It can be an embarrassment being a sheeps. Especially when they are as small as these Hebrideans / Guinea pig crosses - or whatever they are. Too easy for The Crofter to pick up you see so I can get an interesting snap.
Back at the hutches, Tinga has yet to foal - we are all on tender hooks and very nearly tender from being hooked on her sharp horns! I'm off down to get some eggs later so we'll see if there is any news. Or scandal. We like scandal.
Tootling off down the road to The Croft, HHHCB trotting excitedly beside me, I heard voices coming over on the wind. Looking out towards Tolsta Head I espied The Crofter and The Boy Shaun. With sheeps.
Mr Crofter seemed very happy I must say trading jokettes with The Boy Shaun in the cool breeze, sheeps listening in and covering heir eyes with dismay at the tired old jokes. TBS laughed - as he should - though deep down he was with the sheeps.
They had important work to do practising their counting Yan tan tethera and what have you. Mr Crofter was from 'down there' after all. I on the other hand have only just returned from 'down there' for a week and knew what he was on about. Shaun shut his eyes and wished he could talk to someone sensible. Only, I didn't have time.
The sheeps once counted had to be moved from up here on the croft to down there, no, not 'down there' but down there above the beach on the common grazing. Out came the plastic sheeps dog - otherwise known as a bucket of feed and off they went.
Soon the sheeps were happily on the grass looking lazily at the beach and wondering if they will fall down the cliff to join their mate who went that way a few weeks back.
We do hope not!
At this point I was accosted by a cyclist looking for The Road To Nowhere. I sent him off on a wild gooses chase - of which there are plenty and skipped all the way home.
HHHCB was down on croft 10 the other day supervising the work of The Boy Shaun for The Crofter. She is by all accounts a hard task-mistress. TBS was tidying up the place after the sheeps had vacated the croft taking the excess hay on the trailer somewhere else. HHHCB was making sure all the strands of hay were lined up properly in the trailer thing. It wasn't a proper Hebridean trailer as it had working wheels!
Happy Birthday Mr Crofter Sir, you of the committees etc.
May it be a grand day not overrun by factory work, shouting gooses and complaining four legged beasts. I for one wish you the very best for the coming year and I'm sure our reader will too - whoever it is.
I have not shown you a snap of his mush as I thought you might be eating your breakfast when you see this and we wouldn't want to ruin your day would we?
What a lovely day to come into the world. Esme has produced a little coowlette and proudly stands to show her off. We are all standing back a bit to give Esme a chance to lick her dry and do a little bonding. The coowlette looks lovely though.
Mr Crofter Sir hasn't seen the little beast as yet since he's off learning up important stuff. I know he'll be happy and I'm guessing I know who he will dedicate it to.
It hasn't been a good few days to be frank. The weather has been awful so The Crofter mainly stayed put feet up on the Purple Satin pouffe watching the football composing love-odes and being generally irritated by the fleet of gooses that have taken up temporary residence outside the hoosey. Dad Crofter wheeled some 'stuff' into the yard as the rain lashed down. At least the hail had stopped.
The little coow is doing fine. I forgot to ask The Great Man what flavour the little beastie is. You'll have to stay on tender-hooks till I find out.
The Crofter had a sparkle in his eyes today. Smiled and everything. Was chatty. Asked about my little jaunt to the mainland and all. I liked that. Nice. Should smile with his eyes more often. Although the moment was dashed with the porkies threatening to kill each other, fighting - or at least making a right old row in their hutches. I'd already been out and given them a stern word or two earlier. I felt I had too. Sort of thing my old Mum used to do. Not to porkies mind you. I'm not really sure she knew any porkies. Not four legged ones anyway.
The Crofter was soon up out of the warm Tooth Factory and into the yard. I didn't hang about to hear what he said to those porkies. But I suspect he still has a sparkle in his eye.
Ahhh. There's the new little coowlette all snugged up in the byre, mumsey making sure I can't get a decent snap of it without me ending dangling from her sharp horns.
Oh and there's Dad Crofter clearing the muck. Come on boys and girls, here comes The Crofter. We better hide hadn't we? Weeeeed.
As one might expect, a coowlette has arrived moments after The Crofter arrived back on the scene from his hols. Obviously, Hyacinth had been waiting for The Great Man all along. Now there is a lively looking coowlette staggering around the byre while mumsey keeps a wary eye. No idea what flavour this coowlette is yet since one can't get near enough to find out. It looks lovely though. Not that you can tell from my snap as it's rubbish. Last frame on the roll of film and badly developed too boot! I shall try again in the morn .
Mr Crofter tells me he had a fine holiday too - and he is still single. More later!
He's back. Not that I've seen him mind you. Thought it better to stay out of his way till his holiday onesie is washed. He has come back to sunshine today - might make a change I've been hearing. It is nearly Spring here you know,. You can tell that by the throwing off the winter clothes and donning the lightweight scarf, hat coat etc.
Turk was almost basking in the sun whilst taking measures to hide from the cool wind and stay near the feed bowls should they mysteriously fill up.
The coows are still huge and bearing childs. Well, coowlettes anyway. Now The Crofter is back to supervise the birthing I'm, sure the coows will sprint into action so to speak. And if they do, I shall be there to record the new beings.
Welcome home Mr Crofter Sir, him of the committees etc.
On the Isle of Lewis off the west coast of mainland Scotland lies a croft inhabited by an English off-comer. His Mum and Dad live nearby and help him run the croft. This is a photographic record of their lives as it unfolds.