At the moment, we do have a small amount (six packs) of steak mince and two flavours of sausages available (only five packs of each!). Great for all kinds of meals/dishes. If you would like to order, just send me a message and I can get it sorted for collection.
And, we will soon have the full range of beef back on our Shop page. So keep an eye out here for news updates. If anyone is wanting rib roasts, please get in touch soon as we will need to let the butchers know. This is our yearly beef from our micro herd so if you have any special occasions, including those that happen near the end of the year, now is the time to request those rib roasts to ensure no disappointment. All other usual cuts are planned.
But in the meantime, if you fancy some steak mince or sausages, we can get them delivered locally.
A new day, a new dawn, and another attempt at starting the tractor.
The tractor doesn’t like the cold. Not the whole tractor, just the battery apparently. And while it is able to cough its way to life on most other occasions, it’s a pitiful, sometimes nonexistent, attempt when it’s baltic.
A good hour clearing snow had meant I had warmed up. And it didn’t feel quite so cold. A better sign of the battery being in less of a grump? An illusion really, as I eyed up the tractor now covered in a layer of snow. The gentle fall of snowflakes from overnight had had some merry dance and were now strewn everywhere. Yes, even inside the hay shed. Och well, the charger which had been hooked up like a ventilator giving the tractor some intensive care was showing green. A wee blast with a hairdryer cleared away the snow and the suspense grew. Now was the dreaded ‘turn-the-key-and-hope-for-the-best’ moment (and if the attempt was unsuccessful, the backbreaking attempt of rolling a bale in was now about ten times worse with a thick layer of snow to battle, and they needed a bale of hay as well).
The wee fairy light button (what ever that warm up indicator is supposed to be but it looks like a string of fairy lights) finally turned off to signify it was ready. And instantly it burst into life. No half attempt, or questioning today. No sign that it had been refusing it move yesterday.
So with the noise, the cows knew what was coming. The straw and hay was delivered and the tractor was parked back up with the audience of contented cows. And sheep. I got out of the tractor to find five sheep looking at me. They had polished off their remaining hay while I had sorted the cows. At least their hay can be done on foot.
Yes, as soon as Tim headed off for the train, the temperature plummeted. A brief sprinkling of snow had graced the grass the night before. Not in any winter wonderland, but in a hastily cast array. But at least at that time the temperature wasn’t in baltic figures.
Monday took to the challenge and made sure it was nippy. The clear skies and sunshine gave a forgiving bow to the temperature. Everything outside (livestock and locomotives) all seemed fine. Until today. Tuesday decided to one up Monday and the temperature overnight was down to -7 degrees.
The cows had been moved to their winter housing at the end of last week and have been quite content missing out on the snow. The new batch of sheep that I bought a few months ago who refuse all bucket training, were finally glancing towards their hayfeeder. Although, it was only a couple of blackies who decided to investigate, the rest remain aloof at the hay concept. Our Icelandics never went five paces away from it, so hopefully the rest will soon get the gist.
So today’s issue was not with livestock, but locomotives. The tractor in fact. Having seen the forecast for more snow and high winds, I wanted to get more straw bedding down for the cows (no, they don’t need it but I like to make sure they have it when required). The tractor refused to start. It let out an unenthusiastic humph and refused to play ball. It prefers warmer weather. I understand, don’t we all? It can deal with chilly weather, but not the down right cold. And last night it was.
So, I’ll try again tomorrow. If all else fails, I’ll be manually rolling it in. I hope the cows appreciate the effort.
Begone, thou fairest Queens. And begin your new quests in a land far, far away and begaze your new surroundings. I’ll stop the ‘bee’ words. For while their kingdoms remain the same, the bees were loaded in the night, tucked up in their abodes, and transported to be governed by a new crofting emperor. Well, maybe emperor isn’t the best word. Keeper of the bees, who will respond to beck and call for need of food, ensure they are comfortable, and all the other things that beekeepers do for queens and colonies.
Yes, the bees went this week to their new kingdom, we are beeless (that is actually a lie, we have the usual non honey bees and there are some honey bees in our ancient woodlands, a lost swarm from last year but I am referring to the pet bees).
Over winter they have been tucked up in their bee boxes with fondant. No opening up of the hive, but once we started getting some good days when you could feel the warmth from the sun, the bees (not the queens, they stay in their Beeckingham Palaces) came out; mostly to deposit bee poop onto my washing line but I can forgive them for that. Several times all three hives could be seen that they had activity, which was a relief. Having made the decision last autumn that the bees had to go, a new territory was sought, but it was always planned that they would wait until spring as we could never be sure of how many colonies would survive the winter.
When the initial post went out that the bees would go, I think anyone who had a beekeeping friend went and told them. Which was fine, it did help get the word out that we needed to find them a new home. But within the beekeeping world, biosecurity is tight. We don’t like getting other bee equipment or bees which affect our own. So I got heaps of beekeepers sending me a message pretty much saying ‘I have bees, so I don’t want yours, why am I getting sent this info and why are you getting rid of them before winter?’ (Note: This was not everyone, I should say, but more than I was expecting who hadn’t read the entire social media post). Of which I had to politely say, yes the bees needed rehoming due to Tim’s allergic reaction. But they would be best going to someone who didn’t have bees and they wouldn’t be going anywhere until the spring, but I needed to organise where they were going as I didn’t want to wait until we had the activity of Terminal 5 in backlog on a Saturday on the first day of the school holidays before making plans.
