There was no further treatment that she could receive at the veterinary centre that I couldn’t give her myself, so we brought her home.
Looking rather frail and wobbly, we guided her into the trailer, Fifi wickering to her all the time and headed home. It’s very difficult to remain objective when you’re emotionally at a very low ebb.
You know you should take heed of what your head is telling you but your heart often overrules that voice of reason.
I gave her a fighting chance but had to draw the line, from a financial point and decided to bring her home. The rest would be up to fate.
Thankfully she continues to improve and is back out in the field with Anwen and her foal, Padmé. She has proven to be a little fighter, going from strength to strength. I now await the dreaded vet bill!
The light is most definitely shining at the end of our tunnel, with only a handful of ewes left to lamb.
All our lambs are thriving out in the meadows and lush pastures of Farnley and rugged moorlands of home.
That desperately needed drop of rain last weekend has freshened the land up and given the grass a much needed boost. Our thoughts would normally be turning towards the agricultural shows now.
The Whitefaced Woodland sheep would be studied, favourites picked for the season and shows entered.
John-William eagerly anticipating his usual haul of rosettes! It’s bitterly disappointing that after a long, miserable winter and seemingly endless lambing time, we don’t have the shows to look forward to.
Our disappointment, however, is trivial when so many have lost their businesses and livelihoods.
Many trade stands rely heavily on shows as a means of showcasing their goods and services.
Professional photographers, event organisers, the producers of livestock have all effectively lost their annual income.
The knock on effect is equally as devastating for farriers, feed merchants and so on. We can only hope that we are on the home straight and our amazing medical teams are winning the battle.
Another bank holiday has passed, somewhat unnoticed in our house.
No trips to the seaside, ice cream or lazy days soaking up the sun. The small roads, passing places and every verge up and down our rolling hills have been choked with cars and motorbikes.
Little or no respect has been shown for farmers and locals, desperately trying to go about their business.
It used to be that a few spoiled it for the many but now I fear it is quite the opposite.
The invasion of the masses has been quite overwhelming. Litter and discarded barbecues left on the banks of rivers, beaches and green fields.
Gateways blocked, rural roads congested.
After a brief respite from our constant intrusion and decimation of our unique and fragile ecosystems, human beings, the real plague on this planet, are back. Mother Nature must be weeping.