Props away!

Back on the farm and props (doors and calves) away!

First up, the mill house is supporting itself without the magical Acro props!

[Don't cry Stuart]

 AND...we've got a door!!!

A proper dairy door with a frame AND a window, on hinges and everything!   (I nearly cried when I saw the door).  And all of this progress is thanks to the incredible work of Richard Green - hiding in the top photo.  The barn looks AWESOME!

What's more, whilst I spent last week on self-imposed PhD lockdown (with a little cow shampooing thrown in for good measure), Dad's even installed new hi-tech lighting in the Pole Barn.

The gift of sight for night-time calvings?  Priceless (once you've climbed over, then up a gate and found the light switch in the dark).

My jungle gym skills are yet to be tested, however, I am proud to announce No. 100's first calf. Easy calving, seriously milky udder, slightly dim and she's my favourite...perfect for an Ayrshire cross!  She is the Chosen One.

Wherefore art thou Max?

It's stumbling around the yard time again!  No, we've not been at the moonshine, a midnight, full moon calving produced this little werewolf... Or given it was born of Caribou, perhaps a little reindeer in training?

With time to kill as Caribou settled, it was time to assess the options for a) staying warm and b) not falling asleep in the barn.  After deciding it was positively arctic when I left my bed, I was wearing three fleeces, a coat, and hat, (positively balmy, how wrong I was) and had the restricted mobility of the Michelin man.  Excellent for warmth, bad for accusations "your immense bulk is blocking the light [single bulb] in the barn".

As for falling asleep, this is no jungle gym, you've got to get creative.  Whilst you, calving novice, might see a breeze block in the straw, you would be wrong.  I (foolishly) see a temporary balance ball for a little core exercise, some step-ups (massively contributed to the stumbling).  Other patented ways to kill time and avoid the fallback option of local radio - all farm radios' bandwidth selectively dies leaving only BBC Radio Suffolk/Essex (I can't type that without singing the jingle)?  An impromptu Bollywood dance class - a little known fact is that Bollywood dancing originated from the Essex-Suffolk border where we are all naturals.  Humph can now also hand jive -  I'm not sure how he ever survived an episode of 'Blockbusters' without this crucial life skill.  A life is born, a skill is learnt, it's deep stuff here on the farm.

But '"Where is Max?' I hear you (apparently the entire County of Dorset?) ask.  Well, not only is he now installed in his proper place on the "Dairy dreams" post, but he's got double-billing.  Here, for your eyes only, is Max with his best "Blue Steel".  Definitely working his best side.

Sliding doors

Butter wouldn't melt...

  "Have you seen the puppy that's trying to kill the furry animals?".  You can take the dog out of the country...but not to a popular pet store.  The TV advert promises a treat for every animal, but after this and barking at your own reflection in the sliding doors (every time they closed), we were lucky not to leave with a pet ASBO.

It's been all go here with more calves, muck spreading, hen moving, bale moving (sterling work by Humph, cramming the last bales into the barn before it rained) and a tip-top weekend of dehorning and castrating in Dorset - I'll save you the details.  Never let it be said the glamorous Taylor girls (in matching Primark hoodies) don't know how to have a good time.  Incidentally, the chants of "here come the chavs" were not appreciated.

Back home in Essex, Humbug and I put the "rural" into "rural broadband" at the CLA's Rural Broadband Week roadshow in the village hall - think muddy wellies and eau de fox scat.  The CLA's "Can't Get Online" campaign is lobbying to ensure every rural business and household can access a broadband connection of at least 5Mbps.  Humbug, a very concerned citizen, contributed some very loud yawning - greatly appreciated by all at the meeting.

  The cows have decided enough is enough and they'd like to come inside thank you very much.  So it's time to start reconstructing that highly advanced system of gates in the barn, consider (only consider) replacing the vintage baler twine that holds them all together and find places around the farm to store the machinery that's been kept undercover over the summer.  You'd think it would be difficult to lose a gate.  But you would be wrong.

