by Amanda Owen
We chose the name Annas because it’s a very traditional name that is unusual nowadays. Annas was one of the five Whitehead children (a sister to Jennie) who were born at the other farmhouse, just behind ours, so there is a link with Ravenseat. We’ve given her the middle name Patricia, after Clive’s mother.
It was the early hours of a Wednesday morning when she was born, and we were anxious to start clipping. I took the Thursday and Friday off as maternity leave, and on the Saturday I clipped the stray sheep. I reasoned that the post-natal exercise sheet that I was given with recommendations for exercises for new mothers showed pretty similar moves to those I make clipping sheep: stretching and bending, with some fancy footwork for good measure.
Clive was marking the sheep up after their fleeces were off, because they lose their flock mark with their woolly coats. He was also dosing them and mothering them up again, matching the right yow with the right lamb, which is trickier than it sounds because the yows lose some of their familiar smell when their fleeces come off. The New Zealand shearing gangs I worked with when I was contract shepherding used to ridicule the farmers helping the yows to find their lambs: ‘Aww, mate, if it don’t know its bloody lamb by now . . .’
But they do need a bit of time to get themselves mothered back up. It’s a real waste if a yow goes back to the moor without her lamb, because although it will live, it will not thrive without its mother’s milk. All our sheep are precious, every one of them counts, and that’s part of the reason why we prefer to clip our own sheep rather than bring in a shearing gang. Having hold of every single yow means that we get a chance for a full inspection, checking if she’s healthy and if we like her. It’s no good clipping a yow and then turning her away with a lame foot. It’s also a good opportunity for Clive to spot any with show potential. Plus, of course, we don’t get a huge clipping bill (it’s cheaper if the wife does it) and you can clip them in smaller lots which, in itself, prevents mis-mothering.
I couldn’t wait to start clipping the sheep, it’s one of my favourite times of the year. I like to wear shearing jeans that protect my legs from the sheeps’ horns, but three days after giving birth, they wouldn’t fasten up. I used the farmer’s friend, baler twine, to keep them up, and each day I clipped I could fasten up another button. It really is a brilliant workout.
The children love helping out by rolling the fleeces and squashing them down into the large wool sheets. They bounce and jump up and down to get them compacted, and in the process they become very dirty and greasy. The lanolin in the wool is so good for the skin that by the time we have finished with our sheep, our hands and feet are super soft. The bigger children sew up the sheets with a packing needle using blanket stitch, the sheets are then stacked and used as trampolines, picnic tables or a cosy nest for a small baby. It takes us a fortnight to gather up all of our sheep and clip them, and on the last gather recently we came across a yow that had lambed that day. Reuben carried the newborn lamb home, while its anxious mother followed on behind. We sometimes get a few late-born lambs on the moor; their mothers were marked as geld, with a red stripe put over their rump, because at scanning time they were in the very earliest stage of pregnancy, which didn’t show up on the scanning man’s ultrasound. Their lambs are known as ‘white lambs’, not because they are white but because they are unmarked. A bit of detective work is sometimes needed to find their mothers.
And when finally the supposedly last sheep is clipped (we still have the odd woolled yow turning up for weeks afterwards) I bake a shearing cake, a traditional celebratory spiced cake heralding the end of another important time in the farming diary, another annual ritual that we have observed. The rhythm of farming life is the rhythm we live by, and we are probably far more aware of the turn of the seasons than most.
I don’t want to look too far into the future. I enjoy what we have, here and now. I think the children will find it very hard to move away from this place. Like me, and the sheep, they are hefted to Ravenseat. Of course, I will encourage all of them in any future plans they may make, and if that involves them moving away, that’s how it will be.
As for Ravenseat, standing still and peaceful, four-square to the wind, it remains as isolated as ever, a timeless place, unchanged in centuries, a testament to those who have gone before us, its wildness and austere appearance such a contrast to my measured, suburban formative years. We never forget, me and Clive, how lucky we are to be custodians of this unique and special place.
