Just call me Brown Owl!

If you’d have told me three weeks ago that in the near future I would go to a wine, cheese and quiz night at the local village hall and end up practically volunteering myself as a Brownies and Guides ‘Leader’, I would’ve branded you stark raving mad. Yet here I am, the morning after the night before (I was driving, so unfortunately can’t blame the booze), wondering how this could have happened.

To retrace my steps and revert back to the cause, Fraser’s Aunt invited me along to the evening last week. Although quiz nights at village halls aren’t exactly my idea of a ‘good night out’ – back down South, a ‘good night out’ would suggest something entirely different, usually involving vast quantities of alcohol – I felt I should go. Actually, this one turned out to be quite fun. The quiz was well put together (admittedly I felt like a bit of a dunce when the section on ‘Scottish History’ came up, but was quite good on ‘flower anagrams’), and there was a raffle. I won precisely nothing, although wasn’t too bothered, since the most exciting prize in there was an assortment of jelly sweets.   

So I must admit that the night was a good laugh; that is until I caught myself semi-agreeing to ‘help out’ at Guides and Brownies on a Wednesday night. Apparently, as a ‘Leader’, you get to accompany them on camping trips, and supposedly: “I look like the sort who would enjoy it”. Not sure whether that’s a complement? I would even earn my own ‘camping badge’ if I played my cards right! In knowing this sort of thing isn’t really my cup of tea I should have smiled and politely declined. Unfortunately I find it impossible to say “no” and before long I was offering the kind of fob off that won’t wash forever: “terribly busy moving in, etc, but let me call you in a few weeks”. So, in the months to come, you might well be calling me ‘Brown Owl’, or something similar. Oh how the times change!

Angry coooos… is there an app for that?

There’s one thing to say about Shellfield cows - or ‘coos’ in local tongue - they’re big, grumpy, and occasionally confrontational (a bit like my fiancé). They have quite the reputation amongst the Glen folk, so one of our farmer friends should’ve perhaps known better than to corner Miss Prolapse and her calf the other day. On vet’s orders, Fraser was to give her a shot of antibiotic. Unfortunately, every time he tried jabbing her, he was met with head-down hostility; a fairly non-negotiable position to be in when sharing a confined space with an 800 kilo beast. So we called in our farmer friend for help. He keeps a large herd of cattle himself, so we figured he’d know how to stick a needle in her without getting violently booted into high heaven.

So there he strode, confidently into our shed, flailing his stick around to try and get her in a corner. He’s not without years and years of experience of farming cattle, but he’s clearly never dealt with one of ours before, or else I’m sure he would have advanced with a little more caution. Sure enough, a few seconds later, and much to Fraser’s amusement, our farmer friend came sprinting out 50 times faster than he’d ambled in - Miss Prolapse hot on his tail - and leapt up an 8ft high gate, which he ended up straddling. Yikes! Luckily, we were on hand to distract the angry coooo (see, I’m saying it now), or else he would probably still be there now.

I don’t want to put anyone off coming up here for a visit, but I would like to impart a little advice with regards to our cooos. If one of them charges at you, run to the nearest high place, and climb up it. You wouldn’t think it given their hefty appearances, but these beasts are very, very fast; however not great at climbing, or jumping. If a coooo was to chase you in a barren desert, you’d be, well, pretty much stuffed – not that you’d generally find one wandering across a desert – but theoretically, here in Glendaruel it’s OK as there are lots of trees.

I myself have had a few ‘close encounters’ with the beasts, as I have to run past a group of them and their calves during my morning run along the Loch road. Whilst I’m on the road and they’re on the beach, there’s still less distance than I’d like between me and them, and whenever I approach they all stop and stare (incidentally, silence and staring seems to be their preferred method of intimidation). I then press pause on my iPod and attempt to creep past them, very quiet and conciliatory. Brave I think, until I see Miss Prolapse amongst them, and so opt for the long way round – upwards onto the bank, and through a deep bog. My entire bottom half is wet and dirty, but I’m still alive. Hurrah!     

A prolapsed cow? That’s not what I signed up for…!

On Saturday, we got a call from the local shinty team asking if they could play their match against Glasgow in our field at the head of the Loch, since theirs was waterlogged. This meant Flo’s first proper assignment: moving sheep out of the field so lines could be painted/ goals erected, etc. Flo is still running doggedly - excuse the pun - at the sheep without really listening to instructions, but we got there in the end. She’s used to working in a confined space, so to ease her in we’re going to work her in the front field with just four or five sheep. When she starts taking orders in a comfortable environment, we’ll gradually introduce her to longer distance tasks with more sheep. It’s best not to do too much too soon.

