Relief on Stott Hall Farm between the M62 as sheep-shearing season is over - Jill Thorp

It’s always a relief when the fields start to fill up with freshly shorn sheep and you can start to focus on the land.
Jill ThorpJill Thorp
Jill Thorp

With a reasonable forecast we decided to go for it and got another fifty acres cut.

We weren’t the only ones, from the gently sloping hillsides to the valley bottom, fields were alive with activity. The drone of mowers could be heard from one valley to the next as every farmer took advantage of the fair and settled weather. Shaking out machines and rakes, balers and foragers, all buzzing up and down, filling the air with that earthy, sweet aroma, so familiar to country folk.

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Thankfully, the weather held and after some long hours in the fields, load after load of hay and haylage started heading home. The detour due to the temporary closure of Scammonden bridge has made it a long haul from our mowing land at Farnley, but with help from family and friends, the bales were unloaded, wrapped and stacked.

They worked well after dark, until the last bale was lifted onto the pile. Paul slept well that night, with another weight lifted from his shoulders.

Some of the smaller horse shows have begun again, a slightly different format with limited numbers and strictly allocated time slots. We decided that a local one would be a good start for John-William and Bronze, so off we went last weekend.

The sun shone, as did Bronze, who like his namesake is the most exquisite hues of golden blond, with darker dapples down his flanks. My nerves were at an all-time high as the pair of them entered the ring, but I smiled encouragingly, hoping that Bronze would look after his little jockey.

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I needn’t have worried though, they floated around the ring, effortlessly clearing all nine jumps, no hiccups whatsoever. My nerves were replaced with overwhelming pride as I watched them, and much to our delight, a big red first-placed rosette was ours. We headed home on a high, Bronze joined Ted in the field and John-William rushed off to join his dad baling.

Two new arrivals appeared one morning, sat nestled in amongst some of John-William’s pet lambs and OAPs. A pair of big, healthy gimmer lambs, quite unexpected, but thankfully okay and with full tummies. An old ewe, that had started life as a pet lamb, before John-William had been born, was mothering them and on closer inspection, it was clear they were hers.

She’d obviously had a secret rendezvous at some point last winter, unbeknownst to us. Of course they were claimed in a flash, the red marker spray instantly brandished, amidst shrieks of “they’re mine”!

Our little cowboy is enjoying his horseback checks of the sheep. His confidence blossoming. One evening, as the sun was setting, he cantered past me, cheeks glowing, eyes alight with sheer joy.

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As the distance between us separated a little “yee-ha” drifted across the wind and I thought not for the first time, how quickly they grow up.

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