Autumn is a busy time on a hill farm, and it seems like a blink of the eye since I last sat down to pen the blethers.
In the meantime we’ve handled all the wedders through the fank, sorted the ewes and got the stock hoggs off to wintering.
Pneumonia has been an issue in the wedder lambs this year due to the mild weather. I also reckon that the poor spring had an effect on the quality of the colostrum, and this may well be the result.
We have also endured huge dramas in the poultry department. A duck and four hens all taken by the mink. And, to add insult to injury; the wee devil has taken residence under the hen house.
This situation will have to be rectified.
Our gimmers sold well enough at Dalmally, but in turn the good price we are paying for good tups at Stirling means that it is all needed.
I wont grumble however, as what a great joy it was to be at what felt like a normal sale again and see folk. Our auctioneers, mart staff and hauliers are to be applauded for the manner in which they kept the job going throughout the pandemic and beyond.
Visitors
This last fortnight we have been favoured with a visit from two groups of farmers.
The first group were from mainly from England and the second were from Wales and Cumbria.
It proved to me, once again, that regardless of where you farm there’s always issues that you can relate to with people from elsewhere.
Gill and I decided that it would be a grand notion to host a stock judging and barbecue to raise funds for the local village hall and community hub whilst these affluent southerners were in town.
Success
The evening was a great success, and attended by locals and visitors alike.
Refreshments were kindly sponsored by our feed merchants, and our own, home grown, locally butchered beef burgers were the fayre of the day.
The new stock box had arrived that week and we will aye mind the first load to grace its shiny decks was a cargo of 46 septuagenarians and two 93-year-olds. They fair enjoyed the hurl!
It’s true that unless you have a good team around you won’t travel far, and the “Herd O’Drumchastle” and the “Home Farm Cowpoke” played a blinder. Our judge was the canny man from Glen Fender.
We will aye mind the first load to grace its shiny decks was a cargo of 46 septuagenarians and two 93-year-olds.
They fair enjoyed the hurl!
One thing that I gleamed from these lovely folk from all over the UK, is that regardless of where you are from there is a feeling of little political engagement in our agricultural sector. What a pity our industry is held with such little regard by our political classes.
Our wee event was supported by local gamekeepers, farmers, shepherds, along with a great deal of locals not directly involved with farming, all of whom got into the spirit of the stock judging, and keeping the judge on his toes.
These kind of events bind communities together and ensure there is real spirit in future ventures.
The stags are fair roaring, and there are two or three that strut there stuff all night about 10 yards from the bedroom window..It’s a novelty that soon wears off!
But they have been very slow to break out this year, probably due to the mild weather.
As I write this I hear a skein of geese pass over in the darkness above, and it reminds mel that I am behind in filling the stick shed.
That chore will have to wait though as we still need to try and buy a tup or two yet at Dalmally and get some ready for Fort William.
Aye the autumn is a busy time.
