe is the case) then I have 57 years of observing cattle on my side and it would be pretty difficult to prove me wrong...

Don't Forget to Put the Moth Out...

2010-06-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

A Pair of Poplar Hawk Moths

That has a Monty Pythonesque ring to it but saving moths from a boring, hungry death must rank among the most important of daily activities. I used to assume that the moth knew best and wouldn't be spending time attached to an inside door without good reason but I have now decided that I know best and they should be out in the night catching their supper; am I right?
Perhaps I should fit a 'moth flap' to the back door but I guess it would require an illuminated lure outside. For the time being I will stick to the glass and thin card mode of transport.
I've often heard it said that butterflies are an indicator species and that if a colony (or species_help_) collapses it indicates an impending disaster for humankind. Surely moths are as finely tuned to the natural order?

A Bird in the Bush

2010-05-31T16:10:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year when, if we are lucky, we see goldfinches, and once we saw a whole elderberry bushful (see photo)
In the garden, baby greenfinches are calling for their mothers to feed them (as I was fortunate to be able to capture on film on my dvd The Secret Life of the Farm)
Interesting, dark, bird-shaped objects fly in the almost dark around 10pm, which I hope and presume are tawny owls.
This year for the first time, ravens bred here and brought off five, large, black infants who seem to find it hard work learing how to fly.
Crows become less wary and raid the bird table, shoulder to shoulder with the jackdaws and the wren who has nested in the same hole in the wall for thirty years is busy again (!)

2010-05-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

Last Tuesday our bees swarmed. Our peripatetic beekeeper zoomed the twenty miles here in no time and collected them in a skep.
and then...
the bees who had stayed at home with the emerging virgin queen also swarmed (so presumably her majesty emerged pretty rapidly)
I am trying to learn about bees but however simply I phrase a question, the answer is so erudite and lengthy that I fail to retain more than a modicum of the information.
and now...
I learn that there is, at www.naturalbeekeepingtrust.org a mine of kindly, selfless, wise learning from which I hope the whole planet will benefit.
Later the same day Black Nell calved as the thinnest slice of very new moon grew quietly brighter and her new son just managed to finish his first 'meal' before she set behind the hill.
and now (more than two days later) I am wondering whether the new moon played a role in the swarming?
What a lot there is to learn...

Thought For The Day

2010-05-17T04:38:00.000-07:00

Are bus seats and hospital beds and Whitehall desks all designed for the 'average' person?
Cow stalls and milking parlour compartments seem to be designed for the 'average' cow.
And yet, our current two house cows are far from average: one is the biggest cow we have ever had and one is (nearly!) the smallest.
Cosequently, hand milking requires not only the usual and most obvious skills but also an ability to balance at a precarious angle to reach teats when two hind feet are seriously on lower ground that two front ones (with cow A)and cow B is so titchy my knees only just fit under her abdomen.
Hey Ho
variety is the spice of life
and it makes me think of the huge difference between natural woodland with its magical jumble and crush, and planted 'timber' with its neatly trimmed side shoots and mown floors.

Mystery Tree

2010-05-03T03:47:00.000-07:00

Here is a sprig and an underside!

Can Anyone Identify This Tree?

2010-04-27T15:02:00.000-07:00

I have been taking photographs of cherry trees lately. The Natural History Museum has instigated a national cherry tree survey, and tucked in between two cherry trees I found a delightfully spherical silvicultural specimen of uncertain identity.

Political Animals!

2010-04-27T13:34:00.000-07:00

I know a fair number of people who will cast their votes on May 6th, solely according to how much they believe a candidate cares about animal welfare, and that's no mean yardstick.

A New Field of Study

2010-04-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

I love the English language; a new field of study could be pursued in a library, laboratory, warehouse or even a field.
I have long known that our cows and our sheep greet and treat different people in different ways but I'm only just beginning to thoroughly enjoy the fact.
I remember writing in my book The Secret Life of Cows that Fat Hat preferred men to women and she didn't like men much
...and I blogged a few months ago that our house cows showed benevolent indulgence in their attitude to a new, young helper...
The two cows we are hand milking at the moment behave completely differently towards my brother and me.In either case they call the shots but they take different liberties with each of us.
My new field of study moves from cowpen to barn to field and back again.
The relationships between cows and their daughters is a beautiful,sometimes oddly complicated, rich and fascinating field of study. But the human/animal trust test involves a very 'grown-up' give and take.
Fairness is paramount: they must be rewarded if, for instance they agree to come in when they would prefer to stay out, but they play their parts with integrity if we behave according to their rules. They bully us a bit, they plead but they don't cheat.
The sheep walk towards some people and actually show excitement and pleasure but this is by no means universal; you are either one of the chosen or you are not.
Freedom of association is something humans value; animals do too.

Bribery

2010-03-22T18:00:00.000-07:00

Fourteen years ago we were milking the great great grandmother of one of the two cows I milked last night; who'd have thought that an inclination for bribery could be inherited?!
Felicity, white and large and aristocratic in her bearing, elegant and charming and very good natured, had a calf which died at birth (in the middle of an array of ten calves which all thrived)
We had a man helping us then who, with no previous experience of farms or cattle, showed an eagerness to learn to milk and, most crucially, an understanding and respectful affection for the cows. He refused to learn their names and learnt to identify each individual by searching for odd markings, often as unnoticeable as a tiny spot of white on the tummy of a black cow.
Although he liked the cows, initially he did not believe they could have individual foibles.
He milked Felicity by machine and on day three was excited to tell us that she had bribed him to give her more food by sweetly raisng her hind leg, in veritable slow motion and sweetly returning it to the ground when fed. He knew perfectly well that she intended to kick the bucket over...but never did...
Last night, Felicity's great great grand-daughter bribed me in an identical fashion.
[Felicity makes a brief but important appearance in my DVD The Secret Life of the Farm]

Fast Asleep

2010-03-14T03:58:00.000-07:00

I've taken some photographs recently, late in the dark night,inside the dimly lit barn, amongst the flat out, dead beat, snoozing, dozing cattle; there is not one I dare post on the blog though!
Because I can see them breathing and see an occasional twitch,I can (and do) laugh out loud but anyone from Mars would think they were well and truly dead.
The herd is currently in two groups, roughly 50:50. They all spend every daylight hour outside and for the past three days, one half has stayed out all night too and we have taken hay up the hill to the skirt of the beechwood for them.
The 'insiders' have, therefore, been offerred the 'outsiders'' barn to spread their wings in.
The bossiest cows commandeer the hay racks when they come in, just as the light begins to fade and so the shiest ones have taken advantage of the extra space.Consequently and delightfully they now feel safe to abandon themselves utterly to sleep.
I can remember the very first time, as a child, I walked in the cattle barn at night, on my own, silently. I was certain they were all about to die. As a boisterous, dashing-around kid, I had never noticed that when recumbent and ruminating, they sigh and groan and, well, if one decides to go flat out as well the image is complete.I ran to tell my father who explained as he laughed at me.

Colour-blind!

2010-03-05T13:38:00.000-08:00

It's official: our sheep know a blue Land Rover from a green one_amazing_even so, they prefer travelling in a Range Rover if given the choice.

