My wife Gill and I recently celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary.
Gill is from hardy Easter Ross folk. For instance, when her great-grandfather bought his croft he rowed the boat over from the home farm on the north side of the Dornoch Firth – and the flitting included three cows!
It must have been a hair-raising experience.
My first memory of her late grandfather, Andrew Munro, is lasting. Even in his 83rd year he was still one of the most physically impressive men I have seen, standing at 6ft 4in, with great shoulders and hands made for lifting tatties out of dreels.
In the following years I had the pleasure of learning a very great deal from this remarkable and hardy old cratur.
Black Bottle
How to make the best with what you have, always do your best and never be beaten. I also learned that when something goes wrong, the best recourse is to head for a pot of tea. If it goes really wrong then head for a pot of tea and lace it liberally with “black bottle”. Andrew lived until he was 93 and seldom missed a day’s work on
the croft.
In the spring of 2018, Gill and I still had some Cheviot ewes of our own grazing on the outskirts of the village.
One coorse morning I lifted the smallest lamb from a set of triplets. I’m not fond of pets, but Gill has the good stockmanship gleaned from her grandfather and christened the lamb Chevone.
Around three weeks later I came on a hill ewe that had been worried by dogs and had been killed. By her side was a strong ewe lamb nestled into her dead mother. Four days of stalking and failed attempts ensued before I finally caught the lamb. After a day or two Chevone became firm friends with Belinda and they made a comical couple but both grew to be strong ewe lambs.
Roadside
Belinda would always graze the roadside near the farm road-end, and whilst she regained much of her instinctive wildness she would still bleat back to a roar of “aye aye Belinda”.
Lambing is going well but I won’t say much about it in case I jinx things.
It’s been probably the most settled hill lambing weather most will remember, and these last few days of much-needed rain have greened up the countryside well.
Calving is nearly done and cows are still getting an offering of silage to keep them settled, but they too have enjoyed a kind spring.
Last week we managed to get last year’s stot stirks out to rented grass in Moray. They looked quite content and hopefully it should hold them for a couple of months.
Tonight finds me sorting passports for our yearling heifers entered for the Dingwall sale on the 18th. These wee cow makers usually do well there, so I’m hoping for a profitable trip North.
Tricket
By the time you read this I will either be fair tricket or licking my wounds.
Earlier this week I received a message from a lady from the village, on her way over the hill road to an appointment in Aberfeldy. She came on a dead ewe and a lamb nestled into its dead mothers side.
When we got to her it was clear she had been hit on the road and it was also clear it was our auld pal Belinda, but alas no sign of the lamb.
I headed home for some of Andrew’s medicine! Later on though “keel pot Pete” spied the spare lamb lying in heather higher up in crags above the roadside. With the help of two good chiels and a long careful stalk, the lamb was caught and is now in the pet pen and, as it’s a ewe lamb, it’s been christened Jamesina after the two hardy lads that caught her.
Spring time brings all the fortunes, good and ill.
So long as you aye do your best I doubt there’s much that a pot of tea won’t mend – with or without the “black bottle”.
Finlay McIntyre is farms manager at Dunalasdair Estate in Highland Perthshire.