All thoughts now turn to sugarbeet madness.  This year, I get to see for the first time the MONSTER machinery in action in the tiny fields of Lower Dairy Farm.  A nightmare for the operators...but very exciting for me!

The humble calving jack

There is a Facebook group called "God bless the man who invented the calving jack".  This simple device - literally to jack a difficult calf out, was invented by a farmer and is the single greatest aid to calving in the world.  After last night, I may have to start the campaign for a knighthood.

 Two huge calves born last night. The first, calved all on her own, a Hereford heifer calf every bit as adorable as her mother was as a calf.

The other, an upside-down, back-to-front bull calf from a Psycho Daisy May of a cow.

Fortunately, with our trusty calving jack at our side, after attempts at calving in the field, in the box, in the yard, sitting down, standing up, the calf was born alive - at which point Psycho Daisy May lost the psycho element and became a fantastic mother.

Success was not down to the calving jack alone.  Without the VERY patient phone assistance of the best vet in the universe, Helen ('Supervet') and Champion Calver Stuart ('DairyStar'? - or equivalent masculine superhero name) we'd probably still be out there.  Go Team Taylor!

The farm is lucky enough to have an excellent calving record. Over the past thirty years, there have been few truly challenging calvings like this one, and we have lost only a handful of calves.  Most of this is down to luck, but the advantage of the Hereford-Angus cross are the small calves, increasing the chances of an easy calving - better for the cow and for the farmer.  Prior to calving, Dad is out at all times of the day and night checking the herd.  It's always frustrating when a calving doesn't go to plan, but worth the effort once the calf is out.  And such excitement is character building...

So, thank you inventor of the calving jack, and thank you SuperVet and DairyStar.  Massively indebted to you.   Here's hoping the calves turn out like our friendly giant 'Thistle'...

Who's your daddy?

A week of birth.  Three calves...two as yet unnamed:

                                                                                                                                      And the third, introducing "Jean", sired by Kiss frontman Gene Simmons...

Uncanny.

But that wasn't all...

Yep, those weird slimy things turned into bundles of fluff.  All together now...awwww.  It is incredible that something so small can spray food 4ft up a wall.  Less cute.

For now, there is a baby embargo on the farm.  No more!!  I've started stumbling around the farm clutching my giant Starbucks mug, hallucinating that they've opened a branch on the farm.  Seriously, I've planned the layout in my sleep. I'm just waiting for the phonecall...we could totally get Gene Simmons to open it!

Calving in a pea souper

2am phonecall.  Blanket fog.  Black heifer.  Black calf.  Oh what's that?  Goody it's backwards!  Momentary dread, but a beautiful big heifer calf!  (Pics tomorrow once I remember the camera). Calving can be nerve-wracking at the best of times  (it's like another child for Dad - it's well known that the choice between taking your wife to hospital with labour pains and "just popping out to see if that heifer is alright", will go in the cow's favour for any livestock farmer), but visibility helps!  The fog was so thick, the cows were investigating the torch beam and using the murky conditions to form their own band of Resistance stealth cattle - more 'Allo 'Allo than deadly killing force.  Fortunately, with a little tug, the calf was born and up within minutes.  That left time to launch into a nighttime discussion about the future of the farm.

After a week of calf rearing, general work and night-time calving, we're all a little weary which explains why at least one of us falls asleep at the table during every meal.  And, why I was found asleep on the kitchen floor the morning of the calving.

So for tonight, it's time to scrub off the red oxide I covered myself with whilst painting the plough mouldboards - it helps prevent rust so I'm hoping for an anti-aging miracle.  Only paint plough mouldboards whilst on your mobile if you are actually competent at multi-tasking or if you want to be accused of a grisly murder.   I'm off on an early morning onion scrumping mission tomorrow, and wandering around the countryside covered in "blood" is never a good idea.

How do you keep a calf warm?

