Farm on the M62: Cursing at the cruelty of nature - Jill Thorp

After feeding them I scooped the frail body of the owl up, briefly marvelling at the soft downy feathers whilst inwardly cursing nature. Such a cruel waste of this young, magnificent bird. As predicted, the big thaw arrived only days later and with it the return to mud and flooded meadows. Streams, swollen with the melt water doubled in size, tearing fresh paths down the hillsides and again, taking most of the top of our drive away. Cold, dark peaty water surged over the dam wall of the reservoir, crashing to the bottom where it joined the river, racing on down the valley. The glistening slopes were gone, and the grass slowly re-emerged, much to the relief of the sheep.

It turned out my barn owl wasn’t to be our only sadness last week. Our old dog, Pearl who had become increasingly frail and seemingly lost in her own home finally came to the end of her journey with us. Our good friend and vet, Shona was due to return a Whitefaced Woodland tup that she’d borrowed so the decision was made to let Pearl go peacefully at home in her own bed. We sat with her, stroking her face, thanking her for being such a good dog, remembering her “surprise” litter of pups she’d had that had given John-William hour upon hour of joy when he was just a pup himself.

It came as no shock to me that when the time came, John-William asked to be with Pearl right to the very end. It seemed a rotten thing to be doing on the eve of his twelfth birthday, but he was adamant and again reminded me that he’s not a child anymore. I left him there, cradling our lovely old Pearl in his arms whilst Shona knelt down beside them. I could still hear his soft reassuring words as I walked up the yard, the bitterly cold wind, whipping away my tears. He appeared some time later and joined me on the bale of straw I’d rooted myself to, lost in thought. His calm confidence and determination to be brave for one of our dogs had slipped away in the night, along with Pearl and it was a small, desperately sad little boy that wept beside me on that bale.