4 o 4 A FARMER'S YEAR 



November 25. The mild and open weather continues, and we 

 have three ploughs at work, two of them on No. 22 and one on 

 Baker's, No. 43. After breakfast, I walked down to the All 

 Hallows field, No. 37, half of which, it may be remembered, was 

 under layer hay, while the other half bore a crop of pease. Some 

 mustard seed was harrowed in on to the pea stubble, but when I 

 returned from Scotland it looked to me as though it would not 

 furnish a day's bite for the sheep. Still, it lived through the 

 drought, and now, under the influence of the recent rain, has thrown 

 up quite a fair crop, on which the ewes are being penned at night. 

 In the daytime both they and the cows run on the hay stubble 

 alongside the mustard, where there is still a good deal of excellent 

 feed, although two crops have been cut from it. It is most amus- 

 ing to watch these animals, which one and all naturally wish to 

 get -to the mustard, with the result that the boy in charge has an 

 exceedingly lively time. First the cows make for it with quiet 

 determination. He rushes to turn them, whereon the sheep see 

 their opportunity and slip in at the other end of the line. I think 

 that by nightfall this boy must be very tired, for it is almost 

 impossible to restrain a flock of experienced ewes which see some- 

 thing tasty in front of them. Indeed, ours had to be removed 

 from the Pithole field, on to which they were turned to clean up 

 the beet tops, as, notwithstanding the herd's efforts, they broke 

 continually into the swedes and white turnips, doing them a good 

 deal of damage. 



It was funny also to note the behaviour of a little terrier dog 

 named Di that accompanied me. Di is terrified of sheep, which 

 chase her (she will kill lambs if she gets the chance), but in order 

 to avoid showing her fear by beating a humble retreat, she bolted 

 to the fence and began to hunt an imaginary rabbit all the way 

 round it, being careful to keep on the further side until she reached 

 the road again. For cunning humbug few animals can beat a dog, 

 which is a creature that hates to be laughed at. Talking of Di 

 reminds me of her evilly disposed companion Dan, that, it may 

 be remembered, was given to a friend after the wicked little beast 



