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Meet Genny the generator. Normally the two of us get on fine knowing that she’s there if I need her. When seven letters and a phone message arrive from SSE to say we will have a power cut all day yesterday until 5.30pm, Genny isn’t even in the picture.

Forward 10 hours of no power and the water is no more. Yes, as much as we have our own water supply, wood boiler, and solar panels; when the power’s off, nothing runs. Water is used sparingly from the tap and several pans are filled up beforehand to prepare for it. Not only that, it would have been a belter of a day on the amount of energy generated with not a cloud all day. Which also creates our livestock problem. Electric fences are still adhered to, but there is no water supply (also connected to the bore hole). Add sunshine and you can’t wait till 5.30pm.

Clock read 6.50pm when there was a slight power boost and then stillness. Brief enough to get your hopes up and crash. Messages via mobile data initially say another hour. At the 45 min mark I took the decision to go see Genny. But we fell out. She obviously didn’t like it that it had been so long since I last went to start her up. Twice she got going, but shut up shop within seconds. After that…nothing, no peep, no cough, no nothing. Just desperate pulling on the choke. So the cows had to wait and the polytunnel was watered by buckets. Not nearly enough but enough to get by.

So, with such a lovely sunset, my back was mostly to it, head down studying the instruction flash card. We’ll maybe try and reconcile the differences a different day.

Not a drummer boy, but a milking cow with no locking barrier. And, as I had promised Dryope that she would get grass as soon as she let Tilly on herself, she got her reward today. OK, it’s not in the massive field with the rest of them but in a fenced off area that I can just check up on them (think of going from ITU/HDU in a hospital to a ward before they would discharge you).

Surprisingly, it took a wee bit of coaxing to get Tilly out of the byre. Culture shock maybe? Do Shetland cows speak a different dialect than Salers? Do our fields look foreign compared to those in Aberdeenshire? Grass smell funny? However, once over the threshold and onto grass, she was dancing in the sun.

No, wait, the name on the tag was that of her mother and ‘H’ was just for heifer. However, by the time I had those details from her original owner, Tilly had made her mark as being a wee hun (as in honey, pet name and no relation to geography) and wasn’t named after Attila. Oh well, she’ll remain Tilly.

The past few weeks have been challenging. After iCalf 2 went against all odds and survived ehid bought of e.coli and meningitis, it was soon apparent not all was well with the wee dude. There were signs of several severe problems and every milk feed was back to him having to learn how to suck. Upon seeking advise from the vet regarding his prognosis, the decision was made to use euthanasia. However, his mother, very motherly and very good at supplying her offspring with lots of milk, meant unless she had a calf I’d be in for problems. Cue Tilly. Tilly has lost her mother 4 days before we got her so had been learning how to steal milk from other cows, however, that’s not always going to supply a full stomach so when I put out a advert for an orphan calf, she was offered.

Dryope wasn’t the keenest to allow Tilly to feed, so Dryope was, and still is, fed through a locking barrier and we initially had to intervene to stop Dryope kicking her off. She had had the skin of iCalf put on her to help trick the mother into thinking this was her calf. Dryope wasn’t that thick. After three days, the smell from the skin was rank so binned. Think all parties involved were relieved when it went!

Tilly has always been smart. As soon as we would turn up she was up, getting herself ready so all she had to do was take a step in and start feeding (keeping herself out of kicking range until we had lifted Dryope’s tail). There has been slow improvements over the days. Dryope doesn’t kick her off but also won’t let her feed unless we feed her in the locking barrier.

Today was a fairly major breakthrough – I caught Dryope licking Tilly for the first time. Hopefully it will not be long before their three times a day, milking/feeding partnership ends and their mother/daughter bonding is enough to avoid needing us.