2010-03-04T15:29:00.000-08:00

A Romp in the Park

I bumped into the man who runs the country the other day;
You know, the man who really runs the country,
Pulls the strings, that sort of thing.
I said to him: Have you got a minute?
He said: Yeah, OK !
And so we talked for a minute and then in the end
We talked the night away
…….as you do…….

I asked him if there was anything at all
In the whole wide world
He cared about more than money

He didn’t even stop for a second to think and said
No, I don’t think so.

How can you spend taxpayer’s money on roadways
Through jungle and forest where no man should go?
He smiled, and I knew that he thought I was slow
Oh! money? he nodded…but what about Nature?

He stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair
We don’t think about Her; she looks after herself.
But with contamination from seeds you can’t breed from
E’en Nature….
The pressure’s stupendous, the threats are horrendous
e’en (!) I can’t hold out against what’s brought to bear.

I told him why millions should stamp, Conga-fashion,
Together, in each of the GM crop fields.
It surely would be quite logistically tricky
To cart off so many for breaching the peace.

He countered, quite calmly, that rushed legislation
Could deal with no matter how clever a plot.
I knew that this cold length of man had no
Feelings, a razor-sharp wit was the sum of his parts.

I chose now to tell him the long secret fact
That I had been breaking the law,
In a totally regular, unerring way
For, well, twenty years or more.

He sat bolt upright in his seat
Bright, with a new lack of boredom
Go on …

I leaned back in my chair, in control for a moment
There was nothing else I could do

I explained at length, in a quiet voice
That I was one of those people who would
Be prepared but not keen,
To face prison for my beliefs.

He sat so close to the edge of his seat
He almost sat on the floor, but a
Large, strong hand on the table in front
Kept him where he was.

If regulations and laws make
Cruelty imperative, by way of financial reward
Then……

To animals?
Yes
He looked less moved

Now he leaned back once more and I sat up in fury
He’d have been no more moved if it centred on people.

The point, I continued with steely restraint
Is, that when I get caught I will need to expose
The whole circus in all of it’s colours

A deep flash of anger now muddied his eyes
Tell me details (he succeeded in smiling)

The system is rotten; you know it, it’s yours:
Enquiries, commissions, white papers,
Discussions. Just lie and the people
Will think you’re in charge.

He obviously desperately wanted to know
What flaws in the system my trial would expose.

Slowly and clearly I reeled off the list;
Tales of mismanagement, blunders and fudging
Vast sums of money on leaflets, explaining
And, written in stone, the financial requirement
To make all the old cattle suffer.

His eyelids were closing
He looked half asleep
But tigers are never not wary
He took it all in and he asked, in his sleep
If I’d still go to prison for them

Not willingly; none provide organic food.

His laugh was explosive
Then quiet
He promised that if
I were ever sent down
He would personally see to my diet.

I mentioned education
Concentration
Children’s diets:
I wondered if he had a nerve to tap.

He let slip that the perception of priorities is vital
No action need be taken to satisfy a goal.

I praised his brain, quite faintly, and a smile
Akin a grin adorned his handsome features
I thought: this is the way in.

I made him think that
I admired, the way he wielded power
And handled all ‘the puppets’
On his short and steely wire.

He looked at ease, quite happy?

He took my hand and led me out,
Into the glitt’ring park
And crowds of people soon appeared
To watch our frenzied dance.

He was joyful in the knowledge
Everything he did was right
I was tortured by the knowledge
That the end was now in sight.

And our dance incited trouble
Everyone was dancing too.

An officer approached my partner
“ cuse me sir….Oh..Sir…
It’s you Sir
And dancing with Miss…er…
Do you know her?

The dancing stopped
The chauffeur came
My ‘partner’ sped away
The lights went out all round the park
It was…..you’ve guessed it…..day.

If the man who’s in charge of the country
Feels his cap fits this poem quite well
But cannot remember our meeting
…it’s just a poem….can’t he tell?

Vegetarians I Have Known Who Eat Our Beef

2010-02-25T17:15:00.000-08:00

Extract from an email from a friend:

‘We started reading your blog and you can count us as two of your regular readers. We cannot wait for your next entry and the amazing stories of your domestic animals and wild life. I cannot imagine a better way of living than being in the environment you are fortunate to be enjoying. Well worth the hard work that must go to ensure the wonderful condition of your farm and its life. I really do believe it is a wonderful gift to be so sensitive to and perceptive to nature. It was a great psychologist, G.W.Allport, who identified the importance of the relationship of humans to their environment. He developed the theme that the further away humans live from the natural world the more they would experience a sense of alienation
Your pictures are a real joy. I shall not show them to my grand daughter, who is vegetarian but loves your beef, in case she finds the cows so beautiful that she can't eat even your meat.’

The first time I remember hearing the word vegetarian was when I was a teenager and a new family had moved into the village where we lived. We invited them to lunch and they told us that they were vegetarians who only ate chicken and fish…

This seemed odd so I made a beeline for the dictionary.

During the last 30 odd years since we opened our farm shop we have had a number of visitors who arrived proclaiming their devotion to vegetarian principles in tandem with their wish to eat our beef.

This is not as crazy as it sounds.

Protest Poem

2010-02-20T17:40:00.000-08:00

The Advisory Committee for Novel Foods and Processes

The A C N F P
Advises the F S A
Which in turn advises the government
It always gets its own way.

It states its own criteria
By which we all are bound
And aims to decide if a food’s safe to eat
And if the technology’s sound.

It makes up rules for defining
How all our food is made
And will go to every possible length
Not to call a spade a spade.

Its watch-word words are two,
And surely they look innocent?
But the leeway they offer beggars belief
They are ‘substantial’ and ‘equivalent’.

These two words alone
Have a life of their own
And will change the whole way we are thinking
And if they do their worst
There will be no way off
This ship which is definitely sinking.

A tomato is a tomato is a tomato
Once that would have been right
But with fish genes, I beg to differ
And differ with all my might.

I don’t want a substantial equivalent
I want the real thing.

Mrs. Porter, we are stealing your daughter
You can never have her back
But we will give you another one in her place
Of whom we will always keep track.

You have loved and raised this charming girl
For fifteen years and a day
(correct me if I’m wrong)
But we will give you a Substantial Equivalent,
The same in every way.

Same age, same height, same hobbies
Same colour eyes and hair
You will hardly notice the difference
You will think that your daughter’s still there.

Now then, are we not good?
We will give her the self same name
You will all get along together so well
How could you begin to complain?

In the int’rest of science we must take her away
To prove that our model’s entire
If your neighbours don’t notice for more than a week
We’ll get the licence we require.

Oh! her handwriting’s different,
And of course she won’t love you
But that is a small price to pay.
You can comfort yourself
You’re a servant of Science
Something not many can say.

That's a Good Question

2010-02-09T10:12:00.000-08:00

Do cows enjoy the view?

