And Then There Were Sheep

As the title suggests, we now have sheep! It’s been a bit of a whirlwind since we got them and I’ve probably experienced the hardest month of my smallholding journey so far, so it’s taken me a while to gather my thoughts and feel like I want to write them down!

This blog post aims to detail my sheep journey so far and a bit of an insight into how to try your hand at shepherd(ess)ing, from being a complete novice. As we did, always consult professionals, either experienced shepherds or reference books (Tim Tyne’s The Sheep Book for Smallholders and The Haynes Sheep Manual by Liz Shankland have been a great help). I would also recommend joining online forums and social media groups, in which you can chat to people in the same position as you (but remember many of these like myself are by no means experts!), but you will appreciate their support and kind words when it goes wrong and also encouragement when it goes well! There’s a lot to think about before getting sheep, so do your research!

Orphans

On 18th April after much deliberation and searching we bought four Devon Closewool orphan lambs from a local breeder. Two ewe lambs and two wethers (castrated males). The plan was to keep the females for breeding and raise the males for the freezer. When we first looked into getting orphan lambs, there were lots of people who advised against it. It is hard work, they don’t often make it, being weak from the start and you end up becoming too attached.

Despite all the warnings, there were people who said it was one of the most rewarding things they have done and having tame lambs, especially in a larger flock can prove useful. After weighing up the pros and cons, we went for 4 orphan lambs, thinking that if we did lose any to illness or disease, that we would have ‘spares’. Oh the irony!

One of the reasons we opted for the Devon Closewool, was that not only was it a breed native to the area we were living, but that it is also a rare breed. We currently have rare breed Large Black pigs and also a couple of Silver Bantam rare breed ducks, so it made sense to maintain the current theme of our livestock. They are reportedly great sheep for first-timers, hardy and docile, described as an ‘easy-care’ breed. Also, they are the cutest looking sheep we could find, if you were to imagine ‘Mary’s Little Lamb’ these would be it!

So with a dog crate in the back of the 4×4 I drove to the breeder’s farm to collect them. They were being raised inside a barn on an ‘ad lib’ feeding system, a bucket with multiple teats so they can feed as and when they want to, ‘little and often’ much like they would with their mum. They were all varying sizes, one fairly big boy and one considerably smaller girl, the other boy & girl were somewhere in the middle. They were all around 20 days old (give or take a few days either way). They were a bit mucky, particularly a couple of their back-ends, something which I questioned. I was told that because they were in a barn, they are prone to lay in theirs and each others poop, so it was nothing to worry about.

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Once I got them home, I posted on social media my excitement of receiving new lambs and a few people commented on their mucky bottoms and that I should get it checked out. I cleaned the ones which seemed to have the worst bottoms with a Hibiscrub solution and monitored to see if they continued with scour. They didn’t, so at this point I was happy and considering they had never seen grass before, let alone eaten it, this was also going to have an effect on their digestive system, so something to keep an eye on for sure.

The smallest girl had a case of ‘orf’, a disease similar to that of the common cold sore, very contagious to the other lambs and humans. In order to treat it with antibacterial spray, we needed to get the vet out for a site visit. She was happy with their condition, prescribed Terramycin (wonderful stuff!) and suggested that we worm them and start them on the Heptavac P system (will discuss in detail further down).

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Feeding Time

The first few days of feeding took a bit of getting used to. We were in the process of moving house, so the lambs were placed in the portion of land behind our ‘soon to be’ back garden. We hadn’t quite finished the fencing yet, but we made an enclosure from several lambing panels which was more than sufficient, a temporary solution. Orphan lambs at 3 weeks of age need a milk formula (powdered milk mixed with water) at least 3 times a day (if not on an ad lib system). We bought a bottle rack feeder which you could fit four bottles in and a bag of Lamblac. They need about 2 pints a day, split into 3 feeds, so at 08:30, 14:30 & 20:30 I was prepping four bottles and driving them over to the field (about a 5 minute drive so not too far!). What I realised very quickly is when you are mixing up Lamblac there are some essential tools that you need:
– A mixing bucket, preferably with a pouring lip
– A whisk
– A measuring jug
– Weighing scales
– A bottle brush
– At least 1 extra set of bottles & teats!

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Mixing Lamblac with cold water has a tendency to get lumpy if you don’t mix it into a paste first. Gradually add the rest of the water into the paste solution, constantly stirring with the whisk. I know this sounds as if I’m teaching you to suck eggs, but it took me a while to get the perfect consistency so it helps to know you can’t just whack it all in and whisk it, it won’t work!

The other thing I hadn’t quite prepared for was the lambs to be fussy over teats. The teats that came with the bottle rack pack, did not seem to do the job and none of them were feeding properly for the first 24hrs. I went to Mole Valley and purchased some alternative more rounded teats and this seemed to do the trick! Turns out lambs can be as fussy as humans when it comes to bottle feeding!

