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“If this was America I’d be a Cowboy...which would possibly be a bit cooler!”

Friday 11 November 2011

My name is...


Well done to Alec Roxburgh for his winning suggestion. Thanks to him, this pedigree calf has been named after the epic ice-cream treat introduced into the market by Walls (now Unilever) back in the early eighties and still available at Iceland and Asdarr in a range of radioactive colours and flavours! (Yes I know its quite tasty, in a "dirty-secret" kind of way, but it doesn't really contain any dairy products, just a load of shite and E numbers - the complete opposite to its namesake here!!!)


Commiserations and thanks for the other suggestions.

Tuesday 8 November 2011

Where the f**k did that come from!?!

Life is full of surprises, as the cliché goes. However prepared and organised I may seem on here, the truth is that sometimes as with all of us, things come out of the blue, or out of a cow’s vagina in this case, in the form of a calf. On Sunday morning I saw something rather odd in the top yard. I wiped my eyes and tried to home in on what I thought I saw, and indeed, a randy little bull calf was “taking advantage” of a fresh born little calf as it attempted to suckle from its mother. Naturally it collapsed as it was barely able to take its own weight, let alone the full weight its pervy brother rutting away. My first, flash-thought when I saw all this was that it was actually a co-joined mutation having a fit, so I was actually pleased how things turned out. Nature is a strange thing. Of course we separated the new calf and its mother and they are out of danger now.

We have a female calf to name therefore – so get naming! All suggestions welcome, beginning with “V”. (See the list of names we already have in the “Name That Calf” blog posted on 8th August). I wasn’t expecting another calf quite so early, but as we had a calf in December last year, it makes sense. A cow can come back “on heat” at around seven weeks after giving birth and has the same gestation period as human cows and so if you “do the math” it makes sense, ie, last year’s calf was born on 20th December, seven weeks later is early Feb – add 9 months and here we are.

In-House

The more attentive among you may have worked out that the animals are now inside and separated across various yards and spaces. We did this last Thursday and Friday as we were aware that the weather was likely to break and that the ground was already getting slushy. This is to be avoided, as trampling by hefty animals damages the grass roots and creates an uneven surface hindering re-growth. Given that the nutritional value of the sparse remaining grass is particularly low at this time of year, the decision was made. We had fed the animals with a few bales of silage in the fields but the fields were beginning to resemble a quagmire. This is because most of the Weald consists of a deep top layer of clay and unlike sandstone or chalky soil it doesn’t drain so well. The only problem with animals being inside is that its too warm. I say this because these warm, damp, still days we are experiencing are the perfect conditions in which pneumonia can thrive. It is a real threat, so we need to be all the more attentive and ensure that the yards are as clean, dry and muck free as possible. Any sign of a listless animal and we'll call the vet immediately. I just bloody hope it gets cold, pronto!

We always wean the calves at the same time as bringing them in. Its easier and less stressful all round. So, we now have 4 main yards and two separated areas plus a cow and new calf in a separate pen and a calf with a pulled rear leg muscle in another pen to ensure it doesn’t get bullied and is able to get to its feed. Here’s what we have:

Yard 1 - 14 cows + one calf (Vegas, the randy little sod!) and one bull, Robin

Yard 2 – 16 recently weaned calves

Yard 3 – 12 cows + one bull, Monarch

Yard 4 – 8 heifers from last year, approx 20 months old

Straw Pen – 4 steers/bullocks from last year

Crush Pen – cow + newborn

Box 3 – injured heifer calf

Bull Pen – A young bull, soon off to market + a steer to keep him company

Total = 60

I suppose I did this list to give you a bit of an idea of what we are dealing with really. Also, each yard and pen has different feeding requirements and each needs to be bedded up with straw and scraped out by the feed racks most days, so there’s no blanket formula for feeding etc and its pretty time-consuming. Yards 1 and 2 are full of, hopefully, in-calf cows and so need to be closely monitored as well. If last Sunday was anything to go by, I’ve got my work cut out!

Sunday 16 October 2011

Magical Mushroom...

Being an obsessive glutton, motivated only by the prospect of my next delicious eating experience, I have been waiting for mushroom season for a full eleven months. I don’t get too excited about field mushrooms, parasols, puffballs or even morels and chantarelles. What I want is the "cep", or "penny bun" as it used to be called. This also goes by the name of “porcini”, which is Italian for porcine or pig and probably refers to the fact that pigs used to devour them or something somewhere in northern Italy. They are excellent fresh but can be dried for all manner of dishes and go great in risotto, cream sauces or simply fried in butter and placed on a fine steak.

Anyway, ceps are the most meaty, succulent, aromatic and delicious mushroom of all native species and you will find that most TV chefs tend to incessantly harp on about them when they are not busy talking about themselves or being up their own, or each other’s arses. In my opinion they are unbeatable and despite my friend Oggi finding plenty of his own (he’s a good mushroom hunter, the crafty bugger, and so is his scruffy Nordic accomplice, “House”) I’ve spent the last three weeks straining my eyes and bumping into trees without a whiff of porcini. Until now!

This morning, along with my sidekick, Daisy and my loyal hound Boris, we crept into a little patch of coppiced woodland with a view to conducting what would be my last scan of the woodland floor this season (I’m that bored with it!). I ran my eyes over and over every conceivable inch of the ground and found nothing. The familiar sinking feeling of disappointment began to rise and I started feeling sorry for myself. I decided there and then that this was clearly not a good year for the cep, when there it was, uprooted, lying on its side like a gift from the mushroom god as a form of consolation for my previous unsuccessful forays. It wasn't the best example being a tad on the small side, slightly damaged and nibbled by a slug, but I picked it up, elated, and took it home to cook. To be honest, I'm glad it was the only one I found, it makes it all the more special and I savoured every mouthful of this precious treat.


