Mrs Down's Diary September 3 2008

Because of his language communication disorder, he gets very frustrated when he wants to do or have something, and cannot make himself clear. We have a little PECS book (picture communication cards) that he rips his symbols out of and jabs the sequence to us so that it is very obvious that he wants his drink, crisps, jigsaw puzzle, chocolate buttons, trampoline or Lotto game.

Ollie and I were able to help John sort out the first batch of this year's lambs for market.

There are about 20 on the first pull, mainly Texels. The price, however, has dropped this last week. Supply and demand.

There are a lot more lambs coming onto the market now than a week or two ago. "Should we lamb earlier to get the better trade?" I asked in a management meeting over our morning cup of tea (shared with Ollie and his Thomas engines, trucks and half a mile of wooden track across our duvet cover).

The managing director said 'no'. If we lambed earlier before a decent crop of grass was established, we would need to push a lot more food at lambs to get them fit at the right time.

The lambs will be travelling in the trailer without any swallow companions either. They have flown the nest and I am afraid John has knocked their home down as he would prefer them to nest next year in a more convenient place. It is amazing the nest stayed up so long as the trailer has to be power-washed each time it is used, and the spray from the power-washer seriously weakened the mud construction. Still, it held together. . . Just.

One other nest is still viable, however. We have a bantie hen sitting on a clutch of duck eggs. She sits in a pet travel basket, in the foldyard. The unlikely home was discovered when the basket was left in a corner during a tidy up of a stable. Birds in one way or another are quite opportunistic when it comes to finding a home for their eggs.

We nearly had to rehome her as Bud, our little Jack Russell, needed a trip to the vets. He is 13-and-a-half, has a heart problem and was visibly wheezing and panting in the humid weather.

When you held him, his heart raced, but he still persisted in trying to pick fights with George, the big black Labrador son of our own Meg. He has been staying with us while his owners are on holiday in Majorca, and Bud cannot tolerate another dog in the midst of his harem of bitches. One cool dude our Bud.

So, instead, Bud travelled in style in a picnic basket. The vet laughed. Bud was very taken with the gingham lining and happily wheezed and snoozed for the duration of the journey.

He has fluid on the lungs. "Happens a lot to these old dogs in the hot weather," the vet said. "Try not to get him too excited." With three bitches on heat and a visiting competitor for their charms, I am going to have my work cut out to keep him calm.