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The next thing you have to consider when feeding orphan lambs, is they tend to gorge on milk. They’re hungry little souls and when a large amount of milk is given to them, they just want to gulp it all down. This can cause lambs to ‘bloat’ and in severe cases can cause death. It is good practice to interrupt their drinking, I did it every 10-15 seconds. They don’t like it and will try and jump on another teat if available, but breaking up their intake of milk is similar to what they would take from mum anyway, so completely natural behaviour.

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I gave milk to my lambs up until they were 8 weeks old. They were getting some creep feed as well, about 4 cups twice a day at this point. At 7 weeks I dropped their lunchtime feed and then the last couple of days, they just got an evening feed. Some people recommend stopping bottle feeding abruptly, but this method worked well for us. Ours are 10.5 weeks old now and mainly on grass, but with creep and a salt lick supplement. At 12 weeks I plan to stop their creep and keep them as purely grass fed lambs.

The salt lick is something that sheep need because as ruminants they lack salt in their natural diet and need this to thrive and have a healthy immune system. They can also have additional mineral licks, specific for the type of sheep you have (breeding ewes etc) so it’s good to research which ones would be best for you.

Sick Bay

Sheep are prone to picking up different types of diseases from the ground, so as a rule it’s a good idea to keep an eye on their worm count, use preventative treatment for flystrike and consider immunisations for clostridial diseases, such as the ‘Heptavac P’ programme. This is the one that we used and it seems to be the most widely used and effective.

Although we started off with four lambs, we currently only have two left. The first lamb we lost was the middle ewe lamb, who I noticed was acting strangely when I went to feed them their lunchtime bottle at around 5 weeks old. She didn’t come to drink her milk and was very restless. Lying down, standing up, standing hunched over and her stomach looked quite swollen. I immediately thought it could be bloat and phoned the vets. They recommended that I bring her in.

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They took her into the examination room and I waited in the car whilst they treated her. After about 10 minutes the vet came and got me and explained, although they too thought it initially could be bloat, it could be something else, something which this vet had only seen in cows. There were various options, including surgery, but at this point he wasn’t entirely confident that surgery was the best option, considering they weren’t sure what it was and whether surgery would actually rectify the situation. They had already given her some pain killers and then decided on giving her an intravenous injection to help ease the swelling in her abdomen. They shaved her neck and tried to find a vein on one side but couldn’t, so had to try the other side.  The whole time you could see that she was not doing well, but I just wanted the vets to help make her better.

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Lambs and sheep can both die from stressful situations and this situation was particularly stressful for all involved. As myself and the vet were discussing what was going to happen next, in terms of the next dose of injection, one of the veterinary trainees noticed the lambs tongue had gone blue. They rushed her off the table and into another room to give her oxygen, but by that point it was too late. I burst into tears like an absolute sap, surrounded by 2 vets, 2 vet nurses and 3 students. They were all very nice to me and offered me a cup of tea. I agreed to have an autopsy so that we could establish what she had died from. The vet reported back that it was clostridial disease, a common disease of many strains that can be picked up easily by lambs, particularly by orphans that had not been given any immunity from their mums’ colostrum.

Heartbreakingly, this lamb had been given the Heptavac P (an immunisation against clostridial diseases) initial injection by myself about 5 days previous, but they don’t actually get immunity until the second dose, which wasn’t due for another 3 weeks. I think they call that bad luck. So I lost my first lamb and it hit me quite hard. I kept thinking about all the things I had done, all the things I hadn’t, but you can’t beat yourself up about these things, you just have to learn something and move on.

R+P+38

Unfortunately my run of bad luck hadn’t ended and the biggest of the four lambs, affectionately referred to as ’38’ as that was the number he had spray-painted on his side, suddenly dropped dead overnight at 7 weeks old. We had started to wean him, only because he was the biggest and having spoken to the breeder, they had begun to wean their biggest lambs. They had suggested giving him a bottle with just water in, which seemed to keep him happy whilst his siblings still had milk.

Bucket

He had been experiencing a little bit of scour (diarrhoea) for about a week, which I was growing concerned about. Again, a call to the vets and they suggested that I take in a faecal sample to be analysed. There is a disease called coccidosis which is another deadly disease, but it is treatable. The vet analysed the sample and said although there was trace amounts in the egg count, around 15,000, the level of concern is usually when the count hits 100,000 or more, but in order to rule out this as a reason for the scour, she prescribed a course of treatment for ’38’ and also his siblings, just in case. This was an oral liquid treatment given on the Wednesday.

