Tessa Waugh’s hunting diary
It’s another end of an era as the trusty family sheepdog, Roy, passes away as lambing season looms, while Tessa Waugh enjoys a spot of cross-country schooling on Alec’s 13th birthday
IF you have livestock, you will have deadstock,” is one of the more reassuring old-farmer phrases that gets trotted out now and again.
While spring is synonymous with new life and any minute now the farm will erupt with lambs, pre-lambing is also a time when we get lots of deaths. When ewes die in the last phase of pregnancy, they lie unceremoniously in the yard, stomachs swollen and legs out, until the knacker man arrives.
Amid these casualties of the season, no one expected the grim reaper to turn his attentions closer to home.a
About a week ago I noticed the old border collie’s testicles protruding oddly through his coat. I consulted Eildon, who was a veterinary nurse before she worked here, and after some investigations she confirmed that all was not OK in that department. Adam came back with the same view.
A couple of days and several discussions later, Roy went off his food and action had to be taken. I didn’t notice the empty kennel when the children and I got back from our ride. It was 24 hours later when I dimly enquired where Roy was.
“Not here anymore,” said Adam. “Poor old Roy.”
It was another sad end of an era because we all loved Roy. He came with us when we moved here in 2010, a present from my father. Adam set to with his new sheep and new dog, quickly discovering that controlling a collie in a field full of sheep is a different skill to hunting a pack of hounds. At the beginning, Roy’s name would ring out across the farm with a volley of
“Snaking into the
first small rail I questioned my sense, having not jumped a stick in months”
unprintables every time they entered a field.
Despite the sketchy start, Adam persisted, Roy was keen to please and they quickly developed a rapport. A sweeter, more gentlenatured dog you would struggle to find.
MORE change this week – I am now the mother of a teenager which, apart from making me feel old, has set me wondering about what the next few years will bring. So far, excess deodorant use and a bit of grunting are the only signs that we are harbouring a “Kevin”.
On his birthday, Alec asked if we could take his new pony, Izzy, to our local crosscountry course.
“You should bring Jim,” he suggested. Secretly I was appalled by this idea having not jumped a stick in months, but I didn’t want to spoil things – he won’t always want to hang out with his mother on his birthday. Snaking into the first small rail I questioned my sense again, but we got going, the horses were great and we had a laugh. Teenage children? Bring it on.