The Calf

Had to a day-old calf in the byre last night as the weather was bitter cold and snowy. The mother cow refused point blank to go in so I left the door ajar so as she could see the calf and retired for the night. 

This morning, still dark, dogs barking had me looking out of the kitchen window. There was the cow in the back garden looking back at me. She had jumped two fences to get where she was. She followed me back to the byre, I freed the calf from its snug pen, the cow mooed, the calf mooed and promptly ran out of the door to join its mother.

Hard to believe. But true.

So long Jay and thanks for the many years of fine companionship

You would think that a person with three dogs would not be too sad if the oldest died and he was left with two. But you would be wrong.

Jay, our Beardie collie, had to be put down last week and it is not so easy as I thought to come terms with her demise. I mean, she was the only dog in the house, with a bed by the kitchen door so she is instantly missed each and every morning. But this will fade in time, of course.

It was her time and she had a good life so, so long Jay and thanks for all the good times and for the company.

The tale of the missing Spike.

We were gathering sheep near the Storr, high on the Trotternish ridge, when the cloud came down with visibility near to nil. Conditions soon worsened with the onset of persistent, driving rain. 

Sheltering in the lee of some large rock I realised Spike was missing with only Lola left grubbing about. Spike and Lola are border collies, by the way. 

There was nothing to be done. On the ascent some of the climb was extremely steep and I was in no mood to try and return that way through the swirling cloud and rain. Much too dangerous.

So I waited behind the rocks, waited some more, getting wetter, colder and more miserable by the minute pondering how strange it was that Lola was totally unperturbed by it all. She didn't seem to notice that Spike was missing never mind the cold and the wet.

But I did and was worried. What if he went over a cliff? What if the Sea Eagle spotted on the way up had grabbed him in its talons and carried him away to feed squawking, giant chicks, in a nest full of the bones of wee collie dogs? My imagination was running away very fast.

In the end discretion and valour  forced me  to go straight down the slope of the hill in the direction of the Haultin river and once down it was just a matter of following the water course to the start line of the gather. I halted at a quad bike left by another of the gatherers, and waited some more. After a while a man with a dog slowly appeared from the swirling mist and then there was two of us bemused by the sudden change in the weather.

Then came another dog came from behind a rise chasing some sheep and I thought it was Spike. But it was just another gatherer, this time working at what we had come so far to do. There was nothing for it but join in and we eventually managed to drive a fair sized flock of sheep down to the field by the road end.

All this time I assumed Spike would have made his way back to the Land Rover and would be sitting patiently by the rear door. And my assumption was wrong. There was no sign of the wee fellow.

There was nothing for it but to go back up the hill, soaked through and cold, whistling and calling. I eventually reached the area where I had last seen him and was searching through the rock under some cliffs for signs of his  lifeless body, still calling.

And then he materialised by my side, looking a bit sheepish but otherwise fine, like he had found a warm, dry, den and had a good sleep.

Highland heifers

Yesterday I decided to move three young heifers away from the cows and put them in an adjacent field we call 'over the wall'. This was easy enough if not time consuming.

The heifers were penned, pushed into a livestock trailer and driven to the next field. Of course they were not happy at this separation from the rest of the herd and made a fair bit of noise so as their displeasure would be noted. But I was immune to this tactic and assumed they would settle down soon enough.

 This morning, much to my surprise, the blighters were along with the rest of the herd having obviously escaped from 'over the wall'. Now this will not do at all, as they are growing fast and our new bull may fancy a bit of underage procreation.

So, only solution, as we have we only have a few fields, is to string an electric wire along the top of the fence that they jumped. And if that does not work, then I'll try something else.

The flying dog

Was feeding the cows hay on the quad and noticed Jay had followed behind. I heard a very loud 'yelp' and turned to see an old, blue-grey, beardie bitch flying through the air. Lucky for her the horn had swung under rather than through. Her eyes and reflexes are just not up to being around cows. Next time she may not be so lucky.