This morning, with the sun streaming through the bedroom window, the Happy Farmer and I were sitting with a morning cuppa, contemplating the day’s breakfasts when the peace was abruptly disturbed. Initially it was a clanking and rattling sound, then footsteps crunching across the yard. A loud whistle and then a yodel or two. The Happy Farmer was out of bed like a shot. He was poised at the window to see which of our sprightly campers was up so early. The yodelling stopped and the ‘singing shepherd’ waved back at him from the yard below. Up at the crack of dawn, sheepdogs at heel, the shepherd was ready to round up the girls for a morning’s work at the fank. Sheep were to be dosed and lambs marked.
It just so happens the farm is also buzzing with campers and guests just now who were also treated to an early morning chorus. The campsite is resembling an adventure playground. Among the tents, outside the pottery, is a tent to eclipse all tents. The most amazing looking ‘treehouse’ kind of a tent. A landrover below, and several step ladders lead up to a roof top home. This of course provides the campers with an amazing vantage point, looking right out across the farm to the Paps of Jura, the Sound of Islay and beyond. Below is a canopy with table, chairs, coffee percolator and a fancy bbq, all mod cons. The boys, I mean men, staying in it are having a real adventure, with proper ‘big boys toys’. We have been looking on enviously. It reminded me of the climbing frame I bought for the children when they were little. Only this one looks even more fun as the tent happens to have a real landrover attached below it.
Back in the farmhouse kitchen it was all ‘gas and gusto’ around the table as the Happy Farmer was busy cooking breakfasts for all the guests when Mairi ‘the magic sheep lady’ came racing in. From her cottage down the road, she had also been woken from her slumbers by the loud whistling. She was just trying to work out the species of bird when a loud yodel burst forth and the penny had dropped that the shepherd had arrived to mark the lambs. She arrived to lend a hand just as the singing shepherd was tucking into a hearty breakfast, as guests’ breakfasts were being served all round, the farming talk getting louder and more hilarious by the minute.
A short while later and the Happy Farmer was handing breakfast rolls up the climbing frame, I mean step ladder, to our treehouse campers. Breakfast in bed for the campers then. The sides of the treehouse, I mean tent, had been zipped open so the boys could make the most of the morning entertainment and watch the antics of the Singing Shepherd rounding up those girls from their rooftop beds, as the sun rose higher in the sky. The yodelling of the singing shepherd was interspersed with the bleating of the sheep joining in the chorus line. Happy Days.
Normality has resumed as the day has gone on and even the Happy Farmer is now whistling and yodelling.
Until next time…