Adapt and Overcome

Luckily I was able to finish moving house days before we were shut down with the Covid-19 virus. The kennels were finished enough to be habitable before my builders had to self-isolate.

The concrete pad had to fit kennels and a storage shed - it was tight!

This is what I gave the builders-

And they still manage to build it all to fit based on that scribble -

The builders are my neighbours who I supply with goat meat from time to time. They built the kennels in record time and wouldn't charge me for their labour! They will never be short of goat meat, that's for sure.

We swapped the shed and kennels around to give the dogs a bit more privacy and an extra windbreak.The dogs like to sunbathe now spring is here. The cleaning system needs to be refined - gravel and loose straw are not a good combo. We'll work on that.

While the inside of the new cottage was still under construction, I set about moving some farm equipment and my greenhouse. I took all the glass out of it and moved all the panes in multiple trips, as many as I could lift by myself in one armful.

Last time, Mike and Ian moved the frame by carrying it down the road on their shoulders. I had to get more creative - and a little scared - to move it by myself this time-

I balanced it on the loader's tines and drove it down the road, saying "Ohshitohshitohshit" to myself pretty much the whole way. I picked a time when the roads would be mostly clear, and prayed I wouldn't bump into anyone. I figured that people do dumber things with less planning than this. It worked out fine.

Buoyed by my greenhouse moving success, I went back and loaded the railroad sleepers I use for its base.

I wasn't so lucky with the old chicken house. Its structure was too weakened from age and the winter's floods to move. Now I had homeless turkeys. But I adapted -

I covered the greenhouse frame with a few sheep hurdles zip tied together, and covered it with a tarp to make it rain resistant. A temporary turkey refuge.

Yeah, they're not impressed either.

After a few days in the turkey prison (helps them locate where to go to bed at night) they were free to wander the gardens. They look much happier in the sunshine, in the corner of my garden.

And because moving house and a pandemic weren't enough, some of the sheep tried to get blood worm again. I caught it quicker, and wormed the worst cases. One ewe was so poorly I needed to move her close to me so I could tend her regularly, but I no longer have a sheep barn. I adapted-

I left my washing line in the picture because my life is not Instagram-worthy, but it's honest.

I have a little orchard so I penned her in there with sheep netting (no electricity but she was too poorly to wander much). I'm using my little trailer as a mobile shed, stuffed with straw to keep her warm as she's lost so much weight. Here I can feed her and treat her with meds and vitamins. It was touch and go for 4 or 5 days. I hated to get out of bed every morning as my first job was to walk outside and see if she made it though the night. Not a nice way to start your day.

She's still here, recovering nicely. In fact, she baaas at me when the dogs bark for their breakfast, demanding hers at the same time. The bit of fresh grass in the orchard has been a tonic for her too. 

The rest of the flock is desperate to move to their new grazing but there's timber extraction around and through the new field. I checked on progress this morning and it looks like we could move in the next 48 hours.

The horses didn't want to be left out. They have been busy pushing down fencing, probably while scratching their butts on the wood rails. The managed to take out a whole section, leading onto the main road of course-

They did this after the quarantine was in effect so I couldn't go to the farm store and get any fencing supplies. But, I adapted  -

Thank goodness for sheep hurdles and zip ties. I hate that it looks so messy, but keeping stock in is the main priority at the moment. 

And because moving house, a pandemic, sick sheep and escaping horses aren't enough, Pip decided it was time for her to cross the rainbow bridge. She enjoyed her last few days out in the sun, and many special breakfasts before we took our final trip to the vets.

Because of the health restrictions, I wasn't able to hold her paw while she went to sleep, but her favourite vet and nurse were there with her the whole journey. Dr Ralph said she was wagging her tail right up to the end.

Pip in her retrieving days. She was a good dog in every way.

And because moving house, a pandemic, sick sheep, escaping horses, and losing a dog aren't enough, I also quit my job at the pub. Which was prescient as within a week all the wait staff were laid off anyway due to the quarantine. 

My neighbour who farms milking goats is very short staffed, with plowing and seeding jobs to do as well as milking. He and his staff helped me move the bulk of my house, all the furniture and heavy things I couldn't do on my own. They were busy themselves and still offered to come over to help me. It was a huge kindness. Now I get to return the favour, and be gainfully employed at the same time: I am a trainee goat milker!

I shadow staff during the evening milking to learn the routine. The stockmanship is easy enough, it's the milking parlour and complex vacuums, bulk tanks, and hoses that worry me. Press the wrong button and I've contaminated all the milk and it has to be thrown away, and the farm loses money. 

I'm told it's pretty hard to do anything that catastrophic. Again, people do dumber things with less planning and get by. I'm sure I can be taught.

We're only milking about 83 at the moment, but the next lot of goats are starting to kid, so milking will increase. On my last shift, we spotted an early kidder who managed to pop out FIVE babies -

I've secretly named her Pez.

I bumped into Kate, one of the farm staff, just as she was about start her long evening sitting in a tractor plowing the fields. Kate made herself a coffee but couldn't find a spoon. So, she reached in her jeans pocket, pulled out a knife, wiped in on her jeans, and used it to stir her coffee. Yes it was the knife she uses to trim animal feet. Yes we all do it. Adapt and overcome, even if it's a bit gross.

Of all that's happened in my life over the last eight months, the stay at home quarantine order has been the easiest problem to manage. I'm part of a good community, we swap and share, There's enough in my larder that I've not been to a grocery store and anything can be toilet paper if you're creative enough. But I've taken the isolation very seriously because I cannot afford to get sick without a Mike in my life.

The estate planted a tree in Mike's honour, replacing an oak that blew down in last year's storms. It's a sweet chestnut tree, grown from seed from a tree on the estate that, every year, produces the biggest fattest most delicious chestnuts. Grown this way from seed, the chestnut will take 20 years to produce nuts. I hope I'm still around to gather them.

Molly sits on the stump with Mike's tree in the background. We like to go and visit it together sometimes.

The woodmen will carve a bench from the stump of the fallen tree eventually, and the view looks out across a pheasant drive, though fields and into the woods. The underkeepers dug the hole for the tree. Sitting on the stump afterwards they said "Great! This will be a perfect rifle rest for shooting foxes!"

Mike would be so proud.

Stay safe and well. Adapt and overcome.