All change in the shippon...

Ever since I started working with Jane up at the farm, I have been milking the same two goats: Anna and Ava. So a couple of weeks ago, when I was told they'd be going soon, I didn't really think much of it and assumed I had misheard. But last weekend, I arrived to find a little van and trailer parked where I normally do and a flurry of activity in the yard.

I was able to milk the two of them as usual but, after milking, the trailer was got ready and the goats loaded into it for their long trip up to Arran, where they'll have a new home.

I have got quite attached to the two of them, Anna (above), who stands still while she has something in her bucket to eat, and turns to sniff my ear while I am milking her; Ava (below), who has long teats that make it easy for me to milk, but who had a habit of kicking if she thought she could get away with it.  

In recent weeks Ava got a bit of 'spring fever' and, instead of wandering back into her pen after milking, would dart outside and trot around the yard. It's hard to run after a goat when you're carrying a bucket full of milk, as I found out.

Next week there'll be some new tenants in the pens, as the goatlings will move into the shippon, leaving a pen free for all the new kids. It's an interesting game of solitaire, and one that keeps me busy.

Livestock and deadstock...

Sunday mornings are important to me, a chance for me to learn, to put into practice what I have read in the week, to try out techniques and to get closer to the animals I want to, eventually, manage and breed. This Sunday was a sombre affair, however, as one of the milkers, Zia, had failed to birth the third of triplets. This resulted in septacaemia and, ultimately, she died. Her orphaned kids stand in the pen looking a bit lost, as if every time the gate opens it will be their mum. In the pen next door, Sybil, the one who always held milk back when I tried to milk her, also lost two kids. Perhaps an infection affected them both.

On a happier note, Elka had triplets (above) and all was well and one of the goatlings in the other shed had twins. So that's eleven new goats in the space of a week, with two more to kid. Then it will be the turn of the Dorpers and a few more Dorsets.

I was full of a cold so clipping the feet of the Dorpers took ages and I don't think I was her best buddy for taking so long. I'll have to buck my ideas up next week!

In a quiet few minutes at work, I had a bit of inspiration, and came up with this:

She leaves her golden bed
Of straw to stand
Obediant, expectant,
Over a silver pail.
Silence, save for munching,
A snicker, a belly rumble.

I lean my head
Into her side,
The rumen gurgles
Like the promise
Of a distant storm
But outside, all is silent.

Spring has sprung...

... the grass is ris,
I wonder where,
the birdies is.

There are plenty of birds around, they have been flexing their song muscles for several weeks. I stood at the back door last night and, mixed in among the screams of children, the revving of over-tuned cars and the distant sirens, listened to a blackbird filling the air with his liquid song. It is a sound I always get pleasure from, particularly in the urban mess that is Farnworth.

It's not just the birds gearing up for spring. Yesterday, when I got to the farm there were three new additions. Mum Zina was looking very pleased with herself, despite needing a hand to get the first kid, a breech presentation, out. These were born on Friday and are already jumping about, itching to get in and play with the other goats.

More are due this weekend, so I am hoping it happens near enough to Sunday for me to be present.

With the weather so bright and sunny, I also decided to have a quick look in the hives. Both colonies are doing well, although one has used up almost all of its winter stores. I took two of their empty frames out and swapped them for two full ones from the other hive but will need to pop back this week and give them some sugar syrup to keep them going. If the weather is good, they might not need it, but better to be safe than sorry. I have been quite good so far at keeping them going through the winter and I would hate a basic mistake like not feeding them interrupt my success.

Although the sun was out, it must have been warmer on my head than in the air, as you can see.

The praties are dug and the frost is all over...

One side of the potato-pit was white with frost -
How wonderful that was, how wonderful!

Sunday mornings these days are spent trying to perfect the art of milking. It's a nice thing to try and learn and I do feel I am getting somewhere. Most of the milk now goes in the bucket, rather than up my sleeve, on the floor or across my trousers, and the goats seem happier that I am getting faster. I find my biggest problems are with the goats with the smaller teats, getting the grip just right is difficult if I am not to spray milk into my hand. But, as they say, practice makes you better.

