Spring burning... er, cleaning

We now have just one month to clean up before Fire Danger Season. You wouldn't know it because with all the late rain this year the whole greater valley is still green as a baby's bottom. But everything flowering is also going to seed and just a few days of hot sunshine will see it cure into very effective kindling. The fallen timber from the seven trees removed recently and other garden rubbish would make great fuel but we'd rather burn it in our combustion heater come next winter, not have it all lost and burning the house down uninvited on a 40 degree day. Everything from the gutters down needs to be tidied up and the fuel load reduced. Also the acute embarrassment of having a fire out of control on our place would be a bit much considering our trade and training. We'd never live it down. The balance between having enough grazing to last at least until January and having too much standing fuel too close to houses, sheds and other valuable things is a delicate one. The animals are doing their best but they can't keep up with the feed just now - which is saying something for this lot. In the meantime we can do some work ourselves around the house acres to be safer come the dry weather. Much of the rubbish we collected was of organic origin and therefore could be burnt. In our Fire Ban District we could still burn after the official start of December 1st but this would require a permit with a few conditions attached and it's just easier to do it now. The guard alpacas took their role seriously when they spotted the impromptu bonfire and herded their charges to the far side of their paddock and into a tight group as in the picture above. It's heartening to see them keeping the sheep safe even if it's unnecessary and, in a real fire, may be somewhat futile. After a while when they relaxed when they noted that in fact SO seemed to be feeding the orange threat and I was standing by with the hose to put out his occasional over-enthusiasm and the nearby pile of waste bedding that caught the odd spark and all was well. The sheep even started to take an interest in the show. All we were really missing were the marshmallows.

Maternity refectory

Every evening now the pregnant ewes (and some of them are very pregnant) get a ration of Lamb and Ewe nuts. These differ from ordinary sheep nuts in that they have more protein and as the ewes are now on the home stretch (and some of them are very stretched) they get the extra good stuff.

The troughs are where they are, and it takes two to sate the ewes now, so that I can just tip the nuts out unmolested from the other side of the fence. You may think it awkward to have the troughs so close to the fence but actually it's a lot less awkward than putting them in the middle of a paddock where you have to make a dash to them, holding heavy buckets of feed out of sheepy nose-reach. It can be really difficult to walk through a sea of pushing, jumping, woolly, pregnant, clumsy, hungry beasts. They're lovely, but downright dangerous. They'll mob you. It gets ugly. Which is why alpaca guardians Ori and Siri remain aloof and dignified well away from the melee. They don't like sheep nuts anyway.

Singing sheep

Sometimes, to pass a long, cold afternoon the alpacas get a sing-song going. They rally round the sheep and start up a few old favourites to get everyone singing along.

Slowly the sheep join in, taking up the tune. I can never quite tell what they're singing. Perhaps traditional folk songs their ancestors heard on the hills of Dorset, the Border counties and Finland, perhaps sea shanties the first immigrants learned from the sailors on the voyage to the antipodes. All the different voices can be picked out, Chester's deep "maaaawwww" and the lambs' higher pitched bleats. Sometimes they even hit harmonies.


Anyway, its a cheery way to pass the time until the afternoon grazing starts.

Red alert

Over the last few nights the foxes have been a bit unruly. Days, too. Broad daylight at any time in fact. Honestly, you'd think they'd have a little more respect, but they're brazen creatures, wandering down the drive, saying hi. Gazing into the chicken house and commenting on the condition of our hens. We've seen them out at all hours, yapping and barking, crossing the paddocks, encouraged by the bracken cover, encouraged by the rabbit population explosion and encouraged by lambs breaking out all over the place. Dripping with courage, in fact. This is why we got Orion (the Hunter) and his faithful companion, Sirius (although not terribly dog-like a good guard animal nonetheless). They are known locally as Ori and Siri.


Alpacas don't like foxes. They don't like dogs either or anything strange in their territory. They even intimidate the cats. They put their heads down and lope over like graceful camels to investigate, confidently radiating a quiet "What's all this, then?" attitude. They are camelids, in fact, which is why we also call them the Camel-lads. They will not generally negotiate, their procedure for dealing with threats to their flock is to bite first, ask questions later. Sometimes they vary the response by spitting although this usually occurs when they feel personally threatened. It's very effective. It's also very smelly.

All our neighbours with sheep also have alpacas, this is Goofy keeping regal watch over his Dorper x Damara flock and their new lambs. He's a big alpaca and very hard to shear. We assisted the bemused owner and our shearer to restrain him last year whilst he screamed blue murder all the while. He wasn't hurt at all but much spitting was done. He felt better afterwards of course, as it was very hot, but he really resented the restriction of his freedom and would be lethal to foxes.


Every evening our own alpacas round up their charges - currently our breeding ewes - and keep watch for danger. They're very good at it, almost too good sometimes. The other night SO watched a fox come down the hill into the home paddock and went to get his gun. In the moments it took him to get back the camel lads had seen the fox off and were standing at the fence watching him go. By then he was too high on the hill to have a shot at.


We lay in bed last night listening to a vixen screaming for her mate, or perhaps at her mate. This was after several freezing hours scanning the hills for them with no success. Recently SO stalked a young male all the way to the pine forest, but a lot of the time the lad sat and looked at him insolently, which was when SO discovered the rifle sight was out. We were standing on the road this afternoon chatting to our neighbour, as you do, about this very subject. His sheep are lambing and he's heard and hunted foxes every single night. Just as we were discussing this I heard myself say "There goes one now!" as a big, red dog fox made it's way across the hill full of the neighbour's lambs playing innocently and unaware. He was no doubt looking for afternoon tea. I worry about the lambs constantly. Ours are yet to come and there have already been many losses this year.

Still, at least the alpacas are on guard.