By Friday it seemed some of 38’s poops were starting to harden up, so I was hopeful that the treatment seemed to be working. All three lambs had their bedtime feed and the next morning I woke up to find 38 dead in the middle of the field. I was devastated, not another one! His eyes had already been pecked out by birds, so we had to move him to a place where he was safe from scavengers. We arranged with a local kennels for him to be disposed of legally, but this time decided against an autopsy. It was likely that the scour was an indication of something wrong, perhaps not what the vet initially thought, perhaps he had multiple things wrong with him, perhaps he died from the same clostridial disease his sibling had a few weeks earlier. Who knows. But as the old saying goes, where there’s livestock, there’s deadstock. Not very comforting, but a stark reality when farming or running a snallholding.

It took me a while to shake off the feeling of dread when going to check on the lambs, although it is still there a bit most mornings. I know raising orphan lambs is hard, everyone says it is, but I didn’t realise how hard. I think I have also been terribly unlucky and as a first timer and I have certainly experienced a very steep learning curve.

The Survivors

Me-R+PR+P1

The other two lambs, Peanut (ewe) and Rambo (wether) seem to be doing well, although hopefully that hasn’t jinxed it! I have trained them (sort of) to the bucket, which hopefully means that moving them about is much easier, in theory anyway!

ramboKPeanutMe+Peanut

They are both full of character and incredibly tame. They have zero fear of our dogs (not ideal) and just want to play with them like puppies would! They love cuddles and scratches, and enjoy giving you a good sniff and checking you over for anything tasty. Buttons and shoelaces are a favourite to nibble on, but obviously I don’t encourage that! It’s lovely having them so close to the house, but if they hear my voice in the garden, they do tend to ‘baaaa’ the place down!

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I genuinely didn’t think I would have so much affection for sheep as I do, so much so, we’re planning on getting some Exmoor Horns to add to our flock next week, so watch this space!

 

 

 

It’s good to talk

Tomorrow is 1st February and it marks the end of a very long, wet and muddy January, the beginning of longer days and (hopefully) warmer weather. It is also a day to raise awareness for mental health. Time to Change #timetotalk is aiming to promote taking the time to talk about mental health and help break the stigma.

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I am lucky that I have never been diagnosed with mental health issues such as anxiety, stress and depression, but that does not mean that I have not suffered with symptoms that point towards these things. I know many friends and family that have, diagnosed or not, which is unsurprising when 1 in 4 of us experience a mental health condition. That’s a pretty high number right?

Farming is one of the industries where mental health is not talked about as freely, mainly because it is such an isolating environment. I read recently about a suicide of a young farmer, who was 24 years old. Farming has one of the highest suicide rates of any occupation, with one farmer a week taking their own lives, which is a shocking statistic, but very much a reality.

farming

Right before I moved to Devon to start my ‘farm life’, I lost a very close friend of mine to cancer. I’m not sure I properly grieved for her, because I had so many other things going on in my life at the time. Trying to pack up our flat by myself, trying to find a job, trying to sort out tenants for when I moved out, travelling every weekend back and forth to Devon to see my other half and for interviews which I was constantly being knocked back for.

In Southampton, I had an excellent support network of friends, colleagues and a brilliant, often busy social life. I knew that moving to rural Devon would be a massive change for me, but I didn’t realise how much. The job I have now does not involve an office full of people, it is just me and the family of 6 I work for (who are super lovely and nice, but it is not the same). When I am not at work, it is just myself (and the animals) during the day and I see my other half at night. Occasionally I bump into the other people that work on the estate (about 5 in total, one being my other half) and I take every opportunity to talk to them when I can. But it’s momentary and fleeting and I certainly wouldn’t start spilling my inner feelings to them stood in the rain in my wellies and waterproofs.

By no means am I alone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I didn’t realise how much I relied on my friends until I didn’t have them around me anymore. My other half has been brilliant and has noticed and picked up on changes in my behaviour and forced me to talk about it and confront these issues.

Those that know me, probably would describe me as quite a confident and outgoing person. But recently I’ve shyed away from many things that would involve taking a risk and possible failure. I’ve been very cautious and dare I say, clingy. On the outside it probably looks like the opposite, but social media, as we all know, can tell a different story to reality. Plus, it makes you feel good to share the successes in your life, why would you focus on the failures? No one wants to be ‘that’ person who moans about everything, when actually I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted and live in virtual paradise right?

And I do. I try to remember that when I’m feeling these things, that aside from being a bit lonely and scared of the unknown, I am very lucky to live here and do what I do. And I am happy, happier than I’ve ever been. But at the same time, I have moments of lowness that I struggle to shake.