Here's the little fella...


 Ingredients...


Pan, salt, butter...



 Fry until soft and golden brown...


Chuck in the eggs and scramble...



Twist of pepper, bit of parsley and a drizzle of truffle oil...


Scrambled eggs and Magical mushroom, divine!

Saturday 8 October 2011

That's what I call recycling...

Despite barely having enough room to swing even a kitten up here, (We have sh*t, bales and “stuff” bloody everywhere!) I have decided to look after an old taxi. It no doubt did it’s rounds careering around London at some point but has now been “retired” and sits in between our two bottom yards for the purposes of guarding expensive cereals from sharp-toothed rodent predators. I could have spent a few hundred quid on a galvanised bin to do the same thing but it would have either been too small for the job or too big to put in the space I have. At the end of the day, I cannot justify such a luxury anyway.

Mice and rats are relentless, gnawing little buggers who always seem to find a way in, which means despite the relative Fort Knox style measures employed to the keep them out, tomorrow when I go to feed the animals there will be a teeny mouse inside, clinging onto the steering wheel playing “taxis” and squeaking “Where to guv?”, just to take the piss!

It will continue to be a source of spares for the donors, Jehan and Lucy, as they have just bought a replacement taxi, but as long as its driveable I shall have fun giving it a spin in the fields every now and then when I’ve had a few too many. I might even pretend to be a taxi-driver and incessantly talk bullsh*t and make racist comments whilst also saying “You nevva guess who I ad in ere last week!?” to distract the imaginary customer from the fact that I’m taking the longest route possible around the field.

Here’s some pics anyway...


 Jehan, Lucy, Hector & Archie

 Nutters, the pair of them!

 Resting place
 Handy eh?
 I reckon I can get over a tonne in here

Tuesday 27 September 2011

Down and dirty in Essex

No disrespect to the inhabitants (some more permanent than others) but Basildon, well, the outskirts where I was, is a bit of a khazi. I apologise to anyone who holds the place dear, but at best it is an aesthetically challenged Essex town intersected by the A13 where every inch of the skyline is littered with pylons. That part of the horizon which isn’t marred by steel power-towers (which should really have solar panels on them by now - if they did, this place would be producing more electricity than anywhere else in the UK!) is occupied by an oil refinery bordering the Thames efflu/estuary, next to which is a stunning view of La Isla “not” bonita...Canvey Island. There is an inlet, or a tract of liquefied mud depending on how the sun hits it, which leads out across some flat land where you can just get a glimpse of the north shores of nearby Kent to the south of the river. Sadly, this part of Kent is not the chocolate-box part known for bursting with ripe fruit, hop gardens and Oast Houses. Its possibly even worse than Basildon and sufficiently ugly that Kent County Council don’t even have a name for it. 

Anyway, I went to this delightful part of the country for a “farm-talk” on Cattle Winter Rationing which was essentially about general nutrition, calf management and animal condition scoring run by a bunch called ADAS who get involved in such matters from an educational point of view.

Despite being rather unkind about Basildon, in between the A13 and the oil refinery is a large agricultural concern managed by a lovely bloke called Alex who runs a mixed farm of around 400 acres. Among his livestock is a 34 strong herd of pedigree South Devons like ours here at Scalands, and fine examples they are too. It was a fantastic opportunity for me to learn some important facts about animal health and dietary needs as well as weaning considerations and disease prevention. Remember, despite appearing like I know what I am doing, I have a massive amount to learn, so this was an excellent day although I could have done without the puncture going over the QE2 bridge on the way back and having to change the stubborn wheel on the narrowest hard shoulder in the country. Not fun.

I spread my seed all over the place last week...

As planned, we over-seeded our largest silage field last week. Having let 33 of our beasts chew the grass down, we ran over the ground with a chain-harrow. This is dragged behind the tractor and basically scuffs the ground and drags small tufts of grass up and essentially opens the earth a little, hopefully enabling enough clear surface between the tufts left behind to allow seeds to nestle and eventually germinate. We then went over the same area with a spreader filled with a seed mix designed for silage growth and later grazing. Importantly, within the mix are two types of perennial rye grass which will have the added benefit of increasing the overall protein level so important for the development of muscle. Finally, the whole lot was rolled to try and embed the seed into the earth. This method is very old fashioned and was how it was done before the development of modern machinery. Its also a bit hit and miss and a reasonable percentage of the seed doesn’t make it to where it should go but when grazing space and budget is tight its the only way to do it. Fortunately this week’s warmer weather should mean the seeds start to do their thing. I shall monitor how this field regenerates and report.

Daaan a market!

Fantastic news from Ashford Market last week. We got an excellent price for one of our young fattened bulls in the beef sale and a mention in the sale news. Despite the other we sent in not quite fetching what we wanted, overall we were very happy. In addition we sold three 17 month old pedigree heifers which fetched an ok price, and whichever way you look at it we have reduced our stock by 10 now (we also sold 5 female calves privately the other week) which means we are where we want to be in terms of space and feed for the winter and have some cash in the bank to help steer us a little closer towards the black. This is a business like any business and cash-flow is key especially with increased winter costs looming.

Monday 12 September 2011

Blowy job this farming...



