Farm on the M62: Tragic accident with lamb is a stark reminder - Jill Thorp

At nine o’clock at night he is still on the go, working tirelessly. The dedication and attention to detail has been remarkable and made me so incredibly proud. His days away from the farm have been spent with his pals, cycling here there and everywhere. The mileage they cover in a day is astounding, peddling up the great hills of Yorkshire and tearing off down into the valley bottoms. Endless jumps have been dug and built in the many woods that fill the valleys and friendships have been forged by long days out in the sunshine.

The meadows at home are filling at an alarming speed as the ewes are giving birth faster than we can count. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far with the weather, although dare I say it, just a spot of rain could be used anytime soon! The little guy’s Whitefaced Woodland tup, “Big-boy” has really set his stamp of our lambs, with some of the best we’ve had in a long time. Paul was particularly impressed with a big single gimmer that he was quietly hoping would grown on well enough to join the show team heading to the Great Yorkshire later in the summer. As luck would have it, or not in our case, any plans for her future came to a shuddering halt when we lost her in a frustratingly avoidable accident.

Her mother was stood in the corner of a field one morning, alone and frantically calling. At her feet was an old broken pallet, just visible through the tangled grass and brambles. It had been, at some point a temporary cover over a drain and had of course, been forgotten about over time. The lamb must have been playing on top of it when the wood broke and she fell into the drain below. The drain was dry but headed off in several directions and whilst the lamb could be faintly heard, she was out of sight. Paul and our good friend Martin who has been helping us over Easter spent the next three hours digging.

Their efforts, however, were in vain and the lamb quite literally disappeared without trace. Paul resumed digging later that day but was beaten as night fell. Again, he tried early the following morning, but to no avail. The ewe watched on, growing ever more silent, until eventually she wandered away. It was a rotten thing to happen and we certainly didn’t feel the warmth of the sunshine beating down that day. The saying “closing the stable door once the horse has bolted” certainly came to mind as a permanent cover was placed over the drain.