But I’m here to tell you that despite this, I’ve found a way to cope. I use social media in a very different way than I used to. I’ve joined many Facebook groups relating to ‘smallholdings’ or the various animals that I keep and recently gained a new-found love for Twitter, following many people in the same situation as me. I’ve actually made new friends, online and in person! One by joining a local charity fun run and one who I started chatting to on Twitter and realised we lived near each other, and we’ve since met up. It is such an invaluable form of communication, because when you’re having a bad day, it’s good to know someone else has been through it and come out the other side, even if they are managing a herd of Llamas in the Highlands of Scotland! I’ve been so pleasantly surprised about the friendliness of absolute strangers and their willingness to give limitless advice and guidance, which I have found so helpful and reassuring.

The friends that I left behind in Southampton have also been amazing. Even if they wouldn’t know the first thing about tagging a pigs ear or dealing with an egg bound chicken, they have all been so supportive of me, and many have made the effort to come out to visit. They still text and call and haven’t forgotten me, which I am eternally grateful for.

So today, I’d just like to help raise awareness with this piece by encouraging people to talk about their issues, or issues that they know other people are going through. Make time to talk, or even if they don’t want to right now, just make it known that if they do feel like talking, you’re there. Because I am, for anyone that needs it. It can be a lonely world out there, especially in the rural countryside, but you only have to ask for help and people will surprise you. #timetotalk

New Pigs and Old Enemies

A very belated Happy New Year to everyone. Christmas 2017 was hectic but good fun. It marked my first one as a Mid-Devon resident.

It also was the first time I cooked Christmas dinner for over 20 people in my new job. I think it was a success! I then had a week of organisation and tidying of my own house, as well as visiting friends and family around the country, before having the parentals over to stay for actual Christmas. Christmas Eve was slightly overshadowed by the glass of our wood burner cracking and falling out. Obviously being a Sunday and Christmas Eve, nowhere was open. So we persevered and heated the house with an open fire, not ideal considering the flue is the wrong shape, so most of the smoke did not escape up the chimney. Cue a collection of sore throats and stinging eyes, not the ideal way to spend the festive season. Despite that, we did have a lovely time, filled with lots of lovely food, good company and far too many presents.

The food was particularly a hit, mainly because of the pork, including sausages and bacon all from our very own rare breed Oxford Sandy and Black pigs. I know I am biased, but the flavour of our hand reared meat was second to none. Making your own ‘pigs in blankets’ for Christmas dinner was certainly an achievement, which we remain very proud of. Also, lots of people received bacon and sausages as Christmas presents from us, which although unusual, I think were received well.

One present that I received, I have to mention, mainly because it involves a future addition to the menagerie. The other half has agreed that at some point this year I can take on an orphan lamb (or two) for fattening. Eeek! It will involve bottle feeding 4 times a day in the beginning, but the cuteness will certainly take over the inconvenience. I’ve asked if it can move into the house temporarily, but this has been met with a firm ‘no’, so it will probably end up in a barn and then out to graze perhaps with our friendly neighbours’ pygmy goats. So watch this space!

The first week of 2018, unfortunately brought us some sadness. Our beloved rare breed Silver Bantam drake, whom we affectionately named ‘Yoda’ due to his beautiful green head, was taken by a fox. This happened in the middle of the day. We had him about 4 years, he was our only unrelated male and life-partner to Princess Layer, our white Silver Bantam female, so we were all devastated.

A few days later, 4 of our chickens also disappeared in the middle of the day. There were so many feathers left behind we were almost sure they’d also all been taken by the fox. I spent a good hour searching nearby fields and although I did find lots of chicken footprints in the mud, alas no chickens were to be found. One of the missing was my favourite cockerel Bow, a massive Cuckoo Maran, but his feathers were the most left behind. I feared the worst and assumed he died trying to protect his girls.

The next morning I was getting ready and I heard my bantam cockerel Rocky conducting his morning crow, and I thought to myself that I am going to miss him and Bow’s duet. Every morning they would have some sort of X-factor battle, trying to out-crow one another. Bow’s crow being much louder and erratic than Rocky’s, almost comical. As if by magic, I then heard Bow’s distinctive crow in the distance! I genuinely thought I was hearing things, but I threw on my coat and wellies and went off to follow his call.

I found him in a neighbouring farm’s barn, proudly stood on a stone wall, crowing in all his magnificent glory. By some miracle, despite losing an awful lot of feathers, he seemed unscathed and only had a couple of scratches on his comb. I think he was happy to see me and calmly let me scoop him up and I reunited him with the rest of the flock. About half and hour later, we then got a phone call from the person who owns the nearby barn, who said she had spotted another very cold looking chicken perched by her car this morning. I went to where she described and sure enough, there was one of our missing Gold Laced Orpingtons, shivering on the floor by the parked cars. Unfortunately she seemed a bit more shaken up than Bow and was not as pleased to see me. After about half an hour of trying to guide/chase her back to our garden, I resorted to using a fishing net to catch her. Whilst carrying her back, I distinctly heard another cluck from a nearby field. Sure enough, missing chicken number 3, one of our buff rock bantam girls, was also in the hedge of the nearby field. Another half an hour of crazy chicken catching, and I had recovered 3 out of the 4 missing chickens! I was so happy! They were clearly chased and dispersed by our familiar old enemy, and I imagine that the remaining missing Black Maran, was not quite fast enough to escape Fantastic Mr Fox.

