What's Got Three Wheels?

What I've been thinking about:

1. The weather. 
2. Dad jokes. 

I know us Scots think and talk about the weather more than most but it's at least double that for farmers. Sometimes it seems that Ivie endures Countryfile with his arms folded just so he can listen to the forecast at the end. 

This May has been a bit damper and colder than usual - Countryfile shared the exact stats last night but those of you who know me will know that I'm not really a details person. Suffice to say, it's been cold and wet for May and Ivie has been a bit crabbit and grumpy for May. 

He usually has a rough idea of how his week is going to pan out. Inevitably, that changes as the week goes on and it rains more (or less) or part of a machine needs taken off (or put back on) or something else happens (or doesn't). It seems that this past week has changed by the hour, though, as has the jigsaw of all the jobs that need doing. 

Ivie and Rudi going off to work

As it's dry this evening Ivie is catching up on a job that was postponed yesterday due to unexpected showers. One of the things that I'm getting used to is that if it's a nice evening, I'll probably spend it alone. (That suits my introvert tendencies but sometimes it would be nice to go to the Brigend Pantry for an ice cream together and not have to wear scarf, gloves or hat.)

I was thinking of making a cuppa and sitting outside my shed to admire the view and get some more vitamin D. There's only one problem...

I can cope with most aromas on the farm (including Ivie) but this is a bit ripe, even for me. So, I've settled for an indoor cuppa and admiring the view from the window (still spectacular, no nose peg required). 

All this reminds me of my Dad's favourite joke:

What's got three wheels and rings like a bell?

A barrowload of DUNG! 

(Insert eye roll here.)

Still, it means I'm in sole charge of the remote control. I'm off to find the Weather Channel so I can plan my next 99.

*** BREAKING NEWS ***

I've just gone online so that I could link to a definition of the 99 to anyone not familiar and the UK IS FACING A SHORTAGE!!! Never mind the Weather Channel, I need a lie down! 

International Rescue

(I thought I'd better take back control of my blog, making 1800 Hours great again and all that.)

Here's what I've been thinking about this week:

1. Sheep are endless. 
2. Maybe I'll stay out of it in future. 

The silence of the lambs is not a thing. They make a wide variety of sounds, some surprising and some annoying. 

You rarely hear, "baa," but they do occasionally sound like those old-fashioned cylindrical toys that make animal noises when you turn them upside down. 

Not endless - yet

I was thinking about all this while walking the dog one day last week. It's taken me a while to get used to the fact that now and then lambs sound like newborn (human) babies in distresss. It was quite disturbing the first few times until my brain moved from, "Panic! Babies in danger!" to, "oh lambs."

On this particular morning, I was aware of one that sounded like an 86 year old who had been smoking 60 a day since she was 10. "Meh!" It sounded a bit angry but I suppose I would be, too, if I was a lamb in a field in Scotland in the rain. 

The dog and I continued our walk, waking up slowly (me, not her), chasing sticks (her, not me) and enjoying a quiet start to the day (neither of us is very good at playing well with others until at least after breakfast). 

Morning companion

Our usual walk is a 'there and back' so we passed the same field on the way home. 

"Meh!" I heard from the same spot in the same field from, presumably, the same lamb, "MEH!" I looked through the trees and saw a head sticking through the fence. The lamb looked less than impressed, as if to say, "you heard me on the way out and you're only just having a look now?!" 

Sheep with a better understanding of fences

After a quick phone call to Ivie - for encouragement/permission to approach the lamb - and tying up the dog, I skipped elegantly nearly made it over the soggy ditch. Grabbing an overhanging branch and scrambling up a small bank covered in briars, I got up close to the detainee. It took one look at me, cocked its head and stepped backwards in one move. I could have sworn it looked smugly over its shoulder as it skipped elegantly back to its mother. 

You can imagine the reception I got when I phoned Ivie back to explain what had happened. In between guffaws, he said, "aye, that's sheep for you."

"Meh," I replied. 

It's a Dog's Life

 Here's what I've been thinking about:

1. There hasn't been a blog for a while. 
2. How hard can it be? 

I've only lived at the Spittal for about 7 months and I already know more about how this farming malarkey works than that blonde piece. 

I have quite a good life here and it didn't take me long to set the ground rules. 

Every day starts roughly the same with the ginger one letting me out. He doesn't say much but that's because he's thinking hard about the day ahead. 

My best side

The blonde one comes through next and I make sure I jump all over her while she's putting her boots on so she knows how enthusiastic I am about our morning constitutional. As far as I can make out, the length of our walk depends on a few different things:

• how much of that special juice they've drunk the night before that makes the pair of them laugh at nothing and talk even more sh**e than usual;
• whether she'll be spending the rest of the day tapping on her keyboard;
• and whether she'll be looking at anyone else on her screen and needs a hair wash.

I also love stationery

If it's her work day I sit quietly in the kitchen, whimpering from time to time to remind her I'm her real boss. If it's my work day, I get to go in the tractor or the loadall or sometimes I just get to run around the steading sniffing all the new smells that have appeared since yesterday.

My first day at work in the tractor

The smells are many and varied and largely unappreciated by the humans. Often the smells are so glorious I have to taste them and that's when one of them shouts, "Rudi, no! Stop eating the silage/calf scour/sh**e!" (delete as applicable). 

Sometimes in the afternoons I get to run around with the other boss, Isa. (Dot's the big boss but she's so important we don't see her much.) So, Isa and I mainly organise our own workloads. My job description is to run after Isa, sniff what she sniffs and taste anything she tastes. We wag our tails a lot. 

Afternoon break

At the end of the day, I get to sit on the sofa between my humans, even though I heard that before I lived here they said, "Absolutely No Dogs On The Sofa". They're hilarious. 

Hopefully, the blonde one will start taking her blog writing a bit more seriously because this took ages, what with my big, clumsy paws and my tail deleting words left, right and