For once, the excitement on the croft happened while I was away…Tim did still have his mum to watch the Mini-Crofter so I don’t feel he got the full adrenaline/stress effect, but hey, every episode counts…Yes, Renoir decided that his romance life was pants and wee Hilda, with her glossy sheen, bright eyes, and situated in the green, green grass, needed him to scale the gate and rescue her. However, his misjudgement of the length of his legs and the size of the gate meant if it had been me, I would have phoned a friend! As it was, Tim was home with his mother up helping so, as she and the Mini-Crofter watched on, he helped give the bull some stilts to help him over. We may not have planned to put Renoir in with the girls just yet but at least we will know when Hilda’s due. May he have learned his lesson and not do it again though…

Here’s the Crofting version of the commentary style of the TV programme ‘Big Brother’:

Monday, 12.25: iCalf 2 born to Dryope while the Crofter’s home. On its feet within 11 mins. All is calm on the croft.

Tue: iCalf 2 is running round the byre and feeding on its mother. Mother cow’s not happy for getting shut in the byre while the rest chomp through the lushest grass but she’s not bellowing enough to get an ASBO.

Wednesday, 8am: Crofter leaves for the day to work in Invergorden…

8.43 am: Calf is found flat out in the straw arching his head back in a very haunting posture.

9.17 am: Call the vet! As soon as I said two day old calf down they said they’d get a vet out.

10.03 am: Clock watching. Calf is still breathing but this is taking the vet forever…

10.27am: Vet arrives to say ‘ohh, he doesn’t look too good’ (hmm, why else did I ring you…).

10.33 am: Mini Crofter has decided he has had enough of the byre by this time so sprint down the road and ask the neighbours for help in watching him.

10.46 am: Vet has already tried to find jugular veins on both sizes of his neck, some fluid does go in before giving up and going subcutaneous, followed by two injections, with the vet having said e.coli and meningitis…and just be careful with e.coli as it can be passed to humans, particularly young children…

11.02 am: ‘If he survives, you’ll need to give him oral fluids 3 times a day and injections for the next 9 days. Ur, right, how do I do a stomach tube in a calf (thankfully we had one and hydration tablets just in case)…And off pops the vet…

11.26 am: Retrieve Mini Crofter much to his disgust (the neighbours have a lovely sand arena for their horses, aka, gigantic sandpit/play area to a 16 month old).

12.30 pm: Phone call from Jeanette (local farmers who I had called in the morning before the vet but had left a message). Ian was busy but she’d send him round to help once he got back to make sure I was getting the tube right.

2.30 pm: Attempt passing the stomach tube on the vets advice, calf got a litre. Relief.

3.30 pm: Mini Crofter is firmly strapped into his pushchair to watch my lesson ‘ITU for calves’ from Farmer Ian. Ian also braces me to the prospect that the calf has a slim chance of survival.

5.45 pm: Crofter returns home! What a relief. It may have only been a day but it always happened when he’s gone!

7 pm: Mini Crofter tucked up in bed

7.15pm: Crofter goes to get the mini-milking machine set up to find it has seized. Oh pants. Hand milking a cow can be a lengthy job when your hand muscles are not use to it.8pm: Tube the calf, no difference in behaviour.

8.30 pm: Machine is finally working. Dryope is then milked and find out she’s got mastitis. Attempt to inject the cow, third time I get the Crofter to do it (her skin is like thick leather!)

9.30pm: Farmer Ian comes by to check on us (there was no answer on the phone when his wife called so thought they had better check I was ok). So nice to have people like this so close.

Thursday, all day: calf is routinely tubed and given fluid. No change in behaviour though. Two injections into his neck are much easier than his mother!

Friday 8 am: Calf is found on its feet! Able to suck some but not enough for a bottle. The calf may have been near dead but he’s not happy when I go to inject him.

12 noon: Offered a bottle and guzzled 1 litre (still looking pretty spaced and not the best with his balance). Attempt to get him feeding on his mother. Nearly, but not quite getting the hang of it.

So, thus ends the story so far. He is still with us but needing help. Tomorrow I should have been running in a 10K race in Edinburgh. I wonder how many people do not attend races because a member of their livestock becomes unwell? Some might think it’s a lame excuse, as the Crofter has ended up still being at home (he was due to head off Thursday night). However, looking after a sick calf, an unwell cow and a Mini Crofter is really a two person job. Think I’m just looking forward to a day off sometime soon…maybe July?