Showing posts with label sheep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sheep. Show all posts

Tuesday, 24 March 2009

Lambing, and the importance of caring for the little runty ones

Ms Melancholy is very good with the little, tiny, weeny lambs who don't know how to feed. She has endless patience with them, as do the farmers in our village who we're helping out during lambing.

Funnily enough it hasn't put us off eating lamb, though we have made a family decision recently - initiated by Master Melancholy - to be much more strict about the welfare and environmental impacts of the meat, eggs and milk we buy.  We'd been doing it *mostly* but now it's for real. Badger could not have ham this week because we have not yet found a source of free range ham - free range local bacon, yes, but not ham.

These two things strike me as being not unconnected to the stories in today's news about the appalling way in which our - yes OUR, we own it, we pay for it, it belongs to all of us - National Health Service fails people with learning disabilities.

Here's the thing: it is in all of our interests to make sure that people with disabilities, children and animals in our society are treated with the utmost respect and care. This is a reflection of the true measure of survival protection which our society affords. A hospital service which will only take care of you if you are able to stand up for yourself is barely worth having. When you need it most, when you are unconscious or without voice, delirious with pain or medication, or just too sick to know what is going on, it is most likely to let you down.

A society which respects the needs of the people who are least able to express them will always be in a better position to catch you when you fall. And one day we all will - it's about the only guarantee we all have in life.

Like most folk, my own survival depends largely upon a careful balance of distraction and denial. Disturbing this balance has potentially unintended consequences, such is the depth and breadth of stuff I am carefully ignoring. And something tells me it is all connected. Don't think about the conditions the chicken in your sandwich lived in, don't think about the kids who just wish they had any kind of sandwich at all (other than to justify eating this sandwich, because it would be criminal to waste it when others are hungry...), don't think about the people who are starving to death in our own hospitals because they're unable to speak up, don't think about the fact that we're all spending money on crap while our hospitals struggle and fall to pieces... 

Where do we begin?

I think we begin with the little ones. And I think it has to be a concrete experience. And I think we could do worse than to get our major politicians down to the Yorkshire Dales to do a bit of lambing.

Friday, 8 February 2008

Feeling a little sheepish ...

I have not left the village for almost 3 weeks.

This is a wonderful thing, not a bad thing. It's not that I've been housebound - I've wandered high and low with Ruby and sometimes Ms M or Badger for company. It's not that I've been isolated - I've had face to face conversations with neighbours and the postman, and a visit from an Australian colleague whose book I am working on. I just haven't left the village.

I love staying. I don't like going.

So, it's all good.

Except ...

On Sunday I confessed to Ms M that I have a favourite sheep. Of the few dozen in the field behind the house, there is one I feel warm towards in particular. It's a black sheep (of course) ... it has floppy ears that always point forwards and it's frequently hanging out on its own, not following its cliquey sheep peers. It likes to drink from the water bucket just next to the fence behind the house. It walks slower, and more relaxed than the other sheep ... and so I found myself spontaneously describing it to Ms M as ' a bit of a Jazz sheep' ... quickly followed by 'not, like, as in Jazz mag ... of course ... '.

'Of course' said Ms M.

Phew.

' ... it just kind of looks like if it had fingers it would click them ... '.

'You are projecting.' said Ms M.

Bloody psychotherapists.

In not-entirely-unrelated news, tomorrow our new chest freezer arrives. Badger has a new client. A farm shop selling local meat in large quantities.

She is going to be paid in lamb. Yum.