It was a rough call to decide where they went as we had a lot of equipment. So planning for moving bees took some time. Bulls seem to be easier than bees, Maybe bairns too. I had several dreams of driving down the road with a swarm of bees following (and yes, I know this is not realistic, it was a dream, and dreams aren’t sensible thought processes in the night).
Collating the equipment took time. Several parts of the process were talked through to make sure it would be minimal disturbance for the bees. Loading the equipment caused issues. It was a mild day with little wind. A few of the bees came to see what was going on and wanted to explore the supers. And the bees really like Tim. We quickly put a stop to that before they became too interested. And that evening, they were secured in their hives and loaded. Belt and braces; one hundred and one ratchet straps (not far off) were used.
That night it rained. Pelting it down. I dreamed that they had been flooded. At 5am I checked. In fact, the pickup was so full with bee equipment that barely any rain had made it into the pickup. With the lights casting shadows into the inky darkness as the rain still lashed, I set off, crawling. Not literally, just very slowly as every bump conjured up the image of the hives being knocked.
And then the usual. Ten minutes down and I realised I had left all the washed sugar syrup bowls at the house. I didn’t dare drive back up. I abandoned the vehicle in the middle of the track (who in their right mind would be out on our track at 5am; she said as she watched a neighbour’s car lights head off as I started back up).
Take two and we were off again, a total of 50 mins from first leaving the house and making it to the end of the track, a journey that normally takes 10. The hives checked again. The idea of getting to the destination and finding no bees would have been grim. Check fine. Onwards. I started feeling better, until the concocted swarm dream trilogy returned. Another stop, another check. All good. And so the journey went on. Every so often, pulling in to let cars pass. There was no chance I wanted to hit potholes or make any sharp stops that I must have looked like a driver of the gentry out for a Sunday afternoon drive. Except I was in an agricultural pickup (i.e., it’s not plush), stacked with beehives, and it was 6am on a Tuesday.
Eventually, I reached their new home. The transition from vehicle to view point was smooth. I then started thinking maybe I had made them all car sick, which if honey is bee puke anyway, how would they cope with motion sickness? Maybe I had upset Queen Flora, Fauna and Trixie-boo? Would they like their new empires? The journey back was full of what ifs.
The apiary spot now sits empty. A slabbed area with a path behind, nestled at the foot of the orchard. An empty void in the shed where all the equipment was stored. But for now, we wish those bees well. To Queen Flora, Fauna and Trixie-boo: may your colonies grow strong, not swarm unless planned and organised, no A & E trips, and may you give your new keeper much joy and heaps of bee puke. You may also get renamed. We’ll wait and see.
This week, a Sheep Scanner was up our track. Our neighbour had organised it and very kindly let us tag on. As I held on to one of the ewes, we got chatting and he reminded me of my last episode with a Sheep Scanner.
Ah yes. The last Scanner Man now has a whole song made up about that episode with many thanks to Billy Joel for providing the inspiration and tune. Yes, substitute Scanner Man for Piano Man and you’ve got yourself a tune to sing along to in your head while they are busy working.
This week’s scanning session was nothing like the first episode. I’ll set the scene. The snow was down, drifting, icy, and road conditions weren’t great. I was at the end of the track waiting for the school transport to drop off our eldest. As the taxi driver tried to leave, the van wheels spun on the compacted snow. Never fear, I was dressed in full ‘outdoor-time-to-get-stuck-in’ gear. Not elegant, not classy; but fully prepared with snow shovel, grit box, and a tow rope. As I worked at getting the lady back to moving, a pick up arrived. One with duct tape around the front, pulling a trailer, and a guy with the window down asked if we needed help. No, it was fine, the lady got the van rolling and he then stopped me in my tracks, ‘Are you Beth?’. Hmm, yes. I then realised he was speaking to someone through his pickup’s audio. It was my neighbour! She was stuck in town with the snow and he was the Scanner Man for her sheep, could I show him were he was going. Aye, ok.
So we headed up the track. A few times I thought his vehicle must have died. Maybe the duct tape wasn’t doing so well with the pot holes. But no, he eventually arrived and we parked up at the neighbours. My boys by this time wanted out. The Scanner Man was on his phone. Right, let’s get on with it. And this is where I thought, Man, if people thought I took a lot of photos, you should watch him! As we did the two ewes, I desperately was trying to remember which one was scanned with what. Finally, the boys were bundled back in the pickup, and we headed on to home. Our own cows checked as the cold bite could be felt, the fire light, and tea sorted.
By this stage, the tune of The Piano/Scanner Man was now on repeat.
It’s four o’clock on a Fri-a-day, The snow laying thick and quite fast There's a young guy stopping his pickup Making use of his duct tape galore He says, Beth, can you show me where I'm going? I'm here to scan your neighbour's sheep The snow held her back and I know she's got two to be done You'll be glad for waterproof clothes
Show us the scans, you’re the Scanner Man Show us the scans today Well, we’re all in the mood for the lambing results And you’ve got us feelin’ alright’
And so, the song stayed with me. Every spring, the tune and chorus is back. Oddly enough, it was ages afterwards at the Royal Highland Show that I discovered who the Scanner Man was. Worse, I was told the episode was on his vlog. Yep, there I was, having had no idea that he had been filming the lot and the boys could be heard in the background.
So thankfully, this year’s Scanner Man didn’t have a phone. Or at least I never saw it. He did have a single orange croc which was this year’s highlight (for the boys that is; the sheep never asked a thing about it).
Birchwood Croft, Inverness-shire 