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As the weather called for outside work (really, when does it not), I spent a little time with our Mini Beasts. The Three Stooges of the calving world. As they reach their first birthdays and the new calves will hopefully be arriving on the croft, handling them as much as possible moves higher up the priority list. Mini beasts growing to big beasts that are high strung are not high on my ‘ohh, what will I do today? I’ll go cozy up with a wild cow, I will’ list.  Having the handling facility makes it so much easier and gets them familiar with it. Less stress for everyone. Now, I did look at my nice clean cement flooring and wonder about getting them in but, staying on top of the mess and taking a shovel and brush after each stint is nothing in comparison to calm cows. And it wasn’t that long ago when Feonghall broke through my electric fence in a nano second as a high strung steer and I set his destiny with the stars (aka abattoir).

As it turned out they were not as calm as they looked. Soon after tucking into their buckets they started playing musical feeds, each pushing to their right. Eventually a bucket didn’t conform and will need a new lot in life. Grass it always greener…

Beast from the East? No, it’s called snow from the sky. Sorry to freeze your spirits, this isn’t Hollywood and winter doesn’t need to sound like Armageddon and a blockbuster horror movie. Yes, snow can be pants (believe me, I know), but I really don’t need the weather named. Did you get Snowflake Stanly today? How’s Cloud Colin affected you? Sunshine Susan looking good? How’s Windy Wilma, Breezy Barry, and Gusty Gus where you are?

Maybe I shouldn’t be so judgemental. But it does seem if weather hits some people they can name it, moan and tell us it’s horrendous because they have had to scrap ice off their windscreen (I listen to too much radio). Shock, horror. Ground all form of transport! On the other side you have people getting themselves stuck on roads causing emergency services and volunteers to rescue them.

Having a weather warning of ‘be prepared’ is a fascinating comment. Should we not enter all of life like that? Is it just being in agriculture that has formed that mentality and would I think differently if I relied on others to keep roads clear, etc? For me, the weather forecast is studied meticulously each night to prepare for the following day and week. Will I be feeding cows late at night or during the day depends on the forecast (risk of ice, do it earlier to avoid any idea of getting the tractor stuck!). Do the sheep need extra? How high I fill the water trough depends on the temperature forecast (will it freeze before they get their water, will I need to add more to a block of ice). Do I pull up my mole traps and suspend the war on moles if the ground will freeze?

Because of these comments I now expect the sky to fall on my head. Or more realistically, absolutely no help the next time I’m snowed in, my pipes burst or I struggle to get to the shops for food for the Mini Crofter. Never mind, my replacement snow shovel just arrived and I’m waiting on my grit order to come. Women with grit and shovels can master the world AND feed the beasts (as in cows, not the clouds in the sky…).

Well, maybe not wind in the willows but willows to help keep the wind down. Aye, 50 in total, all along the orchard (don’t think older trees laden with fruit but gawky, teenage fruit trees that are still trying to figure out their lot in life). Fruit trees that get hammered by the wind whistling off the hills (aka mountains but having been to   Switzerland I’d call them hills although they are just a tad bit bigger than your hills in Norfolk…). So, several year ago a few willow and hazel got planted along the wind pervailing side to try and offer a bit more protection for the trees. These are,on the whole, looking good but just not enough. More recently I was lookin at fancy willows under categories of basket weaving and winter colour and decided to go for it. 50 trees later with them all marked on a ragged piece of paper that looks more like a map of secret treasure, I envision a lovely hedge which I can coppice for making baskets. Reality set in with a sudden drop in temperature (Beast from the East? No, just very cold here). Guess we’ll see what survived later on in the year. There may just be wind in the willows…which I could go watch, then I wouldn’t need to read it…

One basic task: give a bale of straw and hay to the cows in the byre.

Add some entertainment: work three longer days while mother-in-law babysits Mini Crofter while the Crofter is away.

Result: The tractor and I out doing a jig by moonlight (buffalo gal I am not but the tractor’s quite good with making my knees knock and toes rock (more from nerves of tipping it then any Strictly Come Dancing potential). No, I do not have holes in my stocking. Yes, it was a clear sky with a bright moon that I was able to use as could I figure out how to turn the fullbeam lights on? Fat chance. I eventually gave up trying and went for what I was successful at: one small light on the front and two useless ones on the back.

Eventually, two bales in the byre later I discovered that even though it was time for bed after the job was complete, the cows wanted to sing for a supper and where not giving up on the idea about it either. So, out went buckets before the lights were turned off and their good night bellows echoed through the glen under the canopy of stars.