Wot no milk

 

Wot no Milk

It is that time of the year, cold hands, pink teats, and no milk, Why?

It's all to do with the short day length.

In the temperate zones we have long day periods and short day periods corresponding to winter and summer. Light enters the eye and sends a signal to the pituitary gland.

(The pituitary gland is referred to as the “master gland” because it monitors and regulates many bodily functions through the hormones that it produces, including: growth and sexual/reproductive development and function. glands (thyroid gland, adrenal glands, and gonads)

Short days it produces melatonin ( the sleep hormone). In a goat, it tightens the skin, sends less blood to the small capillary vessels near the surface. (Pink teats) The skin tightening, holds the second follicle hair in place (cashmere and Mohair) and creates the shear line in sheep wool. It also tightens the udder making it harder to store milk thus less milk. How much less? A goat that produces 1 gallon or 4.5 to 5 litres in summer will produce 0.5 to 1 litre per day, or a pint to 2 pints in the winter, Luckily this reduction in milk supply only last 4 months. When not producing milk the energy goes into producing fat on the back. This fat is used for the first 12 weeks to supply milk to the new born kid.

Most crofters use the winter for breeding, when milking has to stop 6 weeks before kidding. Ideally if you manage to kid the goat 6 weeks before the equinox, a useful amount of milk can be maintained until the day length catches up. Prior to kidding the goat is flushed with hormones like prolactin that overrides the sleep hormone.

In spring the day lengthens blood flows to the teat, which turns black and expands giving a greater supply of milk. By the longest day, milk production is at its height, and starts to fall back on 20^th July.

Humans also suffer from the short day effect. The skin tightens, cracks and takes ages to heal. No end of cream can speed up the healing process. Skin becomes pale, the body slows down and wants comfort food.

There is a cure for this, spend winter in New Zealand and Summer in the UK.

But who will break the ice on the water buckets, dig through feet of snow to feed the goats best quality hay and concentrates, just to get a squirt of milk in the dark. Some one short of funds that needs a bottle of Highland park for Christmas!

speculative building

Looking for a building plot
in the country side 

Then I found an ideal spot
and got permission with a bribe


I built a stonking mansion
to show off all my dough
down a quite muddy road
where all wild things grow


the spot was idyllic
secluded and well hidden
next to a funny spot
the farmer called a midden


the farmer seems to have woken
from his winter spell
and now uses his midden
what an awful smell


it comes in the windows
there's brown stuff on the trees
the house becomes un-liveable
with a gentle breeze



flies the size of dinner plates
coat windows and the door
never seen such monsters
in my life before


so the house is up for sale
with winter viewing slot
at a fraction of what it cost to build
in this idyllic spot

bankruptcy

he was a successful businessman
he had heard of bankruptcy
it is what happens to foolish folk
without a business degree
then he bought his daughter a pony
now sees things differently

covid hunting cheese

From Leicester to Lancaster

Cheddar and Caerphilly

is covid stalking the cheese?

A question not so silly

now it is in Northumberland

to stop it there's a pledge

as it looks for cuddy's cave

and the famous Berwick edge

it will go round in circles

which will keep it down

hunting lord Collingwood

and capability Brown

Tales from the pig sty :- animal farm

Boris and Trump in the sun

The first warming rays of sunlight, rose over Holy island. and fell on the backs of two sleeping Tamworth pigs, Boris and Trump.

“You awake?”said Boris

“Am now, I was having a tremendous dream, like you've never seen before, truly great.”

“What was it about?”

“When pigs were great again, truly great. Had their own land and a great wall.”

“I was told a story about that, pigs being great and all. They ruled the farm, had all animals working for them.”

“True story was it , no fake story, like fake news?”

“Think it was true, the humans wrote a book about it, and called it Animal Farm.”

“Was I in the story?” asked Trump

“Not sure” said Boris, but then his memory was never that great, he tended to forget things and move on.

“where was this farm?”

“Don't know?”

“Well were they Tamworth pigs, Tamworth are the greatest pigs, best ever, the world would be a better place if all pigs were Tamworth, and lived in Great Tamworthshire, like here.”

“I think this is North Northumberland.” said Boris, not wishing to argue.

“Look we are here, we are Tamworths, so this must be North Northtamworthland, because we are here.”