The next few days we kept the entire flock (now reduced to 18) inside their enclosure, whilst we came up with a plan of action. We considered electric fencing, but it is expensive, not completely fox proof (nothing is!) and also would not only electrify the foxes, but also the chickens, ducks and our inquisitive dogs. Woody our lab cross is already petrified of the pig fence (after being shocked a couple of times) and won’t go anywhere near the woodland, I don’t want him scared of going into his own back garden. Luckily (or unluckily) a few nights later, Mr Fox did return, for the last time. Whether that fox was the fox that killed our chicken and duck, we won’t ever know, but what we do know is that there is more than one fox out there, but there is now one less. I appreciate that we are living in the foxes territory, I appreciate that they need to eat. But there are so many pheasants, rabbits and other rodents to feed them in their natural environment, they do not need to take our livestock. It is an emotive issue so I won’t say anymore on the subject.

Finishing on a lighter note, the New Year brought us new pigs. Three Large Black weaners. These rare breed native pigs are rarer than the Siberian Tiger, with less than 200 breeding sows in this country. They are often referred to as the Cornish Black, as the breed’s origins are from Devon and Cornwall. They are also referred to as the ‘elephant pig’ because new born piglets resemble tiny elephants because of their large ears and straight tails. Their hair is unusually fine, soft and silky in comparison to other breeds of pig.

We have wanted this breed ever since we decided we wanted to keep pigs, but we found it difficult to obtain the pigs locally. We still had to travel over an hour to get these ones, but I’m sure you’ll agree they’re absolutly worth it. We have had them about a week and they have settled in nicely and are getting used to the electric fence, but they are loving snuffling around in the undergrowth and are already fans of belly scratches. I have spent most of the last week in bed with the flu, so I am looking forward to getting better and spending a bit more time with my baby elephants…I mean pigs!

Three little pigs went to market

Today I took our second set of pigs to the abattoir. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I would write, but a lot has happened in the past year! 

Our first set of pigs went to the abattoir in May, but I couldn’t bring myself to go along as I imagined it would be far too emotional and traumatic for me. We never name our pigs and although I see them everyday, I tried to limit my time with them, so as to not get too attached. Despite this, these pigs still got a lot of attention, back and belly scratches, the odd bucket of apples, as well as a few pumpkins at Halloween. I loved those pigs.
 

This morning I got up early and it was pouring with rain. It was cold and dark and I felt apprehensive at best. I know the pigs have had a good life, better than most, but I just wanted to ensure they had a stress-free, humane and dignified death, as much as I possibly can. 

I had arranged to meet Steve, a long-standing member of the farm team on the estate, at the woodland just after 7am. He is experienced in all things farm related, including driving a trailer with live animals, so it made sense to ask him to help, rather than struggle by myself, plus having two people makes it a lot easier. It was lashing down with rain and still dark, so I headed up to the woodland in my waterproofs and my head torch. 

The pigs were already in the trailer, having happily been fed and slept in there voluntarily for the past few days. As soon as they saw me they got excited, mainly because they were expecting breakfast! Unfortunately I had to disappoint them, and instead I made a fuss of them in the trailer whilst Steve secured and locked them in. The back was filled with cosy straw and they have plenty of space to lounge around in there. They were most displeased when the bucket of food failed to make an appearance, so I quickly made my exit out of the side door, as being trapped in a trailer with 3 hungry pigs weighing approximately 85kg each is something you probably shouldn’t do for long!

All hitched up and secure we tried to drive away in the Landrover, but unfortunately due to an abundance of rain overnight, resulting in wet leaves and soggy ground, we weren’t going anywhere fast. The woodland that the pigs live in is on a slope, so every time we tried to move, we ended up sliding down, to the point where we got wedged against a tree.

Luckily, because it’s a farm we weren’t stuck for long, as Steve went to get the tractor to pull us out. With a bit of extra help from my other half, who drove the Landrover with the trailer attached, and Steve behind in the tractor making sure they all didn’t slide down the hill, the boys safely got the pigs out of the woodland and onto suitable ground. Not the best start to the day, but it could’ve been worse I suppose!


