button to main menu  Gents Mag 1899 part 2 p.542
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Gentleman's Magazine 1899 part 2 p.542
apology for not speaking at first was that "Ah was working t' sheep doon frae the t' fell, and ah couldn't see what me dog was dewen!"
As spring dies into early summer, the lambing season commences, and this is the most exhausting of all periods for the shepherd. While the sheep in the valleys bring forth their young in March and April, May is often here before the first lambs are born on the fells, and this is much earlier than it used to be, thanks to the cross-breeding previously mentioned. The chief anxiety at this time is to keep away the foxes, the presence of which terrifies the ewe and may do it serious harm. The fox is also very partial to new-born lambs. The gun is used freely, and dozens of animals are annually killed in those districts cursed by an "earth." The hawks, carrion-crows, and ravens are rarely troublesome in these days of strict game-preserving, and the taking of nests among the crags is no longer an arduous necessity. Fell sheep have only one lamb each as a rule, and this gains strength and size to a certain degree very rapidly. After the lambs have all come the shepherd is more at liberty to wreak vengeance upon the foxes. The fox-cubs are now playing about the "earths," and the shepherd plots against them. When the first gleams of sunshine are illuminating the fells, he crawls as near as possible, sheltering among the boulders. Under his coat he carefull carries a terrier, which at some convenient juncture he releases. Then commences a scurry towards the nearest hole. The squealing cubs dash in, the terrier - now lusting for blood - follows. Subdued subterranean thunder commences - the dog has met the female fox and is fighting for its life. It may come out blood spattered and breathless, with a ludicrous consciousness of victory, or the silence which follows becomes a proof that Grip has been borne down and killed.
As summer advances, the smoky-grey fleeces grow long and the sheep pant wearily along the slopes. Night feeding is resorted to, and the blazing noon sun sheltered from as far as possible. In the dale-head, in a basin abutting the moor, a dam is put across the beck, which, though a raging muddy torrent in winter, has shrunk to such a tiny trickle that a week often passes before sufficient water collects to wash the sheep. As a rule, a fold is chosen which, from its situation in some upper valley, allows a number of farmers to join forces for the washing. The flocks are driven across the fells, and skilfully manoeuvred into the outer fold. From this they are thrown into the water, where some of the shepherds stand waist-deep to receive them and prevent their drowning. When their coats are thoroughly saturated they are lifted out and examined for foot-rot and
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