“If you say so Trump, you are so clever, just like Napoleon.”

“Napoleon, I'm not a goat.”

“ No not the goat, the king of pigs, in Animal farm, a real hero. The humans must have called that goat Napoleon after him. They do that sort of thing.”

“This Napoleon, Tamworth was he?”

“I think he was a large white?”

“Fake news.” said Trump

“The humans named counties after pigs, like Berkshire, Gloucester old spot, Tamworth.”

“What about the lop and middle white?”

“Obviously from Lopshire and Middleshire. Have you heard of a Whiteshire, so must be fake news.”

“Wiltshire, you know our crofter is dyslexic, so he could have spelt it wrong. Or Napoleon could have been an albino Tamworth. You have a patch of white on your side.”

“That's not white ,it's where I rub against the fence.” said Trump

“I don't think Napoleon had a wall.” said Boris

Trump stretched out blocking the suns rays from Boris.

“Breakfast is late” said Boris “Do you think anything could have happened to the crofter, what if he never turns up again, how will we get fed?”

“Stop panicking, Trust me I will summon him.” Trump gave a loud roar

Nothing happened.

“I must of roared too loud” said Trump, “we shall have to wait until the crofter has got over his fear. I roared like never before, it will be too much for him.”

“Napoleon never roared.” said Boris

“This Napoleon with no wall, what did he do.”

“He didn't need a wall because no one was there to keep him in. He could go where ever he pleased.”

“Hum” said Trump “It sounds like your Napoleon had nothing worth taking.”

“Why do you tell me to find a way out. Look for a hole in the fence. Dig under the fencing, why, if you don't want to get out.”

“This land is Tamworthshire, every one wants it, trust me. When we came here it was just weeds and grass. Now look at it, a work of art. You will not find anywhere on the croft with so many muddy wallows, upturned stones and even some boulders. What about those rusty bits of tractor, the Crofter soon recovered them. I have decided you can stop finding a way out, but must mound up the earth by the fence, build a wall. Build a pig wall like you have never seen before. It will be great, huge and bigly.”

“Napoleon ruled all the animals.”

“Yeah and did they thrive.”

“No, not really, they all worked hard and died from starvation.”

“That's why we will build a wall. We don't have the food to share with others, pigs first. We will put an embargo on all food leaving Tamworthshire. No trade agreements. Pigs first.”

“But we don't have any food. The crofter hasn't come.”

“This will be our first action, when he comes we attack, snatch all the food, show him whose boss.”

“Hear piggy piggy” shouted the crofter as he filled the feeder with juicy apples and pig nuts.

Trump and Boris fed hungrily.

When finished they came to the fence for an ear scratch.

“There, you like that don't you boys.” said the crofter rubbing behind the ears.

a man apart

He sits alone a man apart
in perfect solitary
eating of his hard tack
and supping of his tea
a man that no one speaks too
a man from Coventry


He always does his duty
never questions why
uses a Browning revolver
to place between the eye
each time he does his duty
never known to cry


from General, Sargent and corporal
to private conscriptee
no one will sit beside him
while he's supping of his tea
He's the man that shoots the horses
of the Household Cavalry

hazel

Long Twenty four years of pony club

from age to age is passed

gymkhana and a gentle hack

new owners never last



now she stands too painful to move

wet breath rasping and thin

her eyes once bright are slightly dim

skeleton shows through skin




so many summers on the moor

Winters under a rug

winter is all that lies ahead

there is no summer drug




course rough hands with heart that is warm

head collar he removes

gone are the days when head would toss

with skipping dancing hooves




Behind the wall the children stand

clenched fists and nibbling thumb

they're dreading what will happen next

so still silent and numb




the vet looks but he does not touch

the hoof or hollow chest

no need to get a stethoscope

or to do some blood test




there is no cure in his drugs case

to make it walk or trot

from the old wooden box he draws

a gun with single shot




placing upon the ragged blaze

gun cocked for last goodbye

a shot rings out, and dead meat drops

then topples to one side




legs gallop the final furlong

with trembling jerking stride

the tongue falls out with bloody breath

muscle relaxed inside




trembling to the eternal still

eyes dry to final stare

loud sobbing starts behind the wall

young riders in despair