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I have no idea what the rest of the words to ‘Cry Me a River’ are, but know that the first line can easily be adapted.

Yes, this post is to explain another of the photos in the ‘Spirit of Crofting’ video. Correct, the picture of me gralloching a deer (also known as gutting). And hence why I haven’t put up the same photo. I may be a theatre nurse that can handle blood and guts but I am aware it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Nor will you see the picture of us trying to get it into the back of the pick up, or of it hung in the shed, skinned with me about to start the beginners guide to butchery.

Now I do realise, there are a lot of people who do not agree with eating meat and many more who are happy to eat meat but don’t like the field to fork concept (of having to catch/kill/prepare your own). I’m not posting this to get hate mail. I would rather eat local food (ie, cow, sheep, deer) and particularly food that I know has had a good life and has been humanly dispatched.

Why the significance? It was the first deer I ever got. We had done target practice to ensure we were familiar with the range, and I had even got someone to come out and go over several safety points as I was not particularly comfortable or familiar with the matter.

When we bought the croft there was an area of old woodland in the middle. No new trees had been able to grow for years as deer had free access to come and nibble out all the new growth. We put in fencing (some stock and some deer) and planted about 5,000 new trees. Not just quick growing, native types, but slow ones such as oak too. And with this, came the responsibility of pest control. So don’t be thinking the incident was a sport. Plus, the meat off that deer helped feed us for many months to follow (he wasn’t just a wee thing as it took two of us to drag him back to the pick-up). Understanding anatomy is helpful when dealing with innards. I did have the voice of a particular surgeon though, who always used to mutter ‘you’re on the wrong plane’ to his juniors, while doing it.

It was after this event that I did some analysing. And decided that if it were to happen while on my own, I would need to make a few adaptions. I didn’t want to think I was dependent on the Crofter being home to deal with pests (I wouldn’t want to shoot one and leave the food to waste). So, I asked for some ratchet straps (to get it onto the pick-up as I could make a ramp to slide it up) and a chain winch (to hang it in the shed). What more could a girl ask for.

And no, I’m pretty sure we did not fry the liver…

A ‘picture’s worth a thousand words’? Hmm, sometimes. But not always. Multiple photos were put in the video for the Scottish Crofting Federation (which you can see on the Birchwood Croft Facebook page). Oww, lovely, I hear some say. Aye, well, may I give a bit more detail on these two.

OK, a tractor (with loader) and a baler. The tractor had been bought at Dingwall Mart’s Implement Sale (yes, women buy implements, even if auctioneers keep saying ‘boys, boys, boys’ at the mart). Because what else do you go and buy when you realise you are pregnant? Yep, not just a tractor (we had one) but one with a front loader. Because up until then we used a bale spike on the back of our dexta and we lifted the ring feeder up to put the hay in. Correct, no ‘heavy’ lifting while pregnant yet the job was mine while the Crofter went to work and we knew that going into winter I would need something.

In the mean time, that same summer, we had a dry week which was nearly perfect for making hay. As expected, the Crofter was at work and I was working full time. So, grass got cut before work, it got turned several days on the trot after work (yes, I understand the longer it takes to bale, the less nutritious it is but I didn’t have the freedom to turn it during the day so you just work with what you’ve got). And once it seemed dry enough, I started baling.

From baling, my prize was getting the above photo worth of bales in. Not much but, having never worked a baler (I became very good with replacing broken shear bolts) I was shattered (and chuffed to be honest). If at first you don’t succeed, skydiving may not be for you, but hay baling could be an option. The rest of the field just had to wait until more hands (ie, The Crofter) arrived. Even superhero’s need sleep!

If Hank Williams (Hey, Good Lookin’) had been a crofter…

Say, hey, New Holland

Whatcha got broken?

How about baling up some hay for me?

Whay-hay, sweet meadow

Don’t you think maybe

It’s time we got you a brand new hay row turner?

I’ve got a four day outlook and a sunny forecast.

And I know a spot right here on the croft

There’s an empty lean to and the cows will want food.

So if you wanna start working, that’ll be fine with me…

The recent Spirit of Crofting event has opened up several conversations and questions from people that I feel that I now need to explain. The information supplied by the Scottish Crofting Federation for public view, what the panel had, what was put and said in newspapers, and a few more beside.

