Category: Sheep

There’s a job we should probably do every year but it usually ends up being every two years or even every three or dare I admit it, every four.  This is because it’s not the most exciting of jobs and nor is it necessarily an urgent job.  It’s one of those jobs that you can happily turn a blind eye to and walk on by.  In fact, I like to remind myself that putting off this particular task can make things easier when we eventually get round to doing it.

So what am I talking about?  Yes my friends, it involves sheep dung, and it involves large quantities of it.  I’m talking about deep cleaning the sheep shed.

During the winter months our happy teddy bears spend a lot of time hanging around their shed.  They have a big shed, conveniently positioned next to the hay feeders.  It’s like a living room, kitchen arrangement for our woolly friends.  Although the sheep have access to the wider pastures on the hills, during the winter months when they’re on hay they trundle down to the orchard every evening, munch their hay, sprinkle it all about while doing so and then spend the night in the shed enjoying a cosy time out of the elements.  The sheep are very happy with this arrangement, they live a practically stress-free existence and the shed is a big part of this.

This is all very well, but the downside of the shed arrangement is that it can get really messy.  Sheep go to the toilet wherever they happen to be.  They are not like pigs who would never dream of going to the loo in their shed.  Sheep do their business wherever they happen to be.

Every afternoon I go along with my fabulous “Dungbeetle” sh*t shoveller which I got for my birthday recently.  This is a great piece of kit, it takes an impressive amount of dung and I can get the orchard and shed cleaned up in next to no time time compared to my old “shoveller”.  Plus I don’t get the back and arm ache which is a bonus!

But despite my efforts shovelling dung into the trailer each day, a small amount manages to somehow build up, secretly and stealthily like a woodland fungus, so slowly that it goes almost undetected.  Until one day you walk into the shed and wonder why you’re scraping your head on the ceiling.

This phenomenon is probably common to farmers and smallholders and there might be a name for it out there somewhere.  Despite shovelling copious amounts of dung and bedding each day and keeping the shed clean and tidy, a huge amount still manages to mysteriously build up behind your back.  The fact of the matter is, I know I said earlier that this is a job that can be happily put off, when it gets to the point where you’re scraping your head on the ceiling, you know it’s time to roll up your sleeves!

As the shed is pretty sizeable, I break down the deep-clean by doing a small area at a time.  Every day I take my special tool, (I’m not sure what it’s officially called but it’s perfect for prising up compacted slabs of ancient manure).  Once the prongs go down, I can leaver up satisfyingly large chunks and fling them onto the muck heap.  Once I’ve finished I’ll shovel the manure into a trailer and quad it over to the vegetable patch to use a a mulch.

I’ve been working on this every day for the last two months.  It’s tiring, but hugely satisfying and there’s a real sense of “before and after”.  Also, sometimes I find things like lambing tail rings, or ancient bits of bailer twine hiding away in the “dung cake” which is weirdly nostalgic.  I mentioned earlier that this job is easier if you leave it for as long as possible.  The reason for this is because the thicker the wodges, the easier they are to prise away.  If the slabs are too thin, they crumble into nothing which is very disappointing.

I have only a little way to go now, I’m hoping to have the deep-clean completed by next week.  Then I can pretend not to notice the slow stealth as it creeps back over the next three years!

Up until recently we’ve had week upon week of rain, followed by … yet more rain.   On a farm or smallholding, where there’s rain there’s mud, particularly where livestock likes to congregate.  All through the autumn mud has featured heavily around the hay feeders, entrances to gates and along our woolly friends’ favourite paths.  (Did you know sheep create little paths to get from A to B)?

Trudging through mud is no fun, not for us in our wellies, but even less so for the sheep who don’t have the luxury of boots.  Not surprisingly they’ve been spending much of their time in the shed cudding and peering out into the gloom.

Last week the rain gave way to frost and we’ve all breathed a sigh of relief.  The sheep are happy sunbathing on the hill again and we’re no longer slipping and sliding about.  Nor are we getting in a tangle with items of clothing dangling from chairs and draped over the aga in various stages of drying off.