Revelations or Common Knowledge?part 1

2009-12-27T23:46:00.000-08:00

revealing of secrets long hidden in the mists of the past...
So many things seem in some way miraculous in the achievements of modern technology and also in the powerful results of modern medecines. But if you do not have a chemist within a thousand miles, if you live in the Amazon Rain Forest_what's left of it_it makes sense to make use of 'the chemist's shop' hanging above your head or growing beneath your feet. I doubt if the healing properties of plants seem miraculous to those who use them instinctively: a very small number of people, all undomesticated animals and birds (I wonder if fish self-medicate on pond weed or coral?)and a few domesticated ones.
It does not seem either miraculous nor odd to us that we notice beauty in our fellow creatures, human and non human, so it should not seem odd that non-human creatures notice beauty in their colleagues too.
Some of our cattle are assertive, some and timid, some are noble some are (just a teeny bit ) boring. Some are gentle and trusting and some are (just a teeny bit) conceited. Some of the timid ones get bullied, even if they are beautiful, but the beautiful ones who are nice/lovely/special/kind/interesting/educated-in-their-own-terms are noticed and liked and enjoyed by every(non-animal)one.

The Point of the Story_love, of course

2009-12-24T13:48:00.000-08:00

Some cows are just cows, well, yes, in the sense that some people are just people. All the people you don't personally know:the ones you see on television cuing for the Boxing Day sales, the crowds at football matches, the audiences you only hear when sitcoms are recorded, and of course all the people in other countries who you have never and will never see. Yes, cows are just cows in that sense.
But, once you get to know one, or many, you know that they are all individuals with incredibly varied personalities.
Well, on this particular story day I have mentioned just a few.
Carline loves her daughters and they love her,but there are levels of love. Her eldest daughter needed her once and she came to her from a long way away. She heard her calling, recognised her voice and came singlemindedly in the direction of the calling.
[In 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', Peter Quince says (of Bottom) '...he goes but to see a noise that he heard...' ]
She comforted her as we could never have done.
Some cows are of less practical use, but they love nevertheless.

I take my last, late walk round to check everyone is all right and I see Red Amelia 2nds Black Amelia gazing adoringly at her big, red, son. I also see calves in motionless, sleeping scrums, oblivious to their mothers' whereabouts and I see family groups like the Dorothys: the old lady herself with 2 daughters, a son, one grand-daughter,two great grand-daughters, one great-great grand-daughter and one great great great grand-daughter, all within a few feet of one another and then I spie Red Nell who really has love written all over her face and she lies, smiling and chewing with her daughter tucked under her chin.
Now that's what no camera could capture

2009-12-24T10:51:00.000-08:00

Even from a recumbent position, cows can pack a powerful kick but Carline was really comfortable and sort of knew I ws trying to be helpful.I managed to stroke my way down her leg to her foot by leaning over her flank and I gingerly began to probe between her clays to see if there was an offending object causing her to limp, when I realised someone was breathing down my neck. Carline's eldest daughter, four years old and well on the way to being as large as her mother, had come extremely close to check whether I might be hurting her. She watched my every move; her proximity restricted my right shoulder.
I wriggled a bit in order to carry on with my investigations but she just moved in even closer. I felt that trying to persuade her to back off might have made her suspicious that I had harmful intentions; by permitting her to watch, she would be able to see I was doing good.
Once the foot was clean I tried to reach into my pocket to get the magic ointment when I realised I was also being watched over my left shoulder. Carline 3rd, sixteen months old and less assertive than her sisiter, had overcome her shyness to come to her mother's aid.
I massaged old Carline's ankle with a copious quantity of comfrey ointment and put lots of Dettol cream between her clays, gave her a love and thanked her for trusting me and then burst out laughing as I noticed her newest baby (one month)quietly watching everything but without the least concern as she had learnt to trust me on the day she was born.

2009-12-23T15:41:00.000-08:00

Most of the cattle choose to go out even when the snow is too deep for any grass to be found but for the past few days the slight amount of snow has not hidden the taller, tougher, older grasses and the short-lived winter sunshine has tempted many of them up the hill to graze.
This one-day-story started as usual with the great gate opening but old Carline and daughter stayed behind. I walked towards them to encouage them and as Carline moved forward I could see she was limping.
They spent the day eating hay and I kept waiting for the ideal opportunity to inspect her foot. Carline is one of our tallest, biggest, heaviest cows and inspecting the hind foot of even a smallish calf is not easy.
Very late, long after the whole herd had come home and everyone was lying contentedly, drowsily I paid Carline a quiet visit.
She looked very comfortable, half sprawling, half lying and I hoped she would not feel inclined to move if she didn't have to. I stroked her neck and worked my way down her leg to her foot. She twitched a bit.

...and I saw a calf thinking

2009-12-22T15:43:00.000-08:00

The day before this story started, this little heifer squeezed through a fence in order to play-graze with some friends. Consequently she arrived home at dusk by a different route from her mother and she ended up in the wrong barn. Neither she nor her mother seemed to notice until 5am when they both decided to moo louder than anyone ever had until some human servant crawled out of bed to reunite them.
On this particular day, this particular calf had again spent the day 'with her neighbour's daughter'and they arrived home together. She instinctively followed her friend towards one barn then stopped and thought for a moment, turned round and trotted off in the opposite direction.
It really looked as if she was thinking: 'I'm not going to make the same mistake again'.
[She was born under this oak tree]

2009-12-21T14:46:00.000-08:00

On the paricular day this story is relating, Cocoa 3rd and son managed to grab one of the prized 'bedrooms'. It's a room with a view but no water on tap so last thing at night, I have to carry buckets to replenish what's been drunk since teatime. It was very late, cold, dark and slippery so I left the door open in between journeys to the nearest tap to save time. Little Mr Coco, who had appeared to be sleeping soundly, noticed the open door and hopped out for a skip in the snow. He was a bit surprised that his feet went in a different direction from his nose but he persevered and I had a pretty tricky time persuading him to return home.
A little earlier while I was measuring out the barley for the two cows I hand milk, I saw that the two bulls (three quarters of a ton and half a ton_Red Bull and Peter Goldfinch to be precise)pricked up their ears as soon as my penknife starting slicing apples in half and came over to look pitiable ( an impossible task but their amusing attempt earnt them the desired apples)

and then

2009-12-21T02:53:00.000-08:00

Young Dorothea and daughter meandered off down through the wood to the stream to play and didn't reappear until almost dark.
Black Bonnet and her new, unbelievably beautiful daughter stayed cuddled up in their pen all day but the 'older' babies, those who consider themselves grown up at one to two weeks, went out for the day with their mothers, to see what old, in fact ancient, varieties of grasses were still nibbleable despite the frost.
As always in this sort of weather, a few individuals chose to stay at home eating hay and silage, relentlessly.
They begin to come home in ones and twos and threes at teatime and as they would all like to have a pen to themselves, allocation becomes the issue of the day.
I am reminded always of a television programme I saw many, many years ago. Someone was interviewing (or more accurately just talking to ) a group of boys who had spent their whole lives in a childrens' home. One eleven-year-old, when asked what he would most like, replied, without any self pity nor expectation of ever having his wish fulfilled: "I would just adore to have a bedroom of my own".

A Story for Christmas

2009-12-20T16:20:00.000-08:00

Allegri's Miserere was long kept as the exclusive possession of the Sistine Chapel but one day the young Mozart heard it there, went home and wrote it down, note perfect.
I need an artistic version of Mozart here, at night, after dark.
The things that happen here 'after hours' cannot be captured by a camera, with the flash which would be essential. It needs an artistic genius to observe, wonder and recreate.
What this mythical human would see is really beyond my powers of description.
The story begins here and will be continued now and/or then, a bit like a Dicken's novel, issued in episodes...
The oldest Dorothea was winding in hay at the rack, one of a select group who chose not to venture out in the slidey, sunny, frozen field. I was standing infront of her and I saw her mother, Dorothy (only 15 months her senior!)coming along the roadway to pay her a visit. Without turning round, Dorothea politely moved slightly to one side to allow her mother access to the hay and as she drew level they rubbed noses in affectionate greeting.
A few minutes later, Dorothea's youngest daughter with her own daughter (one month old)called in but got bored quite quickly and wandered off.