Question one, yes, I did apply for the award. That was after I was adamant I would never do such a thing and if someone thought I was worthy of it, they could nominate. Fast forward to getting told by said someone that they had printed off the form to nominate me but had run in to a problem so I’d just have to get on with it. Aye right, not!!! Fast forward to the Royal Highland Show’s Women in Agriculture Breakfast and after hearing three women speak, I decided I would just have to take a massive plunge and put the application in. Why? Does agriculture get promoted among young people, and particularly women? What encouragement do people get who want to get into it but have no background (typical ‘livestock keepers’ are often from ‘farming stock’)? If I have managed to break a few rules (I hadn’t realised hay making was often seen as a blokes thing), what’s stopping others?

One of the requirements for the application was either three photos of yourself on the croft or a 2 min video. Finding three photos to really show what you do in crofting is nye impossible. Besides, if you do a video slideshow, then you can put music with it which always sounds better then the usual gale force 3 affecting the sound on a video. Now, I can’t put video’s on this site but I will post it on the Birchwood Croft’s Facebook page. But it’s then that I discovered a new problem. Normally a picture is worth a thousand words. Until you croft. Then, you need a thousand words to explain the photo. So a few of the individual photos will be explained in due time (yes, it all looks fine and dandy until you hear what either happened before, during or after!).

Friends arrived this week all the way from Switzerland. When asked what they would like to do while visiting the Highlands they responded with: “Pick up stones, as we’ve read your blog and want to help”! Err, that’s great but not really the response we were looking for (so no pressure on all future guests arriving, other than you will now be compared in how many wheelbarrow trips you have successfully moved rather than have you seen Loch Ness or visited Tomatin distillery!).

I can say though, that I really appreciate the help. Spending even just 10 minutes a day picking up stones is not my favourite task. Doing it with one other person helps to pass the time (and maybe overdo it a wee bit but we’ll ignore that). Having three other pairs of hands made a huge difference. OK, it will not be getting reseeded before winter for the cows and sheep but the area isn’t far off needing to get levelled ready for spring planting. And never fear, the bigger stones have been left for the digger and trailer…

So Friday night was the awards dinner for the Spirit of Crofting held by the Scottish Crofting Federation. Best Newcomer Crofter and Young Crofter of the Year were awarded. Being a nominee meant going and needing to get dressed up. No excuses for getting cold feet, even if I couldn’t wear my insulated wellies.

Now, the Young Crofter of the Year award was the David and Goliath of the ‘young’ crofters (yes, we are classified as young if we are under 41). The shortlist was between Donald Macsween and myself. Having seen Donald on TV (yes, he’s got his own programme of ‘Air an Lot’ on BBC Alba), his mass following on Twitter, and a blog that points out he is from a crofting family who have been on the land for 200 years you would think, aye right. Why? In comparison, up until I met my husband, I had never heard of crofting. The one we ended up with had not been worked in donkey years and there was absolutely nothing other than spreading rushes and some old trees. Hence it felt like a David and Goliath competition. Like biblical David, I even have a sling, in fact, three. Although mine are for carrying a Mini Crofter, not for throwing stones at giants. And so too ends the comparison. Because in this event, the giant got the trophy. So huge congratulations to Donald.

Now, I have since been given commiserations by friends; I have been told I was ‘robbed’, why was it down to a panel of judges with no public vote, what system was used? But, that’s not the point. In every award you have a winner and therefore, a loser. I was fortunate to be shortlisted and become the runner up. It will hopefully provide inspiration to others to enter agriculture (because, as you saw I had no background in it). Being a theatre nurse may help with gralloching a deer but doesn’t help with learning to be a jack of all trades. I am also a woman in agriculture, something that is not always promoted among women and one of the reasons I wanted to help show others, it is possible.

So to end, what caused me to be the most gutted? Donald Macsween having no signed copy of Air an Lot!!! Thought the man had friends in high places? Surely the BBC can get archive copies? Anyone got friends in BBC archives? For all those trying to promote learning Gaelic, here’s a chance!

And my advice from the night? You can ceilidh dance all you want when you’re 6 months pregnant. You’ll just feel like you’ve competed in Olympic gymnastics for the next two days!