But then, as a reminder that resting on laurels isn’t something you can do in this farming life, we’ve had a sudden spate of lame sheep.  Undoubtedly caused by the wet pastures which softens hooves, bacteria lurking in the soil enters the sensitive internal structures under the soles and causes an abscess.  The signs are easy to spot, a sheep with a foot infection will limp and have an unhappy demeanour about her.  If not treated straight away she will have trouble standing and will resort to grazing whilst resting on her front knees.

With Violet, Ynca, Yssi and Shelby all limping this week, I’ve been out every other day with my first aid kit.  I like keeping our sheep’s hooves in good nick so I have a little bag (a bucket actually) specifically for looking after hooves.

When treating a lame sheep, the first thing I do is see how the sheep is walking and work out which hoof is the one I need to look at.  Then I’ll bring the sheep into a pen and start by checking the hoof for little stones or anything else which might be causing the sheep to limp.  Then I’ll clean the hoof up and scrape away any mud.  Next, I’ll cradle the foot in my hand for a moment or so to check for temperature.  A foot infection will cause a little heat and this is quite discernible, especially if you compare the infected hoof with a non-infected hoof.

If I suspect there’s an infection I’ll spray the hoof with anti-bac spray, especially the interdigital space (the gap between the toes).  Then, I’ll give the sheep an antibiotic injection, I like using Betamox LA for feet as it gets to work quite quickly.

Violet, Ynca and Shelby are all fine now, it’s just Yssi who is still limping.  I’ll be going out again later today to check up on her and give her another wee “jag” if necessary.  Betamox is given every two days until the infection clears so fingers crossed Yssi will be feeling better soon.

Every year, round about the beginning of November we start the “hay ceremony”.  In other words, giving the little darlings hay for the winter.  The sheep let us know when they’re ready for hay, towards the end of October they make a daily pilgrimage down to the orchard and hang around the feeders (usually when they know we’re around so they can make a point).  Sheep are clever and have their ways of communicating with us.  They do this ritual twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, just to make sure.  After hanging around and sniffing for a bit, they have a meeting and then off they go again to graze grass in the higher pastures.

Timing is important when it comes to hay, start the little fluffballs on it too soon and they take a few mouth-fulls and decide they’ll give the grass another chance.  This means hay is wasted because it stays in the feeders not being eaten and goes mouldy.  Start them on it too late and you have unhappy sheep.  Our sheep are lowland sheep so they need the extra forage during the winter, they wouldn’t survive without it, especially up here in Scotland.  Upland sheep and hill sheep on the other hand, (which you see a lot of around here) are much more thrifty and seemingly survive on next to nothing.

This year we started the hay ceremony last Saturday.  First of all we had to ferry bales from the big green shed down to the lambing shed in the orchard.  This started off badly because we discovered a flat tyre on our trailer.  An hour or so later after some descriptive language regarding the location of the pump, we were able to load up the trailer with hay bales and transport it down to the shed in the orchard.  After several journeys we had piled up enough hay bales to last a couple of weeks.  At the moment the sheep are on one bale a day but as winter sets in they’ll be up to two or three bales a day and then we’ll need to make more journeys.

Before that though, we’ll be heading down to the garage in the village for a new tyre for the trailer.

If there’s one thing we have come to realise about our sheep over the years, it’s that they like their shelters. Their favourite is one we knocked up just after we moved here. It kind of resembles a low rise mass built bungalow and so has been nicknamed Brookside, after an old tv soap opera.

The sheep spend much of there waking lives in it. If it’s sunny, the sheep head for Brookside. If there’s the merest hint of rain, the sheep head for Brookside. If there’s a mist rolling in, the sheep head for Brookside. In fact, it has almost become an addiction, a comfort blanket in which they wrap themselves at the merest hint of discomfort. This is not a problem in the winter when they have access to the larger lambing shed which has a raised, hardcore base. However, in the summer it’s a different story.

There probably would not be a problem but for the fact that, unlike pigs, sheep tend to pee and defecate where they happen to be. So, it only takes a few hours for the floor to be covered. Daily cleanouts help, but in wet weather, the pee has nowhere to go and the floor can tend towards the unhygienic. We installed drainage, but while that has been helpful in eliminating puddles, the floor can become muddy and wet. Basically, it’s on a flat spot and water gathers there on its way down the hill.