No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face 
- John Donne

It would appear that John Donne experienced a different kind of climate back in the 16th and 17th century. Were he around today his words may have more aptly described our Autumn so far as ”violent, and pissy”. Not wishing to elbow any romance into touch here but let’s be honest, no sooner have we just about managed to convince ourselves that we did actually have some form of summer (albeit in spring) that we now seem to be experiencing the full extremes of the available season, overnight. Still, it makes you feel alive and somehow more vital than the comfort offered by more pleasant climes - I hate wearing shorts anyway...you end up getting stung to buggery when you're fencing.

Don’t worry though, sunny spells we’ll continue to have and there is still the odd blackberry to pick. The sloes and damsons are also in abundance this year. Mushroom season is looming too and we can all look forward to lots of stews, dumplings, pies, casseroles and other hearty fare...no more limp salads and cheap, nuked, red-dyed BBQ tucker in the rain. Burn your t-shirts and say “good riddance” to whatever masqueraded as our high season.

We should welcome Autumn. Its a time where things change from green to red, brown and gold. Artists love this time of year. Leaves drop from trees leaving lonely branches bare to the elements against a full range of bruised, grey skies. Pub doors get blown open by a leafy gust upon arrival and people spend their time dripping by the fire. The aromas of damp Barber, wet dog and smouldering socks fill the air – more dominant now smoking has been banned – at least it tempers the smell of cleaning products. (It does all sound a little pretentious, I know, but it is an evocative time of year and I'm a wordy type!)

Where the farm is concerned, I have sold 5 of this year’s heifer calves to my neighbour and plan to send two fattened young bulls and 3 bulling heifers born last year off to Ashford market on the 20th. Income at last!

We are also going to over-seed (if the bloody wind drops, that is) our largest silage field with a perennial rye grass mix to add some more sugars and protein to next year’s cut and plan to do this the old fashioned way – spread it with the fertiliser spreader and let the animals trample it in.

We also need to make more repairs to the feeding racks and make some more bedding space out of the straw shed by using old gates and a bit of ingenuity because we will be housing 60 animals over winter – last year we kept 50 – all part of the master plan of taking more animals to 24 months and older before we send any to slaughter. More time on natural feed = more flavour, and that’s what its all about.

Monday 5 September 2011

John Frederick Smith, 15th April 1937 to 6th September 2010

Tomorrow is an anniversary which we as a family have all seen coming - yet its suddenly here and we can’t quite believe it.

My dear old Dad died a year ago on the 6th September 2010, aged 73. We miss him terribly - he left behind a big hole in our lives and the past 12 months have been quite tough for my Mum as we also lost my nan, my mum’s mother, in December.

However, I genuinely feel that my mum has benefitted from the farm practice continuing pretty much as before, because that way there is less of a change about the place. If you look at the views and listen to my dad’s animals mooing in the distance along with catching a whiff of characteristic farmyard smells, you can almost imagine he is still here. If he was here, mind, he would be bounding around being fairly vocal about something or other, usually a left-wing politician or his favourite new arsehole in the village.

He did involve himself in more placid pursuits such as winding his clocks and reading the papers, although he was on the go most of the time. Quite often if I was to pop round he would say that he was “thirsty”, and “What was I doing today?” aka, do you fancy a pint, or five or six as was often the case. It would generally only be a matter of time before the question came, regardless of the day. I was always available to have a pint with him knowing that one day we wouldn’t be able to anymore.

Strange as it may seem for some of those that knew him, I mainly remember the laughter, his laughter, and the fun we had together - he was very witty. I could go on, as he could in fact, but I’ll leave it there and thank you for paying attention to the farm blog over the past few months.

Dad started off with nothing and the farm represents everything he worked for, without which, as a family we would not have so many wonderful memories.


Tuesday 16 August 2011

Vegas Nini


Despite probably being a strange name for a calf, “Vegas Nini” it is. The “Nini” is short for Janine and comes from my friend Janine Pierce who came up with the name. As it happens, it was one of my favourite names, so I am quite chuffed about it...it was the clear favourite by a long way. The final scores were as follows:

Vegas  - 22 votes
Vivian – 7 votes
Vivaldi – 4 votes
Vulcan – 1 vote
Valhala – 1 vote
Valutus – 0 votes

Other news...well, there isn’t much. We continue to spread the odd bit of muck around and take the heads of thistles and weeds with the topper (mower) before they start seeding. Beyond that, its all about having a good “trim” in general and making sure the hedgerows aren’t encroaching on the fields too much. (My innuendo alarm is ringing at this point – I’m sure there’s something I could say here!?!). Repairs are also key, and I am setting about maintaining all of the feeding racks in the yards in time for winter.

Apart from making sure we spread every conceivable piece of cowsh*t over the fields, the next major project will be that of re-seeding our largest silage field, “Peans”. This is a total of about 17 acres, which is quite big and scary when you consider the cost of a protein-rich rye grass seed mix plus the time and effort. We’ll do this the old fashioned way and churn up the ground a bit with the chain harrow and then spread the seed with an old fertiliser spreader - then give it a light roll afterwards. Frankly, we just don’t have the means to do it any other way in terms of equipment or cash!

Whilst I am reluctant to change things too much on the farm there are a few tweaks I have made. The old man had, in general, done things very efficiently over the years, however with the focus on generating a reputation for excellent beef I have decided to neuter all of our male calves in order to naturally produce a larger carcass almost wholly on grass, over a longer period of time. This approach should produce more flavour and reduce input costs in terms of supplementing feed with a cereal mix, (bloody expensive right now!). In addition, it is more ethical and essentially allows the animals to feed on their natural diet. Leaving them until they are at least 20 months means our cashflow will be under pressure, but once we catch our tail up it means all animals will be sold for beef at an older age with the improved eating traits that go along with this.

