Best laid schemes o’mice an’ men…

Yes, but that is where I then disagree with Mr Burns. For from there, he wrote ‘gang aft agley’. But who am I to beg to disagree with the honourable poet?

Now poetry is not my thing (surprise, surprise). It doesn’t help put food on the table, keep the tractor working or ensure the cows are happy bundles of joy. It doesn’t help find the keys I lost. I don’t understand why someone has to write four lines of words when they could say the same thing in four words. But I’m not here to get a backlash from all the haggis eaters on Burns Night. At least the man did identify that the best laid plans do often go to pot though.

The Crofter was initially due home yesterday. On Wednesday I got the heads up that my little mental count down for holding the fort which was down go two, had to go back up to 9 days. And with that news, sudden emergency prioritising planning was needed.

Now, an extra week is not necessarily the issue. Two Wee Crofters, 11 cows and a dog is all I have responsibility for at the moment. The sudden issue was the weather forecast. Juggling boys and cows has been getting slightly easier recently. What hasn’t been easy is dealing with what the weather has been throwing at us. No nine foot deep blizzards, sand storms or needing an ark. It’s the mild, blustery, near gale force winds, intermittent with colder, lighter breezes but having a very thin layer of ice, that has been making feeding the cows a precision act.

I get my forecasts from the Carrbridge Weather Man and so can often look like a serious curtain twitcher when checking for updates. The reason is this. To put hay into the cows, we have to open the top door. Which is quite big and at a height more attuned to doing pull ups; which makes it look like I would be better suited with a qualification as a trapeze artist and stunt woman on blustery days.

And the byre isn’t the only thing weather dependent. As Gilly and her calf are outside, they too need hay. Except if the weather turned wintery, the tractor doesn’t cope too well (and pulling tractors out is really a two person thing which I don’t have, so I try and avoid the potential misshape).

So with the news of needing to prepare for another week, all of the cows have been slowly getting sorted before the forecasted weather change. Yes, sorting cows would take half a day if I didn’t have two wee ‘uns. But with a near three year old, we can suddenly be delayed because of the wrong socks. With a one year old, naps govern how long the workload is. Half a day’s work has to take three. But at least from yesterday, all cows are sorted for the next several days. Extra supplies have been given.

So may the wind lash, the heaven’s open and the snow fall (as you would expect in winter). Let’s go raise a toast to the haggis singing bard.

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