...build it a nuclear bunker. Yep, the satellite may not have crash-landed in Essex, but we were prepared all the same! It's rare that a cow doesn't take to a calf straight away, but just occasionally they need a little time to get used to the idea. Our new micro-calf is quite small so probably popped out with very little fuss leaving one confused cow. We've been alternately feeding it on it's mother and bottle feeding. This means lots of time to sit and improve our mental state through meditation (or more accurately, falling asleep) as it slowly (very slowly) drinks a bottle of milk before waking you up with a headbutt to demand MORE FOOD!

Anyway, a cracking start to British Food Fortnight with the help of the Transition Nayland Food Swap Stall. I swapped an embarrassingly sub-standard marrow (compared to those grown by the great and good of Nayland) for a mountain of apple crushings. Feast day for the chickens and pigs!

Thank you to all at Transition Nayland for an excellent village event and for making the menagerie very very happy.

Further pig news. They are now free to roam and root in their own exclusive paddock! Pigs are very clean animals. They eat, sleep and poop in different areas. You can therefore guarantee that when you launch into a victorious try-scoring dive (think Brian Habana minus the accuracy or athleticism), you will land (faceplant) in the least favourable of those areas. It is only slightly less humiliating when you emerge holding a pig. The pre-faceplant catching is shown below.

We think you'll agree they look happy. We on the other hand now have a daily game of "Find a Pig" aka "Have the pigs escaped yet?"

Dairy dreams and the USSR...

Back to Essex after a dairy bonanza of a weekend. Kicking off with trimming the feet of Longmoor's finest bull, Max. Humbug proved an excellent lure to get the bull into the foot crush, better than the heifer we ran through first - unfortunately, Max has lost his mojo. I am 98% certain he is actually a bison and not Aberdeen Angus. I am a great naturalist, so the fact I have never actually seen a bison in the flesh should not put you off believing my description.

As we (more I) went dairy mad on the farm, there was unfortunately not as much cheese as expected at a festival of cheese. But still, an excellent selection including Dorset Blue Vinney and Woolsery Cheese.

We love Blue Vinney. Congratulations to my brother-in-law for standing his ground against some vicious elbows and jostling, and rifling through the stand as though he were at a jumble sale, emerging with a monster piece of Blue Vinney. We didn't know he had it in him, but such is the effect of this cheese.

By far and away the best new cheese(s), (unanimously agreed by our panel of four esteemed experts), the entire Woolsery range. Not only the best cheese, but the best goat's cheese, and two of our panel went into this claiming not to like "anything from a goat". So, a fromage revolution unleashed.

Guest expert for our tasting, the man in the "USSR Tour of the West Country" sweatshirt and army combats. Respect.

For now, I've dragged myself away from the beautiful dairy cattle and it's back to Essex and a search for sexed Ayrshire semen to restart the "dairy" part of "Lower Dairy Farm". Top contender right now, Haresfoot Elegant - the name alone screams sophistication, and we've got a lot of that at Lower Dairy Farm.

Our beef cattle are "liquorice allsorts" - predominantly Hereford-Angus with a little experimental or accidental influence. One semen rep had run out of Angus straws when he visited, so persuaded Dad that an Australian Murray Grey was an Angus equivalent. Not knowing anything about this breed, it is always reassuring when you Google it and come up with lots of references to what little psychos they are. Sorry, did I say little, I meant huge, hulking, one of the largest bulls of all cattle breeds, beasts. Fortunately, ours (Murray - because you cannot always come up with an imaginative name) was a massive, but lovely bear of a bullock who I genuinely miss but was also some seriously excellent steak.

The beef herd which today produces such delicious meat was something of an afterthought. In fact, I learnt recently that we only have beef cattle today because when they stopped milking in the 80s, my grandparents were worried they would not have enough to do. Whilst this has worked out beneficially for us, learning this whilst nursing bruises from a particularly extended handling session, my response was not particularly polite.

But, they are lovely cows. For more information and pictures, see the Livestock page of the blog. You can also click onto our website where we're building a gallery of our herd of photogenic stars.