This Sunday, following a week of snowy and icy weather, as well as milking the goats we attended to the feet of the rams. It took three of us to turn them over and hold them, they wriggle and squirm worse than the ewes, and Dorset sheep aren't small. The Dorpers were fairly placid, although one started a fit of coughing when we righted him and I was concerned he might keel over at one stage, but he calmed down and then just got in the way.

The farm itself is in the middle of fields, as farms usually are, and on these crisp frosty mornings the views are stunningly beautiful. As the sun rises it glows, orange, low in the morning sky, making the ice on the grass twinkle and sparkle, like a sprinkling of glitter over everything. As I was carrying hay into one of the barns for the calves, I looked over the fence into the big field. The grass was white, the trees in the distance covered with hoar frost, and on the left, a red poll cow stood, a beautiful dark red, unmoving, a stark contrast to the rest of the icy scene. It would have made a lovely photo...

Hands-on experience...

For the last few years I have tried, with my New Year’s resolutions, to either learn something new or do something positive. Wanting to learn new things means that, often, I succeed in my objective. That’s not to say that doing them is always easy, that would be a bit pointless, but the will to do something is a great way of helping things along. Learning to knit was one small success, improving my spoken Polish wasn’t.

During the summer, at Halifax Agricultural Show, we were talking to someone in the goat tent, asking lots of questions about goats and their upkeep. One of the questions she asked us was: can you hand milk? We both had to say no, and were then advised to learn. Asking around, we found somewhere not too distant and where they were willing to let us loose on the small, but productive herd of Toggenburg milkers.

So it was 7.30am on a Sunday morning when we arrived at Charnock’s Farm and were immediately given a stainless steel bucket, a ten second ‘how to’ and let loose on one of the goats. They were so patient, and over the weeks we’ve been doing it, we have got better and quicker, although there are still a couple of the six goats we milk that think kicking the bucket over or standing in it, is better than let us work away at their teats. It’s been an interesting few weeks and I hope we can become more proficient before the goats dry up naturally later in the winter.

I also get to work with the small flock of Polled Dorset sheep; rounding them up, tagging the lambs, inoculating and general management. It’s a steep learning curve, but a real bonus. It’s just a shame that, with all hands full, we don’t get to take many photos. I am also pleasantly surprised that Agnieszka still gets up, at 6am on a Sunday, to come with me and we learn together. I knew she was special, but now I know she is extra-special.

Halifax Agricultural Show...

It was a grey, windswept morning on the day of the Halifax Agricultural Show and we arrived just after eight to find most of the showground closed. Exhibits were still arriving in the poultry tent and cows were still being washed by the side of the park. It is the first time I have ever been to a show where things got going after we had arrived.

Having said that, once it got going it was a good day out. The showground seemed to be divided into two sections; one for livestock and people interested in that, and the other for punters looking to be entertained by stalls and shops. We definitely preferred the livestock side and spent quite a while chatting to goat and cow owners. Everyone was very accommodating and went out of their way to give Agnieszka an opportunity to take pictures.

I spoke to a goat owner and am in the process of organising a visit with a view to a bit of hands on experience, to boost my knowledge and hopefully to learn how to hand milk. A skill I don’t have but definitely need if we are to keep goats in the future.

Other highlights of the day included the Shire horses, some very large bulls, a packed poultry tent, the mice section and the horticulture tent. Local people seemed to make up the bulk of the estimated 10,000 visitors and plenty entered things into the cakes, beans and art sections.

We spent nearly eight hours there, from the drizzly early dawn to a bright and sunny afternoon. It felt right to be around the animals and I hope one day we might even turn up with our own.

So near but yet so far...

The gap between the dream and reality was never so apparent as last weekend when we went, for the second time, to the Smallholder and Garden Festival in Builth Wells.

The first time, in 2009, all was new, exciting, overwhelming even. It was an opportunity to see animals and ask questions of their owners in a way we hadn’t been able to do before. It allowed us to decide that Anglo Nubian goats were our goat of choice and that a cow needed too much space. We spoke to people who bowled us over with their enthusiasm and positivity while, at the same time, leaving us with no illusions that a smallholder lifestyle is a soft option.