Before we set off, I checked on the pigs to make sure they were ok and not stressed out by their bumpy start. As I peered through the air vents they seemed pretty much unfazed by it all. They were snorting away, snuffling in the straw, no doubt checking that their bedding wasn’t hiding any stray food-pellets! So off we set, the journey took about an hour and all went smoothly, despite it being a very wet and windy morning.

As we drove into the farm where the abattoir is located, I was surprised to see a lovely detached house at the entrance and a couple more nice houses down the lane, one in fact right by the abattoir building itself. I assumed that the people who own and work at the abattoir live there, but it was odd to think that anyone would want to live that close to that sort of establishment. But at the same time, it was also quite comforting, as it made me think that it can’t be that bad an environment, if people are living on the doorstep.

We had to wait a few minutes in the yard, as there was already another person with their trailer backed up against the entrance, but soon enough we were reversing our trailer up to the doors. When I got out, I expected the place to smell of blood and meat (like a butchers sometimes does) but it didn’t, it was all quite normal and clean and the radio was playing in the background.


The main guy in charge came up and happily greeted us and helped encourage the girls out of their trailer. Noses to the ground, they were curious as to their new surroundings, but with some gentle coaxing, they made their way down to the holding pen without too much fuss. The guy even said that he much preferred pigs to sheep, which made me think we were his favourites so far that morning. After a quick exchange of paperwork, a brief chat about what cuts of meat we wanted back and some smalltalk with a couple of the other guys that worked there, we agreed that I would pick up all the meat at the same time in about a week. This is because bacon takes longer to process and cure, and is also the bit we missed out on last time (because those pigs were too small), so we wanted to make sure that bacon was on the list this time!

Mondays are a busy time for the abattoir as that is generally when people drop off their livestock. The last Monday in December is again probably busier than usual, with only a few weeks left before Christmas. The abattoir asks that you arrive before 09.30hrs, and even with our mishap we arrived a good 45 minutes before then. As we drove off, there was a queue of about 6 more vehicles all with trailers and livestock, so we certainly picked the right time to get there else we could’ve been waiting a while, so you definitely would want to get there early to avoid queues. 

And that was it. The process was fairly seamless and non-traumatic for both myself and the pigs. I had all the paperwork prepared beforehand, with everything now done online with the EAML2 system, which you use to notify the movement of your animals. I brought along a piece of paper with what cuts of meat I wanted, and the whole process probably took about 15 minutes, if that.

I tried not to think about the next stage too much, but I know from my research that it’s relatively quick and painless and just another part to the process of raising animals for food. 

I feel surprisingly ok. I don’t feel as bad as I did last time, although there is always a tinge of sadness, but I try not to dwell on that. I like to remember them in their woodland, never wanting for anything and being appreciated not only in life, but also in death. Feeding us and our family and friends, and feeling confident knowing exactly the process that’s been involved in their journey at every stage. Knowing where my food has come from, how it’s been treated, what it’s eaten, knowing it’s been happy and appreciating the sacrifice it’s given. Not a lot of people can say that and I’m proud of what we have achieved and hope we can continue to do the same in the future.

Waste not, want not 

It’s been a tough few months out here in rural Devon. Several things have happened that haven’t been the greatest. I haven’t wanted to write about it, but I think it’s important to share the failures as well as the successes, because that is life and my blog was always about sharing our journey, warts and all.

We’re currently on our second set of pigs that we’re raising for meat. The first trio of British Lops that we hand reared was a great achievement and certainly the meat that they produced was highly regarded and every time we ate some, we felt humbled. We slaughtered them at the end of May and by October, we had probably eaten about half of the meat we got back. 


Our 3 British Lops & a freezer worth of home grown, free range pork.


The meat was kept in a large chest freezer in a garage at the farmyard, our place of work. Work men had been coming and going for months due to building works. During the second week of October my aunt came to stay. I like to cook our rare breed pork for visitors, so as usual, I made a trip to the freezer to get out a nice bit of pork belly. I was devastated to discover that all the meat was defrosted and swimming in a bloody liquid. All of it was ruined. It had been a couple of weeks since I’d last been to the freezer and everything was fine then. The meat was room temperature when I found it, meaning it could’ve happened anywhere between 2 weeks and at least 5 days previous. 

It turned out somebody had physically unplugged the freezer. I asked around but everyone denied knowledge, not that finding out who it was would’ve helped. The meat was irreplaceable. I doubt whoever unplugged it realised what they’d done (the freezer is one end of a triple cluttered garage & extension lead goes to plug socket at other end), but somehow that makes it worse. If it had been a power-cut or faulty switch, I think I would’ve coped better than thinking it was pure ignorant negligence that meant I had to bag up and bin months of hard work. We put blood, sweat and tears into raising those pigs, they even made fame in a magazine! Yet here I was trying not to gag on the smell of rotten meat and trying not to cry at the same time. It’s safe to say we’ll be investing in some socket locks next time!