Finally, because I know how much of you like photos, here’s some photos of the chicks in their new des-res, oh, and of course my cock!





Monday 8 August 2011

Name That Calf...


I woke up in a hotel room, confused and in Wiltshire on Saturday morning. I’d booked a hotel for Katie and I in the historic little village of Lacock. We arrived late afternoon on Friday after spending most of the day on the M25 and went for a stroll around the local pubs and had dinner and too much vino before tripping up the creaking 700 year old stairs to bed...thus waking up a bit hungover and not quite sure of where I was.

Lacock is a beautiful spot not far from Stonehenge and quite near the Somerset border. Its sometimes difficult to see evidence of being in the 21st Century when your in one of the old streets; stone walls and roofs and beams everywhere. I highly recommend staying in The Sign of The Angel http://www.lacock.co.uk/ where the rooms, welcome and food are all excellent. I’m not saying this for any commercial reasons and they don’t even know I’m giving them a mention here, it just happened to be a faultless stay and the food was fantastic - just a good tip for anybody wanting a romantic getaway. The beer around there is good too as Wadsworth Brewery in Devizes is only 9 miles away.

Anyway, I thought I’d phone my mother and check on the farm on Saturday morning and lo and behold our final calf (male) had just been born. The mother, Louise, was aware I was going away and clearly chose to give birth while I wasn’t around as a form of revenge for me telling her to bloody hurry up the week before and calling her a fat old knacker! Clever things cows.

So, we have a calf to name. Or YOU do, as I am inviting suggestions for names which must begin with the letter “V”. We go through the alphabet by year, like car number plates used to be in the days before Chavs and ASBOS and when kids were taught to spell and string a sentence together in schools which weren’t afraid to exercise a modicum of discipline and before corruption, left-wing idealism and bureaucracy hadn’t destroyed everything that was once good about Britain. (By the way, I refuse to accept accusations that this blog is anything other than a farming blog – I just digress occasionally).

This year all calves therefore need to be V reg as such. We have already had 8 bull calves this year and so the following names have already been taken, so don’t suggest any of these:

Vincent, Vladimir, Vesuvius, Vaughn, Vernon, Viognier, Velasquez and Valkyrie

Other than the above, feel free to attach your names to the blog. All serious suggestions will be considered (no Va-Va-Vooms or Viagras please) and I’ll choose the winner on or about the 15th of August. The winner will also get their own name as the second name as in “Verbose Jeremy” for example.

Here’s a picture of the little chap!



Thursday 28 July 2011

Beefing up...

The developed world is consuming more beef. Asian countries (China, Japan and South Korea in particular) seem to be leading this due to economic growth and an increase in affluence - some Middle Eastern markets have also started to chow on cow a bit more than before. Asia, in particular tends to look towards it’s most immediate neighbours for any additional supply and more meat produce than ever is finding its way to these growing markets from Australia and New Zealand via nearby Indonesia.

Couple this with the current Euro/Sterling rate being approximately 1.12 and you can see why beef exports to Europe from the UK are also on the rise. Meat has never been more available to, or affordable for so many people and whichever way you look at it this means more cattle are being eaten and therefore more cattle need to be reared to meet the demand.

So, beef prices in the UK are on the up as a result showing an increase of about 7.5% over the last year for prime finished animals. The trade for animals older than 30 months has seen even greater rises. (More on this another day). This is obviously good news for native beef farmers and goes some way towards mitigating the increase in farm running costs over the year; fuel, feed, straw etc. In theory, there should be a reduction in certain feed costs in the near future due to a bumper crop of Russian wheat hitting the market a few weeks ago but it remains to be seen as to how or when this will be passed on to farmers.

Ending this segment on an even higher note and pertinent to all of this is the fact that we sent a barren cow off to Ashford market on Tuesday to go in the OTM (Over Thirty Month) beef sale. We got our highest ever price for such a beast. She was 7 years old and had given us 4 healthy calves up until this year and the buyer didn’t get much change out of a grand. Cheers Nora!

Making the cut

We finally cut our silage on the 14th July. Luckily, this was just before our most recent massive downpour which could have screwed the crop if we were a day or so late. We normally cut it three or four weeks earlier around mid June but due to the very dry spring we left it longer. This can be tricky, as you need to cut with the optimum level of nutrients still in the grass and with sufficient moisture to allow the grass to essentially pickle itself into silage. We will see how this pans out...fingers crossed. Anyway, we got 24 more bales than last year, partly due to cutting it a bit lower and partly due to leaving it to grow after the rainy spell. We have a total of 284 bales as well as some recently acquired barley straw and pea-hay I acquired for mixing in here and there to stretch the main feed a bit. We also have 6 bales of silage I bought from my neighbour to tide me over until this year’s crop “goes off”. (You need to leave silage alone in the bags for at least 6 weeks before it is safe to feed). Grass growth is slow at this time of year compared to spring and so we have to rotate the grazing carefully to tide us over until the grass grows back in the silage fields we have just cut.

On another note, we have already started muck-spreading. Believe it or not, this is one of my favourite times of the year. The farm air has an even healthier tang of rotting cow sh*t about it than usual, particularly on fresh dewy mornings. We always spread in late summer - it signals that we are a certain way through the farming year and I find myself reflecting on what has been achieved; a fairly harsh winter was dealt with, calves have been born and are growing well, silage has been cut and bagged and we still have a few more months of grazing where the animals get the chance to roam and chew to their hearts content against the backdrop of our beautiful countryside. Its a time to relax a bit and take stock, much like everybody else at this time of year- happy holidays everyone!

