20 Aug 2010

Piggies and other farm animals – what’s not to love

“Pigs are not that dirty. And they’re smart, strange little creatures. They just need love.” Shelley Duvall.

“The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.” Elizabeth Bishop.

Someone posted an especially adorable photograph of two young pigs asleep today, a day when my frame of mind was not terribly positive, my disposition not terribly agreeable or my prospect of achieving much, all that good. So the pigs were especially appreciated and I set off to look at some of my own favourite pig photographs.

Please click on any of the photographs for a larger view, they look rather dark here on the page.

I was surprised to see how many people expressed a love of piggies and enjoyed the photographs, I’d always felt I was a little unusual in liking them so much. But, let’s face it, what’s not to love.

So whilst I work on more technical and worthy articles for future blogs, I thought a wet Friday was a good day to spread some porcine loveliness. And while I’ve been searching out photographs to post, I found some other favourites of farm animals – which I think make lovely subjects. Because we spend as much time as possible in the English Lake District and on a farm, I do spend time in the company of farm stock and they’re as entertaining and enjoyable as any wildlife or domestic pet.

Herdwick sheep are a regular sight in the Lake District and resident on the moors, where they wander about in their individual territories and don’t bother with you and just go about their business. I love to see them, they’re so photogenic that I’ve taken a massive amount of photos of them.

We once had a conversation with the farmer, whose property we regularly stay on, about different breeds of sheep and Mr Boo made a comment about how Herdwicks were reputed to be very territorial, each animal sticking to a relatively small area of moorland and subsequent generations do too. He seemed perplexed that the very idea should even be noteworthy, commenting; “well, of course they do, you remember where you live don’t you and go home every night?”

This particular photograph has always been informally called ‘Reservoir Sheep’ when I identify it in my mind as the way they walked down the road reminded me of that scene from the film.

In the area where we stay in the Lakes, quite a few of the local farmers keep Highland Cattle, what we affectionately call ‘Muckle Coos’ – which must always be said in a Scottish accent.

I spotted this scene one summer evening when we were returning home from a day out – the cows were spilling across this field as the setting sun filtered through the trees. We’ve driven past this spot many, many times since that day and I have not seen the light as lovely since.

This is Lucy, one of the dairy herd at the farm – they often pop their heads over the wall as we drive past and as the field is higher than the lane, their heads pop over from above you as you pass.

This particular meal held up traffic in both directions for several minutes, but I don’t think anyone minded.

Not really a farm animal – but when I spotted it earlier, I thought it worthy of inclusion as it made me laugh again. Each spring, usually just after Easter, there is a local country fair in celebration of the local delicacy of damsons – called Damson Day – and we try and catch it if we’re in the area, it’s worth a visit to support a community which we consider our second home. One of the attractions a couple of years ago was Ferret Roulette. You paid your 50p stake, someone chose a ferret and you each took a card with a number – which each corresponded to a tube radiating from a central drop point.

The selected ferret, was popped into the central core and if he emerged out of the spoke you had the number of, you won a modest cash prize. I certainly lost more than I won – but it was worth every penny. I was most disappointed that it wasn’t there last year, I’d saved some 50p coins specially.

Don’t you just love the way lambs go mental in an evening. This is from the window of the caravan we stay in – it’s lovely that we have such delightful entertainment laid on – we’ve wasted many an hour just watching them play. The orchard is long and thin and they just hurl themselves from one end to another en-mass in an evening.

This Easter I saw one of the funniest things I’ve seen a non-domestic or trained animal do in a long time. One of the ewes was watching the youngsters collectively run back and forth and she stood there intently following them with her eyes, having totally abandoned her eating, from one end of the field to the other. On about the third or fourth pass, she joined them – running full pelt alongside them – she ran to the far end and back again and as they came to a dip in the field where the land has creased into a mini scar down the hillside, she leapt vertically into the air over the gap. When she landed, panting, she shook herself off and carried on with her supper.

She had clearly watched them and remembered how much fun it was and wanted to join in. I’ve never seen a full grown sheep join in before and I was sorry that it was getting dark and happened very fast and I just didn’t have a camera to record it for posterity. To be honest, I was laughing way too hard to have managed a decent photograph.

We followed this farm vehicle on the road one evening and I managed to get one photograph as it slowed to turn. Unfortunately the third dog on the left just dropped down at that point, but up until then, it had been stood up at the front too. I wonder if the planks hadn’t been there, if the German Shepherd would have been stood up too?

We once followed a similar convoy down a very narrow single track lane, with the addition of about 40 sheep. The sheep were running along the lane, followed by the farmer on his quad, with his 2 trusty sheepdog in his trailer. It was slow going and we tried not to look like we were pressuring them to hurry – after all, they were working and we were just having a nice day out.

The farmer slowed and gave a complex sounding whistled command and the dogs jumped out of the trailer and ahead of the vehicle – they herded the sheep up a side lane to a farm and held them there, a dog at each end of the flock, just off the road and he pulled into the mouth of the lane to let us pass. He then gave another whistle and the dogs returned the sheep to their path along the main lane and jumped back into the trailer.

