Market forces

This photograph was taken early on the morning after the final night of the sheep flocks stay in their nearby summer home. It didn't seem appropriate to disturb them by venturing nearer for a better photograph.

The sheep had been walked as usual through the neighbouring farmlands clearing weed and fertilizing the land as they moved across it; those thousands of tiny feet lightly tilling the top soil as they walk as grazing animals do so well. Constant movement prevents overgrazing and allows grass fields and native crops to re-grow.

Throughout the night the sheep circled constantly treading their straw bedding into the ground; and huddling together for protection against any predators, able to negotiate the electric fence that surrounded them. When morning came they happily walked away over the familiar territory unaware that today they were heading for market.

Ewe Tube from Wales

We spend our spring and summer watching the Catalan shepherds controlling 500 head of sheep using just two Gos Catalan (sheepdogs) so when we saw this Welsh sheep farmer use his flock to put on a display we thought other bloggers might appreciate the film.

Holm Oak and Cow - Mido

The picture by Mido shows an idillic catalan country scene far removed from the sight that greeted us this morning. We had found a xai that had wandered away from Francisco's flock the previous evening. When Francisco arrived to tend to his lambs and ewes this morning we crossed the finca to tell him about the stray only to find the bloated carcasses of 12 dead sheep. The sheep had died as a result of  eating grain spilled on the fields during harvest, they forage on weeds and grass that spring up on the newly cleared land. Francisco estimated his loss to be in excess of 1000 €.

Going Solo ? Going loco!

The blood curdling alarm call from Carol stopped my heart for a moment; even though I know that such a shout or scream could be the result of nothing more than a mere shadow. I hastened to the garden to see what terrible manifestation it could be. It was a sheep a solitary sheep was stood in the garden eying the lush vegetation in our flower beds. Facing the sheep was Carol armed with a broom, shooing the ship for all her worth. The sheep stood impassively chewing on it’s last mouthful of grass.

Now an independently minded sheep can be a worrying-some thing. They were designed after all to follow each other around until such time as somebody or something eats them! This one had been emboldened, leaving the other 499 to follow Ubacca the African shepherd boy; it has evaded the two dogs and headed for us.

I understood at once why Carol was nervous. Yesterday I had allowed Francisco the owner of the flock to bring 50 or so of his sheep on to what little grass we had. I was about to cut the ragged sward when I saw him heading out across the field struggling to find fodder on the parched land around us. The sheep seemed grateful for the opportunity and quickly devoured the grass. Gradually the body of our own small flock separated into ever smaller groups, each manoeuvring their way around the garden trying to pass us and get to the shrubs and flowers. Several of them went round the back of the stable block, and Carol was now caught in a pincer movement. Which ever way she ran the sheep on the opposite side of the stables would get by; and now some of my group were heading for the trees on the far side of the garden whilst the remaining sheep strolled purposefully towards the flower beds. It was chaos!

Hearing our frantic calls Fransisco and the two dogs came running, even the dogs were grinning to themselves; and possibly a few sheep too. Soon order was restored and the sheep resumed the journey over the fields.

And today one of them had returned to try again, single handily, a stealth sheep, a sheep which had almost evaded our defences until confronted by the Memsaab and her broom.

The sheep decided that two of us and a broom had changed the odds. It left the arena crossing to the finca where it grazed beneath the fig tree. And there or thereabouts it stayed, occasionally approaching the garden perimeter but staying a broom length or two away. We were therefore confined to the house if we turned our back, Solo as we had decided to call the Ewe, Would feast upon our plants.

When Ubacca and the flock returned I told him he was missing one of their number.

He looked concerned and asked if the ewe was feeding, when I told him she was he smiled and said

¡No Problemo! 

This is of course the typical Spanish response to any difficult situation they may encounter up to and including the end of the world. Before I could say another word he pointed, there trotting happily towards the rest of the flock came Solo.

¡No Problemo! Repeated Ubacca. 

Solo would have a story to tell that evening I’m sure.

Weed it and reap.

Having bought the house it was time to clear the land.Weed ridden and heavily compacted by the animals and vehicles of the previous owners, the soil was dry Spain was beginning to face it's worst ever drought


Our first thought was that we would allow the shepherds to graze their sheep or goats on the land keeping the weeds down as we turned our hands to the garden around the house.

The finca was now covered in a yellow coloured thistle known as 'pinchon'. This weed was harmful to the animals and would have to be removed.

We worked long hours pulling at the weed but to clear an area the size of three football pitches before the weed could set seed was impossible. The seeds would remain viable for years to come and if we could halt the plant today we would benefit for years to come.

The solution was to buy a strimmer. The new agricultural machine tore through the brush like thistles, wild fennel and other unidentified weeds. We still had to hand rake the cut material and gather all the rocks strewn across the land, so that the machine would not be damaged.