wild crab apple blossom
Don’t despair I’m still in the process of getting pdfs of the Bluetongue presentations. Hopefully either copied onto CDs or emailed to me. It’s taking a little longer than anticipated, but they will be here.
Meanwhile the countryside has undergone a transformation in the last seventy-two hours. Flowers and foliage are burgeoning…by the hour – the minute – the second. Just a few days ago I was bemoaning the lack of early purple orchids – now they are everywhere. A battalion of slender purple-magenta spears guard a corner of the Hatherleigh road; further along a sunlit gathering cluster exotically, decked in shades of rose-mauve, intense red-violet and faded purple-pinks. Truly a meeting of sumptuous beings, their pages tiny dog violets peeping through the formal rosettes of glossy-green spotted leaves.
early purple orchid
Verges explode in a sudden froth of cow parsley.
The soft pink-white flowers of the quince tree open like stars. A wild crab apple is a vision of blossom at the entrance to Scadsbury where heather-pink lousewort carpets the field between wet fronds of mosses and shoots of purple moor grass.
common lousewort
Not only are my eyes bombarded at every turn by colour, growth, life, but my ears are assailed by a hundred different bird songs. I’m not nearly good enough; I can’t decipher the many different tunes. I need Robert to point out the blackcap, the willow warbler, the coal tit and tree pipit. Yesterday garden warblers returned as did our first resident swallow and, at last, an orange tip butterfly appeared, to be quickly followed by others.
Yet amongst this achingly beautiful confusion of life, a tragedy. This morning, early, in the softest soft green drizzle, a ewe cast herself. Brutally split by ravens her guts spilled in glistening slippery warm pink ribbons across the green grass; eyes empty bloodied sockets; her mouth, tongue and tail cavernous dark black-red wounds slowly oozing bloody streams. Alone in the field by her side her lamb called and called and called.
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April 27, 2008 at 10:25 pm
David Turner
A very telling contrast between the beauty and tragedy of spring. We’ve got one ewe (of three that are/were pregnant) still to lamb - fingers crossed.
The beauty of spring here is Shropshire is encapsulated in this evening’s consumption of the first home-grown asparagus of 2008 and St George’s Day mushrooms.
April 28, 2008 at 6:15 am
Mopsa
Extraordinary photos Paula - you must have sat patiently for the orange tip to open its wings for you.
Poor orphan lamb. We have masses of jackdaws building their nests in the “modern” barn and they sit on the fence posts and eye the lambs and sheep. My only comfort is that all the nest material falls to the ground as their chosen sites are entirely unsuited to nesting; the twigs, fleece and straw they have dropped has filled a dumpy bag. I truly can’t love all nature.
April 28, 2008 at 10:07 pm
paula
What a splendid supper David - simple yet sumptuous, perfect!
I hope your last ewe lambs with ease on a warm spring day.
April 28, 2008 at 10:12 pm
paula
Thanks mopsa - hundreds of misses and one lucky bull’s-eye!
Luckily he’s one of the older lambs - he seems to have a pal that he’s tagging along with and whose mum is tolerant too.
April 29, 2008 at 8:34 pm
eyegillian
Wow, stunning photos and glorious abundance — and orchids, too! — and then to read the end and picture the little lamb wailing for its mother… oh. So senseless seems the ewe’s death, but so irrepressible the bursting of new life and new beginnings!
April 30, 2008 at 8:42 pm
paula
It was such a poignant contrast Gillian - a strong reminded that nature doesn’t care, she just is!
May 2, 2008 at 9:21 pm
LittleFfarm Dairy
How true, alas.
We lost our first goat the other day - Assie, one of our milky ladies & a lovely, lovely personality - a real sweetie who never snatched a nifty nip or a cheeky tug of my plait; just wanted lots of hugs & happy words.
Aged only three, she’d milked well & wolfed down her supper the previous evening; in the morning she just seemed a bit ‘under the weather’ but as always I called the vet - just in case. Suspecting a minor uterine infection owing to general symptoms & scouring, the vet gave her some IV antibiotics & anti-inflammatories; I then isolated Assie, put a snug goat rug on her, & gave her a bucket of warm, molassed water with electrolyte to rehydrate her. She had a good drink & settled into her deep bed of clean straw; after which I checked on her every 15 minutes or so. The last time I saw her she was sitting up; & although clearly uncomfortable, certainly did not appear any worse. I popped back to the house for lunch but on my return 20 minutes later, my poor girl was already dead - heartbreaking.
We’re awaiting the final results of the Post Mortem but it would appear she’d simply been too greedy at communal supper, the evening before; she literally ate herself to death, stuffing down too much concentrate & not enough roughage. I’m told that three weeks after kidding is the most critical time, & when things are most likely to go wrong; & that sadly, these things just happen sometimes. I am so very careful with the husbandry of all our animals & the vet has reassured me there is nothing I could have done to prevent it; but it’s cold comfort when such tragedy strikes.
I’m so sorry to hear about your ewe. You only have to turn your back for a moment……
Stunning photography - & an evocative illustration of cruel, kind nature’s beauteous & beastly sides. Thank you for sharing it all.
May 5, 2008 at 8:39 pm
paula
I’m so sorry you lost Assie - it’s very strange how you can follow exactly the same routine yet one animal will have a reaction that proves fatal.
Hopefully this was a one off and the rest of the kidding and post kidding will go without a hitch.
Glad you liked the photos. At least spring seems to have sprung this weekend so hopefully the grass will grow and the cows will be able to go out.