This Has Nothing to do with Bullfinches

2009-12-15T09:31:00.000-08:00

A while ago I wrote about the cattle who stay out and those who come in. Well, recently several calves have been staying out with a vengeance. Long after darkness has dropped down, a quick head count reveals a discrepancy, and the identities of the offending youngsters are ascertained.
Some mothers go pretty mad, mooing for their calves, and we have to let them back out to plod up the hill to find them. But, some mothers, notably the members of the Dorothea family, who wouldn't worry if you paid them to, just stay silent and eat their way into the night.
Around 3 or 4am, sometimes, maybe, a quiet, sweet, questioning moo asks why the miscreants are not tucked up with their peers.
On cold and unforgiving nights, I wear my wellies out, traipsing the landscape, fearing that perhaps, this time, the 'baby' will be lost and hungry and in need of guiding home. No such thing!
Always and always she (and I've only just realised this, it is always 'she' and not 'he') who stays out, happy as larry, under the stars, under an oak or in the depths of a hawthorn hedge and she only agrees to come home to please me.
And just think, they are all 'just cows' to many people. All alike, without feelings or individual preferences.
My Saturday nights out are not quite 'normal' I admit, but they're great fun.

For the Rain It Raineth Every Day

2009-12-09T04:01:00.000-08:00

'photo by Jo Pomeroy@2009'

...but the calves know how to enjoy life...

Hen Must Not Walk Too Late

2009-12-04T16:13:00.000-08:00

'The crow makes wing to the rooky wood...'and the hen is still on her nest in the woodshed.
I think I may have mentioned before that many poultry experts believe that most hens lay their eggs before midday and it certainly seems odd when one decides to do so, just as her friends are going to bed, but it's her choice, so we switch several lights on and loiter until she is ready for her perch.
As soon as they have laid an egg, all the hens come for more food and our late hen (!) is no exception. She has a leisurely supper and gets carried home, as it is far too dark and hardly safe for a hen to walk so late. We worry about the dangers of the night but the hen doesn't. I've yet to see a hen worry...
If we had a cockerell I suppose we could call him Banquo.

The Language of Animals

2009-11-29T11:23:00.000-08:00

Can cows talk?
Of course they can.
But who in their right minds would want to talk to humans?
Cows talk to each other and, so beautifully, to their calves.
What evidence do I have? Plenty.

How many Toads Does It Take to Make a . . .

2009-11-17T14:43:00.000-08:00

The day before yesterday I checked all the water troughs umpteen times and no exaggeration. But, very last thing I noticed Red Amelia 2nd (one of the legendary Amelia's granddaughters) staring at a water trough with the single-minded attention of a Phd student studying the structure of a chrystal.
On closer inspection I spied a toad, valiantly floating and trying not to lose heart at the certain kowledge that he would never be able to climb out on his own. I lifted him to the safety of the ground and felt I'd seldom done a better day's work.
Then yesterday I spied another toad mountaineering up a pile of wood in the cellar, from whence escape would have been extremely difficult.
A short while later, on my daily trip to the sheeps' abode I found a toad, exhausted but still afloat in their water bucket.

It's Raining

2009-11-13T16:30:00.000-08:00

It must be close to midnight but I haven't looked at a clock lately.
I milked the house cows very late and had to keep Philadelphia waiting while I washed and bandaged a calf's cut foot.
Equable as ever, she not only didn't mind, she went off for a walk in the paddock, in heavy rain, to while away the time. Then, in return for half a bucket of rolled barley and 14 halved apples, she kindly gave me just less than a teacupful of milk and 'never was a better bargain driven'.
Red Laura then kindly supplied, for the same fee, three and a half times as much_perfect. Why don't shops sell milk by the quarter?
It never ceases to fascinate me that some cattle not only choose but insist on coming in when it is wet and/or cold and some not only choose but insist on staying out. Who am I to argue?

To Africa Without a Map?

2009-11-10T01:39:00.000-08:00

Could you find your way to a specific location in Africa without a map? A swallow could.
Swallows, buzzards, kestrels, robins, wrens and hens are all birds, are all brilliant.
Everyone who can should keep hens and not only love and enjoy and benefit immensely, healthwise, from perfect eggs, but should respect and learn from them: how to live, how to make the most of each day and how not to worry.

And while I'm on the subject (of living) I think Ken Livingstone should be Chancellor following his recent comment that he would have waited for the banks to fail and then nationalised them for free.

Pictures Speak Louder Than Words

2009-10-31T07:03:00.000-07:00

Dink 2nd's twins

VIVE LA DIFFERENCE

2009-10-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

Two cows, sisters sometimes, living in the same field, eating the same grass and browsing the same tree leaves (though maybe, just maybe, nibbling different wildflowers and perhaps that's the secret_)can have, and frequently do have milk that tastes totally different.
For as long as I can remember we have labelled the jugs with the name of the cow and the date.[This can cause confusion, not to say consternation: friends, keen to help make butter etc sometimes come across a jug labelled Nov 3 in the middle of June.) But we have a famous family of Bonnets named after the months in which they were born:January Bonnet, July Bonnet, February Bonnet. Luckily, all our friends are quick learners.
And hens, of course...
Two almost identical eggs can look and taste entirely different, but then hens forage far and wide and we never really know where they've been nor what they've been eating...fortunately.

Don't Worry Worry 'till Worry Worry You

2009-10-22T16:56:00.000-07:00

My self-imposed intention to write a weekly diary has gone by the board of late; there is so much to write about!

GM crops pose such a critical threat that I can no longer indulge the huge pleasure of writing only about all the creatures that creep and pad, bluster, float, flutter, scurry, bounce, dash, plod, jump, fly, climb, crawl, dig, wriggle or merely grow on this farm.

Let us be in no doubt: large companies with the expertise to produce genetically modified crops are not doing so altruistically. They have no wish to feed the world to prevent people starving. They wish to provide the crops to feed the world to make money. Also, in my humble and very concerned opinion, anyone with the skill and (probably) brilliance to succeed in genetically modifying plants is likely to be clever enough to wish to avoid ever actually eating any of the results of their labours.
Keats so wisely said that one cannot improve on perfection and with GM organisms, if one tries and releases them into the environment, they can never be recalled. So, if one day in the future, as has happened so many times with substances initially thought to be safe but later banned, having been found to cause birth defects and health problems, GM technology stands accused of endangering the health of the planet it will be too late to do anything about it.

Read the newest edition of The Ecologist and worry with me.

Catocala Nupta

2009-10-21T04:33:00.000-07:00

or Redunderwing Moth_a sight worth staying up for. I never dreamt I would get excited about moths but I am. I often see the Poplar Hawk Moth but I hadn't seen this beauty before. My Moth and Butterfly book says it only flies in August and September. Does my mid October sighting mean it is being affected by global warming?
I'm fascinated to discover how many moths fly by day. We have the Chimney Sweeper Moth, whose black form darts around our most gorgeous wild flower bank but I had assumed his daytime antics were rare.