Again, copious amounts of scented sawdust helps, but this merely serves to make the place more attractive. On top of that, the low roof leads to aching backs and bumped heads during cleaning.

During the hot days, we noticed that it was like an oven in there. All in all, there had to be a better way. So, we decided to open up some of the woodland for them. This comes with risks as sheep are partial to bark. They can bark an adult tree in minutes when the mood takes them. Nevertheless, there was a small copse of evergreens that were fully grown and, also, sheep tend to be more interested in eating bark in the winter months.

So, we cleared the copse of brambles, added a gate and waited for a hot day. These are more plentiful in SW Scotland than they used to be and we did not have to wait long. To give Brookside a chance to recover, we’d closed access to the field where it is located. The sun was out, the air was warm and the sheep were gathered in a tightly knit group at the gate, gazing longingly at their favourite shed. We led them up the hill, reluctantly (lots of sheep nuts were involved), and showed them their new ‘shelter’.

Despite the plentiful willow herb at their disposal, their reluctance to try anything new was stronger and hesitancy prevailed. Eventually, Yarr’s curiousity trumped his caution. Even then, he took his time. It was an excellent test of our patience.

Slowly, the rest followed. Well, most of them anyway. Some got to the gate and veered right, tasty morsels of grass seemingly more attractive.

Those that did enter inched forward until their eyes fell upon the young willow herb. That was all it needed and they were soon tucking in, those at the back now trying to push through.

Soon, they settled and were grazing happily. Inside the woodland, the canopy of needles and branches provided plenty of shade and a gentle breeze made it feel cool and fresh. Compared with the oven that was Brookside, there was no contest. Job done, or so we thought.

We left them to it.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the gate gazing mournfully at their favourite shed.

This has been the pattern for most of the summer. We have even cut back more of the fencing so that they don’t feel boxed in. But, on hot days, they gather at the gate and gaze. We lead them up and watch them relax into the cool and refreshing area under the trees. We step back and watch. After a short period, one of them, usually Selene (the flock matriarch) suddenly remembers their favourite shelter and makes off towards it. The rest follow.

On some days, particularly stormy or heavy rain days, we open up the lambing shed for them and they appreciate that. But, on hot days, walls, tin roofs, stifling heat and oven conditions seem preferable to cool, leafy shade and refreshing breezes. That’s sheep for you.

Every so often sheep get sore feet.  This is not too surprising as they spend a lot of time on their hooves as they go about their daily business.  Sore hooves are usually caused by “foot rot” which is a bacterial infection.  Foot rot is really common in warm, wet summers such as the one we’re having this year.  Bacteria loves nothing better than to hang around in warm, damp soil.  There are however lots of other reasons a sheep could be limping so it’s always important to check the hoof carefully and find out what’s wrong before deciding on a course of treatment.

This morning on the early morning animal check Adrian noticed Yarr was limping.  Heavy rain was due later (again!) so I decided to whizz out as soon as I’d finished breakfast and take a look at Yarr’s hoof to see what was wrong.

I grabbed my rucksack and filled it with everyone I’d need:  a bottle of Betamox LA antibiotic, a syringe and needle, gloves, hoof clippers, a can of antibacterial blue spray, some sheep nuts and a bucket.

As the sky got darker I set off across the fields looking for the sheep.  Luckily they were grazing not too far from the house, however I’d need to set up a pen and get Yarr into it in order to have a look at him.  As luck would have it we’d left four hurdles stacked not too far away, so I set off to get these and trudged back, dragging them through the long grass.  Hurdles are quite heavy and I can only manage two at a time so I made this journey twice, all the while hoping the sheep didn’t migrate somewhere else in the meantime!

Luck was on my side and as I set up my little treatment area, the sheep were still grazing nearby.  Yarr was sitting down only a few meters away so he’d not have too far to walk on his sore foot.

I called him over and he made his way straight into the pen for which he got a big fat cuddle as a thank you.  Yarr loves his cuddles, he’s very affectionate and fortunately he’s one of those sheep who doesn’t have an aversion to walking into pens.

