Oh dear, having just dealt with the lame cat, I’ve now got a lame pig 
Poor old Perky, she’s currently hobbling round on three pins, while we wait for the vet to arrive. I’m hoping she’s just bruised her foot (somehow) and that a swift recovery is just round the corner.
Wait and see, that’s all I can do.
Ho hum
Snipe and Perky - 17 November 2009
I had to get some more bales of straw yesterday, and after a bit of rearranging, managed to fit three on the back seat, leaving the dogs in the boot (sans parcel shelf, worry not!) and me and my crap in the front.
On the drive back to the farm, I was puzzled by the strange looks and wide grins that other drivers were giving me, especially those at various set of traffic lights.
It was only when I arrived at the farm and got out of the car that I discovered the reason:
Snipe - 15 November 2009
*shakes head sadly*
Of the blogs I read, two dogs have gone missing. Shadow came home in the most dramatic style, Annie is still missing.
I’ll be keeping a close eye on mine (especially after last time).
Please do the same with yours.
Snipe - 17 August 2009
Midge - 18 August 2009
There’s a lovely old tree in my field, which must have been wonderful as a climbing tree, back in its day. Sadly, it’s now getting to be quite rotten and although I have scrambled up its lower branches (being 30 is all the more reason to climb!), I daren’t go very high, just in case…
On a couple of occasions, I thought I saw Midge jumping out of the tree but thought I was imagining things.
Turns out that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me:
Midge the Tree Dog - 12 October 2009
As for Snipe… Just don’t ask:
I lost Snipe last night.
Snipe - 20 September 2009
Knowing that we’ve got rain heading our way, I took my time at the farm, lingering in the pig enclosures long after they’d finished eating, enjoying the warm evening air and the sounds of the birds as they got ready to settle down for the night (they take longer to say good night than the Waltons ever did…).
By the time the owls started waking up, I decided it was time to head for home and let the dogs have one last run round while I washed the pig buckets. I stacked them to dry, hung up my brush, closed the shutters on the shipping container I use as a feed shed and called the dogs to put them in the car.
Midge came running.
No sign of Snipe.
I called and whistled and waited for the sound of her name tag tinkling against her collar.
Nothing.
I called again, louder this time.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I walked down the lane, calling and whistling.
Nothing.
I tried the neighbouring fields.
Nothing.
I walked down to the river.
Nothing.
I was about to call the police to report her missing when I had a thought and ran back to the shipping container and flung open the shutter.
Yup, there she was.
I let her out and she fell at my feet, crying and shaking, rolling over onto her back, twisting and writhing as she apologised for not coming when I called.
Why didn’t the idiot bark?!
Yesterday evening, I was happily pottering about in the field, chatting to the pigs and generally enjoying the last of the day’s warmth. Midge was snuffling about in the long grass and Snipe … well, I hadn’t seen her for a wee while but the last time I did, she was in the middle of the field, by the path.
Suddenly, the peace of the evening was shattered when my phone rang.
A young, male voice asked “Have you got a Golden Retriever?”.
My first thought was that it was a very strange version of one of those phone calls.
Then I thought that Snipe isn’t a Retriever, she’s a Labrador.
Finally, the penny dropped and I managed to grasp enough common sense to say “Oh bloody hell, is she out on the road?”.
The young guy confirmed that she was and I peered through the gaps in the hedge until I spotted my missing dog with a middle-aged woman and two lads on mountain bikes.
It turns out that the woman had been driving past when she saw a dog sitting on the grass verge, looking quite content but very much alone.
I know that pose. It’s the one she uses when she gets half way across the field, decides she’s going no further, plops herself down in the grass and stays until I return, whether it’s five or fifteen minutes later!
She pulled over and Snipe greeted her happily (traitor!). The two lads chose that moment to cycle by, so she flagged them down (not having a mobile of her own) and one of them rang me…
The thing is, Snipe had gone wasn’t more than about twenty feet from where I was but having gone down the bank, across the stream and then up the bank on the other side, she’d clearly managed to lose herself and was therefore waiting to be rescued!
Snipe - 28 September 2009
B often describes my dog as being “daft as a brush”. I generally defend poor Snipe but in this case……
It’s taken me a while, but I’ve finally got round to taking videos instead of just photos, and I thought you might all appreciate the sights and sounds of Snipe in her favourite place in the world: the river!
Looking back through my photos from August, I was pleasantly surprised to find several that, in total contrast to the soaking I received yesterday, suggest that August hasn’t been as wet as I believe:
Midge - 6 August 2009
Brini - 7 August 2009
Scrumpy - 8 August 2009
Some of the hens - 11 August 2009
Jo and Snipe - 13 August 2009
Pinky - 18 August 2009
The farm - 29 August 2009
I waited and waited, but the rain didn’t stop so I put on my second skin, erm, I mean waterproofs, and ventured out into the wet to move the pigs.
I know now why I’ve never moved the pigs in the rain before and won’t again (apart from exceptional circumstances).
It was miserable.
Still, the pigs are happy, and that’s the main thing.
Fergie, Brini, Perky and Scrumpy - 30 August 2009
Snipe wasn’t, though!
Snipe - 30 August 2009
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