The first time I saw Victoria Wood do a standup routine she said, as far as I remember:" I went to the police to report the theft of my car. I told them my collection of moths had been stolen with it."
Was it on the back seat?" they asked
"No, I said. It was stuck to the number plate."

Cows standing on their own two feet

2009-10-19T15:01:00.000-07:00

All animals are individuals. Some cows are timid but the majority can stand on their owm two feet. And, just like us, some enjoy being kissed and cuddled or rather stroked, groomed, praised and appreciated and some like to be left alone.
Some of us shake hands, some always embrace, plus endless variations on the same theme of greeting and some of us like to wave, bow or otherwise acknowledge one another in a non-tactile way.
I remember at least 20 years ago, the oldest woman in Britain was interviewed and she talked about being invited to Downing Street for lunch when she was 110. Apparently the female Prime Minister greeted her at the door in person, arms outstretched, and the guest recalled saying: "Don't cuddle me, I'm Labour".
Many humans are not that direct but all cows are. They let us know where we stand and how much licence we can have. Some look at us four square, some, wonderfully with love. Some avoid eye contact or simply gaze elsewhere. Some gaze adoringly (!) only when they want something. Some look straight at us with a look that tells us to come no closer; even these independant spirits can soften if they need our help.
The best thing of all is their unfailing ability to character judge any visitors. We learn from them, gratefully.
They sleep in uncomfortable-looking positions sometimes_see photo.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

2009-10-18T17:14:00.000-07:00

We have a friend who suffers from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome often referred to as ME, a very debilitating and depressing illness; we are full of admiration for her as she is unfailingly cheerful and determined to get well. Earlier today she wrote to us and below I quote from two sentences:

"...the first time I went down with this was in the 1960s, just a few weeks after a holiday in S. Italy. DDT was being widely used, on Government orders, to eradicate the malarial mosquito, so I daresay the water supply etc. was contaminated.)

I believe there are c. one million ME sufferers in the USA and c. 100,000 in the UK. Perhaps one day food produced using pesticides and herbicides will be properly priced at the checkout, covering the cost of the damage it does to water supplies, soil, human health, etc. Then only the very rich will be able to afford it and everyone else will have to eat organic..."

Christmas Presents

2009-10-16T11:29:00.000-07:00

It feels as if there will be a frost tonight; it's nearly 7.30pm. I must cover the marrow bed, runner beans,dahlias and a few other plants that look a bit vulnerable though the day will soon come when the fine fleece will not provide sufficient protection and blackened leaves will be abandoned to their winter decay.

I'm sure no one will believe me if I say I am NOT thinking about Christmas_merely writing about it!
But,cold weather makes me think about the cows' comfort in the months to come and I need to find a way to afford a new barn.
So, if anyone would like to buy 'The Calf's World' DVD I am offering two, inclusive of postage to mainland UK for £6 (rrp £10 each) This seems sensible as 2 can travel by post as cheaply as 1. Does anyone still buy stocking fillers? This film of our calves being themselves would please all people of all ages_or if it doesn't, let me know!

Saving the NHS singlehanded

2009-10-12T01:17:00.000-07:00

This is going way beyond my self-imposed remit but on August 25th my Mother injured her leg, sustaining a deep wound in her shin; one could almost see the bone through the gashed muscle.
My Mother is small and frail and has never been well for the past 60 years and she has, by most standards, an extremely limited diet. But everything she can eat is totally organic.
The wonderful nurses who have come almost daily to dress her wound (following an initial call to NHS Direct at 9pm_courteously and effeciently dealt with)have all, independantly remarked (and there have been 9 of them plus 2 doctors)that the speed of recovery MUST be due to the quality of the food she eats.
So, there you have it NHS. Give all your patients (and staff) organic food and you're home and dry. It is what happens in Cuba and there, parents are actively encouraged to stay at the hospital to help nurse their own children to minimise the trauma of separation.
Oh, yes, and prisoners would benefit, with reoffending rates plummetting (visit Sweden) and young children and older children and adults..what is there to lose?
As the incompaable Guy Laliberte knows, it's everyone's birthright to have pure water (One Drop Foundation) so should it be established as equally vital for everyone to have pure food. And, a nice exra benefit would be the saving of the planet. Not bad hey?
Oh, and even politicians who started eating organic food in the houses of parliament in 1982 (for sure) I wonder whether they kept it up?
[I could upload before and after images of the wound but...]

2009-10-11T15:51:00.000-07:00

It's autumn in the beech wood and composted beech leaves are wonderfully useful in the vegetable garden.
The cattle enjoy eating fallen leaves from ash and willow and cherry with a small amount of walnut, oak and other acquired tastes but I have not noticed them eat beech leaves.
The freedom to browse the hedgerows and reach up to a variety of trees as well as nibbling ancient grasses, herbs, flowers and what most people insist on calling weeds,enables them to maintain a healthy balance in their diet. It is not unusual for a cow to consume a few cubic yards of nettles when the need arises.
The sheep delicately chew bits of thistle when young and green and, surprisingly, they devour old, dried up specimens too.
The other day a hen was limping. I examined her leg and foot but could see nothing obvious so I very gently rubbed Dettol Cream into her foot. (Every bang, bash and knock we humans subject ourselves too has received this course of action for at least 50 years)The next day she was still limping so I repeated the treatment and one day later she was as good as new. [Though 'new' has rather lost its credentials these days as built-in obsolescence infects the production of almost every material possession. It seems impossible to buy a 'new' cooker, tumble dryer, shirt or pair of socks of comparable quality to those on offer in the past and mending, darning, fixing, welding, reupholstering etc old items if often well worthwhile.)
So perhaps my hen was as good as 'old'.

Celandine Sunshine Mater Est

2009-10-07T15:24:00.000-07:00

As the sun faded Celandine settled down on top of the Cowslip Bank, at the highest point on the farm (600 feet asl)and by 6pm she had a chunky, red daughter. As soon as the preliminaries were over she manouvered her close to the cotswold stone wall, under an overhanging ash tree, to give her as much shelter from the night wind as possible but we had other plans.
Celandine has not been a mother before and this bonny lass had not quite mastered the art of standing and suckling at the same time and, but for our intervention, would have gone to bed hungry.
We don't like to interfere if it can be avoided but as CS is a particular friend we attached the cattle transporter to the Land Rover and brought the duo home into a nice pen where we taught the new arrival a few tricks of the trade. She is a quick learner.
Cows ALWAYS know best as I expect I've said several times before. Last night we brought CS home as it was raining and the likelihood of her calving seemed strong. She 'put up with' her temporary imprisonment with particularly good grace and I kept an eye on her at 11pm, 4am amd 6.30am by which time she was (ever so sweetly) threatening to break the door down (well gate actually but it doesn't sound as good) She marched off up the field at a great rate of knots and pretended for the rest of the day to be nonchalant. I was pretty well convinced but still a tiny bit anxious. Fortunately she didn't need us though fortunately (for us) she likes us and is glad to let us share in the fun.
As soon as the calf looks photogenic (!) I will try to capture her image and add it to this page.
There are still 10 minutes to go before midnight: no cow to calve or watch over tonight so a lovely peaceful night ahead with only the bread to make, the cows to milk, yesterday's milk bowls to skim and the moths to liberate from the attraction of the dairy's lights.
I've got toothache but the rosemary oil I make for headaches doubles as a toothache remedy_hooray.

