This is the month when sheep of upper Swaledale turn green, yellow, blue and sometimes red. Viewed from afar these grazing ewes of Swaledale turn their stone walled enclosures and fells into a kaleidoscope of colour that fades as they brave the worst that an upper dales winter can throw at them, as they slowly return to their 'natural look'

Generally the higher up the dale, the later this spectacle occurs because the tup's progeny need an extra month or so before entering their new world if they are to have a better chance of surviving a late winter. Carefully calculated but conscious of the part nature plays in this process, upper dales farmers have been moving their tup's around in small trailers towed behind their quads to remote fields and otherwise inaccessible fells. Carefully recording the outcome so that lambing can be spread out in intervals over several weeks, there's obviously some precision involved in the this process so long as the tups play their part.

It is perhaps at this time of year that you begin to understand why such high prices are paid for a good tup at auction, and why the local shows are such an important event in a dales farmer's calendar. The shows are a chance for them to show off their stock, rub shoulders with their counterparts and of course secure those all important rosettes pinned to the 'best tup in show'. All this whilst the rest of us roam around the stalls and side shows, not really understanding what's going on further down the field around the pens.

Those lazy good for nothing tups that we all see in the fields during our summer walks have therefore, the perfect alibi. Seasonally adjusted their work doesn't really begin until late autumn, and coming to terms with the fact that their owners make them wear a coloured dye filled medallion to check their progress needs a strong resolve.

As the sun was dropping behind Shunner Fell and my farmer neighbour was washing off his boots in the yard, he commented 'Ah well that's it, let nature take its course now'

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I was showing Jack Ned the old photo cards that I had purchased for my yesteryears webpage. We were sat in front of his range looking into the fire and talking about how the price of coal had risen and how it was a good job that he had plenty of wood to burn. It would supplement his coal house that had been filled to the roof and would just about see him through the winter.

There's plenty of media coverage at the moment about rising gas prices, and I couldn't help thinking about how this eighty year old retired keeper gets up every morning to a cold house comes down stairs, rakes out the ashes and makes the fire up with paper and sticks to light later on in the day.

He's never lived close enough to the network to enjoy the simplicity afforded by gas and thus never to have a cold house in winter. There are no controls, programmers and thermostats. Technology in his case doesn't extend beyond a shovel, a poker and an ash pan.

Hey Baz, tha see's that old picture of Scaur House falls, there's a couple of us can remember Cherry Kearton chasing a deer into the water below the falls, and tha see's that picture of the farmer with his back cans, tha could get eight gallons of milk in one of them. I didn't have pony I used to carry mine on me back. He gets up from his chair walks over to the sideboard and pulls out a black and white picture to show me. So Jack this is you in your suit and is that your lady on your arm? aye that's her. Although she died several years ago and I never met her, one thing for sure is his affection for his wife that never wanes when he speaks of the old times.

 

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