The countdown begins...

17th June 2012 is Open Farm Sunday!

So mark the date in your diaries and join us and all the animals to celebrate            Lower Dairy Farm's third OFS.

For more information, to see a man apparently helping to harvest potatoes with a fork (who needs the machinery in the background?) and find farms across the country, visit the Open Farm Sunday website.

More details coming soon...

The Golden Beet Club

A mound of sugar beet at last! Plus about half has already been collected in a rapid and ultra-efficient operation courtesy of some excellent timing by the teams at Brooks' and Hogger's.  I have recovered myself from the foetal position, the broken result of shovelling and sweeping the road by hand to help keep road users safe.  It's interesting, I didn't realise my "Caution - Mud on Road" signs actually said "Accelerate NOW! Then test your brakes".    Fortunately, the stretch of road was not too long and was navigated far more skilfully than I could have managed in a machine half the size.  And the result, a glowing mound of beet safely in and on it's way to the British Sugar factory at Bury St Edmunds(fingers crossed) before too much frost or the factory breaking down.

   If the weather suits, you have to cover the heap with tarpaulins.  I recently realised that for years, my benchmark for new clothing is whether I could clamber up a heap of icy sugar beet dragging a tarpaulin whilst maintaining a degree of modesty.  Fortunately, the sugar beet growers of Essex aren't known for their racy outfits on the farm and stilettoes do crush the beet so.

Without deterioration each sugar beet apparently yields around 3 teaspoons of sugar.  This fact may go down well with Humbug and the sweet-toothed cows, but it massively depressed chief grower Humph and resulted in severe but thank goodness temporary sugar rationing (Silver Spoon of course) in the Taylor household.

But, there are benefits to growing sugar beet including membership of "The Golden Beet Club".  "The what?" I hear you ask.  Well, I have no clue.  Membership is, of course, exclusive (like the Bullingdon of beet growers) and requires the wearing of a miniature golden beet-shaped lapel badge that arrived one day in the post and was the pride and joy of my badge collection as a child.  Here's hoping I haven't broken some secret Masonic code in revealing this club to the world.

  However, in the absence of any communication in the past decade (I don't think they can revoke membership...), we'll have to stick to celebrating our annual finding of the red beet contest.  Located from the heap of beet by Andrew Copsey and beautifully modelled here by Humph, I can reveal it does indeed taste like proper beetroot - if a little sweeter and somewhat gritty.  Golden Beet Club eat your heart out!

For now however, the big machinery has left, and tomorrow we're clearing a path through the remaining heap to get the bullocks into their winter housing.  Bullocks are far more nimble than I am heading up and over a beet heap, so I'm hoping for best behaviour.

Finally and most importantly, CONGRATULATIONS to the lovely James and Louise, Dorset's newest farm tenants!  A very wise decision by the council and an excellent addition to Dorset society (although I'd watch out for the Rogers - dreadful bores).  We wish you all the best in setting up your new farm and discovering what is inside "the unsurveyed room"...

Beauty and the Beet...

Sugarbeet Odyssey 2011 - Day 2:

21st Century machines in action at Lower Dairy Farm

Beauty and the Beet

Day 1: Beet Odyssey 2011

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.

Previously on Lower Dairy Farm...

...harvest, piglets, puppies and poultry.

Yep, harvest is done (bar that unintentional "conservation area" at the top that needs baling). So here's a quick recap of what's been going on...

Between the rainy days, we completed our harvest and Dad's baling marathon means we've got enough fodder for the winter. This year saw Lower Dairy Farm's first Bale Census - a hi-tech compilation method involving a post-it note on the fridge.

Hundreds of bales = lots of bale hauling from around the village. It's my first year hauling bales on the road (thank you patient drivers, shame on you impatient idiots) and I enlisted the help of Lower Dairy Farm's newest member, Humbug the dog on his first tractor adventure. I like to haul bales in style, as you can see from the picture below.

It's safety first on the farm, and when tying bales on it really helps to use all your weight and I like to harness the power of the dog pulling on the end of the rope...provided Humbug the highly trained puppy gives the rope back... Tying on provides great amusement for those watching, particularly on a windy day when flinging the rope accurately over a loaded trailer is nigh on impossible. Apparently it's "really funny" to watch when the rope flies back over and hits you in the face before the dog runs off with it. I really have no future as a team roper, but for now, I'll blame the driving wind. Turn the trailer round? What a waste of fuel.

Anyhow, with all bales back at HQ and counted, it's time to get stuck into everyday chores. The cows are out on pasture, and we're about to head into our next block of calvings. This will coincide with (fingers crossed) duckling hatching - far less stressful than calving!

August saw the first pigs on the farm for over 50 years. Dad has a faint memory of Grandad keeping pigs in the same place we are today. Our two are Gloucester Old Spot x Tamworth, so should make for good pork and bacon.

What with the piglets, calves and puppy arriving within one month, we've had lots of visitors. I am now positive that the pigs have a better diet than I do as the people of Nayland and Little Horkesley bring them surplus veg from their gardens. It really does take a village, and you know you've reached a new low when you consider rescuing a cabbage from a pig pen.

This week has been particularly insane, finishing harvest, hauling, chicken windproofing (the excitement knows no bounds), sorting the house out etc, the puppy (I'm not reknowned for my enthusiasm and boy does he require a lot), selling a ton of books through Amazon, being pimped out at the farm gate (yep, I would make a good Bathsheba, stop encouraging the men over 60 Dad) and an unkept promise that I would actually get round to weighing the pigs - piglet catching requires fast acceleration, great hand-eye co-ordination and the ability to think fast...none of which I am blessed with! Oh and the PhD - yesterday was the first night I've had a chance to look at anything properly for a month. So of course, I am simultaneously searching for books on pig husbandry, setting up the blog and researching poultry drinkers online. It's quite a search history!