I’ve got a ‘thing’ about 19 April.

Years ago, I scrolled through decades of diaries and discovered it was the average turnout date for my cattle.

Obviously, this day can fluctuate a fortnight either way, but for whatever reason, it seems to resonate with me on a far deeper level than merely ‘that’s the date we let the cattle out to grass’.

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Like most farmers (whether they admit it or not) unsuitable weather conditions affect me disproportionately and the pent-up frustration of (mostly) wet spells is hard to put into words.

This past winter has been a perfect example.

You could go cold-water swimming for example, and apparently the feeling of heightened awareness and euphoria lasts for the rest of the day

On the surface, it appears that I have shrugged my shoulders and simply ordered another few tonnes of ewe blend or lamb creep as a means of dealing with cold and wet conditions, but in practice it’s so much more than that.

I hear the mental health gurus talking about this dopamine hit, and it appears that there are numerous ways of triggering it.

You could go cold-water swimming for example, and apparently the feeling of heightened awareness and euphoria lasts for the rest of the day.

Me, I would rather gouge out my own eyes and eat them than opt for this practice, but each to his or her own I suppose. And certain foods can also help increase levels of this happiness drug (Google tells me it’s a crucial neurotransmitter and hormone) but for the life of me I find it hard to see why munching your way through a mountain of raw kale could equal a large Mars bar.

Minus

Anyway, back to this business of trying to get as many dopamine hits as possible. As I was mentioning, early spring probably had a minus figure for farming dopamine, and after what felt like an eternity of wet weather, early April arrived.

On the occasional afternoon when it stopped raining and the sun peeped out from behind a cloud, the difference in mood was almost instant.

I don’t know if I am more affected than others, but previous thoughts of doom, gloom, pessimism and general negativity can be quickly banished by an hour’s sunshine.

Suddenly a glimmer of hope replaces the overwhelming sense of hopelessness and that feeling of ‘what’s the point?’ about everything.

Planning ahead is another beneficiary of a feelgood mood. Thoughts of late-sown cereals, and cattle tramping fields into gutters are replaced with a positive vision of healthy crops and thriving livestock.

Financial

I would imagine that non-farming folk hear us complaining about the weather and assume it’s a financial issue.

For me, the financial aspect is minuscule and the anxiety and worry are 99% about the lack of pleasure compared with suitable conditions. Keeping cattle and sheep in the house for prolonged periods, being unable to travel on land with machinery, or even to carry out tasks such as fencing – these are the inexplicable examples that cause farming people distress.

Appreciate

And the antidote to all this upset? Well, along with a bit of sunshine comes the opportunity to appreciate what makes us want to be farmers in the first place.

For me, it is shifting sheep into a fresh field of grass, knowing it won’t be spoiled by muddy hooves in two days.

It is dandering through a batch of cattle as they lie on their sides belching and farting from a half-digested bellyful of lush grass.

It is, of course, motoring around the farm on the quad bike, checking livestock and inspecting some of the saplings that Susan and I planted last winter.

I would imagine that if these mental health advisors had access to farming activities they would be doling them out like sweeties as a means of making folk feel better about themselves.

Because farming (during ideal spells of weather) is one heck of a way to get high on dopamine.

And yes, I got my annual hit of dopamine when I turned out the first pen of heifers recently. The date? Why, the 19 April of course.