The storm

Terrible storm outside. Wind howling and rain lashing since mid morning.

Television on the blink owing to sat dish unable to take the strain. A few puffs above 'normal' and pixels are us. However, can still get the BBC IPlayer using a broadband dongle. And, the radio still works and there are plenty of logs for the fire. Reading a good book as well.

The dogs in their kennels have started howling in competition with the wind! Must go and see.

Lola and the rabbit

Lola caught a rabbit at the Scrappy's and brought it home to the back garden. I then took only her to the Co-oP and on to feed Neal's dogs.

We came back and she started chewing on the rabbit. I left her to it and went into the house, leaving the back door open.

About 10 minutes later Lola strolled in the back door and promptly vomited a load of rabbit guts onto the floor of the Utility room.

(Image of Spike and Lola)

I cleaned up and took her and Jay outside. I then let Spike out of his kennel hoping he would dispose of the rest of the rabbit. But Lola was on guard and growled at him.

Some people drove down the Mill lane and started to take photos of the cows and calves, getting a bit excited in the process and making noise. The dogs all started barking and running about. Spike saw his chance, grabbed the rabbit and expertly began the demolishing process.

Then the latest B&Bers (Spanish again) came and all hell broke loose, with Spike trying to bark with a bloody rabbit leg in his mouth and, to add to the pot, the neighbours from across the road came with their dogs and then a torrential rain shower flowed from the sky and we all got soaked.

The moral of the story?

Never underestimate a dog named Spike.

Cattle and colour

I usually wear a German army-surplus, camouflage, parka about the croft. It is light and reasonably weather proof but no match for this morning's torrential rain and high winds. So on went the heavy-duty, yellow oilskins.

As I went to feed the cattle, the younger beasts stared with startled looks, before bolting off. The bull gave me a funny look as well and I kept well away from him.

Seems my cattle anyway, have a dislike of bright custard yellow. Such is life.

A near miss

I was feeding two beasts the other day, a 2 year-old heifer and a similarly aged bullock, when I came near to being another agricultural injury statistic. Both beasts are pretty well grown and on the feisty side of feisty.

Anyway, the heifer has quite a large spread of horns and she was my main concern as I had to cross an expanse of field with their cobs to reach the feeding tables and she is most keen to get first bite. So, I took my eye off of the bullock.

Finding myself caught in a position between the two beasts, to my surprise, the bullock jumped into the air and kicked out with one of his back legs, just scraping my chest at heart height. Had the blow connected properly, most likely I would have been seriously injured.

As it happens, just some bruising and a bit of pain in the chest. Memo to me. Shoot the bullock and get rid of the heifer.

Anyone want to buy a feisty Highland heifer? Only jesting. She stays and will calm down eventually.

Promise of Spring

The land is slowly awakening with new life and the best time of year approacheth. In the words of the great Canadian prophet, Mr L Cohen, hallelujah indeed.

And now the sales pitch: 1 yearling pedigree Highland Bull (white) and a selection of yearling Highland heifers 3 white and 1 dun. Praise be.

Rain

The inevitable can be delayed no longer, rain or no rain, so goodbye warm world of slippers and soft furnishings and hello smelly wellies and mud.