Lamb-Police Incident # 3

Several uneventful days passed, each evening there were 21 alpacas and 4 surviving sheep.  Everyone was happy and the sun shone.

Then, it happened.  I arrived home from work, the evenings were long and bright, so I came home from work as normal at about 6pm, helped Jo to bath Ben and went out to 'do my rounds'.

I counted the alpacas (the rule I've developed with counting lots of animals is to count 3 times and take an average!  A small animal always seems to be hiding behind a bigger one, or behind a tree, or lying down in long grass etc.!), all present and correct.  I saw the ewe and her 2 lambs.  I walked further into the field, couldn't immediately see the remaining orphan lamb.  I walked all around the field.  I walked up the little brook to see that the lamb hadn't fallen in there.  No sign of the orphan lamb.  I walked the boundary, and of course found lots of potential weak points where a little lamb could squeeze through.  I walked around the OUTSIDE of the boundary and checked the surrounding fields, roads, woodland and scrub.  I jumped into the car and drove around the surrounding lanes - still nothing.  At this point it was actually starting to get dark.  I pulled back into the yard, got out of the car and decided it was time to call the EMERGENCY number!  I felt a bit embarrassed about calling Richard again so soon, so decided to call our neighbour Mike instead.

I called Mike, explained the situation, explained what I'd already done and where I'd looked.  He said he would get a torch and have a proper look in his fields (which border Tymawr-Farm) which have plenty of nooks and crannies which a lamb could get stuck in, and give me a call back.

In an hour or so he called back, no joy.  I hadn't had any of my own animals at this point, and had a vague idea that farm animals carried unique identification numbers, and that if one died, or became lost it may be necessary to inform DEFRA or someone.  This is quite a logical and sensible thought.  Mike would know the answer and tell me what I needed to do.   I decided to ask my question.  "Mike, should I tell the POLICE that I've lost a lamb?"  Immediately the words had come out of my mouth I regretted them, why had I said POLICE?  Why didn't I say DEFRA?  Why didn't I just say 'Is there anyone I should inform?'  To this day I don't know.  After a strange pause, Mike replied, a bit shakily at first whilst he composed himself "No Mark, you don't need to call the police.  Lambs are not classified as dangerous animals."

I politely thanked him for his help, he said he'd keep an eye out for my lamb, and I told him I'd do the same thing and let him know if it turned up.  I put down the 'phone, sat down at the kitchen table, Jo poured me a glass of wine, we looked at each other and wondered what Mike was thinking.  My guess was that he was thinking I was a townie, English, simpleton who thought that lambs were controlled and registered by the Police!

Roger was now into the 4th day of his 2 week holiday and I had managed to lose 40% of the Tymawr-farm flock!

Lamb-Police Incident # 2

James arrived pretty quickly in his cheerful blue van (see: https://www.facebook.com/#!/morrismeats) and drove down the lane and into the yard. We walked through to the Alpaca shed, and looked at the injured lamb, which had made itself comfortable in its 'nest'. He picked it up and examined the wound. He thought it was a dog bite, he explained, evidenced by the way the skin was torn downwards. Not uncommon unfortunately in a village where commuter's houses are surrounded by agricultural land - easy to get carried away by the sense of freedom that one feels in the country, and to think that it would be a nice idea to allow your dog to enjoy that freedom too. James carried the lamb around the house, into the yard and into the back of his van. He farms 300 acres close to us and said that he would add 'our' lamb to his existing little flock of orphan lambs to recover. After we'd had a chat and said goodbye I watched the van drive up the lane with 2 things on my mind:

1. I'd been responsible for the 'Tymawr Farm Flock' for less than an hour and had already reduced it by 20%!
2. Jo was pregnant, and we'd read about the risks to pregnant women that are associated with lambing time. I had just spent a lot of time in close proximity to a lamb. With a heavy heart I stripped off all my clothes in the yard and trudged naked into the house and straight to the shower......

With that inauspicious start to my farming career I drank a glass of (shop-bought!) wine, and went to bed, reflecting that I'd learnt a lot and hopefully made a new friend.

Lamb-Police Incident #1

The May after we moved here, Roger, who grazes the 19 acres of Tymawr farm with his Sheep and Alpacas went on holiday for 2 weeks.  I was desperate to practice being a 'real' farmer, so jumped at the chance to help and dutifully wrote down the full list of instructions (surprisingly simple actually, counting the number of animals, checking the water troughs, giving them some hay in case of very heavy rain / cold weather etc.) and the two EMERGENCY numbers, being our neighbours Mike who also has some Alpacas, and Richard (of Morris Free Range Meats & Horticulture).

There were 21 Alpacas in 2 fields.  The 'flock' at that time consisted of 1 ewe and her 2 lambs, plus 2 orphan lambs who were fairly small, but weaned and big enough to look after themselves.

10 minutes after Roger buckled up his seatbelt on the aeroplane it began.....

On Monday evening I went out to count the animals; 21 Alpacas - check!  Sheep: 1 ewe and 2 lambs - check!  2 orphan lambs - check!  However, on closer inspection one of the lambs was lying down on the ground, and unlike it's sister didn't seem interested in excitedly running and jumping about as I approached.  I spoke gently to it, and slowly approached.  As I got closer I could see a nasty wound on it's back leg, it looked like a large graze, about the size of the palm of my hand.  At that point, I'm sorry to admit, I ran back to the house and dialled the EMERGENCY number!  Richard answered, I explained, and he said he'd send his son James down to have a look and that in the meantime I should put the injured lamb somewhere dark & quiet with some straw.

Back out to the Alpaca shed, cleared a space in the old goat-milking parlour stalls, out to the hay barn to grab 1/4 of a bale and sprinkled it hopefully comfortably onto the floor.  Into the field and picked up the injured lamb (there's a first time for everything!), I remember being surprised how light it was, and carried it back to the Alpaca shed, talking reassuringly to it, and then gently put it down into the 'nest' I'd made for it.  I then wandered aimlessly around the yard and field for a while.....