A trip to the sales and a winning bid sees some new Blue Faced Leicester tups coming home to the farm on the M62

By the time the morning light saw the night off we’d left the West Riding of Yorkshire and the rolling hills of the Dales stretched out before us.

We paused to admire the great Batty Moss or Ribblehead viaduct as it is more commonly known. Described by the historian Terry Coleman as the “last great work in Britain executed by navvies”, it’s a wonderful sight and never fails to attract attention.

Like the Pennine stretch of motorway that we are all too familiar with, the building of this spectacular Grade II listed structure was not without its challenges. Batty Moss, like our own Moss Moor, is a boggy stretch of exposed moorland and unfortunately many lives were lost during the construction of the viaduct.

We pushed on, following the River Ribble until we came to the beautiful market town of Hawes, before finally pulling into the auction market. It was already a hive of activity, trailers unloading and getting parked up for the day.

We left ours in the field above the main car park, donned our masks and with a huge spring in my step (Paul’s not quite so springy!), set off to admire the rows of Blue Faced Leicester tups.

Thankfully, the sun shone bright which certainly helped with social distancing. The tables and chairs from the cafe were outside and despite there being the usual throng of farmers, it never felt crowded.

As only one of us was allowed into the sale ring, we agreed on how much we were spending and I found a quiet spot to stand where I could see Paul. The shearlings went through first and despite having a few marked down, we were unsuccessful. The money was strong, great for if you’re selling, not so great if buying.

We went and had a good look at the tup lambs, picked the bloodlines we wanted and agreed we’d have to dig a bit deeper. We were left behind on the first few but as the next tup I had marked with a large asterisk in the catalogue entered the ring, I kept my fingers crossed.

Again, the bidding set off at quite a pace and it wasn’t long before I saw Paul shaking his head and bowing out.

As he glanced over I lowered my mask and gave him my most dazzling, encouraging smile I could muster. Or at least I thought it was a smile, perhaps he saw it as something different, a threatening snarl that must be obeyed, because with a look of weary resignation on his face, his hand went up again and before his legs gave way, the hammer had gone down.

Clearly, the lack of fresh air due to the muzzle, sorry mask, he was wearing was affecting his clear thinking as ten minutes later another tup lamb was ours. Purchased from a breeder we’d bought several from in the past, he was just as impressive as the other.

With real “look at me” attitude, a leg in each corner with plenty of chest room and good in the mouth, but most importantly, ours!

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Thank you

James Mitchinson