cattle | Life in the English Cotswolds

I have now lived in the little stone cottage set in the heart of the secret valley for twenty-six years, far longer than any other house during my lifetime. Its isolation became my refuge when, with my then new partner’s support, I rebuilt my life after a period of huge emotional difficulty. It was here where I made new friends, found new interests, developed my horticultural career and surrounded myself with animals. Soon the two of us will be moving house and leaving the valley forever. More of this later, today it seems appropriate to take a wander around the valley and re-visit some of those happy memories.

*A cold day in the valley viewed from the warmth of our conservatory*

The cottage as regular readers of this blog will know is set in small, deep and well-hidden valley. It is surrounded by fields and by the river which wraps itself around two sides of the house. It is a river of extremes, in places deep and slow, in others clear and fast running. At times its banks are quite straight, whereas along other stretches it is full of bends and meanders, as shown in my blog header. At present, especially because of the prolonged drought, the water levels are low, no doubt before long it will have filled and spilled over to flood the fields and lane. Our house sits high enough never to be threatened by flood, in fact, I rather like it like that for it brings the water birds so much closer.

*When the river floods it floods deep and wide*

When I first came here, the farm of which the cottage is part, concentrated on sheep, my favourite of all farm animals. They were a happy link to past times spent on Exmoor working on a friend’s farm – it was Exmoor where I learnt to lamb, to shear and to embrace remote living. Now, the sheep have gone and beef cattle have taken their place. It is equally lovely to see them grazing just feet away from the windows and their curiosity and friendship are endearing. Calving takes place twice a year – how glad I am that I never learnt how to help with that!

*I really miss not having sheep on the farm – apart from when its snowy!*

Living where we do it was very easy to collect animals, and horses, chickens, guinea fowl and quail, cats, as well as several dogs, all became part of the daily routine. I had always ridden horses since my teens but I had never been a confident rider. That all changed when my partner who is a superb rider and has won numerous competitions, arranged for me to have my own horse and lessons from one of the best teachers in the area. Jo was a strict taskmaster and before long I was able to charge about feeling quite secure on Barney, a gentle giant of horse, an Irish Draught. He was followed by several others including Tux, a retired racehorse straight off the track. He and I would have constant disagreements about what speed we intended to travel but, I’m glad to say, no bones were broken in the process of learning how to control him. The dogs deserve a blog post of their own which no doubt they will get before too long.

*The number of horses kept growing!*
*The little horse to my right is Tux, the very mischievous retired racehorse*
Photo credit: Jane Stilwell

Because it is so quiet here in the valley, wildlife abounds with fox, badger, deer and the occasional otter, as well as some wonderful birdlife. As dusk draws in it is not uncommon to see a fox amble across the meadow and I have learnt where to quietly sit if I want to see them with their cubs. When I was much younger I would also lie on the ground in near total darkness waiting for the badgers to venture out of their setts; these days I am more than happy to just have a fleeting glimpse of a badger without all that discomfort. It is only with the greatest luck that you’ll come across an otter which has happened to me twice. They are wonderful creatures, how privileged I was for a family of them to sit by the river bank and allow me to photograph them. Hare are so common here, that I almost forget just how lucky I am to see them nearly every day.

*Fox with ears pricked to every sound but not noticing me!*

*Otters are occasional visitors but not often seen*

There is so much to mention about the valley – the wild flowers, the dry stone walls or the houses, for example – that my writing of it will not cease with the move. Likewise, I don’t have any plans to change the header of the winding river even though it will be an hour away. And of course I shall still be living on the very edge of the Cotswolds with lots of new places and adventures to share. And then there’s the history, the new place has a fascinating story of its own and the hills there have a very different character to those here in the valley. All the new will have to wait for it is still a month or two before we finally arrive. So, where is this new life going to be taking place? All will be revealed in due course. In the meantime, here is a little teaser: this wonderful fountain which wouldn’t look out of place in Rome is just a four-minute walk from our door. I hope you will all continue to join me as I continue my Life in the English Cotswolds.

*Just one of many fountains within walking distance of our soon-to-be new home*

The autumnal equinox has just past and with it comes those rare, clear and sunny days when the outdoors beckons, and your senses become alive to every detail. Perhaps it is because you’re all too aware that soon there will be many days when the countryside is shrouded in a clinging, wet mist that takes hours to lift, if it does at all. An early-start walk is all the better for several reasons: the light is extraordinary, the air clear, and there are few, if any, people out and about. Perhaps, best of all, with the shortening days, early isn’t at some God-forsaken hour 😉

From our little, Cotswold stone-built house it is only a matter of yards to the river. Unlike the true days of Autumn, the river is also clear. All too soon, the warmth mixing with the cool will see the vapours rise, often hiding the surface and sometimes blanketing the whole valley. Today, despite the frequent rain showers we’ve been having the water levels are low, there are no birds singing and I have only a sentinel heron to share it with. Dismayed at my appearance, he flies off lazily with a scolding, harsh croak only to settle a few yards further away to watch me as I pass. No sooner have I done so than he returns to his favoured spot to continue his hunt for crayfish.

Although the sun is shining, it is still set low in the sky, casting lengthy shadows and intensifying the first changes of colour in the trees. As it climbs higher, so the colours will appear to fade and the shadows shorten, and another part of the early-morn magic will be lost for another day.

Reaching the plantation, the sun filters through the still-densely clothed branches, diffusing the light and giving it the look of an Impressionist painting. Perhaps this is how Monet got his inspiration when looking at his waterlily pool. The path stretching ahead just invites you to walk onwards. At its end, where it meets the lane, the first of the stone houses in the nearby village remain silent, as do they all, for their occupants are still either asleep or not yet venturing out. They are missing so much but I relish the silence and glad that it isn’t disturbed by the sounds of civilisation.

*Almost, if not quite*, *an Impressionist painting!*

There are four lanes that lead into the secret valley. The one that I now take is little used and the grass grows thickly in its centre. Another is similar and, with no passing places for a mile should you meet another vehicle, only those with good reversing skills tend to use it. Occasionally a ‘lost’ driver attempts it, thinking it will be a short cut to their intended route, only to end up traumatised by the experience.

*One of the little-use lanes out of the secret valley…*

All along the lanes, the banks and hedgerows are thick with berries and the fading flowers of summer. Every year I intend to make a note of what I see but, although I never do, I can be fairly certain of seeing the same late bloomers, sometimes right though to Christmas. These single flowers are extra-special, as they cling onto life reminding us of their glories past and giving us hope for the following year.

*l-r top: hawthorn berries, crab apples, campion*
*l-r bottom: cranes-bill, prickly sow-thistle*

I have reached the cattle sheds now at the top of the hill above my cottage. Large and airy, they are empty and silent now for the livestock is still out in the fields and making the most of the last of the summer grazing. By Christmas if the season is reasonably mild and dry, or sooner if not, they will be brought in to be kept dry, warm and fed. The barns surrounding the sheds are stacked high with straw and hay, their bedding and feed – in a good year, there will be enough to last the winter however long it maybe; in poor summers extra will need be purchased for they will not be returned to the valley’s water-meadows until they have calved and the weather is right.