A day on the farm

It’s 11.45 on a cool night in March, and there is finally peace in the lambing shed. The pregnant ewes have either settled down for a nap at the back of the enclosure, or have their heads in the hay rack. The sound of their satisfied shuffling, grunting and chomping is comforting: it means the flock is content, and there will be no new arrivals tonight.

The lambs who have already been born continue to pester their patient mothers: butting udders to increase the flow of milk, or zooming skittishly around in the straw until coordination fails and they tumble to the floor for another nap.

There is no power in the shed, so a portable site light placed up in the rafters provides shadowy illumination across the flock. Sitting high on the slowly-diminishing hay stack, you can see the whole shed and observe the multitude of minor movements that the sheep make, each one a subtle clue as to the intention and mood of the individual that evening, if you know how to read it. For now though, the shepherd can return to her bed and get some much-needed sleep before returning to check the sheep again in the early hours of the morning.

Caring for livestock is intuitive. The animals are instinctive, and can tell you what they need. They bleat when they’re hungry or want water; they shuffle awkwardly when labour begins; and when they’re unwell they sit still and silent, so as to save energy and not to draw unwanted attention from those who may pose a threat. Caring for the land is similar, only the timescale is longer. Natural change occurs slowly as habitats evolve, however the subtle signs of health are still visible to the careful observer. Man-made change by contrast, is painfully obvious. We can see clearly that weather patterns are producing a greater frequency of extreme weather events, from searing heatwaves to flash flooding and devastating storms. Vast areas of new housing estates are erasing habitats, and creatures which only a few years ago seemed so common, are now under such pressure that their very existence is brought into question.

The following morning, the sun rises after the shepherd’s alarm wakes her. She has a lukewarm cup of tea, before heading out to check her flock. In the first rays of dawn’s light, she spots that one ewe has successfully given birth to twins- a perfect start to the day! One of the lambs is wobbling to its feet, learning quickly where to find milk. The other lies wetly in the golden straw as the ewe begins to lick it dry, crooning and grunting softly to reassure the new-born.

Elsewhere on the farm, more new life is waking up. A cacophony of bellowing greets the herdsman as he enters the yard, when the cattle realise that breakfast is finally on its way. The oldest cattle, at two years are patient, calm and watchful as their troughs are filled. They are nearly fat and ready to be sold. By contrast, the yearlings at only half the size make up for more than twice the volume. They jostle for position at the feed barrier, giving no quarter, until the smaller ones are pushed out and have to run to the end of the trough to find food where there is space. Nature has a clear hierarchy, even in a carefully managed herd. This herd has been housed since November last year, but come April the yearlings will be turned out into the fields to graze. They will gallop through the gateway and kick their heels out, ready to enjoy the fresh grass and freedom with the sun on their backs once more.  Now though, it is still March and the grass has only just started growing: they will have to wait a little longer yet.

Pastures on the farm are a precious and carefully managed resource. Despite how it may seem, the grass and other plant species present are an extremely important crop.  The fields which will soon feed the cattle have been set to grass for many years, and the annual cycle of fertilizing, cutting and grazing ensures that there is an abundance of life in and among the green canopy. A rich biodiversity of soil bacteria, fungi, worms, insects, plant species, small rodents, birds and more is supported in a field of permanent pasture. As with everything in nature, there is a balance to be struck when managing grassland. Fertilizer is required to ensure the crop has the nutrients they need to grow, but if you fertilize too much you can damage the plants or change the dominant plant species. If you apply little there may not be enough forage to harvest in a hay crop. If you graze the pasture too soon, too tightly or for too long, the plants can be stripped of the vital sugars needed for regeneration, or the soil could become poached or compacted. If you don’t graze enough, there is little stimulant for the plants to tiller out and increase in size or root-mass, and perhaps most importantly, the animals don’t grow as fat.