This visit we went with open eyes and decided to concentrate on less but more intently. This also proved difficult as there was again so much to see but we did spend plenty of time around the goats and Anglo Nubians came out top again, although Toggenburgs come a close second. I spoke to a very nice lady from Devon who gave me lots of advice and then brought everything home by asking: How much land do you have?

So the dream and the reality are still very far apart. While the slowly recovering economy is starting to reduce the negative equity we found ourselves in two years ago, it’s a long drawn-out process and one that will probably never give us a good return for our money. At the moment I think we’d be lucky to get the deposit back. Anything on top of that is a bonus.

So what are the next steps? Well, firstly a trip to Poland in July which will be concentrated around Szczecin. This will allow us to explore the area further and decide if it really is where we want to be. It will also enable us to visit a few estate agents and talk to some people about the price and availability of property with land. After that we can decide if we have the money to carry on.

Supple as a young goat on a windy hill...

I have recently had a small operation to remove a ganglion from my right wrist and have been at home for the past couple of weeks recuperating. This has mainly consisted of reading all those books I bought from charity shops and never got around to. Some have been delight but others, why did I spend 50p on them? At least now the pile to be recycled is bigger and there's some room on the shelves for more...

Although I have been restricted in my movements somewhat, I was determined not to miss out on the basic goat keeping course we have been booked on since before Christmas. This was a week and a half after the op and I was able to drive down to Reaseheath with little pain. The day itself was great, even Agnieszka liked it, particularly when we got taken to a real goat farm where they breed various animals for their meat.

If I have one complaint about Reaseheath it's their habit of putting people into classes when they know nothing about the subject. Last time it was Mr 'I-like-to-keep-things-informal' Walton and his poor knowledge of poultry; this time it was Alan the sheep and dairy farmer. This was only an introduction, so I can forgive the lack of experience here, but for more indepth courses he would have been hopeless. He did, however, have lots of experience with cattle and sheep and came alive when he found he could transfer what he knew. You could see on the farm visit that he was relaxed around the animals, far more than in the class.

Anyway, Alan told us some excellent things, not all in the way he should. Goats, he said, had 'distinct similarities', some of which you can see in the photos. When asked about milk, he replied. 'lactation is a calendar year in terms of its lactation'. When talking about the buck, the PowerPoint slide just said 'urinating', referring to the unsavoury habit of male goats urinating on their front legs. Alan looked at that and said simply: 'There'll be lots of weeing' and then went on to explain how the smell of the buck is what attracts the doe. Now, call me old-fashioned, but if I was a girl and a large, hairy goat, reeking of its own piss, came up to me, the last thing I would be doing is turning around and thinking of England. Surely it's the smell of the doe that attracts the buck, not the other way around? I wait with interest for any response...

All in all we had a good day, learnt quite a lot and I was surprised at Agnieszka, who went there ambivalent about any animal, except maybe rats and Jack Russell terriers, but came away smiling broadly and asking me when we could get some goats. Soon, I hope.  

Wakacje - część 2: From semi-luxury to school trip surroundings…

From Smołdzino we made our way westwards, taking a circuitous route to have a gander at the countryside and towns on the way. Would anything be suitable for us? Affordable? Close enough to town? If so, which town? The first town we came to of any size, on the way to Smołdzino, was Słupsk and we left as quickly as we could. Despite having a reputation for some fine churches, the traffic system and centre of town was horrendously confusing and very busy. It was with some relief that we left the place behind (we would encounter the sign-free, Manchester-like centre on the way back and curse it some more), only calling at a Leclerc supermarket to stock up on bread, sausages and fruit juice before high-tailing it out to the coast.

As with Łeba, Darłowo, and its outlet to the sea, Darłowek, were empty windswept and freezing. A drive round Darłowo revealed a closed town centre and a visit to the beach consisted of a brisk walk, hiding behind a wall to look at the waves crashing over the harbour wall and then a sharp exit. Tree branches littered the roads and huge puddles made driving difficult, especially when a Kubice wannabe thought it ok to over-take on a blind bend.