I have huge, huge admiration and affection for the farming community, they are interesting and hard working people with the most amazing sets of skills and heads full of incredibly valuable knowledge. I always feel it is an honour to witness such a demonstration and can only stand back and applaud. I always enjoy watching the amazing teamwork between man and sheep dog, where the mearest hint of audible command, can make something fabulous happen.

Summer raindrops – precious jewels

Everywhere water is a thing of beauty gleaming in the dewdrop, singing in the summer rain. – John Ballantine Gough.

We just had a weekend away in the English Lake District, to try and get some fresh air, time under trees and some walking done. The weather forecast didn’t look very promising and after several weeks of very poor summer weather, we were resigned to donning waterproofs and just getting out there and making the best of it. As it happens, it didn’t turn out that badly and we only got damp.

To quote Billy Connolly, “there’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing. So get yourself a sexy raincoat and live a little”. For many years I was a fair-weather walker – if truth be told, I didn’t really like walking that much, in any weather. I just didn’t enjoy the process and how it made me felt. I was perpetually struggling to keep up with my significantly fitter husband and unfit enough myself to make it uncomfortable, combined with joint problems that simply made it painful.

Please click on any of the photographs for a larger view.

But I’ve recently had to embrace a more active way of life, in a deal I struck with the medical professionals that manage my diabetes. I was on medication that made me thoroughly miserable, but it was a necessary evil for my well being and future prospects. I finally mutinied at the end of 2009 and said I would have to look at alternative methods to manage my health, I didn’t feel there was much point in living longer if I was totally miserable, and largely housebound, in the process.

So I was prescribed some initial gym sessions and told that if I’d get fitter, lose a whole chunk of weight, I might be able to manage it better under my own steam without the medication – they’d give me 6 months to achieve that – but it would need work. I was going to trade pharmacological control for personal effort.

The sky above Thirlmere looked incredibly ominous and it was very dark, but thankfully the rain was light and gentle and nowhere near as bad as we anticipated.

So as 2010 has progressed, I’ve stuck religiously with the regular gym sessions, taking out membership once my initial prescribed sessions expired. I’ve recently been given a revised regime, as I’d simply progressed beyond the original plans. I’m just about on target for my weight loss plan for the year and am significantly fitter than I was as the New Year started.

So now walking isn’t a chore and I really don’t care about the weather any more. What’s the worst that will happen – I’ll get soaked, need to wash my hair and require a change of clothes? I feel significantly better than I did on the medication and know that my health has simply improved for the efforts I’ve so far made and my improved fitness. It was a win-win trade I made. They thought so too, they’ve allowed me to stick with this plan.

One of the factors that significantly helped me, was deciding to try walking with a pole – my joint problems and a recent back injury meant I was always a little nervous and tended to guard myself as I walked, meaning that I never truly relaxed when walking on uneven ground, or got up a decent pace and was reluctant to try more challenging paths. I had the idea that being a tad clumsy already, adding a pole into the mix, along with the camera I always carry was just going to be asking for trouble, I would either end up covered in bruises, or more likely, my walking partner would. Or else I’d trip one or both of us up with it and end up with it confiscated on the grounds of safety.

But it simply didn’t prove to be the case. I took to using it much more easily than I expected and now wouldn’t set off without it. I’ve taken on steep paths that would have felt insurmountable a year ago and I can now walk faster and with much greater confidence than I ever have before. Such a simple change has been responsible for a massive improvement in both what I’ve actually achieved, but my willingness to even try. And yes, husband of mine, I can hear you crowing “I told you so”.

I love gawping into woodland – I cannot conceive of life without being surrounded by trees. Much of the woodland around Thirlmere is managed forest as a timber crop – and it never ceases to amaze me how quickly the land is re-colonised by young trees after an area has been cleared and you see new trees living alongside established ones. There’s a little waterfall running through this scene that I’d not noticed before.

Thirlmere is a reservoir owned by United Utilities and the public are granted permission to access the land. The large lake was originally created from two smaller ones adjacent to two villages, Armboth and Wythburn, which were flooded late in the 19th century to provide water to Manchester. Consequently, there is still evidence of rural life in the area and you can see stretches of dry stone wall and sometimes a lone gatepost amongst the dense woodland.

So come Saturday morning, we were determined to walk along Thirlmere, one of our very favourite spots and donned waterproofs and set off under the trees. The rain was light and gentle and the air very still, so whilst it felt very damp and humid, it was pleasant enough to walk in. The light texture of the rain seemed to cling on everything and all the small plants seemed to be bejewelled with the tiny raindrops. Heavier rain simply bounces off, but these tiny fine droplets clung to the hairs of fine grass seeds and mosses like diamonds. It was very certainly worth damp hair to see them. Unfortunately, due to very low light, they’re not as sharp as I’d hoped, but you get the idea.