The sadness of the week continued when one of our ducks escaped (not unusual) but somehow managed to get out onto the road and got run over and killed by a tractor. We didn’t know at first, as she just didn’t come home for bedtime (this was unusual), so we spent nearly 2 hours trying to find her in the dark and rain. It was only the next morning when I walked the dogs down the road, did I come across part of her remains. She was this years duckling hatch, so only a few months old. Again, seemed such a waste. For days after, our breeding pair (her parents) and her brother Luke, went out into the field looking for her. Her brother seemed lost, as they were inseparable, and it was so sad to watch.

Luckily our loner duck Rae (last years hatch but likes to do her own thing) took him under her wing (pun intended) and began socialising with him, and now they are often seen together. This makes me happy as Luke was clearly unsettled by his sisters sudden departure, but sweet that he’s now found a new buddy in Rae to hang with.


Lastly, we had to kill three of our five cockerels. This in itself was inevitable, and something that we had planned to do. These three males were Bantam birds, part of the first incubator hatch I carried out earlier in the year. Four out of six eggs hatched, and three out of four chicks were cockerels. Unlucky for my first time! We already had an existing Bantam cockerel Rocky, plus later hatched a Cuckoo Maran cockerel in the following incubator hatch. My plan was always to raise them and then eat them. There was never going to be a lot of meat on them, as they’re not table birds, but they’d be ok in a stew or for soup. 

I’d previously butchered and cooked a pheasant, so I was confidant I could do these chickens. The plan was for my partner to humanely ‘despatch’ (kill) them in the morning and then I’d pluck, prepare and butcher them myself. I had instructions in book form and also access to several YouTube videos. What could go wrong?!

The first part went smoothly. We have a derelict outbuilding where we could kill them out of sight of the other birds. But plucking them would be an issue due to lack of room and the fact that once they’d been let out, our other birds would be straight over being all nosy and it could potentially distress them.


My partner had made a wooden frame a few months back to hang a heat lamp from, so I utilised this in our kitchen, to tie the birds to for plucking. I covered the kitchen floor in bin bags and got to work. It wasn’t too difficult once you got into the swing of it, but it took me a while to get confident. By the third bird it was quicker and seemed easier. 


Just to keep me on my toes, during plucking, I heard the postman pull up outside. To prevent him from thinking I’m some sort of weirdo with a kitchen set-up like something out of an episode of Dexter, I quickly rushed outside to intercept the mail before he got to the front door. On returning back to the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of my hair in the window, which was actually covered in feathers. Oops! Didn’t quite pull it off after all!


After plucking, comes the slightly gross bit of butchering & removing the birds innards. As I said before, I’d done it with a pheasant and it seemed pretty straight forward. Well, chickens are different and I struggled big time. Not with finding the idea of butchering difficult, but the physical removal of everything, without nicking any of the vital organs, I found near impossible. I tried for an hour. I called my partner and even he, who has gralloched many deer, also struggled and we ended up accidentally cutting the gall bladder, spoiling the bird.

So after four hours of hard work, I had to admit defeat and threw away the birds instead of putting them to good use. I felt deflated, disappointed and defeated. But saying that, at least a tried. I can put it down to a learning experience. I can’t be good at everything right?! But it has made me more determined to learn how to do it properly, so that I would feel more confident next time.

So that’s a summary of my last month or so, certainly more downs than I had hoped for, but it’s all part of the process I guess. We have a busy winter coming up, lots to harvest and produce to make, so plenty to keep me busy and out of trouble.

Smallholding life is amazing, but sometimes it’s tough. But I guess if it was that easy, everyone would be doing it right? Despite the testing month, I’m still confidant this is the life for me and I’m looking forward to the next lot of Pigs going to slaughter, so that my empty freezer can be filled for winter! 

Famous Five Minutes

The last month or so has absolutely flown by and although I’ve been mega busy, I don’t have a lot to show for it! Although I did find an amazing reference book which has some useful and equally hilarious chapters!

Obviously aside from working hard, cooking and housekeeping, I have also spent some time seeing friends and family. I’ve been to Wales for a wedding, Liverpool for a hen do and Southampton for a general visit of friends. There have also been multiple visitors who have come to visit us here on the farm.

It’s great fun seeing their reactions to the remoteness, how beautiful it is (we’ve been lucky with the weather on most visits!) and how much our lives have changed. I feel very privileged to be here and the other half certainly works his butt off every day to ensure we remain here as long as we can.

I have continued to try and be adventurous where I can with my cooking, and it all seems to be going well. I even tried flambéing some beef the other day. I was initially terrified it was going to leave scorch marks on my bosses’ recently painted kitchen ceiling, I was relieved when the flames were slightly smaller than I had anticipated, but impressive nonetheless!

