Farm on the M62: Lambs causing motorway chaos - Jill Thorp
The pick-up tore up the lane amidst a cloud of dust and shrieking of brakes. I heard the door slam followed by a series of curses and something about fish and chips. I got up from the grassy patch I’d been sat on watching the little guy’s old show tup “Big boy” finish his food.
Time sadly had caught up with him and old age meant I’d kept him in a small patch next to the house before the inevitable decision was made. I stroked his face, the hands of time had not stripped him of his mighty features, he was still Aslan, the King of all, from the Narnia chronicles, but in sheep form! It seemed like yesterday that the little guy was posing for a photo before the wonderful livestock photographer, Wayne Hutchinson after securing the Champion of Champions title at Hope Show. It was of course quite a few years back now but our love and care for the old lad had not diminished.
More doors slamming and the pick-up reversing at speed, briefly shuddering to a halt to allow a slightly confused me to get in. Apparently two lambs had got over the cattle grid at Junction 22 and were heading onto the motorway, in the wrong direction. I briefly wondered if any direction was safe for two lambs to be heading on the motorway before the real reason for his rage became clear. He’d been in the queue at the fish and chip shop when the urgent call came through from the traffic police. He’d had no choice but to leave his place in the queue, come up home to get me and the dog and retrieve the lambs. There was quite a gathering of police and highways officials plus our neighbour by the time we got up there. A large queue of cars were sat waiting on the slip road behind all the hi-viz bodies whilst the lambs grazed the verge, oblivious of the disruption they were causing. Thankfully they’d not made it all the way onto the motorway but were proving tricky to catch. One was cornered by the fence next to the cattle grid and dropped over the fence, whilst the other made a frantic dash towards the line of bodies. It dodged past them but Sam, Paul’s dog, made light work of the job and both were returned to their Mothers on the right side of the fence. There was much praise for Sam, which is rare as he’s usually called every name under the sun and never flattering ones as he’s often a menace to himself, however, he did himself proud and the traffic cops were most impressed. It was disappointing to see the gate to the Pennine Way open, casually swinging in the breeze. A gate that keeps our livestock on the moor, safely away from a busy A road and of course an even busier motorway. This isn’t responsible access, it’s selfish, lazy behaviour which could potentially lead to not just the loss of our stock but a major headache for road users.
But the real tragedy of the whole situation was by the time we headed back down to civilisation, the fish and chip shop had shut, leaving someone like a bear with a sore head!