P.S. Does Robin the bull look slightly Chinese in this picture, or what?


Thursday 23 June 2011

Midsummer murmurs...

I’ve met a lot of experts recently. In fact I didn’t quite realise how many there were out there. They are actually very easy to find if you know how to look and all you have to do is tempt them in like blundering, eager wasps squabbling their way into a beer trap. To get the best results you should always get your expression right. You can perfect this by practising in the mirror and trying your utmost to narrow your eyes whilst quizzically furrowing your brow and getting the right mix of naivety and stupidity across the rest of your face – something that apparently comes naturally to me. This is like the ground bait strewn across the water to get the fish interested before you catapult your hook, line, and yes, “sinker” out into the water by rather coyly saying “What do you think I should do?”

In my particular case I have been discussing my silage strategy and how to get the most out of my poorly grass with some local self appointed peers. The thing is, I already know that growth has slowed despite the rain.  I know that I could throw fertiliser at it (massively expensive and not in line with my eco approach) and I know that if I sold, or more like, gave away some animals (at today’s prices), I would not need so much grass. What I wanted was a shrewd and intelligent solution. What I got was a collection of conflicting and costly confusions. The trouble is I am quite new to this...but not that new and I find that the more green you might appear, the more useless the advice. Its as if there is a multi-tiered system whereby you have to qualify for the reliability of the wisdom you are about to receive. Moreover, advice-givers seem to have the ability to suggest spending more money than they ever would do in the same situation...this seems to be on a sliding scale as to green-ness too and its not just limited to farming. Try it out for a bit of sport in whichever chosen field you wish, it will help you ascertain who not to stand next to in the pub. Finally, anybody who begins their smug and often loudly, slow spoken snippet of wisdom with “My advice to you is...” is really saying “Now, prepare to glaze over and ignore what I am saying because its about as useful to you as the contents of a train lavatory”. 

I did listen to one bit of guidance from someone who does not outwardly appear to be an expert, but someone who knows a great deal about life and people. He reminded me of the “P” word we either forget about or struggle to put into use. Patience.  He told me to look at the grass, look at the cows and hold off cutting for as long as possible, because however slow the grass maybe growing, its still growing. This is what both my, and many of your instincts would tell you to do anyway, and is probably how we judge good advice, ie, the advice closest to what we thought of in the first place!

Finally, I know I am a child and find innuendo funnier than most but here’s the picture of my cock (his name is Colonel Sanders, by the way!) you have all been waiting for. So thanks to Karen Steadman and her daughter Vicky (who truly loved this handsome boy) I have a cockerel with which to breed from...I also took in his girlfriend (Ruby) too. I had to take him off their hands due to their new neighbour obsessively complaining about his crowing. They even wrote to the Telegraph to whinge about it and repeatedly phoned me to get it off their hands – nice neighbours, eh? They’re certainly going about making friends in a little village in the right fashion! 

Saturday 18 June 2011

Loony Toons...

The world has changed! It has become more hip without us either realising or wishing to acknowledge it. We have done so much “thinking outside of the box” in recent years that thinking inside of the box for a change is considered quite radical and being conventional can be considered almost eccentric. Think of a young gent in a three piece suit and bowler hat, toying with his watch chain, flabbergasted that he couldn’t find moustache wax in the pharmacy section of Morrisons. You’d think he was a total nutter who probably also had an unhealthy affection for steam locomotives and a worrying collection of stamps and old tram tickets. A hundred years ago this would have been considered normal. I blame the Guardian.

What has this got to do with anything...or farming? Well, a bit, at a push. I’m trying to justify the reason for putting a video of the pigs on the blog in order to amuse you because other than some petite, sexily clad young girls “climbing over my machinery” (pictures on Facebook) there hasn’t been a great deal going on this week.

So, the point I wish to make here is how things change and that how strange, yet credible it is to quote a cartoon character to justify my blog activity (all will become clear, honest!). This would have been impossible a few years ago, not only for the non-existence of blogs but also because cartoons were made to do no more than occupy kids. Think about it. You could glean nothing sensible from Mickey Mouse’s first film, Steamboat Willy, other than the fact that some clever sod had drawn some pictures of a mouse on a boat and joined them all up to create the illusion of movement.

In my case, I am referring to an old episode of Southpark, and if you still think things haven’t changed that much, consider that cartoons like this are not only factual and intelligent but also some of the only peddlers of truth and insight on the planet. (I’d like to say Southpark translates globally across languages and cultures but I’m afraid it doesn’t. In Spanish, they translated the opening song from the film from “Shut your f*cking face uncle-f*cker” to “You’re an arsehole son of a bitch”, not quite the same, I think you’ll agree!) They also do what the press can’t do in quite the same way and relentlessly attack politicians, celebrities and bully-boy corporations. Quite a few modern cartoons; Family Guy, Stressed Eric, The Simpsons, educate people by tackling family life, morals, philosophy and politics and stand half a chance of subliminally relaying it to hapless Americans without all of the sickly syrup and piousness of Little House on the Prairie or The Cosby Show. Can't be a bad thing. In this case, the cartoon character is Kyle (I think) and he is sad about the fact that the masses would rather watch tv programmes with close-ups of animals with accompanying silly music than something educational or informative. Just to be “radical” there is no silly music in the below vid. (I actually haven’t worked out how to dub videos yet – any assistance welcomed here!).

By the way, Steamboat Willy was made in 1928 and essentially featured an animal with accompanying silly music. Maybe we haven’t changed at all.