I have yet to make any produce yet in relation to my side-line business idea, but I have booked myself onto Food Safety course in a couple of weeks. I am hoping to confirm most of the knowledge I already hold, learn some new skills and get a certificate in the process, so that I am able to sell any produce I decide to make.

Aside from that, there have been some animal antics which have been keeping me busy. A few weeks ago, a beautiful stray cat appeared in the farmyard. It was a very thin, but very affectionate Bengal. An expensive stray, so we were convinced it belonged to someone. We began feeding it over the bank holiday weekend, as it was desperate for food, but the plan was to take it to get scanned at the vets for a microchip on the Tuesday. It turned out the cat had been stolen from Worcestershire and when the receiver/buyer of the cat in Tiverton found out the owner had contacted the police, he helpfully let the cat out and of course it ran off, completely disorientated in a foreign environment. Luckily it found our yard and as one of the guys that works there already ‘sponsors’ a stray farm cat, Lucy the Bengal (we later found out her name to be) obviously thought it was a safe place to stay! She was such a friendly cat, thin due to a rare kidney condition, so we were only happy to return her to her rightful owner, although a little bit sad to say goodbye.

My involvement with ‘Women Who Do’ continues, I recently wrote a guest article for their blog focused on the theme ‘Taking a Chance’ and I described my life as ‘Somewhere between Downton Abbey and the Good Life’ which I think is a fairly accurate reflection! If you would like to read the article and in the process check out how WWD are connecting and supporting business women in your local area, then please click here: www.womenwd.co.uk/single-post/2017/09/01/Somewhere-Between-Downton-Abbey-and-The-Good-Life

Lastly, the article I interviewed for in the Autumn issue of Practical Pigs magazine has been published. Despite being quite a niche audience, I got an incredible amount of support, not only from family and friends who rushed out to buy copies (you’re welcome Kelsey Publishing!), but from fellow members on social media forums, even strangers on Instagram who tagged me in their post, describing my journey as ‘inspiring’. Also, someone attending the house where I work, recognised me from reading the article as they had bought the magazine with a view of getting pigs.It made me all warm and fuzzy on the inside, thinking that I may have helped to encourage just one other person to raise their own animals for food, or even just to reassess their own food buying habits, and think twice about the journey their food has been on before throwing that packet of meat in the trolley.

Not a bad 6 page spread! 😉

Fruits of my labour

Once again it has been a while since I've posted, so apologies for lack of updates.

Some of you may know that I've recently started a new job as a part-time housekeeper for a family of 6, which mainly includes being their personal cook.

Due to the summer holidays, the past three weeks have been full on, what with a house move thrown into the mix too, but I have absolutely loved every minute. I've been able to try out a variety different dishes, preparing large meals for up to 15 guests (including a celebrity) and all has been a great success. To be asked where I professionally trained (ummm I haven't, does Google count?!) is a huge honour and I feel very lucky to be given this opportunity.

I have also joined a team of online bloggers and working alongside a kick ass business called 'Women Who Do', putting together our reviews of recipes for people with busy lives who don't want to compromise their mealtimes. Because hey, we all love good food even if we only have 30 minutes to prepare it! So every week we are given a recipe to try out and we rate it based on ease & flavour. I skipped weeks 2 & 3 due to working ridiculously long hours those weeks, but will hopefully be featuring in this weeks video. Please check us out at http://www.womenwd.co.uk or via several other social media outlets 👍🏼

Aside from all the cooking, the animals have been growing in size (luckily not in numbers) and we decided it was time to sell off some of the birds so our back garden is a bit more grass and a bit less feathers (and poop!). At our peak we housed around 30 birds (a combination of ducks & chickens) but we are down to a more modest 20, with three more due to go in the next few weeks. It's been a great experience helping to raise the chicks and ducklings, but as we head into autumn (it's not far away!), it's sensible to get the numbers under a more manageable level.

The pigs are also doing well and loving woodland life. They have almost doubled in size and are certainly a far cry from the timid and shy weaners we bought two months ago. They're full of energy and absolutely love it when I get the camera out for a selfie!

The little tinkers have also decided that despite their water trough being perfectly fine for the first two months, and also fine for the previous lot of pigs, that one of the little divas (or all three) decided it would be far better to empty it out (big heavy rock and all) and use it as a pillow in their pig ark! Funny little pigs! Hopefully it was a one off moment of naughtiness, else we will have to come up with a more robust way of providing water for them!

I now have two weeks off, which should be filled with book reading and naps, but instead I will be putting together the beginnings of a business plan, utilising the kitchen garden of the estate and making products good enough that people might want to buy them. No rest for the wicked eh?! Watch this space!