Away in a manger

While most of us down tools and pick up the mince pies, a farmer's work doesn't stop for the festive break.

- Words and photos: Amy Bateman

“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse’ – except maybe me, creeping up and down the stairs, placing presents beneath the tree, then tiptoeing into bedrooms with bulging stockings and wondering, not for the first time, if this would be the year I finally got caught.

Eventually, I settle by the fire to enjoy what’s been left out for Santa. The sherry and mince pie are delicious, but the hay and carrots will be devoured by the guinea pigs. My husband, Colin, will join me once he's finished bedding down the animals for the night. For a few quiet moments, we sit together in the flickering glow of the fire before climbing the stairs and turning in for a silent night.

We have an upland livestock farm in Cumbria, about 384 hectares in total. At the heart of it all are 1,100 breeding ewes, 350 replacements (currently grazing off-farm in Yorkshire), and around 50 beef suckler cows with their calves. The females are kept for breeding; the rest head to a finishing farm supplying Waitrose. By the time Christmas rolls around, winter is in full swing. All the sheep are on silage or hay by then; there's no grass growth at this time of year, so they rely entirely on what we stored during the summer.

It’s a delicate balancing act. Much of the best grazing land must be rested over winter so there's enough cover come spring lambing. This allows us to lamb outdoors, keeping labour demands low. So from December onwards, we start to rotate and restrict grazing, shifting sheep into confinement areas where they're fed on silage blocks [preserved and fermented pasture grass]. We move ring feeders, adjust electric fences and check all the flocks daily. Most of the animals stay outside, but by Christmas, a few have come inside.