seasons, Sheep farming

Morning Gold

The sun creeps over the hill and sends its rays under the clouds to emblazon the trees on the far side of the valley.

In the last few days the sky has been clear and the air crisp and clear.

We’ve walked through the woods of oak and beech, silent now except for the occasional call of a golfer over the crest of the hill and the hollow single knock of iron on ball.

The sheep are back on our land, difficult to count after dawn, camouflaged against the heavy frost.

For sheep farmers in Wales this is the New Year — the start of the farming year when the tup goes out with the ewes and the whole process starts again — I don’t know this one and certainly won’t be turning my back on him, even without his horns!

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Hill Farming, seasons, Wales

Before the Storm

It’s a misty autumn morning with dew on the pasture where Aby is getting to know her new companion.

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The other sheep (including her old friend Twts) have gone to meet the ram.  Aby, who had retired from lambing, has a new friend to keep her company  — no sheep is happy to be alone (although this particular, hand reared one might well prefer to be back in the kitchen with the dog and me).

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That’s why she looks so grumpy — to top it all, the new friend (who is very undersized) is getting extra rations which is very irritating to Aby who is on a diet!  New ewe lamb who is from a neighbour’s farm, is still nameless but was an orphan like Aby, so is very bold with humans but still not at ease with Pedro, the dog.  She stamps her feet in an unfriendly way when he comes near — it’s early days.

As the sun appears over the hill the whole area is bathed in amber light reflected from the dying bracken.

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The woods are glowing with new colors.

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and dew, on spider silk, drapes the dead stalks of yarrow in gossamer.

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and polishes the mellowing bramble.

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