I could never have imagined that I, the town girl who was engrossed by the James Herriot television series, who was transfixed by the evocative photographs in Hill Shepherd, would one day live and work in the very places in which those images were captured. My dream to become a hill shepherd was realized the day that fate brought me to Ravenseat.
Acknowledgements
With thanks to Ingrid Connell, Jean Ritchie, Ben Mason, Jo Cantello, Mark Robinson, Simon Paintin, Ernest and Doreen Whitehead, Rachel Hall, Elenor Alderson, Jenny Harker, Steven Raine and Colin Martin.
List of Illustrations
1. A beautiful summer evening at Ravenseat. I have no idea why some of the children are in pyjamas. Their childhood is so very different to mine.
2. Aged six and living in Huddersfield.
3. Holding my baby sister Katie, with Dad, Grandma and Granddad.
4. Dad would take me with him when he went motorcycle trialling and sometimes let me ride pillion on his bike.
5. Sitting in the back of my old pick-up with Red and one of my pet lambs.
6. My first sheepdog, Deefa.
7. Clive with Deefa at Ravenseat.
8. I wanted something special for my wedding dress but white wouldn’t have been practical – I fed the calves in it later that evening!
9. Clive, me and Meg on our wedding day.
10. I’m fascinated by the history of Ravenseat. This photo was taken in the 1950s, before the road went in. Aside from that, it looks much the same today.
11. The old barn (the second oldest building in Swaledale) was once used as a chapel – you can see the tiny arched window.
12. Our friend Jimmy Alderson, the epitome of a true Dalesman.
13. Baby Raven was born in 2001, during the foot and mouth crisis. Here she is with a very old Roy, as loyal a dog as you could wish for.
14. Miles trying to stowaway on the mobile clothes van that calls at Ravenseat.
15. With Reuben in the baby backpack. This is how I carry all the children from about six months until they are old enough to climb the moors under their own steam.
16. As Raven knows, when you live in the middle of nowhere you can wear what you like to feed the cows.
17. Edith and Chalky.
18. Violet with our Tamworth pigs, Dandelion and Burdock.
19. At Hawes auction mart selling our lambs, with Edith and Annas in the papoose.
20. A proud moment for Clive with his champion tup Glory.
21. Raven amongst the globeflowers at Ravenseat. Swaledale is famous for its traditional wildflower meadows.
22. Giving a lamb a top-up of milk using a stomach tube on a bitterly cold April evening.
23. Violet helping with a pedicure on a tup lamb.
24. Violet feeding one of the pet lambs.
25. Raven tonsing (tweezing out stray white hairs) so the gimmer lamb looks its best for Muker Show. Reuben, Edith and Violet cast a critical eye over proceedings.
26. It takes about a fortnight to clip all our sheep and it’s one of my favourite times of year.
27. The children enjoy helping out by wrapping the fleeces and squashing them down into the wool sheets.
28. The green waterproofs. Not very flattering but my everyday wear for about six months of the year. Bill and Fan (who is on the wall) don’t mind the weather.
29. I don’t mind being snowed in, but when the pipes freeze, watering the animals as well as the humans can seem like an unending task.
30. A roaring flood at Ravenseat. If you have
nerves of steel, you can drive across the packhorse bridge on the right when the river is too high to ford.
31. The children love haytime. Raven is standing, then from left to right: Edith, Reuben, Sidney, Miles, Violet and Pippen.
32. We often have unexpected visitors. I came in one day to find Little Joe in the living room. Luckily I’m not house-proud.
33. Out for a ride. I’m on Josie, Raven is on Meg and Reuben is on Little Joe. Edith is without a pony and looks distinctly unhappy about it. Very Thelwell I think.
