Country Diary

Now we are into late spring it is all systems go in the farming world, keeping one eye on the weather and the other on the new dairy herd

It feels wrong to write this when there is so much misery. But I think the lockdown will be etched on my memory as a glorious spring when we have been able to appreciate the wildflowers and the birdsong without being troubled by the outside world at all.

Some call centres have fallen silent, the civil servants have been furloughed and travelling salesmen no longer happen to be passing our door. We would normally have been rushed off our feet by now, dealing with questions, requests and complaints. But, much as we enjoy having people staying in our holiday cottages, we have been guiltily relieved to be getting money for nothing.

After some sleepless nights about the lost income, Rishi Sunak’s rescue package was eventually passed on by Holyrood; well, most of it. No doubt there will be a nasty sting in the tail when the Government needs to replenish the coffers.

I have a horrible feeling that there will be payback time for this lovely weather as well. Nature always evens itself out. I am hoping that this is merely the compensation for a miserable end to the winter, but there is a nagging fear that this is one of those backto-front years when it doesn’t rain when plants need it then doesn’t stop when you need to harvest.

Moisture

The place is looking so bonny, with sunlit crab apples competing now with bird cherries and hawthorns, that it seems wrong to pray for rain. But we are beginning to fear for grass that we planted into dryish seed beds and rolled in tight to preserve the moisture.

Establishing it was a challenge; the ground was so hard that we had to plough some of the heavier land just to get some tilth, rather than direct drill into the dead sward. It has germinated, but we are rather wishing it hadn’t until it had rained. I thought aloud about irrigating, but was quoted £100 per acre per inch of water and thought better of it.

On a brighter note, I heard the first cuckoo yesterday, which boosted my morale. I didn’t hear it at all here last year. And the swallows are back in abundance. There was only one pair for the first week and we waited like anxious parents in an airport arrivals lounge to see if more had survived the trip. Now the yard is frequently dive-bombed by squadrons of them.

The lockdown has also reduced the number of walkers and this too is something of a relief. The regulars from the village have kept doing their circuits. And it has been amusing to watch the social distancing interpretations evolving

“We waited like anxious parents in arrivals to see if more swallows survived the trip”

as neighbours walk together. The new cow tracks for the dairy operation have proved irresistible to them, as I feared they would, but it might be a different story when 600 cows have walked down them, leaving them coated in ‘skitters’, as we call that other word usually suffixed with an ‘e’ in the Scots dialect.

The new dairy heifers are now well settled and out with the bulls — a dozen of them all in together so that it is like watching a herd of wild buffalo, complete with sound effects. There has been the odd scrap, but they seem to have established a pecking order quite quickly.

The younger bulls appear to be doing all the work, chasing heifers round the paddock, while the old bulls sit quietly in a corner conserving their energy. Then one of them rises, ambles over to a receptive heifer, sees off the young teasers and does the business. That’s one more ready for the parlour in February, hopefully.

Meanwhile, in the silage fields, the larks are busy nesting. I am praying that they are fledged before the mowers arrive in the third week of May. Our new regime should suit them well. The cattle graze each paddock down low, then don’t return for about three weeks. With an 11-day incubation period, this gives the larks a good chance.

I suspect they have evolved to nest on freshly grazed pasture for that reason. They wouldn’t have this chance if we were growing plant-based food for vegans.

Jamie Blackett farms in Galloway. He runs a small private shoot and was one of the founders of the Dumfriesshire & Stewartry Foxhounds.

Swallows have returned to Galloway in great numbers after a single pair earlier in the spring