What a load of bull

What I have learned:

1. Ivie is laid-back 99.9% of the time.
2. You can take a pun too far. 

Living on a farm isn't as quiet as you'd think. I regularly wake up to a strange noise - that in my half-asleep state sounds like the alarm on my phone - only to realise (again) that it's a bellowing bull. 

They're noisy creatures and it seems like they're often disgruntled. Not in that story book rampaging through a china shop way. They're much more more slow moving and tend to be focused on one or two fairly basic needs - food and a bit of cow action. 

I found out the other day that it's called 'running with cows' when a bull is let loose in a field with cows that are in season. It sounds like a euphemism an elderly aunt would use like when they ask teenagers if they're 'stepping out' with anyone. 

This bull knows his place

Anyway, the other morning I was getting ready for work. During lockdown, this has mostly entailed putting on clean(ish) clothes and brushing my hair (if I've got a Zoom call that day). I happened to look out of the bedroom window and I saw one of the bulls where he ought not to be. As I had been paying attention during my lesson on field names, I could phone Ivie and tell him where the offending bull wasn't. 

What followed was a Benny Hill-esque rampage by Ivie as he tried to persuade the bull back into the field. The bull was having none of it, keeping focussed on the cow that had so coquetishly caught his attention. Or something like that. 

Ivie's so laid-back most of the time but unco-operative animals in the wrong place really raise his blood pressure and I could see his face getting redder and redder. I kept an eye on him, partly to check that he didn't keel over but mainly because it was bloody hilarious. 

Eventually, the bull reluctantly returned to the house field and Ivie rapidly returned to what he'd been doing before the delightful animal went for a detour. 

It made me think of the town of Bulls in New Zealand. I passed through it a couple of times when I lived in Wellington many moons ago. I like a good pun but the residents of Bulls have taken it to a whole new level. As you drive through, you start to notice a theme to all the shop names. The antique shop? Collect-a-bull. The library? Read-a-bull. I do have a soft spot for the police station, mind you - Const-a-bull. 

Pity the angus didn't take note. He's not exactly in-escapa-a-bull. 

Photo from not-australia.co.nz

I Name This Field

Things I Didn't Know
1. Fields have names
2. That's not always useful

Not long after I started seeing Ivie, my friend Sheena casually dropped into conversation that fields have names. 

Isa looking at a field

"What?" I asked idly before realising that, of course, that makes sense. If it was up to me to describe places on the farm, it would probably be along the lines of:

• that field where the sheep was on its back. I was wearing my blue jumper. It might have been a Tuesday.
• that field we were in when you told me that joke about Iceland. The supermarket, not the country. 
• the field where you asked me if I wanted to drive the quad bike and I said no. 

Ivie in a field

So, as you can see, it's much better that fields have names. 

When I asked Ivie about the names of the fields at the Spittal he reeled off a list of names, some that made more sense than others. 

• Papa's Park. His Papa? Nope, it was already called that when Ivie Snr bought the farm in the 60s. 
• The Cairn Field. At least there's actually a cairn in it. 
• The Top of the 50 Acre and The Bottom of the 50 Acre (I didn't get a satisfactory answer to why they're not called the Top 25 and Bottom 25).
• High Piquant and Low Piquant. These aren't the real names but there are definitely Ps and Qs in there somewhere. 
• The House Field. It's in front of the house. Obviously. 
• I think there might also be one called the Keystone which is in the middle. Possibly...
• The Dandy Field. I made that one up. But I kinda like it. 

Cows in a field

As you can tell by the captions on the photos, my learning is progressing well. I'd be interested to hear from other farm residents what their fields are called and to see if they make any more sense.

Questions, questions

Things you should know:

1. Some of my friends are really detail oriented
2. That is not one of my skills....

When I first started going out with Ivie, some of my friends asked me lots of questions about the farm. You can imagine how well that went. 

Question: What kind of farm is it?

My answer: There's cows and sheep there and a couple of wee goats.

The real answer: Beef and sheep. (The pygmy goats are generally considered a nuisance but they do eat any spilled feed). 

Question: What breeds are there?

My answer: Seriously? I told you there were cows. What else could you possibly need to know?  Some are beige and some are black. I think they might be called limousines, like the car. 

The real answer: There is a cow breed called limousin (note the lack of 'e') but there aren't any at the Spittal. There are Simmentals and Aberdeen Angus. 

Q: And what about the sheep?

Me: I know this one! They're called mules (<looks smug>). I remembered because they're sheep and they're called mules. And they're kind of infertile donkeys. 

TRA: Scotch mules so 8/10.

Me: Harsh.

Me: Oh and there are square looking sheep that look like lego sheep. 

TRA: They're tups. 

Me: Oh.

TRA: And they're called Texels. 

Me: Noted.

Q: How big is the farm?

Me: <shrugs and grunts like a teenager>. It's quite big. It goes way up the hill and you can see Cairnsmore. Who knows how big an acre is anyway...?

TRA: 400 acres. And lots of people. 

Q: How many sheep are there?

Me: <shrugs and grunts>. 130? 

TRA: 230. 

Q: How many cows?

Me: WHAT'S WITH ALL THE QUESTIONS?!

TRA: 130. 

Q: Is there a sheepdog? 

Me: YES!! She's called Isa and she's training to be a working dog. I'm like her weekend Dad. I take her treats and don't discipline her. 

TRA: Yes. And she's far too spoiled.

Me: I KNOW!

Isa! 

So, there you have it. More of the things I don't know.