When is a Hen Not a Hen?

2009-10-05T03:26:00.000-07:00

Well, if you eat it, it's likely to be a chicken and if it's laying eggs it's a hen.

Ah, hens: clever, clean, fun-loving, freedom-loving (thank you Hugh F-W and your Chicken Out campaign:http://ciwf.cmail2.com/t/y/l/kuljdr/krlkeihk/r ) sociable, inventive, adventurous...[I could go on]

I often find myself 'tailing' hens, detective-like, and I often lose them! But, this morning I had a stroke of luck and watched a secretive fowl boldly enter a lengthy tunnel between rows of big bales of straw. Whether I shall be able to retrieve any eggs without moving twenty bales is another question...

It fascinates me how frequently hens change their laying place. Are they trying to hide their eggs or do they just take a shine to a new hidey-hole? Sometimes several hens use/share the same nest_not simultaneously, though there is at times, a queue. Sometimes our flock of five has five nests on the go.

Raiders of the hive

2009-10-02T11:25:00.000-07:00

Calamity: wasps have stolen all our honey.
I've seen several wasps' nests this year and have made a point of congratulating them on the design, construction and siting and now I wish I'd penned a condemnatory article in Wasp World in the hope of encouraging mass emmigration! There's been plenty of usual wasp fare around, ripe plums and stuff_how dare they? I've tried hard to like them ever since one stung the sole of my foot by hiding in my wellington when I was seven. Ggrrrrrrr.

Crab Apple Concrete

2009-09-29T16:54:00.000-07:00

The pectin in crab apples makes achieving 'setting point' a doddle. These unsophisticated apples are wonderful with elderberries, blackberries, mulberries and excitingly interesting on their own.
You can also leave them on the tree and get unsurpassed bird watching as they last for ages.

2009-09-29T03:13:00.000-07:00

In my recent blog A Field of Frogs I mention species generally regarded as environmental barometres. This morning, listening to Radio 4 I heard about a clean air survey in which everyone is being invited to participate and lichens are the focus of attention; bien sur (no idea how to insert an accent!)
For the whole of my life I have understood lichens to indicate pure air but now I discover that some types thrive on polluted air and experts can tell much about air quality from close observation. I am looking forward to contributing to this project.
From memory I'm pretty certain one can calculate the age of lichen by its diametre but don't quote me.
Nature has everything if one knows where and how to look and as long as we humans don't tidy, poison, cut down or otherwise destroy. Herbal remedies are there for the asking, though once we have thrown away our instincts in favour of material gain, who do we ask? The cows know, the ants and beetles and elepants know.
'Oh man, proud man, drest in a little, brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assured...'

The Dark is Light Enough_to coin a prase

2009-09-25T15:56:00.000-07:00

Torches are a wonderfully useful invention but if you live where there is little or no light pollution there are very few nights in the year when the dark isn't light enough to see by.
The only subject I could choose for 'Mastermind' would be the identification of individual black cows, at night, from a hundred paces, though I occasionally come adrift. Every now and then I stride out across the darkning landscape and talk affectionately to what turns out, on closer acquaintaince, to be a clump of nettles. Nonetheless I can see more, feel more and become more enchantingly accepted, or even better, ignored, by the herd if I refrain from switching the torch on at all.
At about 8.30pm I went to see Dizzy (our fourteen-year-old matriarch) and could not find her. Her three daugters were contentedly doing the multifarious things they do every Friday evening, which encouraged me to believe that she was not in trouble but it still took a further hour and the exhaustion of three torches before I found her.
I was on the point of concluding that nothing short of criss-crossing the sixty acre wood, in, by turns, eery and magical blackness: low branches waiting to knock your hat off (if you are wearing one (!)), potholes, ravines ( well, alright, as this is The Cotswolds let's settle for steep slopes) screaming foxes, heavy-footed deer, scuffling badgers, friendly rabbits and hopefully, hooting owls, when I found her lying in unusually tall grass at the foot of the best wild flower bank, patiently waiting for me to find her. She ate her treat and then asked me to fetch some water as she was as far away from a source as she possibly could be.
Celandine Sunshine found me and demanded an apple; she is getting close to calving so I will keep special watch over her. She, like everyone else, has a history, and a story to tell. Suffice it to say, this time she would rather have a go at being a mother than a house cow.
Carline, with her immense pitchfork horns and thoughful, kind disposition could quite easily be both, as, for a beef cow, she has an unusually capacious udder. She, for the record, is still keeping her older daughter constant company since she heard her asking for moral support, by voice recognition at a fairly great distance as I wrote a little while ago. This tear-jerking manifestation of love is, to date, perhaps the most beautiful 'happening' I have been lucky enough to witness.

Organic Food_what else?

2009-09-23T14:39:00.000-07:00

It's all very well writing about how delightful our cows are and how brilliant (A level standard no less) and how companionable our hens, but the reason they are so clever and so happy is because they eat organic food. They breathe pure air and drink pure water and eat what nature intended them to eat. The ruminants graze grass and they love it.
World wide, millions of acres (facts and figures a plenty in 'Carbon Fields' by Graham Harvey)are devoted to producing cereals to feed to ruminants. It is not just a scandal but total madness.
Although eating barley, for example, will make a calf grow faster, there is a criminal amount of waste. Roughly 10% of the cereal is converted into protein and the rest creates slurry which is itself a dangerous source of pollution.
Vast acreages of grass are needed to lock up carbon and ruminants grazing the grass produce healthy meat.
People cannot eat grass but they can eat cereals and healthy protein from pasture fed animals is a valuable addition to a balanced diet.

The occasional, sensational headline in the newspapers trumpetting the fact that some panel of experts cannot identify any significant superiority in the taste of organic food, misses the point entirely. It wouldn't matter a hoot if organic food tasted appreciably worse than the euphemistically called conventional stuff (i.e factory farmed, chemical, artificial, antibiotic-laden)The point all these daft experiments miss is that organic food is not contributing to dust bowls: vast, vast areas of dead land where no crops will grow. Organic farming is protecting and improving the soil for the future. It is also ensuring that animals lead contented lives and are not kept in miserable prisons.
Chemical farming that relies on depletion of natural resources should be penalised so that all food is (at least) the same price. Then and only then could consumers have a fair choice.

We have watched our farm animals getting cleverer and happier for 56 years. We have also monitored the effect on our own health and the health of a goodly number of our friends and customers.
Sadly, we have also watched many people suffering from the effects of eating chemically produced food and from living in an environment frequently laced with chemical coctails: asthma, excema, loss of mobility,eating dissorders, rashes and so many other ailments and the recovery or fight towards it of all of these people has been severely hampered by the secrecy which for so many years prevented them from discovering the sources of their suffering.
Eating 'conventional' food won't kill you, in fact it will almost certainly sustain you long enough for you to live to regret eating it.