From Koszalin we took a very nice winding road, lined with trees showing off their amazing autumnal colours: from green to yellow, orange to red and brown. We had decided to stay on what was advertised on their website as a ‘farm’ in Rekowo, about 20km south of Koszalin. When we arrived, the family were in the middle of preparing for a wesele and we were quickly shown a room as far from the house as possible. Luckily the heating was on and we were able to dry off slightly. I can honestly say this is the first time I have taken a pair of slippers and a pair of wellies on holiday and was glad of them both at different times while we were away. Our room had two single beds and two sets of bunk beds and was next to the ‘bathroom’ and ‘kitchen’. Agnieszka had to go and ask for both a gas bottle and a couple of pans as otherwise we’d have had nothing to cook with or on. For most of the time we were there, we played swat the mosquito and follow the cobweb as the place was rampant with both. Bare walls and draughty floors completed the authentic rustic ambience.

I wanted to stay here because their website said they kept goats and I thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to people about living and working in rural Poland. Unfortunately, the herd of goats turned out to be one old nanny with wonky tits, half a dozen geese, a small paddling of ducks, six damp sheep and a flock of mangy-looking hens. None of these seemed to be particularly cared for, the geese and ducks struggling to cope with the high sides of a makeshift pond and the hens being kept in until dinner time. Even the sheep weren’t very friendly, with one individual intent on staring me out every time I looked out of the window.

To add to this, we asked on arrival, and on leaving, for twaróg but couldn’t get any (‘I wish you’d asked yesterday’) and got excited about some home-made plum jam that turned out to be off. While it was a lovely setting and the houses / buildings very nice, I got the feeling they were half-arsed about all the did there and only kept the animals because it was a draw for school groups in the summer. Maybe they are different people in the summer, with some bright sun and long days; in October they were as miserable as sin and a disappointment of a place to stay.

Out for a walk in the forest nearby, we got caught in (yet another) brief but very heavy shower. After it had cleared the light was lovely. On the way back to the digs, we met a couple of young scallywags heading towards the forest, one with a loaded duvet cover slung over his shoulder. Inside, we assume, was the knock-off chandelier that we were offered. Quite what we'd do with it out in a field was a mystery, but we think a large house is now without any lighting in their main room.

In contrast, Koszalin was a very pleasant town. Admittedly it was Sunday and, as such, deserted (except for the church of course) but it had a nice feel and looked like a fairly nice place to live. The square was a bit of a let down as I had expected a few cafés and shops but on one side is the main road, on the other the town hall and flats on the remaining two.

Still, it was a very enjoyable wander for a few hours. It has everything we want from a town: shops, opportunities for work, a cinema, a station, and is not too far from the sea or forests. The countryside round about is rolling and rural, with plenty of forests and fields and the occasional lake. Prices too are reasonable once you get out of the centre of Koszalin. I warmed to it and was nicely surprised. Anywhere that has a 'potato institute' (whatever that is) is fine by me.

But, that said, we still had a long way to go and lot more places to see and any decisions will have to wait for a while yet, and if this is all there is to do on a Sunday, I'll need a pointy stick...

On with the show...

After the non-event that was the Royal Lancashire show last year, cancelled due to rain, we decided to make the effort to get to a few shows this year. One reason we missed shows last year was because they were happening earlier than I expected and also many take place in the middle of the week. So we decided, after advice (and some free tickets), to go to the Great Yorkshire and Great Eccleston shows.

Arriving at the Harrogate showground at 7.25am on the Tuesday morning I was surprised to see just how busy it was. We were lucky in that we got a car park close by the showground as, when we were leaving around 5pm, some of the fields to park in were a long way from the entrance. So, after a quick boiled egg / coffee breakfast, we hit the animal sheds.

The GYS is huge. And busy. There were breeds of animal I had never even heard of, in colours / styles I didn’t think were possible. I think photos show more than words.

Steam cleaning the cows before giving them a blowdry to make their hair curl...

