Of all the things I expected to see when I looked out of my office window, the least of them was a ewe and her lamb making their way down our driveway. Okay, we live in the country, but the nearest field of sheep is at least 500 yards away as the crow flies and more importantly, there are houses, gardens, gates and at least one stream between our house and that field. Not to worry – just as I was about to step outside and lead the strays down the back lanes to home, the local farmer walked up, said, “Come on girls!†and they trotted away calmly enough.
My wife loves this time of year. To describe this time of year as spring would be stretching it a bit, but as the winter reluctantly moves on and the sun starts to tease us with its promise of warmth and renewal, the hills above our village start to resonate with the garbled croaks of ewes and the high pitched bleating of lambs who have, momentarily at least, lost their mums.
Last weekend we took a walk out of the village and up onto the moor. As my better half always says, you never regret a walk once you’ve got yourself moving, but this particular walk was distinguished by a very special moment indeed.
As we strained our calves against the slope of West Challacombe Lane, a large herd of sheep in a field to our left started to groan and bark one by one, rising to a deafening cacophony which was unsettling and puzzling. We simply could not work out why these sheep, which seemed perfectly happy, were making so much noise. And then we worked it out: all of a sudden we could hear, in the distance, the unmistakable throbbing motor of a quad bike. The farmer was on his way and the sheep were expecting cake*.
Normally we are wary when a dog comes lumbering down a lane with no owner in sight, but the border collie that appeared around a corner was very business-like, leading a young farmer who was riding his quad, side saddle, pulling a trailer which carried half a dozen ewes in one compartment and, to my wife’s utter, utter joy, a dozen very young lambs. Purely by chance, we had stumbled upon their introduction to the outside world.
It’s hard to describe the child-like joy we felt as the farmer removed the lambs, two at a time, from the trailer and put them out in the field with their mother, before driving on a little further and repeating the process five times. Each new family was given its own space in a lush, south facing field which the sun was heating up nicely. We watched open-mouthed as the lambs found their feet (some more easily than others) on grass for the first time, sniffing and looking around nervously as they fought the urge to explore and leave the safety of their mother’s side. But for the time being, they stayed close to mum, saving the fun and games for later when they felt a bit more brave and could enlist some of their fellow young ‘uns in some fun and games.
Sorry, we couldn't get close enough for a better photo of this sleepy pair.
From my first play farm as a little boy, I have always loved nature and if I have learned anything over the years, it’s that every now and then it puts on a very special display just for you: a few moments of awe and wonder, far away from the world of work and worry.
Children have loved toy animals and play farms for hundreds of years.
*Not that kind of cake. I have heard the pellets used to feed sheep, described as cake.
