Changing of seasons means calculating cost of awful summer

It’s been cold. And wet. And frankly, unpleasant.

When it comes to the weather, ­crofters are notoriously difficult to please. It’s ­either too warm or too cold, too wet or too dry. When the sun comes out we worry that we won’t have enough rain. When it starts raining we worry that it won’t stop.

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We want an easterly wind to dry things, but not too much that the ground ­becomes too dry. A southerly is warmer, but it brings rain. Northerly means temperatures drop still further, risking burnt ground. The ­happy medium is as rare as hens’ teeth.

A good summer echoes with ­declarations that “we need some rain”. That was the case last year. The machair ground burned to a crisp after a protracted ­period of hot weather early in the season. In June, ­Facebook thoughtfully showed me a memory from last year. It was 24 degrees and I was filling the cows’ water trough (which read “old bath”) for the third time that day. On that day this year, it was 11 degrees with drizzle. I was filling the same trough in my winter coat.

Whilst bad Scottish summer weather features as the punchline on many a postcard, this summer does seem to have excelled itself. Folks I know who are not given to hyperbole, and have many more years under their crofting belt than I have, are commenting that this is one of the worst summers for a long time.

Lambing is a critical time in the ­calendar, but late summer is also a ­critical time in the crofting calendar, and one which is far less obvious to the general public. It’s when the lamb sales happen, it’s when we start baling and it’s when we start thinking seriously about the ­approaching winter.

Here, those little lambs that almost broke you in April are always sold in ­August. Assuming you have managed to keep them alive, they must be gathered and organised. You pull out the ones ­being kept for breeding. Then you decide your draws. Your first draw will be your best lambs, the second draw are the next best, and the rest follow.

I have both black and white sheep, so I split them into different groups. My black ones tend to be lighter as they have more of the Hebridean in them, and I have a suspicion that putting them in with the more commercial white sheep will drag the price down. I’ve quickly learnt that everyone has their wee superstitions.

This year I broke my own rule and put my black draws through first. It felt wrong. I’ll put the white ones through first next year.

Prices have been generally up – we watch Lairg and Oban sales to get a sense of where things are at before our own sale. This year in Tiree, United Auctions put 5000 lambs through the ring and as hoped, prices were up across the board, even though weights were down slightly for the majority of folks. The weather played no small part in that. Bad weather affects the quality of the grass, and when animals are cold, they naturally burn more energy than when they are warm.

Lamb sales over, I am turning my ­attention to mutton. I keep my pure ­Hebridean male lambs for that – mainly because they are worth pennies in the ring, but also because I am very fond of mutton!

I grow them on for a minimum of 30 months before sending them on the boat to Barra. The following week they ­return vacuum-packed, ready to be ­distributed locally. This year’s crop leaves on Wednesday, assuming there is a boat ... Getting them there and back is always a nail-biting process.

Next up is the feeding and breeding sheep sale. Feeding sheep are the ones which are no longer fit for breeding. I’ll be saying farewell to a few sheep who’ve done their day, and I’m on the hunt for a new tup (ram) after my good ­Beltex, ­Colonel Nut-Clackers, thoughtfully ­decided to keel over just as his job ­finished last year.

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And then, the entire process starts again. With the lambs weaned and away, the ewes need good grazing to make sure they are in optimum condition for ­tupping.

There is feeding to plan – which calves will be sold in October and which will be kept? If calves are light on account of the bad weather, you could keep them until the New Year, but you have to have enough bales for that – or deep enough pockets for a lot of extra feeding. More input (in terms of feeding) has an effect on the bottom line. Finding the balance is an art. Safe to say, I haven’t found it yet.

If you can defer grazing (keeping ­­animals off ground during the summer so it is available in the backend of the year) you can start feeding later – and in theory, you will need fewer bales. But that relies on a reasonable summer to grow enough grass … BALES-WISE, I’ve got a good amount of grass in my silage field and my fingers are firmly crossed that I will have more than last year. If I have fewer, I will be in trouble come next March. There is only one way to find out, which is to cut it and bale it. I would, if the ground wasn’t so wet that there is a serious risk of the borrowed baler sinking without a trace.

I paddled down the field yesterday to pull some ragwort (it’s poisonous to grazing animals – especially when it’s in a bale) and reminded myself that a few years ago, the situation would have been much worse. Our ditching and draining is paying off. It just can’t work miracles.

And this is all before we add in the ­complexity of environmental schemes which require fields to be closed at ­certain times. The silage could have been cut earlier, but the scheme I am in means I can’t cut before certain dates regardless of the impending monsoon. I hope the corncrakes and the bees appreciate it.

I get a subsidy for the inconvenience of trying to encourage rare species, but I am starting to understand that the ­meagre recompense in no way outweighs the risk of being so restricted in my grazing ­options – and years like this only serve to drive that point.

It’s not going to get easier either. ­Agricultural subsidies are going to ­become ever more nature, and ­performance, based. We will increasingly need to be able to point to the number of species per square metre and be held to ever higher standards and requirements to access grants.

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If the weather follows the expected course and becomes ever less predictable, those of us managing relatively small ­areas of ground in challenging conditions need more options, not fewer.

Much as it is cathartic to moan about the rain, it doesn’t get us anywhere. It will no doubt dry up, the ram will be bought, the sheep will be fed, the deferred ground will be opened, the bales will be counted in, we will welcome a slightly colder rain with a slightly more cutting wind, and we’ll get on with it as we always have. And hopefully, as we always will.