Fraser and Flo

The shinty match proved a great way of meeting the locals, many of whom are avid supporters of the local team, shouting things like: “straigggght dooon th’ line, Hamish!”, and “drrrrive it, Jimmy!”. Coco had fun meeting the other local dogs, and particularly enjoyed beating up a little 10 month old Jack Russell. She certainly relished being the bigger dog for once. Shinty is a bit like hockey, except there doesn’t seem to be a height restriction when it comes to stick swinging, which makes it rather dangerous in my view. They don’t even wear helmets, so decapitation must be an occupational hazard! The local team is trying to rope Fraser into playing. I’ve said I value his face too much, though I fear I may be outnumbered – more on that in due course, I suspect! 

After the match, the shinty players jumped into the Loch to wash – the water's quite warm, apparently, though I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be for us Southerners – and we all went to the local pub in Colintraive for a few drinks. Unfortunately, this is twenty minutes from home and muggins here had to drive. Saturday nights ain’t what they used to be! 

Yesterday, we had our first experience of a cow’s afterbirth prolapse. For anyone who doesn’t know what this means, Google it, as I’d rather not spell it out. The vet had to come out, and it was touch and go for a while as to whether the animal would survive. Thankfully, after an epidural, much manipulation and for want of a better phrase, ‘shoving it back in’, the cow survived and was reunited with her calf. Unfortunately, she’s been somewhat bad tempered since – understandable given her ordeal – and we have to give her antibiotics via injection every day. Here’s hoping we’re still alive to deliver the next blog!

Week one - rural life and puppy training

So here we are, our first week at Shellfield Farm, West Coast Argyll – and what a week it’s been! We set off from Surrey early doors on Monday morning, carrying all our worldly possessions and two just-purchased dogs – Coco, the 10 week old chocolate Lab, and Flo, the two-year-old Australian Kelpie working dog. We drove the ten hour journey in convoy – Fraser and Flo in the Isuzu, me and the puppy following behind in my Honda Civic.



Shellfield Farm - view from our front door

Having collected Coco the previous Friday and already knowing her proclivity for extreme hyperactive behaviour one minute and comatose sleep the next – not to mention her inconsistent toilet habits – I was fully prepared for a disruptive journey accompanied by interesting smells. Much to my astonishment she was a joy to ride with, and slept pretty much the entire way; plus, she never once did her ‘business’ in the car. What a good puppy!

Understandably, we were thus led to believe that she would be the most perfectly house trained puppy in the world – not so. As soon as we arrived at the farm, Coco decided to christen pretty much every room in the house. She also thought it would be a great idea to find a tray of rat poison and bring it to us as a sort of present, leading us to wonder if she’d eaten any; not a chance we were willing to take, and not the circumstances under which we’d wanted to meet the vet! After receiving an injection to regurgitate the entire contents of her stomach in the vet’s car park – much to the dismay of several onlookers obviously wondering what was happening to the poor little darling – there was thankfully no rat poison, but instead a tonne of chicken feed, which she’d apparently devoured that morning as well. Needless to say, after that little incident, we went on the hunt for anything potentially poisonous and ‘puppy proofed’ – our new favourite phrase – the entire house to try and prevent the incident from happening again.

Coco the farm dog

Coco is a delight, but a real handful; she’s very much a 24 hour job, which has slowed down our progress somewhat this week, in terms of unpacking and getting ourselves organised around the farm. She does however wake us up at around 6am, which means we’re up early to feed the other animals (c. 400 sheep, twenty cattle, thirty hens, and three working dogs – quite a smallholding really!). Flo the new working dog is finding it a little harder to settle in. Fraser’s doing his best to slowly introduce her to the sheep, but she gets very over-excited and chases after/ nips them, and she’s not listening to instructions yet. It’ll take time, but we think she’ll be wonderful when she gets into the swing of things.

We’ve had a great first week, and already met some real characters. For about twenty minutes, the Morrisons trolley man in nearby Dunoon proudly regaled us with tales of how many pound coins he’s collected over the years from shoppers leaving them in the trolley slots – £5 seems to be about the most in one shift. We’re off to a farmers meet-up tonight and then to the pub, so no doubt I will report back on who we meet along the way – I think this will be quite the adventure!