Now flocks are rockin’ to the beet
WE have enjoyed a dry but very cold week, misty mornings giving way to sunshine that has bathed the moors with a beautiful glow.
The sheep are settled on the tops, spreading away to graze awaiting a whistle that heralds the approach of their breakfast/dinner/tea dependent on the time of day.
Knowing which ones to feed and in which order is something that varies day by day.
I am always trying to travel between the separate flocks as efficiently as possible without expending too much energy – mine or the sheep’s.
They will come a-galloping when they see or hear me and that can mean they will have to run all the way back to where I’m actually going to fodder them. It is all about waiting for the opportune moment.
Good, hard white ground is what I will be looking for, somewhere that I can put out the containers of meadow hay that we made in the summer without too much wastage.
The hayseeds are scattered as the yows pick their way through it, so not only is it doing the sheep good but also the land by reseeding it.
We are awaiting a delivery of a 20-tonne load of fodderbeets. Similar in appearance to turnips, but uglier.
The sheep refused to eat them last year until they had stared at them for a week or two and we had chopped them in half with a spade.
I almost feel like shouting at them, “Beet’s good for you!” but having recently “treated” myself to a bean and kale shake on a trip into civilisation I know exactly where they’re coming from.