With Yarr safely enclosed I took a look at his hoof.  I worked out it was his back right and I had a bit of fun trying to keep him still while I inspected it.  Sheep don’t like you lifting their back legs, it throws them off balance and they kick out, sometimes they can catch your hands so you have to watch you don’t get hurt.  Using my body weight I wedged Yarr up against the hurdles with his head in a corner so he had nowhere to go, and lifted his back hoof as I did this.  His hoof felt hot to the touch so I guessed he probably had an infection.

Just to be sure there was nothing else causing his limp, I cleaned his hoof really carefully.  I removed the dirt and grit from the sole area, then I cleaned up the area between the digits which can sometimes get clogged up with little clumps of mud and all sorts.  Then I trimmed off a bit of excess horn.  This done I gave his hoof a good going over with antibacterial spray.

Then, I disentangled myself and set about preparing a wee injection for him.

As Yarr’s a big boy and I didn’t have Adrian there to hold him still, I went with the “sheep nut solution”.  This is basically a distraction so the sheep doesn’t notice the needle going in and goes like this: “pop sheep’s head in a bucket with a sprinkling of nuts in the bottom to distract sheep whilst needle goes in”.  The last thing I wanted was Yarr careering round the pen with a needle sticking out of his rump, ruining his experience of coming into a pen being a positive thing.

The sheep nut solution made the injection go very smoothly, so much so that I managed to take a photo.  I don’t think Yarr felt anything which is always good when it comes to injections.

This all done and Yarr happy, I let him out and off he trotted to join his pals.  We’ll keep an eye on him over the next few days and if he’s still limping in two days, we’ll give him another wee jag until the infection clears up.

If there’s one thing sheep are good at, aside from scoffing copious amounts of grass, it’s getting into pickles. These include activities such as getting your head stuck in a fence (more common in the younger members of the flock), going into panic when you realise the rest of the flock have wandered off and left you behind, getting wrapped up in brambles, getting over walls and fences into neighbouring fields, and so on. Also, the tups are quite adept at removing gates from hinges in order to meet the ladies.

Some pickles are related to the time of year and, right now, wet fleeces are problem number one. This is not because a wet fleece is, in itself,  cause for concern. If it were, then sheep would never survive the winter. The problem is that at this time of year, pre shearing, the fleeces are big, fluffy and crammed with wool. When they get wet, they get heavy. Again, this is all fine until… …the sheep decides it’s time to do a rolly polly.

Rolly pollies usually occur when a sheep is lying down, cudding or just generally relaxing, and decides to get up. Instead of just standing, it executes a clever roll straight onto its feet. This works well and is quite impressive –  until the weight of a heavy fleece stops the roll in its tracks. Once on its back and weighed down by said wet fleece, a sheep can become trapped. The proper term is ‘cast’. This is not a good position for any of us, but it’s particularly uncomfortable for a sheep as now, all its insides are pressing in the wrong places. Not to put too fine a point on it, if they are not found within a few hours, they can die.

Our rolly polly commander in chief is Yarr (pictured left). He has a particularly woolly fleece and a penchant for rolly pollies. He much prefers to roll out of a lying position as standing up would not be showy enough. Normally, he gets away with it as he’s pretty strong. But a quick downpour and a wet fleece and he can be in trouble.

So far, this year, he’s only got himself trapped the once and was found pretty quickly. We know this because he showed no signs of distress on being righted, other than a need to blow his nose. In previous years, on being rescued, he has been sometimes been quite shaky. He also displays a remarkable aptitude for looking for the rest of the flock in all the wrong places. In fact, it took me an hour to reunite him and, at one point, involved me running up a hill (to the gate) with a bucket of nuts just in front of his nose. We both had to stop to catch our breath at the top, panting for all we were worth.

For us, this means regular checks throughout the day, usually no more than two hours apart. This is paying off as, so far this year, aside from Yarr only Ynca has managed to get herself cast and she too was found in good time.

We’ll be shearing them soon and that will make the problem go away for another year. But the checks will continue as we move into flystrike and midgie season.