Weather-wise, we have had, and continue to be having, some serious rain. I’m not sure whether this means that we will get the silage cut we need, however, without rain we probably would not have bothered cutting at all. I’m estimating getting the contractors in for the first week of July but will monitor growth and rainfall daily. Trouble is, as the new shoots of grass grow, the bunnies get straight on it – you can see the cuts along the shoots made by razor sharp teeth and the general slow progress of grass regeneration. In some fields its really bad. Funnily enough, the solution makes me think of yet another cartoon!


Monday 6 June 2011

Pigs named during kitchen incident...

I hesitated at the point of electing to use the word “stoic” whilst typing the last blog because I’m always aware of when I might be tempting fate. Its a sort of superstition thing except you can’t avoid it like a ladder or salute it and therefore make things ok because you’ve already done it, said it, or typed it in this case.


So, perhaps as a result of my choice of vocabulary last week that following the spectacular pig naming extravaganza the extremely charming, domesticated and now famous Penelope was eaten by a fox! This is not uncommon. It is in fact, more common than ever because foxes are essentially a semi-protected species. You can even buy fox food in pet shops. You can guess my attitude to fox hunting. You can probably guess what I might feel about a nationwide cull too. Poor old Penelope, my favourite ever hen.

So despite some bushy-tailed, mange-riddled, vulpine murderer eating my favourite bird we finally managed to get the pigs named...and what fantastic names they are too (not). See it here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a340buyAamo

Well done to Katie’s daughter Lola for Oink-Oink on the left, and to my friend Marisa who lives in Madrid for Antares on the right of this rather sweet little piggy pic.

   
Also...

We moved around some animals at the end of last week. I wanted to get the mother of the stillborn out in the fields with the others. So out she went, happy to be in the open with some company to take her mind off things. Her two companions remain in the yard and will do so until they calve as we have to closely monitor their behaviour at all times. I also separated three steers for “finishing”. This means they will now get access to some rolled barley in addition to grass and some extra silage in order that they fatten nicely. This is important for the marbling process in addition to adding bulk to the carcass and resulting in a better price at market. This last stage of a beef animal’s life is crucial to the final eating quality of the meat and is something of an art. You don’t want them too fat, nor too plain, however, given the inherent qualities of South Devon as a breed you are at an advantage from the outset due to their fantastic natural marbling traits.

Finally, it rained yesterday! It rained today too. It rained overnight as well. I haven’t been in such a good mood for ages. This is great news. I’ve already sectioned off a few of what I call “buffer fields” so that the moisture can take effect and the grass can recuperate un-trodden. It also means that the silage cut, which will take place in a week or so, will be better than we thought. We were kind of down to the bone as far as grass is concerned and so this change of weather has really helped us and many other farmers, although some crops will have suffered permanently as a result of the lack of rain until now.

Tuesday 31 May 2011

Happy sad...

I got back from Madrid mid afternoon last Monday and went to see how Robin had been getting on with some of the gateways. (We have contractors in every summer to cut the silage and their large tractors and bailers barely squeeze through the overgrown brambles and tree branches that crowd all of the field entrances). Two things here, firstly, the removed undergrowth has revealed the remains of what once was a fence which will now have to be replaced, and secondly, due to the dry conditions I’m too scared to burn the massive pile of twigs, branches and brambles Robin cut off through fear of accidentally torching all of the woodland between here and Brightling and ending up on the telly.

I forgot about the above when I suddenly had to deliver a stillborn calf on Tuesday morning, one of only three calves still to come at this late stage. This always focuses the mind. I spotted the mother in a state of labour at about 7 o’clock in the morning...the waters had already broken. I felt uneasy with this because calving tends to start early morning, say 4-5 ish. So, had the waters broken two or so hours before? If so, this could be a problem.

I let a few waves of contractions take place and saw a hoof, then two, then the beginnings of a snout. I got quite hopeful, but the contractions were lazy and short and the mother, a heifer, seemed quite disinterested in what was going on at her rear, another bad sign.  After a short while I decided to attach ropes to the feet and pull. This was quite tricky as the mum had drawn the calf back in by this stage and I had to force my hands inside and tie the ropes around the first hoof joint on each leg of the calf. It took a lot to hold against the contractions, albeit they were weak, and after fair old struggle I got him out, lifeless. I knew he had been dead for a little while but gave a couple of strong forceful pushes on his ribcage just in case, and when fluid emerged from mouth and nose I knew it was certain. All part of dealing with livestock, and a possible lesson learned. You have to become a stoic in this line of work.

Don't forget to check in tomorrow for some fun and japes in "Name That Pig" with Penelope the chicken. Oh yes, a real game (poultry really...sorry) bird she is too! Short of being able to extend the farm budget to contract my other favourite ginger bird, Kaddy Lee-Preston from BBC Southeast Today, I had to make do with a chicken as my beautiful assistant for the spectacular cornflake-inspired pig-name selection extravaganza! Don't miss it! 

Monday 30 May 2011

Not so quiet mode

I have often been told that people prefer me when I’m being quiet. So, I hope you’ve enjoyed the past week or so of serenity on this blog; no ranting, complaining or even a hint (I really wanted to say “whiff” here) of bum crack. Time I changed all that then...

I spent last weekend in what I like to pretentiously call my second home, Madrid. In actual fact, having lived there for 3 years in total, means that it actually is pretty much a second home. Given it’s size, I know it better than London. Anyway, there is a point to all this. Unlike our renewed relationship with farmers markets and specialist suppliers of everything from courgette flowers to venison, asparagus, cheese and chocolate, the “Spaniels” have been at it for years.