34. We serve cream teas to walkers on the Coast to Coast route – I’ve perfected the art of making scones.
35. Baby Annas was born in 2013, making seven children in all.
36. From a town girl engrossed by James Herriot books to becoming a shepherdess, my dream was realized the day fate brought me to Ravenseat.
1. A beautiful summer evening at Ravenseat. I have no idea why some of the children are in pyjamas. Their childhood is so very different to mine.
2. Aged six and living in Huddersfield.
3. Holding my baby sister Katie, with Dad, Grandma and Granddad.
4. Dad would take me with him when he went motorcycle trialling and sometimes let me ride pillion on his bike.
5. Sitting in the back of my old pick-up with Red and one of my pet lambs.
6. My first sheepdog, Deefa.
7. Clive with Deefa at Ravenseat.
8. I wanted something special for my wedding dress but white wouldn’t have been practical – I fed the calves in it later that evening!
9. Clive, me and Meg on our wedding day.
10. I’m fascinated by the history of Ravenseat. This photo was taken in the 1950s, before the road went in. Aside from that, it looks much the same today.
11. The old barn (the second oldest building in Swaledale) was once used as a chapel – you can see the tiny arched window.
12. Our friend Jimmy Alderson, the epitome of a true Dalesman.
13. Baby Raven was born in 2001, during the foot and mouth crisis. Here she is with a very old Roy, as loyal a dog as you could wish for.
14. Miles trying to stowaway on the mobile clothes van that calls at Ravenseat.
15. With Reuben in the baby backpack. This is how I carry all the children from about six months until they are old enough to climb the moors under their own steam.
16. As Raven knows, when you live in the middle of nowhere you can wear what you like to feed the cows.
17. Edith and Chalky.
18. Violet with our Tamworth pigs, Dandelion and Burdock.
19. At Hawes auction mart selling our lambs, with Edith and Annas in the papoose.
20. A proud moment for Clive with his champion tup Glory.
21. Raven amongst the globeflowers at Ravenseat. Swaledale is famous for its traditional wildflower meadows.
22. Giving a lamb a top-up of milk using a stomach tube on a bitterly cold April evening.
23. Violet helping with a pedicure on a tup lamb.
24. Violet feeding one of the pet lambs.
25. Raven tonsing (tweezing out stray white hairs) so the gimmer lamb looks its best for Muker Show. Reuben, Edith and Violet cast a critical eye over proceedings.
26. It takes about a fortnight to clip all our sheep and it’s one of my favourite times of year.
27. The children enjoy helping out by wrapping the fleeces and squashing them down into the wool sheets.
28. The green waterproofs. Not very flattering but my everyday wear for about six months of the year. Bill and Fan (who is on the wall) don’t mind the weather.
29. I don’t mind being snowed in, but when the pipes freeze, watering the animals as well as the humans can seem like an unending task.
30. A roaring flood at Ravenseat. If you have nerves of steel, you can drive across the packhorse bridge on the right when the river is too high to ford.
31. The children love haytime. Raven is standing, then from left to right: Edith, Reuben, Sidney, Miles, Violet and Pippen.
32. We often have unexpected visitors. I came in one day to find Little Joe in the living room. Luckily I’m not house-proud.
33. Out for a ride. I’m on Josie, Raven is on Meg and Reuben is on Little Joe. Edith is without a pony and looks distinctly unhappy about it. Very Thelwell I think.
34. We serve cream teas to walkers on the Coast to Coast route – I’ve perfected the art of making scones.
35. Baby Annas was born in 2013, making seven children in all.
36. From a town girl engrossed by James Herriot books to becoming a shepherdess, my dream was realized the day fate brought me to Ravenseat.
First published 2014 by Sidgwick & Jackson
This electronic edition published 2014 Sidgwick & Jackson
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
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ISBN 978-0-283-07198-0
Copyright © Amanda Owen 2014
The right of Amanda Owen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Picture credits: all photographs courtesy of Amanda Owen except for page 15, top; © Stuart Howat.
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