Fantastic weather, tyrant business partners and beasts.

What fantastic weather we have been having!

The moor and our farm are looking stunning. The grass is growing…in February! My horse, Marble, is delighted about that, and so is My Farmer. It’s great news for our flock of sheep, who will be lambing at the end of March. The lambs will now all be fully formed inside their mums and using all those extra vitamins this warm weather is bringing to grow big and strong.

We would love this weather to continue for lambing. It would make it all so much easier, but in reality, that’s very unlikely. Last year, in this very week, we were so fortunate to have missed the ‘Beast from the East’ for our lambing. Some of our neighbours were not so fortunate. We heard sad tales of friends, unable to get their sheep to safety, spending days digging them out of huge snow drifts. The sheep will head for shelter beside banks and hedges, where they will quickly become overwhelmed by the snow. Only to be buried and, without help, will suffocate or starve to death. A harsh reality of life in a hard, sometimes unforgiving landscape.

We heard news of the impending storm and thought we were prepared. Luckily, my farmer, went to check the ewes which were on land on the other side of the farm. All looked OK. On his return home he met our neighbour, Kenny. Chatting about the events to come (everyone likes to take the time to turn the engine off and catch up on the news on Exmoor!), Kenny, in his calm way, advised that it may be wiser to bring the ewes home. His family had farmed the moor for generations, and he knew how this kind of storm could drive the snow into huge dangerous drifts. He also warned that the lanes could be made impassable as the winds forced the snow along them. We could be cut off ourselves making it impossible to get to feed hay to our animals. Thankfully we took his advice! (Although My Farmer was still sure his beloved Toyota Hilux could carry him anywhere. He was wrong on this occasion!)

It all happened exactly as Kenny predicted. We were snowed in on the farm for five days. The snow had been driven into the lane, so it was the height of our tractor in places. It was completely blocked and was to take three days of tractor work, to clear a way to the main road. But our sheep were safe. All were walked home, before the storm hit, to a field above the yard where we could feed them every day.

It was a hard week. The temperatures hit -15 degrees in the yard. Our herd of around a hundred head of cattle were wintering in the barns. It was calving time and we already had fifteen calves and many more expected. The calves were suffering in the cold, so it was important that they had enough milk from their mothers to keep them warm. The mothers drank gallons of water each day to keep their milk supply strong.  All the pipes froze to the troughs. Several times a day we were ferrying boiling kettles up and down to defrost one trough, so we could then carry buckets of water from there to the other troughs and the waiting animals. Back breaking!

There were six of us snowed in on the farm. George, my eldest, had brought his girlfriend to stay. She hadn’t quite expected to be with us for so long! Although it was hard work and a worrying time, it also felt rather exciting. We knew it wouldn’t last forever, and there was something warm about us all pulling together to help and get the animals, and ourselves, through the storm safely. It had its fun moments too of course. We all managed to fit a bit of sledging and snowball fighting in! In the evenings we played board games and sat together around the table, all laughing and telling stories. It felt like a special time.

When the eye of the storm hit it was terrifying. The wind was ferocious. The noise was incredible as it raged and whipped the snow into our faces. It was almost impossible to stand still, as we were thrown around unable to see where we were going. Our barns are all open sided, as it’s important for healthy animals to have good ventilation. Not so good for keeping them protected from a storm which was blowing in the opposite direction to our usual winds. The cattle were all sheltering at the back of the barn with inches of snow on their backs. Their bed of straw was soaked by the constant blasting of snow too. It was a sorry sight.

Everyone had been out helping, but it was dark and time for supper. We all needed to warm up and dry off.  Inside into the welcoming kitchen we went. Hats and gloves put on the back of the Aga to dry. We tucked into a hearty casserole and chatted excitedly about the afternoon’s events. We all agreed we had never known anything so fierce.

What on earth??! A terrible noise was roaring above us. Whisking back the curtains, I looked out to see the flashing lights of the air ambulance as it crouched low above us, hammering on its way across the valley to the farm facing us. We were only to hear later that the poor lady had suffered a stroke. How brave they were to fly on a night like that.

The jolly mood of our supper waned as we further realised how vulnerable we were. I decided to leave the family to the washing up and headed back out to check on the calving. The storm was still fully raging as I shone my torch into the first barn. A cow was standing on her own at the front with all her friends crammed to the back trying to escape the weather. I knew this was a sign she may be ready to calve, but she seemed distressed and was pawing the ground repetitively. Shining my torch down I was horrified to see the little legs of a calf stuck under the door. The mother had given birth against the door, in the deep straw bed. When trying to encourage her calf to stand and feed by pawing at it, she had ended up digging a hole that the calf had slipped into and become trapped.

I rushed back to the house and shouted for help. Quickly we moved the calf to a warm bed of straw. Not easy I can tell you, they are very heavy. I covered the calf with my coat, rubbing it furiously, to warm it. My Farmer rushed to heat up some colostrum. I kept rubbing until he returned. But I knew it was hopeless. The poor little thing froze to death, with me cradling it, crying. I was heartbroken. It was just too shocking. That poor mother had carried her perfect baby to term. Only for Mother Nature to urge her to deliver it into the world on the worst night of the year. In the hour we couldn’t help her. Then Mother Nature stole her back. Cruel.

Words can’t describe how I felt. How I still feel. We all try SO hard, but sometimes its not enough.

The old farmers say: “When you’ve got livestock, you’ve got deadstock.” Harsh but true. Look at the devastation being wreaked by extreme weather in the Australian farming community right now. That truly is indescribable and horrific, affecting the wildlife as well as the farmed animals. But when Mother Nature is your business partner you really cannot fight her. No battles in the boardroom here. But a case of putting your head down and doing the best you can. When it’s all you have, it has to be good enough.

There will always be times when we despair, but like the rest of life it’s about balance. You will have battles, and storms, but there will be many triumphs and gorgeous sunny days too. I’m making sure I enjoy every moment of these bright days. One thing’s for sure on Exmoor…rain IS around the corner!!