In brief, Franco’s long reign of fascism ended with his death in 1975 and can be blamed for having somewhat stifled Spain’s economical, cultural and political development during his 39 years or so of office. At the time Spanish people were aware of this and may have felt that they were poorer as a result. In fact, I think it has made them richer in some respects despite the rather dire current economic climate and a plethora of other socio-political aspects we could touch upon.  I am referring to the institution of food, or to use a broader Spanish term “alimentacion”. Franco encouraged Spain to grow and produce and to essentially be self-sufficient in a kind of “Spain is great, so we don’t need anybody else” way. As a result there is still a thriving market industry throughout the entire country.

In Madrid, I know of about 8 or so markets which make Borough Market seem not only the poncy hang-out that it is but also put it to shame on selection and quality. Remember, these Spanish markets are often run down and old fashioned concrete shells, but the colour, variety and ambience contained within is positively buzzing. The selection extends beyond just veg to meat products where there will be at least two or three butcher stalls in every market in addition to those that sell just chicken and eggs as well as a handful of separate stalls selling only hams, chorizo and cheeses – let’s not forget at least three or four fishmongers to boot! They are all essentially specialists who know their produce. So, markets are awash with both choice and competition and this is possibly why it works. Moreover, markets tend to be cheaper than supermarkets and you can always buy just what you need for that day or a specific meal, therefore generating less waste. All produce is grown or reared in Spain and comes direct from farmers, growers and cooperatives and so there is a direct life-line from consumer through to the person who planted the seed or reared the pig. There is also the logistics and storage network which employs thousands of additional people. Widely, the Spanish see Supermarkets as places for staples like flour, sugar, biscuits and booze. Decent fresh produce comes from the markets – that’s just the way it is and its also true to a point in France and Italy too.

So, why are we so Supermarket focussed in this country? Its because we have all bought in to the American-driven convenience philosophy which was cultivated by those wishing to profit from their products...not for our benefit or wellbeing. I know you all know this, I know you all have jobs and kids and whatever, and you haven’t got time. Make time, or see the supermarkets get stronger and farmers and growers get weaker.  Don’t just think about price either, this really is so bleeding elementary, but I’ll spell it out anyway. The amount you save on a two for one bargain, the petrol you save on doing one shop a week, the overall reduction in spending by buying a leg of lamb in a supermarket rather than from your butcher is nothing in comparison to even a packet of fags or a pint or choosing to take the more acceptable Easyjet flight for your holiday (which will cost hundreds or thousands!) at 11:30 as opposed to 05:00 for 28 quid more. When it comes to everything else in life; houses, watches, cars, golf clubs, hookers etc, we basically spend as much as we can, so why do we try to spend as little as possible on food and then feel smug when we get two packs of butter for the price of one when we only actually need one? This is a big subject and I’m just scratching the surface here. More another day. I’ll shut up for now, although all comments welcomed both for and against.

Tune in tomorrow and watch some ginger bird I picked up name the pigs!

Monday 16 May 2011

“You cannot be serious!” Not all of the time, right?

The Blogger.com site has been down for the last few days which is why this post is a bit late..that and my ineptitude at uploading videos onto Youtube, so apologies for the delay.

As promised, I conducted Operation Pig in front of a camera. So the not so sweet little pig 2 has an earring. I would like to be clear that I make no apology for what you see and that by wishing to view such video content you should be aware in advance that you may find certain aspects of this footage quite distressing, as despite my explicit directions to the cameraman to carefully train his view on the pig at all times he seemed to do the best he could to aim the camera at my bum-crack whenever possible. Canny he is indeed, as he managed to get the entire tagging process on film whilst switching from “pig” to “crack” at every available opportunity (despite insisting that this was merely accidental and hinting that were my behind not so large it would have gone unnoticed). He is, quite simply, an unprintable word which rhymes with flosser or with dossier if you are French or posh. Now, before any of you get upset at the lack of decorum here, I would like to point out the following:
  1. All humans have bum-cracks
  2. Mine is quite nice, actually
  3. I have seen worse...on women
  4. My attention was fully focussed on the job at hand in order to cause as little pain and distress as possible to pig 2, and anyway, its nothing like a real builder’s one, so just watch the little piggy!



On a serious note, in my last post I mentioned the farmers’ preoccupation with the weather, since which we have had no further rain and the grass continues to be nibbled by our ever hungry cattle.  There are all sorts of considerations here beyond the length of the grass today as you have to be able to anticipate how much further it will deplete before we have any rain – then, how much rain we get will dictate the growth we can expect - and then, when will it rain again etc? And so the whole thing perpetuates depending on rainfall, and the outlook isn’t great. Suffice to say, that despite our ability to open a few gates here and there into currently untouched fields I have put a silage bale in a feeding rack for one of the three herds where the grass just isn’t there. Tomorrow another one will go in amongst 11 heifers I have in a separate field – not good at all.

This may sound innocuous enough, and true, we have 15 or so spare bales to hand from last year but it is an indication of how bad the situation is in general; everything growing outside in large parts of the southeast of England is being affected. For farmers this is a major concern, for the rest of you this could ultimately lead to a price increases across many sectors beyond the obvious commodities including milk, bread and beer. Worst case scenario as far as we and other livestock farmers are concerned would be the forced sale of animals due to insufficient grass and having run out of silage and hay, (possibly obtainable at massively inflated prices) which if you combine with many others in the same boat, equals rock-bottom sale prices at market and a financial squeeze and inevitable insolvency for some. Moreover, as with any adversity in the agricultural sector this tends to strengthen the supermarkets’ already unfair position as they will further benefit from buying their already low grade meat at lower prices.

