The end of lambing season is in sight at the farm on the M62 and there is a successful day at the show for John-Willam

The light at the end of the tunnel is looming bright as the numbers of ewes left to lamb are down to double figures.

The end of lambing season is in sight at Stott Hall Farm

Hitting the hundred mark is always met with a feeling of relief!

With the weather being so hit and miss we’ve got them all inside the shed next to the house, making life significantly easier. The strain on Paul following his accident has become increasingly apparent as he has been forced to spend some time indoors.

Sign up to our daily newsletter

The i newsletter cut through the noise

Despite being in constant pain he has continued to work, which has of course aggravated his knee injury. With so much work, ewes to lamb and cows to feed, he’s been left with little choice, and has just got on with it. Through gritted teeth he has stubbornly got going, his mood swings a sign of the pain he has been in.

As the immediate pressure is off he’s finally admitted he can’t go on and has had several days laying flat out to try and alleviate the pain.

A phone consultation with his doctor doesn’t really cut it and has left us having to mither for an actual appointment. I fear an operation will be the only way to sort it which of course will require more rest time.

With the remaining ewes indoors, John-William and I left Casey in charge and headed off to a show with Bronze.

Despite forming a really solid little partnership there have been several crises of confidence, that will only disappear with time and plenty of practice.

The pair of them were on top form, however, without a hint of nerves from either pony or rider. Following a third place in his first class, he decided to give the next one a go, pushing himself out of his comfort zone.

The jumps were bigger, spookier and more demanding than he’d previously attempted, but he was adamant he was ready.

The shaking hands and sudden dry mouth I experienced as he entered the ring soon ceased as I watched on in awe as he sailed round.

We returned home jubilant and as I put the kettle on he went to check the lambing shed.

After 20 minutes I went to find him. He was stood amongst a sea of woolly bodies looking somewhat deflated.

“I just can’t get it out” he said.

With slumped shoulders he pointed to the ewe who was stood in the corner, head down.

My heart sunk as I saw a huge swollen head hanging from her rear. I rushed forward and managed to get a leg forward and the lamb out.

A huge gimmer lamb lay at our feet and despite my best efforts, she was beyond help. I glanced across at John-William, who stared at the lifeless body in the straw.

I calmly explained to him the importance of coming to get someone to help as these type of lambings were difficult and that time was of the essence.

I couldn’t berate him, he’d just wanted to please us. He suddenly rushed off, returning with a lamb in his arms. He proferred it to the ewe

“One less in the cade lamb pen Mum!”