The dogs’ breath silvers in the last of the light as we
leave Lacey the goat and Diva the Welsh pony to the night. Both shelters have
been double strawed, hay is inside, and this determinedly tough duo have sanctuary
if it is needed.
Without doubt Diva will brave the snow and the wind and may
condescend to put her head into the shelter to eat the straw, as long as it is
clear her round fat backside was outdoors all along.
Linney, Lacey’s sister who is usually her companion, is away
over to Pewsey way, with a billy goat, hopefully ensuring the continuation of
the line. Poor Lacey has a detached udder, and although in fine general health,
cannot be bred again, so will have to settle for being an auntie.
We’ve taken the unusual step of bringing the Oxford Downs in
for the night, partly because of the exceptional cold, and partly because this
morning we were greeted with an unexpected babe. Since Aran the ram did not
make the acquaintance of the new mother until a scant four months ago, he
cannot be the daddy. One of last years
ram lambs was obviously left in a position of trust for too long.
This means our plans for lambing – still a long way off –
have been scuppered and anything could happen.
Back at home the Rayburn and the woodstove are kept fed all
evening, as phone calls are made and we battle with making sense of the
instructions for the incubator – eggs are on their way and we’ve yet to decipher
the translation from the Chinese.
Tomorrow, after a week’s leave that amounted to ten real
days, I’m back to work. This lamb thing has somewhat messed up our plans.
Thankfully Neil is working locally so he’ll be on lamb check for the
foreseeable.
My tiny plants in trays in the polytunnel have had a few
hours of fresh air and daylight each day while I’ve been around, but from tomorrow,
they, like me, will be confined. They will be under fleece. I will be in an
office.
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