There is, as you can see, more to the weather than the opportunity to have another barbeque or join most of south London on Camber Sands.  So in this glorious sunshine, forget the tan, whether or not its Pimms O’clock and go into your garden at dusk and rain-dance like you never have before!

Finally, keep the pig names coming in. We have had some good (and some not so good, Dave!) suggestions already. 

Tuesday 10 May 2011

Name that pig!

Whether you grow cereals, peas, spuds or rear chickens, pigs or cattle, one fact about farming is that you will almost certainly become preoccupied with the weather...obsessively so, but with good reason. Right now I am talking about the almost complete lack of rain and the fact that the ground is already like cracked concrete in places.
 
I took the decision to let the animals out on the 17th April due to the unusually clement conditions (they spend the best part of the winter in comfortable 5 star barn accommodation, clean bedding, room service, "all you can eat" buffet). We were also running out of silage due to last year’s "thin" cut (nothing compared to this year at the rate we’re going!) so there was incentive to get them out to grass as soon as we could. The result being that the cattle have now eaten their way through most of the grass and if we don't get decent rain during what is still meant to be Spring, they will eat it all of the way down...which could be a problem - more on this later. This is being pushed to the back of my mind for now as I have more immediate, yet less serious matters to contend with, namely something which with quite reasonable trepidation I have called "Operation Pig",  plus the naming of two "gilts", which for your information are in fact sows/females which have not produced piglets, like a heifer is to a cow...essentially a "virgin" or "maiden" animal.
 
I actually have three gilts, two of which I bought in November last year and one which I have had for a few months which I am offering bed and board to for a local pub/restaurant, The Salehurst Halt - this is being taken to the abattoir next week and will end up on their menu. “Operation Pig” refers to the necessary tagging of this rather unique animal. She is moody, noisy and unfriendly and despite my best efforts, doesn’t even like the odd scratch or rub unlike her milder mannered sisters...she generally tries to bite me or squeal if I ever get near her, so quite how she is going to take to having her ear pierced by me, I don't know. I intend to try and video this on Thursday for your amusement. It might go well, it might not but it has to be done. I stress here that its completely painless, however, she is likely to take exception to me coming at her wielding what looks like a pair of large pliers with an eager, determined look about me. I really wish I had given her an ear-tag when she was small, fluffy, cute and approachable...
 
Anyway, back to the two gilts. These currently have the esteemed identities of pig 3 and pig 4 (pig 1, their brother, is in the freezer, pig 2 being the abovementioned strop-bag). I think its about time they had names and am therefore asking for your input. No restrictions here, give me your suggestions and I’ll draw two names out of a bag and they will for evermore carry these names. The only requirement is that you will need to become a follower on this blog and have your names in by 31st May – naming will take place on 1st June, whereupon I’ll take some photos of the pigs with their names and announce the winning namers!

Monday 9 May 2011

Fresh start...

I have lived on a small family run beef farm in East Sussex on and off from the age of 11. When I was 18, I headed for the bright lights and the greed-driven lure of "The City" where I blagged my way into job and spent 20 odd years continuing to blag, bullshit, eat, drink and travel at various companies' expense. I did the odd stint in the US and Spain and enjoyed my time but my heart was not in the city nor the job or indeed another country and I felt the time approaching when I would need to jump while I still had the tatty, flapping remnance of a parachute. I managed to do this a couple of years ago and left my career behind and helped a friend with his business nearby until my father sadly died last September, 2010, leaving me fully responsible for the running of the farm overnight.

That was 8 months ago, since which we have had a harsh winter and 22 calvings (3 more to go!). We are now entering a new phase of the farming year and with the benefit of a little more confidence and experience I now have to take a good look at the farming practise, how to optimise it without compromising the animal’s wellbeing, and how to sustain a meaningful existence from hereon despite many of the odds being stacked against the small producer.

The farm consists of about 120 acres of primarily permanent pasture with a spattering of ancient woodland. My father always specialised in South Devon Cattle and as a result we have a suckler herd of 26 and rising. This means that all going well, we use our 2 bulls to get the 26 heifers and cows "in calf" annually, and raise their calves for either future breeding stock for our own herd or for sale at market for breeding or beef. This means we have anywhere between about 50 and 75 animals on the farm at any one time (we don't sell all animals within a year, so some of the previous year's calves are still being reared when the newcomers, their brothers and sisters, pop out!).

That's the simple, concise, overview of my predicament. Needless to say there is more to it. There is a considerable amount of documentation as regards the registration and traceability of the animals, their day-to-day care, feed, breeding, calving, cutting of grass for silage, farm maintenance, book-keeping and a whole lot more besides, most of which you will not be bored with. My aim here is to bring you into my life as a newcomer to managing a farm and share my learning experience with you. I have help twice a week from Robin, an experienced farm worker but aside from that its all down to me.
I will regularly update you as to my plight, I will ask you for input with various aspects including the naming of new born calves and piglets and show you as many relevant images as I can and make you aware of the day to day problems and considerations. You will hopefully begin to understand a bit about farming life, the difficulties of trying to make money and managing cash-flow and hopefully feel part of it in some way. There will be drama and mistakes as well as the odd success to keep you entertained.
I will hopefully make you aware of how difficult is to compete as a small specialist producer and how supermarkets and mass lethargy and ignorance on behalf of consumers is undermining the current traditional farming generation.

Finally, it's important that you understand my approach to all of this. We need to maintain solvency here, of course, however, we will not compromise the wellbeing of our cherished animals in order to do so. Feed and fuel prices continue to rise at a far greater rate than the beef price, so this is not easy. We consider “breaking even” by sticking with our ethos, a success.