So how is ‘Bert?

He is, well, going along really.  Not the most brilliant but I think on the way to being a normal sheep.

Today, we have had visitors – we all love visitors.

New fans and faces.

Lambie, with his film star good looks, is on top form.  He follows me everywhere (mostly during feed time, funnily enough) bouncing enthusiastically about.

The sheeples have Golden Paste Co turmeric pellets in their daily feed and I think they are going good.  For every 20kg bag of sheep crunch, I add a 2kg bag of pellets and Lambie has got over himself and munches them happily – huzzah!

‘Bert is still quite aloof but I did manage to talk to him when I was sitting down in their field.  He is wearing Loki’s collar for a while so we can grab him for his daily drench, which he hates and then resents me for.

Today, I bunged them all in the field to be sheep.

“Look Muzzah, I am a sheep – here me roar!”

‘Bert is still chewing cud, so that is a good sign.

Diagnosis?:  Possibly too many biscuits have upset his digestive system and I didn’t realise.  My bad and I have stopped the Rich Tea biccie supply.  Perhaps sheep don’t actually need them. Who knew?

Lambie would disagree but “the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many” (yes, I love Star Trek).

Sorry Lambie.  Suck it up Princess!

Meanwhile, back in people land, the smokehouse was lit this morning after 2 hours of working it out including threading mackeral like Christmas popcorn garlands, moving the stove and generally trying to get the thing to fill up with smoke.

I smell of smoke. I probably resemble a kipper and I check the bloody thing every 30 minutes.

We made the plan many months ago to convert the old (disused) privy into a smokehouse.

My partner-in-crime, Tore, re-roofed the building.  I then “found” an old multifuel stove, oil drum for covering, iron pipe and oven shelves.

Everything was recycled.

There is so much to do.  Yesterday, we were both up to our necks in defrosted salmon that needed filleting and de-pin-boning.  Then the marinade/cure/brine was made.

For the salmon – Juniper berries, salt, sugar and one batch with Glenmorangie and one without.

The icecream boxes are actually ice blocks.

I have been preparing four chickens for smoking.  They have sat in a brine in the fridge (don’t worry they had equal time on both sides).  I spent last night trying to get eggs to float, which is how you know the brine has enough salt.  I also added whole spices – mace, coriander seeds, cumin, cardamon.

We are also going to smoke three blocks of cheddar too (I loved smoked cheese).  My neighbour then kindly gave me “twartree” (two or three) mackeral and, I think, three herring.

So I decided we will smoke them as well.  I have put them in a coriander seed, salt, sugar rub.

Next to wash and dry the fish.

All this preparation is a tremendous frap, if you ask me, but it should be an interesting result, even experiment.

The smoke house will be revved up tomorrow.  Wish us luck.

💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥

Also, please send your healing ones to ‘Bert. He is not himself.  I don’t know what is wrong but I am worried.

I have spoken to the vet and I drenched him (‘Bert, not the vet!) with wormer yesterday and then today, with a ruminant stimulant.

I need my little smiling Monkey back. He’s not smiling.

While we were offline, apart from learning another language, mastering the piano and cleaning the house from top to bottom, I also spent some time in the field with Albie and Newt only to discover, after a quick furtle, that Newt had grown up.  His errant testicle was sort of there.

I don’t really trust my own diagnosis or abilities and I like a second opinion so we went down and caught the two best friends.

They led nicely out of their field like good boys and we loaded them into the van.

As Albie and Newt were so small, we decided they could comfortably travel together. Apart they would panic as to where the other one was.

And then we drove to the vet’s surgery for a second opinion on my potential furtle discovery.

Albie, who knew he was not in the frame, so to speak, quickly introduced himself and offered his help.

And low and behold, my diagnosis was confirmed.  Newt’s second testicle was apparent, though not fully descended.

After a discussion, our vet agreed that he was prepared to castrate Newt so an appointment was made for the next week.

We drove home, triumphant, and opened the doors.  This is Albie’s talent – he wears a headcollar differently to others.  It’s his thing.

We led them out of the van.

And then home, back into their field.

(A few days later, the operation was a complete success – Huzzah!)

Every day, no matter what, someone goes over to Lyradale to check on the equine inhabitants.

Usually, that someone incorporates a dogwalk as well.

Today it was my turn, so I took Flossie (because she wanted to see her Whiffy Chicken (aka Fivla) and Loki.  Her Maj was on strike and refused to come.

No matter.  Floss, Loki and I happily walked the boundaries of the croft.

Lyradale really is a stunning special place.

Chock-full of unexplained history.

I have recently discovered an interesting artifact (? right word ?) of what I think is a quernstone (here is a link to a picture of one at Jarlshof, a Bronze Age settlement in South Shetland).  Ours’ is of similar dimensions.  I really need this place to be excavated. Any takers?

As they always said on TV’s “Time Team” just before the ad-break, “What is going on?”

After all the walking, the history and the trying to imagine living here in prehistoric, maybe neolithic, times – which apparently does not mean with the dinosaurs – we went to see some real live “woolly mammoths”!

Four of the Minions (Storm, Waffle, Silver and Tiddles) plus Les Girls (Vitamin, Delia and Fivla) now live at Lyradale.  Newt and Albie will join them soon.

Flossie and I sat down on our respective rocks and were quickly inundated.

This is pretty typical of what happens if you are with The Minions.  They want to come and talk.  I wish I had more hands.

Lots of nose kisseys were demanded.

Everyone was on splendid form.  Suddenly, Storm looked rather smart and, dare I say it, even sensible.

Sadly the wind did not change and so then he went back to normal.

Probably phew!

We will soon have to catch the foals to move them with their mothers over to new fields.

Earlier this year, we caught the foals to have them microchipped but, since then, we have mostly left them alone to be with their mothers and to be foals.

So today I made the decision to at least show the foals the headcollars so they get used to them, if only in their heads.  We did this with Efstur last year with absolutely no success but, having said that, when we actually started working with him properly, he quickly got used to the idea of having a headcollar put on so I think some of the preparation work we did before had some merit.

I am also an optimist.

We started off by showing the foals what we wanted.  Hetja was a very obliging volunteer.

We put one on the floor and Dreki investigated.

He stood on it.  Well, it’s a start.

Dreki was in a very receptive mood.

Lilja was not.

So Flossie, knowing the best way to approach Lilja is to be smaller than her, crouched in the field until Lilja’s curiousity got the better of her.

She had “helpers”.

And it didn’t take long.

With lots of encouragement and rewards (tickles)….

….. Lilja decided she might be able to think about possibly doing this.

Floss showed Lilja there was no point being a silly-billy.  Nothing horrid was going to happen.

Then it was my turn.

My two little foals were getting braver.

And of course, there was the statutory reward.

Floss and I will take two headcollars to the foals on a regular basis.  We will let them play with them and see there is nothing scary.  I doubt we will get to put them on but we will at least we may move along one step in their training.