MRS DOWN'S DIARY

There are quite a number of hazards the chicks have to face. Half grown hungry kittens, an enthusiastic spaniel, Holly, keen to retrieve anything with feathers and George, our black Labrador Meg's son, on one of his many visits while his owners go on holiday.

George is a dog who has accustomed himself well to a changing lifestyle. When at home, a solitary pet, he has the run of a range of classic cars and even the possibility of going aloft in his owners plane.

At the farm he has to settle for a ride in a fifteen year old Landrover with our motley gang. From his yelps of joy as he jumps out of the Bentley and into the back of our battered vehicle, I think I know which one he prefers.

It has been riding hard today and all the dogs prefer the Landrover to their kennels in such weather. They lie side by side, in the back with the door open, noses just tipped over the edge, surveying the downpour. The rain has come as a blessed relief to the sheep and cows.

It has freshened the grass and will, we hope, germinate the barley and wheat seed. The sheep in particular had nearly eaten up as we continued to be restricted in moving them to another part of the farm for extra grazing.

It is all so stop/go as to what is happening with foot and mouth and now, bluetongue. Vampire midges apparently.

We were driven to desperate measures when the tups and a motley assortment of old ewes and lambs that live in the paddock behind our house, had been left with barely a bite between them and needed supplementary feeding each day.

They were virtually strangling themselves by trying to reach through the wire netting surrounding the area at the back of our house, to grab a mouthful of lush grass from our overgrown lawn.

For full feature see West Sussex Gazette October 3