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!

All-you-can-eat Autumn

Temperatures are dropping and the frost  has returned.  Time for the annual checklist... Drilling sorted.  Check.  Harvest Festival. Check.   Pumpkin sale at Wiston Church.  Check.  Sweet chestnuts gathered.  Chek  - I'm typing through the pain.  Who needs gloves?  And I can hear a tiny violin....which must mean...Whoop! Autumn is back!

So, as the crops emerge and I tentatively dance up a rainstorm and play the weather game, it's time for another vintage photo.  This Massey Harris seed drill  courtesy of Grandad T's faming collection c. 1940s.

This year, I spent a frantic half hour in the role of the man on the back, running up and down the tailboard trying to eke out the little seed remaining, and inevitably running out with a few metres to go.  But, crisis averted!  After we'd got past Dad's "seasonal Tourette's" when faced with bags of seed corn - "It's Autumn! No Spring! ..Winter!..Spring!..Winter!", the correct grain was found and job done just in time for Humphrey to head off to play the flute in concert that evening.

Good news for us and for the pigeons, seagulls, rooks etc. that use the fields as an all-you-can-eat buffet to get fat for the winter.  A flock of pigeons is for life, not just for Christmas.  Fortunately, natural pest control in action - thank you to the farmer next door who's planted some far tastier oilseed rape.  Plus, this year, they've got Humbug to contend with.  And that dog believes he can fly...

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'...

Blackberry Ice-Cream

Verity requested. Hannah has spoken. The late sun has led to a resurgence of blackberries in the hedgerows.  I was once told "never pick blackberries after October 1st because the Devil's peed on them".  Ignore this, seek out some blackberries and get churning.  Can't find blackberries?  You can always buy fresh or frozen.  Just make sure they're British!

BLACKBERRY ICE-CREAM 

To make with fresh berries:

1lb blackberries, 5 oz sugar, 1/4 pint water, 1/2 pint double cream

To make with frozen berries:

1lb blackberries frozen with sugar OR 1/2 pint blackberry puree, 2 oz sugar, 1/4 pint water, 1/2 pint double cream

Puree the blackberries and strain through a nylon sieve.  Boil the sugar and water together for 3 minutes and leave to cool. Whip the cream lightly. Stir the syrup into the fruit puree and fold into the cream.

Turn into basin and freeze for 1 to 2 hours, until the mixture has reached a mushy state. Take out of freezer, beat well and pour into waxed containers and replace in the freezer.

To serve: Remove from freezer 1 hour before serving and leave in the refrigerator.

And hey presto, there you have it! In the modern land of the ice-cream maker, most/all of this will be done for you.  But all our ice-cream is made by hand.  Follow a similar fruit-based recipe in the machine's recipe book and you'll be away.

Hannah would like to thank the unbeatable freezer knowledge of Helge Rubenstein and Sheila Bush for this recipe.

(PS This totally counts as one of your 5-a-day...)

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?"

You're simply the best!

Happy British Food Fortnight!Humbug and I were up early to put up signs and roll in dead fox (I just can't help myself). Look out for celebrations near you and see the links section to find out where to buy and eat British food!

Happy shopping and happy eating!