A Field of Frogs

2009-09-19T14:34:00.000-07:00

I would love to say I saw a field of frogs today...
On the basis of what I actually did see, I believe many statisticians would have allowed me to assume that the field was indeed hopping.
The cows are in the meadow and the grass is long. Each time I made a point of speaking to a particular cow the grass moved at my feet and a frog hopped on his way. I made the assumption then and I still believe now that the field was full of frogs. Beautiful creatures, frogs and environmental barometers, like butterflies, and I saw a garden full of those today too: commas, peacocks, emperors, painted ladies and for a fleeting moment I felt sure I was looking at a large tortoiseshell, notwithstanding the fact that they are exstinct...so I assume I was wrong...
I am hoping to capture an image of a cow looking grateful. Gold Giselle has sore teats and I have finally found some cream that is effecting an improvement and boy is she grateful. She stands perfectly still and grateful to her soul (yes, Descartes, that is what I said)then she licks me, lovingly.

Dreamer or Realist ?

2009-09-14T16:55:00.000-07:00

Four acres and a cow; that's the dream, and so it should be.
The reality that sinks in after the euphoria of the first few months of 'swimming' in milk might be more like: one cow per cup of tea.
Ten months into the lactation and it takes half an hour to get half a pint. But what can you do?
If you have saved enough for 'the dream' what do you do when your lovely cow dries up? Do you un-self-sufficiently work even harder at the office to buy a second cow and another four acres or do you abandon your idealistic life and buy a pint from the
supermarket?
On a lighter note, I believe there is something equisitely perfect about the ways cows can communicate with each other.
One cow may have such 'presence' that she always goes through each gateway first without having to assert her superiority. One might employ a nod or a wink and another might need to do the dignified bovine equivalent of an 'after me, if you don't mind'. And then of course there are the many layers of subtle converstion which sometimes produce the desired effect from quite a distance. Nothing on the whale scale but impressive nonetheless. And, once they have run out of sign language there is always the spoken word, raised voice, soft gossip, loving crooning etc etc
And all this while the world rages on and there are still 'small brown birds wisely reitterating endlessly what no man learnt yet, in or out of school'

The (Bovine) Scarlet Pimpernel

2009-08-21T18:26:00.000-07:00

We have a cow (who shall remain nameless for fear of notoriety)who is quite handsome, very nice, very patient, good tempered, trustworthy and pretty damned smart_to coin a phrase.
This cow has learnt, as all the others have also learnt, that when the Land Rover stops next to them (as they leisurely graze their pasture) they will be given an apple (cut in half of course). The Land Rover will then move on to the next port of call and the first apple recipient will resume grazing.
This particular cow has worked out that she will not only receive her due but two more besides (to keep her occupied while the Land Rover escapes).
This cow has also realised that if she can physically stop the vehicle (she used to be able to do this by a display of emotion/desperation/piteousness {does that word exist?] well, pity-full-looking-ness) she will get even more apples while the vehicle makes a further bid for freedom by dashing to the farthest cow rather than the next nearest.
But this sweet bovine is undeterred and instead of following, she watches calmly until the vehicle slows down and then takes the most efficient short cut. She either stands four square infront to prevent motion or trots alongside stabbing (good naturedly) at the front wheel with her horn and bashing (gently so as not to cause a dent)at any part of the bodywork she can reach.
At this point, we stop, get out, give her a love and tell her how clever she is, give her several, halved apples and disappear... in a puff of well,yes, deisel fumes.

Food Security

2009-08-16T16:13:00.000-07:00

An editorial article in The Eastern Daily Press on April 17th 1946 stated:"Four hundred and seventy-three men...are waiting to hire smallholdings from the Norfolk County Council...there was never greater need than there is now to keep enterprising men of this kind inside British agriculture...
G.A. Squires, writing in the book The Small Farmer, edited by H.J. Massingham, comments: The inherent capacity of the English country labourer for making the most of a self-occupied small acreage of land ought to be encouraged in every possible way; it is a national asset of immeasurable value. What is more,the independant small cultivator of this type is potentially very much more efficient than the large farmer...the best internal security for our future lies not in a Bank Balance but in a Fertility Balance.

Fleeced

2009-08-05T04:40:00.000-07:00

I know a bit about knitting but nothing about spinning; however, I know someone who does.
My friend who spins is a ‘one off’: a true, self-taught genius.
She took the wool from our four sheep in individual, named bags.
The feedback she has been giving us is fascinating and revealing and she, knowing nothing of their upbringing is providing unbiased yet crucial information.

In short, the sheep with the best fleece by a mile, is the sheep who was reared on her mother’s milk and never had the slightest setback her entire life. Angelina’s fleece is ‘like cashmere’ and almost every scrap is usable.

Her twin sister, Tealeaf had to be reared on a bottle because their mother only had one teat which produced milk. Tealeaf is a fine specimen with a good brain and good powers of reasoning and memory. The deprivation she suffered (almost starving before anyone realised she was getting no milk) has manifested itself in the quality of her wool. It is short, too short to be spun, and poor in every respect.

The other two sheep have wool of good length and generally fine condition, reflecting exactly their respective, though minor traumas of ‘childhood.

Time and again I have noticed illness, injury and misfortune resulting in physical imperfection (however unnoticeable) but brain power is not affected.

Before I knew all this, I had felt moved to produce a greetings card that opens up to an A3 poster with a cartoon version of the lives of Ttealeaf and Angelin, and all the time the ruth was staring me in the face.

I would love to draw analogies here with humans but would be way out of my depth so will share a joke with you which was sent to me many years ago.
Imagine a very famous,slightly deaf, very conceited, highly successful novelist who feels confident he can do absolutely anything he fancies (if he believes in it).
Well, one day he receives a telephone call asking him to make the main speech at a prestigious conference on the subject of 'The Importance of Breast Feeding'. As this is something he believes strongly, he agrees.
He travels to the venue and delivers his speech to a huge audience of world experts.
At the end, he is thanked by the chairman who tells him that everyone was enthralled but somewhat surprised as they had all been expecting a speech on The Importance of Press Freedom.

If You Go Down To The Woods Today

2009-08-04T17:14:00.000-07:00

It was Dizzie's 14th birthday the other day and after partying and taking part in the grazing championships, the whole herd adjourned to the wood for a chin wag. Everyone was there: Pippa, the newest arrival was dressed in an old suit of clothes her mother wore when she was a baby and she chose to sit next to a large quantity of Red Bull. Nell spent all her time talking to her son and Dizzie stayed by the entrance:
'...like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by th'hand,
And...
Grasps in the comer...'

Until the cows come home

2009-08-01T03:33:00.000-07:00

We are currently milking three house cows, once a day, in the early evening; we want self-sufficiency, not quantity. They are Philadelphia. Filipendula and Laura.
Earlier, the whole herd had been given the freedom of a new arena of fields and had been mesmirised with pleasure at the DElicious taste of the grass. Consequently, when I went to fetch the three girls they did not really want to leave their high pasture.
They did agree to come home but instead of walking the 300 yards a crow would have flown, they made me follow 'over hill and over dale, through thorn and through briar' on an approximately 25,000 mile walk.

I loved every minute of it.
No, honestly....
It was getting dark and it was pouring with rain and on and on we went along precipes, up mountains, across streams: all pretty run of the mill stuff.
I've never enjoyed myself so much.
After all, I was losing weight incidentally, getting fit (!) and learning the farm's topography by braile and I only got a few thistles in my knees and they only woke me up when I turned over and it only took a few minutes to get my glasses and a magnifying glass and a torch and a pair of tweezers each time.
I wouldn't thank you for an office job.
My brother milked them so that I could recuperate...
They had originally made a bargain with me that they would be allowed to return to the herd immediately after being milked and so my brother duly opened the gate.
It was by pure chance that he found them a little while later, lying snuggly in the hay barn, unable to stop themselves from smiling at their brilliance in doubling back when he wasn't looking and avoiding a night of rain.