Better quality equipment than anything I've seen inside a salon was used with care...
Getting the sheep ready with a final trim...Taking the pigs for a walk in the show ring (these are Berkshires)...Ugly sheep. A Texel, bred for quality of carcase rather than personality...Beef cattle, showing their thighs. I think these were Limousin...
Holstein-Friesians, with their bags full and looking painful...Some cheese to look at, because you couldn't buy it there...

In stark contrast to the warm sun in Harrogate, the day of the Great Eccleston show dawned dark and dreary. We decided to chance it, driving up the M61 past Chorley in torrential rain. By the time we got past Preston it had slowed to a trickle and arriving at the showground it was cloudy but dry, with hints of sunshine poking through the clouds. A lovely site, with views across to Bowland and the smell of country in the air.

Again, photos do more justice than the words.
Saying hello to English white pigs the day after a Saddleback boar made a run for it - to the bar.Anglo-Nubian goats, becoming our preferred choice for the future...A load of bull, probably a ton and a half load and not something I wanted to get too near...Tractor-pulling, the noisy, and seemingly pointless, thing that modern farmers do...Of course, some Shetland sheep after they cleaned up the awards...The sheep show, an informative and amusing look at sheep through the ages...Finally, what to do when there's no television. Eat your sandwiches, watch your cow.

Thanks to Tony and Kath for tickets to Great Yorks and, as ever, to Agnieszka for the lovely photos.

Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin...

I am constantly thinking of how best to address the issue of self-sufficiency. How to get the most out of the least; how to provide for a family without cutting corners and continuing to enjoy a complete lifestyle. One of the difficulties to overcome is how to produce butter and cheese, as we do eat a lot of both. I’ve talked to people about cows but, while I really like the idea of keeping a couple, the deciding factor will be the amount of land. Apparently William Cobbett, a (turn of the) 19th Century reformist and farmer, had a way to keep a cow on a quarter of an acre but everyone else you speak to, alive that is, says you need at least one acre per beast plus another for hay. So that, pretty much, is out of our league.
Goats also produce good quality milk, need a lot less room and are smaller than cows so that’s been a recent avenue of exploration. After contacting both the Anglo Nubian and Saanen societies, I was given the name of a goat keeper near Blackpool and, on the hottest day of the year (not difficult), we trundled off to look at his herd. It was a little disappointing, then, to find only four Anglo Nubian goats in residence: two milkers, a year-old female and a crusty old Billy in a back field. We were warned not to touch him, ‘because of the smell’, and told he was ‘past his sell-by date’, although still capable of siring kids. Billy didn't seem too upset at hearing this.
Out of the hot noon sun and into the goat shed, a light and airy, albeit cobwebby, building where the three females are housed. We talked about care and feeding and how fussy they were about eating things off the floor. From there we moved on to the small parlour where they were milked. Environmental health are very fussy about hygiene, we were told, although as we were shown the scales, where the milk is weighed and then recorded, I noticed a cobweb running from them to the wall. Next door was the cheese-making room and we went through the basic process of making cheese, cleanliness being paramount.
Then it was outside to meet the milkers. One of the goats, the dark one, is a very good example of how the breed should look as one of the others has lop-sided udders. As if to prove she was still exceptional, the lop-sided one showed us how she could cough and fart at the same time, something that impressed me at least. I even managed not to laugh, despite the temptation. We discussed the amount of milk, between 3 – 6 litres, you would get daily, and how to get rid of it. Would we make cheese and butter? Sell it? One option is to freeze it as goat milk and cheese freezes well, better than cow’s milk, so that would be an option for when the goat is dry. The other thing to consider carefully is the twice-daily routine of milking…
After we left we headed for the beach and, surrounded English fatties and Polish families, we chatted about the commitment of keeping animals. It really is a tie, so if we can’t find people to look after them, we wouldn’t be able to go away and there lies the crux of the problem. One that needs a lot of thought. For now, while we're thinking, I will continue my quest for information about the best options and next on the list is milk sheep.

Many thanks to George Bassindale and his wife for their patience and honesty in answering a multitude of questions and for the milk and cheese we were given to take home. To be able to home produce something as tasty as this could well be the deciding factor!