As it’s often said in farm circles, if day-to-day monotony or bad weather is getting to you, just wait around for a little while before complaining, as the unpredictability of farming will always catch up. Suddenly you might find yourself dealing with a vet emergency, a brief dry spell in which to attempt silage, or machinery deciding to break down right just when it’s needed.

Or in our scenario, all of these occurring in quick succession.

The first began with our tractor repeatedly airlocking when trying to gather in our first round of bales. Not a major incident in itself, though it created a delay for a couple of days until we secured a quick mechanic call out to sort it. While that got it starting again, it conked out a few more times in the next couple of days, meaning some TLC and a proper service will be needed sooner rather than later, once all the major jobs are finished this summer.

Despite the delays, we managed to snatch a further 52 bales to increase our running total for the summer. While ground conditions weren’t optimal, we got away with only marking a couple of spots and with another bit of good weather on the horizon, it’s looking promising for all of our first cut to be finished before July.

It’s something that was rarely possible here when we were in environmental schemes, as we were forced to grit our teeth and wait while tractors and mowers were humming all around us.

While the remainder of the meadows aren’t of the highest quality, being more stem than bulk, they should serve the suckler cows well over winter, especially those we try to keep leaner near calving.

The final incident was one that has never happened here in living memory. After a wet night the cattle got their usual morning check and my father greeted me with a pensive look on his face in the yard, as he said one of the calves was lame.

Normally this isn’t a worry and I meandered down the hill expecting a twist or perhaps a stone stuck between her digits and all was well, until I spotted her standing on three legs with an obvious fracture between her hock and hoof.

Of course she is the daftest calf in the place and possesses the survival instincts of a depressed moth in a fireworks factory, so once she noticed we were trying to guide her towards the shed both herself and the dam took off.

A ‘softly, softly’ approach was then undertaken by moving the entire herd at a snail’s pace from field to field to prevent any further damage, or worst case scenario, turning it into an open fracture if the calf tried to run on the broken limb.

One sedation and cast later she was tenderly hopping around the pen and despite our initial concerns she has taken well to her newly immobilised leg. Indeed, she has tested the limits of just how frustrating one small calf can be, learning within a couple of days to hop over the feed barrier and land on one hind foot in order to pick at the best fodder. All we can do now is wait and see what the leg is like once the cast is changed in a couple of weeks.

While a small fenced area would be preferable to confine them it’s likely the cow would hurl herself over a ditch followed by the calf if she spotted us coming to fetch her indoors again, so for the time being the safest place is the shed.