Spiderman?

2009-08-01T03:17:00.000-07:00

Do spiders have brains?
I suppose that anyone who knows the answer will think it a daft question.
I imagine they are presumed not to have any but a spider, small and pale with thin almost translucent legs and a dull buff blob for a body/head was hurrying across the floor yesterday when he noticed my foot. He stopped and thought for a minute then tiptoed off in the opposite direction.
I think you'd need a brain to change your plans for your daily walk.
And, while I'm on the subject, mere humans would need seven years at art school before they could even draw a web, let alone construct one.
A frequent term of derision is 'bird brain'. Well, that one's been knocked on the head ages ago.
What about 'spider brain'?
'You're a pig.'
'You're no better than an animal.'
All these phrases could now be considered complimentary.
Oh, of course, 'you're a human being'....now that speaks for itself.

The Forgotten Livestock

2009-07-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

The forgotten livestock:honey bees, no less.
Virgil advocated placing a hive in a corner of every field. We only have a single hive and that is in our garden. But today the 'bee man' came to see them and to see to them.
Cows and sheep I can get to grips with but bees, tiny, brilliant bees are too clever and too important, so we count our blessings in having the bee man to care for our hive.
Shakespeare knew and in Henry V he tells us.

They have a king and officers of sorts,
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
Others, like soldiers, armed with their stings,
Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds;
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold.
The civil citizens kneading up the honey.
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burden at his narrow gate.

Ruminating on Ruminants Anthropomorphically

2009-07-08T14:31:00.000-07:00

Some parents educate their children at home for a few years and thus hope they will be better prepared for school life later; some children never go to school.
One of our young heifers has educational theories of her own; she hid her new born daughter from human and bovine eyes for a whole week.
I tried hard to find her but was sustained by seeing her mother's udder at times full and at times empty.
When this diminutive calf was finally allowed to join the herd she thought to herself:" Oh brave new world that has such 'bovines' in it"

Our Philosophy

2009-06-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

The Roman senator CATO was also a farmer.He was asked what he considered to be the most important job in the world; his reply is on record.
1)keeping cattle profitably.
2)keeping cattle fairly profitably.
3)keeping cattle unprofitably.
4)crops

Would You Believe It?

2009-06-23T17:12:00.000-07:00

Not very long ago I read that 'experts' had proved that cattle had regional accents.I believed what I read without question and without enquiring into the process that lead to this conclusion.
A week ago I observed what appeared to be proof that an eight-year-old cow could recognise and respond to the voice of her three-year-old daughter, from a distance of at least 800 yards with many fields and trees in between (and no possibility of sight playing any part)and with the certain knowledge that neither had seen the other for the past six months.
I was thrilled, amazed and moved by the mother's request that I open a gate, and by the subsequent sight of the two of them lying back to back, rubbing heads, grazing side by side and, no doubt much more communication beyond my ken. The mother's most recent calf, ten months old and recently weaned (though I hadn't registered that fact until the day in question, by a quick inspection of the mother's udder)was left behind with the half of the herd the mother, Carline by name, had chosen to leave.
Carline 2nd needed her mother and Carline 3rd could manage beautifully without her for a while.
Carline 2nd's voice, by the way, on the day in question, was a fully justified and pretty decibel-rich moo.
I should not have been surprised I now believe as I have spent my life watching freshly calved cows responding instantly to the voices of their infants and, equally often the infants reacting to and obeying, without hesitation, the whole range of maternal utterances from a whisper to a bellow that their mothers have favoured them with. So why did I find it remarkable that a grown-up daughter's voice should be familiar?
Our cows won't be left stranded when Britain goes digital.

Never Too Old to Learn

2009-06-18T15:39:00.000-07:00

I am constantly surprised by what our cows teach us. If they like a person they can display a huge degree of tolerance bordering on the indulgent.
Recently our herd has been intoduced to a new man: young, enthusiastic, kind, capable and speedy. To my astonishment the cows truly indulge his predisposition for speed.
Previously they have ruled me with a benevolent rod of flexible but unbreakable material; they require that I walk at their pace and stop patiently each time they stop for a nibble of dock seeds (evidently delicious)a mouthful of walnut leaves and everything else that might take their fancy.
Their new friend walks them in at twice the speed of sound and my fears that they would object by giving less milk have proved groundless; they give more, happily and I look on and learn.

2009-05-27T15:06:00.000-07:00

I forgot to talk about the grey wagtail who reared 6 babies in a tiny hole in a wall.This photo is the day before they fledged.

A (fairly) Short Walk

2009-05-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

Hemlock at least seven feet tall, field bluebells, tormentil, pignut, sorrel gone to seed but with some leaves still delicious,tiny, tight betony flowers, not due to open for a couple of weeks, pale spikes with spotted leaves, waiting to be painted pink in common spotted orchid livery,clambering tendrils of honeysuckle clinging to the hedge. This same hedge festooned with dog roses:pink, white and orange-centred. Large clumps of hemp agrimony leaves, midget-sized mimulus, cow parsley, woodruff, wild strawberry flowers and acre upon acre of buttercups and white-faced cows with yellow muzzles.

Up All Night

2009-05-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

Is there anyone on the planet who thinks that people are cleverer than cows...?
Last night, in the darkishness, somewhere around 8pm (I think) Gold Giselle waited patiently by the barn gate for me to open it. She had attained that location because I had left the field gate open for the house cows to be able to return to their grazing a.s.a.p as they had requested.
Two hours earlier, Giselle had appeared serenely happy,standing with her son, admiring the view (I hope) and watching the sun setting. The first labour pains evidently included warning signals and home she came for human intervention.
An equisite, pale gold, female calf was lying by her side in the paddock when I woke up this morning. My brother had been up all night trying to persuade her to be born the right way round; she was trying to enter the world upsidedown.
Her first day was a day of perfect weather with thrushes, blackbirds and many smaller voices literally bombarding her little ears with their songs and at 2pm she skipped and bounced and looked a bit pleased with herself.

Black and White and Red All Over

2009-05-23T04:37:00.000-07:00

As you would expect, a black cow and a red bull brought forth a pale coffee-coloured heifer calf with a white tiangular mark on her forehead...or at least, if you lived here you would expect it.
If you had studied genetics at university or Shakespeare 'in or out of school'you might expect that a black bull and a black cow could not produce a white calf but we get some interesting, Picassoesque artistic colour combinations. [Whoops! this is a few days later and I have just found the quotation I wanted and I realise I got it all backwards: Titus Andronicus Act 5 Scene 1 '...but where the bull and cow are both milk-white, they never do beget a coal black calf...']
Dot, who calved last night at the civilised time of 8pm without fuss or ceremony, did not initially appear to like her new daughter and shouted at her quite loudly. The calf, hardly fifteen minutes old, shouted back. I'd never seen (or heard) anything like it. By 7 o'clock this morning they liked each other a lot and are now adorning a green sward carpetted with buttercups.