Mrs Down's Diary

This fitted in with my views. Our farm would hardly hang together without knotted twists of polypropylene band in orange and blue. It ties together fences, gates and pens. Twists into dog leads, belts for baggy trousers , secures gaping boiler suits and creates bucket handles to transform empty containers.

Last year it tied up the tallest sunflowers in the world for my granddaughter Jessica, created the vital link between tractor and baler to release bales, linked braces of pheasants/partridges or ducks to hang in the meal shed and currently is ensuring that my grandson Ollie cannot get up into our loft rooms by fastening the latches.

But there is a new contender for versatile farm kit. Big square bales. It's like having your very own giant Lego kit.

Currently they have created a warm lambing area in the big shed and sealed off the camper van in another shed to ensure it is not knocked by passing tractors or other farm implements.

In the foot-and-mouth crisis when we could not move ewes who were about to lamb, we made up lambing shelters in the field. The bales even formed barricades at the farm entrances in an attempt to limit who could, or could not, come in.

Yesterday they created a very effective passage way for us to lead two bulls into a trailer for market. The intention was initially to load the bulls straight from their yard into the trailer, but they would not play, or rather the whole yard of bulls wanted to. Not good.

So plan 47 was to take them though the main foldyard, into the old collecting area for the dairy herd, along a chicane of big straw bales, and, before the bulls realised what was happening, into the trailer.

Worked a treat despite a slight mishap on my part of letting three other bulls through into the main foldyard, because, to be honest, if a bull wants to get past you, I choose the cowards option and let it.

Once all the excitement in the yard had died down, the cows being rather excited about the presence of three virile young males in their midst, and the herd's bull not being quite so sure about this threat to his sovereignty, we led the trio back into their own yard without any fuss at all.

What was sad, poignant in fact, is our little twin calf, who is totally fixated on either John or I for its milk. It hovers around the foldyard door waiting for one of us to go in.

The other calves race around together, mainly feeding from their Mums, but quite often taking a quick swig from any udder in the vicinity. Not so this little calf. It stands hunched and solitary. Our special-needs case.

The race around the yard by the whole herd when the bulls came to join the party, highlighted its vulnerability.

While the other calves quickly got out of the way, our little one was in danger of being trampled. When the other calves settle to sleep cuddled up to their Mums or in a huddle with the other calves, it lays down alone, amongst the trampled soiled straw by the foldyard door.

So tomorrow it is going to go into a lambing pen in the big shed with the ewes and lambs. It will have its very own wrap round care. Snug and warm in its own big bale house. Ahh.

This feature was first published in the West Sussex Gazette April 9. To read it first, buy the West Sussex Gazette every week.